Chapter Six
A Few Days Later
Bella
As I race down the stairs, my bag bounces off my back, I need something sturdier for my makeover kit besides an old backpack but spending money on a hobby when I’m not working seems frivolous.
I wanted a job during college, but my parents insisted on footing the bill as part of their investment in a future partner at the firm.
“Bella? Is that you?” My mom’s voice calls out in question from the kitchen.
“Yeah, it’s me.” I glance at the clock about the dining room table. I still have twenty minutes until they’re expecting me. As I walk into the kitchen, my stomach grumbles. Meatloaf. My mom’s favorite hobby is cooking, which if you ask my shorts, she’s too good at. They get tighter every year. “Smells good.”
“Thanks.” She glances at me over her shoulder. Her face is pink from the steam emanating from the pot on the stove. If I had to guess, she’s making homemade gravy and mashed potatoes to go with the meatloaf.
I drop my bag to the floor as she twists a knob to a lower setting. “Headed out?”
“Yes, I’m going to a friend’s house. You remember me talking about Daisy from college?” I don’t wait for her to respond as I continue, “She and three of her friends are going to an expensive restaurant, so I’m doing their hair and makeup.”
“That’s nice, honey.” She smiles as her eyes travel over me. “Are you getting enough to eat? You look like you’ve lost weight.”
“Mom….” I roll my eyes. “I’m fine. I’m eating enough.”
“Are you sure?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “You aren’t depressed, are you?”
“No, I’m not depressed.” I rotate my neck and shoulders, standing taller to relieve the tension in my upper back. As the youngest and only girl, my parents smother me. Okay, maybe smother is too strong of a word, but they fuss over me more than they do my brothers.
“Good.” She shuts off the burner and leans her hip against the counter. “You aren’t dating anyone right now?”
“No, I’m not dating anyone.”
“Hmm… That’s too bad.”
“Why is that too bad? I’m happy on my own.”
“Fine.” She waves her hand dismissively. “I know I’m a pest, but I like seeing all my children happy.”
“Ben and Sam aren’t dating anyone. So why are you so worried about me?”
“Because Sam and Ben don’t want girlfriends.”
“And I want a boyfriend?”
She arches her eyebrow. “How were the boys when you dropped off the food and laundry the other day?”
“Fine.” I grab my bag off the ground and sling it back onto my shoulder. Of course, she gets to change the subject with no repercussions. If I did the same thing, she’d double down on the previous line of questioning until I broke.
“Was Dominic there?’
My eyes narrow into slits. Clearly, we aren’t changing the subject. “Yes, Dominic was there. Yes, I talked to him for a few minutes, and no, I don’t know if he’s dating anyone, but he was talking about a girl.” My mom is as tenacious as a police detective if she wants something. “And no, I didn’t ask him out.”
“Whoa.” She raises her hands in defense and pretends to be put out by my rant. But she’s not. I know her too well for that. “I was only asking if he was there.” Her eyes twinkle. “You’re the one that’s acting all obsessed with him.”
“Shut up.” I roll my eyes and spin on my heel. I love my mom, but she’s way too good at reading me. Not that I’m going to admit she’s right about my crush on him. That’s not going to happen.
“Before you go.”
“Yes?” I ask with more exasperation than I should. “Sorry.” I smile sheepishly. She is a great mom, and the last thing I want to do is hurt her feelings.
“We’re cleaning out the spare room at the office. The one with the copier in it. What color do you want the walls?”
What color do I want the walls to be? Sweat coats my armpits. Painting makes everything real. What if I change my mind and decide to do something else? My heart skips a beat. “I don’t graduate for over a year and a half.”
“That’s fine, dear.” She beams and walks to the cabinet, retrieving a colander and setting it in the sink for the potatoes. “We want to be prepared. Our workload continues to increase, and we’re trying to hold out until you graduate to hire another employee. It’s getting hard to juggle everything.”
“Painting an office and waiting for me to graduate doesn’t help you today.”
“I know.” She shrugs while collecting the pot of potatoes off the stove. “We’re not hurting, but if we have everything done before you graduate, it’ll make the transition smoother. So, what color?”
“What color will the lobby or your office be?”
“White.”
“Then white, it is.”
“Honey.” She marches over and grasps my upper arms. “We know you’re the creative one so don’t choose white because you want to fit in. Feel free to spruce it up a little and put some color in your office.”
If I was actually planning on working there…. Shit. My heart drops to my feet. Am I really thinking about not working with my parents? If I’m questioning things already, I should say something.
“I....” The words get lodged in my throat. I cough and say, “White is fine. I can add color through accessories.” If they have to hire someone else, a white office space wouldn’t hinder the deal. “I need to go. The girls are expecting me in thirty minutes.”
“All right, dear, white it is. We’ll get on it next week. Your father and I can’t wait until you join us at the office.” She beams, causing my stomach to clench. “To have one of our kids follow in our footsteps will be amazing.”
“Right.” I cringe as dread weighs down on me.
“Don’t forget. If you earn over $13,850 this year, even if it’s in cash, you have to pay taxes for your earnings.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“I’m so proud of you,” she sighs behind me. “Keeping up with your studies, helping around the house, and making money through your business. You should be proud of yourself.”
When I was twelve, I started doing my friends’ makeup, hair, and fingernails and picking out their outfits. And I never stopped.
The only difference is that back then, I’d get a soda or a rubber band friendship bracelet for payment. Now, I get paid by the hour for my services and spend two to three nights a week working. A hair color here. A new eyeshadow design there. You name it, I can do it.
“Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Don’t stay out too late. You have class in the morning.”
Jesus. I growl under my breath as I playfully roll my eyes.