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“Fuck.” The curse was a whisper, and most of the fight drained out of him.
“Look, I can help,” his sister said in a soothing tone as she stepped around the island and moved closer to him. “Timothy said he could get you a data-entry position at his job. It doesn’t pay a ton but it has benefits, training, and a chance to move up.”
Data entry.Just put a damn noose around his neck and kick the stool out from under him.
Jasper looked up and tried to keep the edge out of his voice. His sister wastryingto help in her black-and-white, overachiever, practical way. And he couldn’t call her out for lies. His life today didn’t look much different than his life at eighteen. But data entry?Hello, hell.It sounded like a death sentence. Sitting at a desk for the rest of his life? The ADHD kid inside him grabbed a box of matches, wanting to set fire to all the things. “Gretch, I appreciate that, and tell Timothy thanks for the offer, but I don’t need him to give me a job.”
“He doesn’t mind,” she said, her voice growing more eager. “Timothy’s great, and he could take you under his wing and—”
“I don’t need it,” he blurted out, the walls of the kitchen feeling like they were closing in around him. “I’m going to buy a theater here and run it.”
The words hung in the air between them, and everything went silent save for the hum of the refrigerator and the echo in his brain.Buy a theater. Buy a theater. Buy a theater.
Then, after a long moment, Gretchen’s lips parted in shock and she barked out a laugh. “Did you just saybuy a theater?” She shook her head. “Oh, come on, Jas. I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you, and you’re making jokes.”
He loved his sister, but she was super great at making him feel like he was still a clueless kid. It wasn’t lost on him that he’d thought Fitz was joking when he’d originally suggested the plan, but suddenly it seemed like the best idea ever because it was one that didn’t involvelearning data entry from Timothyand chaining himself to a desk for the rest of his life. “I’m not joking. I met up with a guy I knew from school. He owns an investment firm and offered to help connect me to investors. I’m going to put together a business proposal, build some media buzz with the group. There’s a hole in the market. New Orleans doesn’t have a dedicated improv or sketch theater.”
She gave him a look that could only be translated asAre you fucking kidding me right now?“There’s probably no improv theater here for a good reason. Do you know how hard it is to get a business off the ground? Any kind of business, but especially one that involves taking on property and investors to launch? You don’t know anything about starting or running a business.”
“A lot of people don’t when they start,” he said, spine straightening. “You should see all the people at WorkAround who are starting their own thing. They don’t all have MBAs from Harvard or Tulane. They’re just regular people with ideas that mean something to them.”
Gretchen pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jas, you’re not thinking this through. Most of those people are starting up one-person operations with very little overhead or risk. A theater is a big-ass deal. Other people’s money would beyourresponsibility. You can’t even juggle your own finances right now. Who’s going to invest in someone with no experience?”
He bristled at that. “No experience? I may not know the ins and outs of running a business, but I know improv. I can perform it, and I can teach it. And I believe in it. I just need to convince investors of that.”
“And we’re back to the wink-and-a-joke plan.” She tipped her head back and looked at the ceiling as if answers were scrawled there. “Even if you could pull it off—and that’s a monumentalif—you need moneynow. You need a place to livenow.”
“I’ve got the barista job, and now that I’m mostly healed up, I can start giving classes. If those go well, I can charge outsiders to take them. And I still make a little from the shows at night.” He grabbed the hospital bill and shoved it in his backpack. “Don’t worry. I’ll be out of here on time. I’ll figure it out.”
She stepped closer and put a hand on his arm before he could leave. “Wait.” She let out an exasperated breath. “You know it’s not that I don’t love you or that I don’t believe you have talent. And it’s not even that I don’t want you here. I’ve enjoyed having you back in town. I hated you living so far away. But I’m saying all thisbecauseI love you. Someone needs to be straight with you.”
“And that’s you.”
“Yes.” She smirked and squeezed his arm. “It’s the big sister’s job to kick the little brother’s ass.”
Jasper was still irritated, but being called her little brother always stroked some starved part inside him. He never got tired of hearing that he was part of an actual family—even when it was his sister being a self-righteous nag. “Noted. I love you, too. Even though you just took a big stinking dump on my life plan.”
She puckered her lips and made a smooch sound. “Having any kind of plan would be a start, but maybe focus on finding a place to live first.”
“Believe me, that’s item number one,” he said, tone wry. “At least at my next place I can save myself from the sound of Timothy in the throes of passion. The guy sounds like he’s being murdered. What the hell are you doing to the dude? Beating him?” He put his palm up. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”
Gretchen’s eyes went wide, and her hand dropped from his arm. “You can hear us?”
He snorted. “People three houses down can hear him. I’ve never heardyou, thank God. I don’t think I’d recover fromthattrauma. But believe me, I want my own place more than you want me out of this one.”
“So what are you going to do? Like, for real?” she asked. “Do you need me to loan you a little—”
“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’ll figure it out.”
I always do.
