Page 37 of Mountain Daddy
I put my vehicle into park and turn off the engine before taking a deep breath and climbing out.
“Welcome home!” Dad shakes the banner as he says it.
“You shouldn’t have.”
He laughs as he drops one end of the paper, letting the banner droop. “I had to test out the new at-home company printer/scanner/something else-er.”
I don’t know how much I’ll need to actually print or scan anything once I get his website up to modern times, but I don’t want to rain on his parade.
And I love that he’s all about me working from home rather than out of the warehouse where he works. So I’ll pretend to scan shit all day if I have to.
He holds his arms out as he hurries down the steps.
Dad has the same dark hair as I do—only his is graying, and he keeps it short. But that’s where our similarities start and finish.
He’s a solid six feet tall.
I’m five and a half.
He has a slender build.
I… don’t.
The only thing bigger than my tits is my ass.
He could spend the summer outside in a tent.
I couldn’t.
But as he hugs me, I know we’re similar where it counts.
“Thanks for letting me stay here,” I tell him as I hug him back.
“I’ve already told ya. You’re always welcome here. Stay as long as you want.” He pats my back, then releases me. “Plus, I’m hoping you’ll love the job so much that you’ll keep working for me, even when you’ve saved up enough to move out.”
“Dad—” It’s not like I don’t want that too, but I need us to have realistic expectations.
“I know, I know. We’ll play it by ear. And since we never discussed it, I might as well tell you now that the starting pay is eighty thousand a year.” He says it so matter-of-factly that it takes a second before my brain retains the information.
Eighty fucking thousand?
“American dollars?” I ask.
Dad snorts, like I was making a joke.
But I wasn’t joking. That’s more than I was making at my corporate job.
“Now.” Dad claps his hands together, crinkling the paper still in his grip. “I see you brought a few things.”
We both turn and look at my hatchback, every window filled with boxes.
To be fair, I wedged a lot more into my car than I thought I would.
All my clothes, my favorite kitchen items, all my bedding and pillows, and other random things from over the years.
I sold whatever furniture I owned the morning I left, with only one end table unclaimed and left on the sidewalk.
“Let’s get you unloaded, then we can have lunch.”
