Adjo was sitting up reading in his teenager bed when Shanni poked her head in on the way to work. He had the kid’s room to himself now, since Charles was sleeping under the stars, but Zahra’s baby would be coming any day now.
“You’re still in your pajamas!”
He smirked at her. “Off to the grind, then? Put in your time for The Man? Another day another dollar?”
“If all that means I’m going to work, then yes. What are YOU doing?”
“Researching career options. You see, I don’t want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don’t want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed.”
“You want to be a bum?”
“It’s a movie quote, doofus. Say Anything. That movie was epic.”
At breakfast, he threw out his plans to Mom and Dad.
“So, the thing is, I want to be my own boss, and I think I can make it work. It’ll take a little bit to turn my guitar skills into something that can pay the bills, but I think I can have a working business up and going pretty quick. And, um, until then, do you mind if I stayed in my old room?”
“If this is your choice,” Lance said in a voice hoarse with emotion, “Then you know we support you.”
All right, now was the time to put his money where his mouth was. Or use his mouth to make his money. Or whatever broken proverb fit here.
He took out his guitar and began his life as a busker. For all his bravado, he had no illusions about how easy this was going to be. But he had to believe in himself.
And make a little money.
(Good grief. SO MUCH happened with the twins before the new baby is even born!)