Page 11 of Under Construction

Dennis raises his eyebrows as he scans the sheet on the top of the stack. "What are they?"

"Your transfer papers. You're moving to design."

"What? No!" Dennis jolts up. The chair squeaks in protest, matching his indignation. "The Environmental Research project is mine. I created those plans. I—"

"Punched a construction worker and cost us a week of delays." His father's voice could freeze lava. "The project goes to Jason."

"Jason doesn't even care about sustainability! He thinks bamboo is just for pandas! He'll gut all the eco features!"

"Then you shouldn't have punched someone."

Dennis grabs the papers. Shuffles through them and reads them properly.

Design department.

Downtown office.

Effective immediately.

"This is bullshit!" He throws the papers down, scattering them across the mahogany desk. Some flutter to the floor like dead leaves.

He glares at his dad, pissed as anything. He isnotbudging.

His father leans back, fingers steepled, expression as unchanging as ever.

"Chris started it.” Dennis protests, arms gesturing in the air. “He's been provoking me for weeks!”

Dennis’s father blinks once, slow and unimpressed.

Dennis’s hand gestures get wilder. “He sent me an unsolicited dick pic!"

His father's eyebrows shoot up.

Hah! Dennis feels a flicker of triumph at finally cracking his composure, in that teensy, tiny corner of his secret heart where he stores all his small victories.

"Anyway, not the point," Dennis mutters, remembering he's supposed to be an adult. "The point is,” he says, steeling his voice, eye contact in full force, “I amnotleaving my project."

"The point is,” his father says, raising his voice, the palm of his hand banging the tabletop with athump, “you're the son of Kim Industries' CEO.” He points at Dennis with an index finger, eyes trained on his. “Start acting like it."

Dennis winces. Ouch. That sounded a bit pointed. He tries to ignore reading between the lines, but his father's disapproval stings more than he wants to admit.

"Iamacting like it,” Dennis argues, irate if slightly more subdued. “I'm trying to change how we build. Make itbetter. More, well,sustainable."

He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration, wondering when they became strangers. It was probably whenthings fell apart with his dad’s best friend's only daughter last year.

Gorgeous girl and afantastictime—no complaints there—but Dennis just wasn't into it at the end of the day. Even with both families practically drafting papers for their empire's union already.Especiallythat.

"Then do it from design." His father slides a pen across the desk. "Where you belong."

Dennis stares at the pen. At his father's stern face. At the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows.

Everything pristine.

Everything proper.

Everything perfectly controlled.

Like his life is supposed to be. Like the future that was mapped out for him since birth.

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