Page 103 of I Saw You First

I look over his shoulder at the framed landscapes, portraits, and close-ups of tattoos.

“Those are his. He retired early and took up photography. Said if he could do it all over again, he wouldn’t have gone to law school. And you want to know what else? He said I inspired him to make the change.”

“That’s—that’s awesome,” I manage. What must it be like to not only have a parent who supports your decisions but is proud of you, too?

“Yeah, I’m lucky.”

“Are you happy?” I’m not embarrassed to ask and he doesn’t react like it’s weird that I’m asking.

“This is the best fucking job in the world, man. I’m happy and the people I ink are usually happy, too.” After a pause, he says, “We all gotta follow our dreams or what’s the point? And if you don’t know what your dream is, you gotta find out.”

I watch as he marks my skin. I don’t feel happy tonight. Far from it. But no matter what happens next, I’ll always have this tattoo.

I’m scheduled to close the next night, and I go in a few minutes early to catch up on emails. So far, my AGM rotation has been… mediocre. I learned more by watching Jeremy than I have from Dino, the GM here, who’s supposed to be training me. I think he must realize that, too, because he’s phoning it in and dumping a lot of his work on me.

I just need to get through the next few months, and then I’ll have my own store.

I run my hand against the small flecks of peeling skin on my new tattoo. I think about Jack and his dad. What Jack said: We all gotta follow our dreams, or what’s the point?

What’s the point?

It hits me when I send yet another email about the operations audit: None of this shit matters. Audits and inventory counts and planograms and reports—none of it matters. My god. None of it matters. And what my father thinks of me—whether he sees me as a success, an asset to his damn company, or not—that doesn’t matter, either.

Sam’s right. Andre’s right. Even Jeremy. I don’t want my own store. Yes, I’d be good at it. But Sam’s also right that I’m miserable. That’s partly because I miss Abbey so much, and it’s partly, I realize now, because I’m not happy. I don’t want to stay in retail, spinning my wheels, bending over backward to please my father.

What matters is the feeling I get when Liam’s at bat and connects with the ball, when Charming outbowls us and pops a wheelie in his chair. When Howie runs across the park to give me one of his bear hugs.

And Abbey. Her smile, her laugh. I want to make her happy every single day of her life. But I’ve fucked that up, putting my career at Hometown—and hers—before everything else. And it’s too late to fix it.

I can hardly catch my breath at the truth of it all.

Dino comes into the Dugout and sits down at the other computer, completely clueless to my epiphany. “Hey, question for you. I was on the district merch call today since Jennifer’s on vacation and Marina’s off. Honestly, I should have had you on the call instead, since I know jack shit about merchandising.”

“Hmm,” I reply.

He laughs. “Any other AGM would suck up and tell me how that’s not true. It’s refreshing that you don’t. Anyway, I don’t know if you heard this, but some movie producer stopped into Riverview the other day and they were so impressed, they’re thinking about filming there. I guess it’s, like, Career Opportunities meets Beautiful Girls.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.” Cesar must be beside himself, already seeing his name in lights. “Have you seen those movies?”

Dino shrugs. “Of course not. But what really doesn’t make sense is that they went to Riverview. Here’s what I need you to do, Mr. Jefferson Wilshire the eighteenth or whatever the hell you are. Figure out who set this up at corporate, like, who that producer talked to, and get them here. Then, work with Marina and whoever else to get the store in tip-top shape. I want that film crew here, not Riverview.”

Whoever else? He doesn’t even know who he’d talk to in order to get the store in “tip-top shape.” What a tool.

“I’m not going to use my last name to throw my weight around at corporate and get this info,” I say. “If you want this so badly, call Felix and have him do the legwork.”

Dino’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, hold on, it sounds like you just told me no.”

“Actually, I didn’t say the exact word, but here you go: No. I’m not going to do that.”

Now he narrows his eyes at me. “You do know that I’m holding the strings, right?”

I laugh. Another fucking Master of Puppets reference. Not to mix my metaphors, but I’m taking over the reins. “Are you threatening me, Dino?”

“Kind of sounds that way, doesn’t it? The road to your own store goes through me, Wil, and without my sign-off, you got nothing. And another thing. I heard how the media TC over at Woodlake’s been applying to other stores and she’s been turned down for every single job. I also heard that you had something to do with that. So, unless you want me to make a call to HR and let them know that you’ve been disreputably blocking her promotions, you’ll make that call, Wil.”

Disreputably. That’s a pretty big word for Dino. I cannot for the life of me understand why he thinks I’m the one who’s blocking those promotions. It doesn’t make any sense.

“Go right ahead,” I say calmly. I log out of my email and stand. “You want to accuse me of something I didn’t do, be my guest. It’ll be your reputation on the line, not mine. Same as when they find out that you’re trying to blackmail me to get a film crew at your store. A film crew, Dino. Is it worth it? You want to show up Riverview and everyone else that badly? Go right ahead. I don’t want anything to do with it.”