Chapter Two

I left home, finally, but my parents were still paying all the bills. In some cases, in a roundabout way. Like my being the in-house manager for a small apartment building owned by friends of the pack. My responsibilities were negligible, basically, live there and call the management office if there were any repairs needed. For which I got rent and utilities and a small stipend. All these things with an expiration date.

I'd been under this roof since the day I quit university while studying for my business degree, my major selected by my fathers with no input from me. They were both whizzes in the financial industry and wanted their only son to join the family firm. Their only son—me—not only didn't have much talent for it, but he also had zero interest. I tried. Gave it my best shot but my solid Cs were not going to get me into any graduate school the folks would find acceptable.

The problem was, when I withdrew from my department, I did it with no other idea whatsoever what I did want to do. With the constant "encouragement" to go in one direction my entire life, I'd never looked in any other. My dads decided to give me a year to "come to my senses" and return to school. Twelve months soon to end.

One of the tenants had mentioned a website that offered an online test to see what job a person was best suited for. It was probably just one of those sites trying to sell a service, but he claimed it got him to go to barber college, and he'd never been happier. I could attest to hearing his cheerful whistle each day as he set off to work.

And I sure wasn't doing anything useful sitting around here.

I went into the kitchen for a glass of ice water then sat at my desk and opened my laptop. What kind of job might I be suited for? I didn't think I'd be good at anything say in a restaurant kitchen or in retail. Construction, maybe? I loved driving past a building site and watching a structure rise from a spot where once only a vacant lot lay. But could I do it?

I looked down at my hands that had never done any harder work than washing my own dishes, and that only since I moved in here. Before that, I lived at home where we had staff, and the building where I lived while in school had housekeeping a couple of times a week. It had been an eye-opener picking up after myself here, but I enjoyed it. Weird as it might seem. Maybe I could be a housekeeper?

Tired of trying to come up with alternatives to the job I didn't want, I opened my laptop to get started. What was the worst that could happen? They suggested something I didn't like? It wasn't as if I was agreeing to anything. And the test was free.

The home page indicated the freebie was connected to an employment agency, and a little more research showed they primarily focused on the type of industry the tenant went into. Their clients were largely beauty salons and barbershops, mani-pedi places and aesthetician-type businesses. They also had links to schools where you could get certified to do these things, i.e. the barber college Clark, the tenant, had attended.

I considered those options for a moment. Could I see myself doing hair or giving facials? I'd never really found feet attractive, making a nail place an unlikely match. Still, I didn't have a better plan, so I clicked on the testing link and settled back, ready to learn whether I would be better at sculpting beards or applying layers of color on long locks. I really didn't expect any different results from something so obviously connected to a particular industry.

Question one: Do you see yourself as artistic?Well, not that I had much experience beyond whatever art classes I'd been placed in in school, but okay, sure. Who didn't want to make the world a little prettier?

Question two: Do you find yourself wishing you could look forward to your workday?Again, who didn't want to?

Question three: What was your favorite course in high school?Hmm. I had loved science…

Question four: Have you—

The screen froze, and a glance below showed zero internet. I checked the router and did all the usual things. Used my phone data to see if there was an outage, then looked at the calendar.

It wasn't almost a year that I'd been here…it was exactly 365 days. I knew without needing to call them that the jig was up. My dads were paying for my internet—also my phone, which would likely be going down anytime. Fortunately, I had saved almost every penny of my stipend to be here, which wasn't saying much, but all the ramen I'd eaten gave me a tiny nest egg. I'd never know whether barber college would have been a good choice for me, but it didn't matter, really. It was time to take a step forward, and that step would not be back to business school.

As much as I'd disliked the classes, how much more would I hate finishing and spending the rest of my life in that business. Not going to happen.

My dads were dead-on serious about their one-year deadline, apparently.

Time to pack before I was evicted from my apartment.