Page 5 of Knot My Boss

The house looks nice, decorated for Christmas, even though my mother hates it. She insists that Christmas is just a Pagan holiday created to appease big business. I do my best to ignore her rants, as we disagree on many things.

From the stories I have heard, Mom wasn’t always like this. The exact details are fuzzy, as my parents prefer not to discuss it. I know that Dayton was an unplanned teenage pregnancy for them, and my dad did the honorable thing by marrying Mom. Four years later, I was born. Living under my mother’s demanding ways came to an end on my eighteenth birthday. Igot the first of many tattoos and piercings, and had streaks of red added to my light blonde hair.

Today, I have more ink and piercings, not all of them visible, and while I still add bold streaks to my hair, the color changes often depending on my mood.

Right now, I am packing my room. Kali and I leave tomorrow morning to spend Christmas with Dayton and Kyle before the babies get here. After dinner, I want to talk to my father. If all goes well, I won’t be coming home.

The slow grinding of the garage door indicates my dad is home, pulling his car inside. Butterflies dance in my belly as nervousness takes over.

“Darby,” my mom yells up the stairs. “Your father is home. Come set the table for dinner.”

For my dad’s sake, I have been trying to keep the peace with Mom during the short time I will be here. Mom knows about the babies but won’t talk about them. She and Dayton still aren’t talking because of how Mom spoke to Kyle and his friend Deacon. The fact that my sister finally stood up to our mother makes me proud of her.

Dinner has been awkward with significant gaps in stilted conversation. Rising to help clear the table, my mom waves me off. Dad rises to his feet, and I take a deep breath. It’s now or never.

“Daddy,” I start, my voice sounding small. “Do you, ah, have a minute? There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Why can’t you just say what you want to say here?” my mom sneers, slamming the plate she was holding onto the table.

Glancing at my dad, he nods in support, and we both sink back down into our chairs. Using the table to hide my shaking hands, I bite the bullet.

“I want to stay in Padston. Move there,” I blurt, glancing sideways at my mother to gauge her reaction. Predictably, she crosses her arms over her chest as her face reddens with anger.

“Go on,” Daddy encourages.

“I wanted to ask if I could have the rest of the money you set aside for my tuition.”

“Absolutely not,” Mom yells.

“Lacene, I will handle this,” Dad says firmly, his eyes never leaving mine. “What do you plan on doing with the money, if I agree?”

“I want to open a tattoo parlor,” I explain, as my mother implodes. “I have a business plan, if you want to see it.” Hoping my words dissuade him from listening to her.

“Do you know how to tattoo?” Dad asks pragmatically.

“Yes,” I answer, my confidence builds since he is willing to hear me out. “Do you remember the day Dayton told us she was pregnant?” After Dad nods, I continue. “Benson, the guy you heard, my boss? He owns Ink-U, right off campus. I have been an apprentice of his since I started school. Not only do I have all of the licenses and certifications, but Benson has agreed that I can use the same name for my shop. It will be Ink-U2.”

“You are not wasting our hard-earned money on some crackpot scheme, flushing it down the toilet,” Mom yells, spittle flying from her mouth as her anger takes control.

“Lacene!” Dad yells. Mom shuts up immediately, mostly from shock at my father’s harsh tone. Mom huffs, returning to her task of cleaning up after dinner.

“You don’t want to finish school?” Dad asks, his tone softening and lowering to a volume Mom can’t hear from the kitchen over the clanging of dishes.

“It’s not for me,” I explain. “This has become a passion of mine. It’s something I enjoy. I understand my hours won’t be a normal nine-to-five day job, but that’s okay.”

Dad’s silent for a long time, musing over my explanation.

“Also, Benson is a shifter,” I whisper, fearing Mom will hear me and start another rant. “He taught me how to tattoo paranormals.”

His eyes widen in surprise at that statement.

“Here’s what I will do,” he says after a long silence. “You can have the money”—I cut him off, clapping and bouncing in my seat—“But.” He interrupts my celebration. “You must get to Padston first, find a space, and get set up. Send any bills you incur to me, and I will pay the companies myself. When you are ready to open, I will forward you whatever is left.”

Throwing myself at him, I wrap my arms around his neck.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I gush, pressing chaste kisses all over his face.

“Unbelievable,” Mom gripes from the doorway to the kitchen. “You won’t get a penny more from us.” She gives me a hostile look. “If you go belly up, don’t come crying to us about it.”

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