“It doesn’t pay me anything currently. Wren and Callum only needed me for the tour. I’ll have to look for another family, and…I don’t know. It would be so much easier just to give in to my dad.”
I recognized myself in her words. In the slump of her shoulders. In the air of defeat around her. It had taken me almost twenty-four years to say enough was enough, but I’d had to get there myself. Nothing I could say would change June’s mind.
“It would be easier, that’s true. But then you’re working for your dad and miserable.”
She scrunched her nose. “I know. I hear it from Iris all the time. She hates him, you know? And I get it. I do half the time too.”
“But that other half…”
She nodded. “That other half gets me every time.”
My walk back to my new office building was filled with thoughts I didn’t want to be having about June, my dad, Adam, and the stupidly thoughtful necklace he’d gifted me. But once I entered Oceans Studios, I didn’t have time for thoughts.
I found this job through Pete, the producer I’d met at Adam’s going away party. It was serendipitous, really. He came in to teach a class at my music production school and we went for drinks after. I’d made it clear I wasn’t looking for anything more than a drink and talking, and he’d been cool. So cool, he told me about this indie record studio with a job opening.
A few interviews later, I landed a job as a production assistant. Only my boss knew my real last name. To everyone else, I was Addie Zala. I’d well and truly severed my connection to my father, both professionally and personally.
Saul Goodman could marry his little old-man-sexing ho-bag and live a short, unhappy life. I didn’t care anymore. My hands were washed.
Because fuck men who loved their dicks more than their children.
Fuck men who were trash.
Fuck men who were oblivious to everything except their own desires.
“Adelaide, you busy right now?” My boss, Malik, stopped at my cubicle, his arms loaded with wireless headphones.
“Yes, but ask me anyway.” These days, when work got dropped off at my desk last minute, I geeked out instead of cursing the day I was born.
“Need you in studioB. We’re breaking down equipment from the last session.”
I hopped up from my chair, tucking my new phone in my jeans pocket. “I’m in.”
As we walked down the hall, Malik turned his head in my direction. “If you have more time to give me today, I want you to listen to the tracks and mark which ones you think are the best.”
“I can definitely do that.” I couldn’t stop the giddy skip in my step.
Malik laughed. “Never knew anyone so excited for tedium.”
“If it’s tedious but has to do with recording music, I’m your girl.”
He elbowed my arm. “That’s dangerous, Addie. I’m not going to forget that.”
I threw my arms out. “Spread it far and wide.” There were only fifteen employees at the studio, so Malik couldn’t spread it very far.
“No, ma’am. I’m keeping you to myself. Give you all the grunt work.”
I curled my fingers a la Keanu in his “I know Kung Fu” moment. “Give it to me, baby.”
It was already dark by the time I got home. My fourth-floor walk-up in Astoria was a far cry from my luxury apartment in Manhattan, but damn if I didn’t climb those steps with enthusiasm every single time. The novelty would wear off eventually, but I was pretty sure my steps would remain lighter than they had been before. How could they not? I was free.
I’d started moving in a couple weeks ago, as soon as I’d landed my Oceans job. I’d been plotting since Adam’s going away party, though. Plotting and saving. Three days ago, I’d moved the last of my things in, leaving a lot behind in my old place, but it hadn’t really been mine anyway.
My apartment was tiny, barely more than a studio. My minuscule bedroom held my double bed, a bedside table, and a tall, narrow dresser I’d found on the street. When I literally dragged it home, June had warned me there were probably bedbugs or rats living in it, but so far, no infestation.
My father would have a coronary if he knew I had street furniture in my apartment. That was the kicker, though—he’d never know. He didn’t even have my new address.
After I changed into leggings and an oversized tee, I poured a glass of wine and cooked myself dinner. I was shit at it, but again, the novelty was still there, so I got a thrill out of it.