I Breathe You In With Smoke

I watched my mother strut down the stairs in her white lace sleep wear. No one was ever very shy in my house. No one was ever very shy in this town. I grew up in LA. It had all the opportunities in the world for me but I never really got my shit together throughout high school. My parents went on and on for four years how I couldn't disgrace our family by being a bum after school, and it's not like I wanted to, there was just nothing for me. And now I'm laying here on my parents couch that I happened to pass out on last night. No job, no college, no goals.

In Los Angeles I would be qualified as 'hipster', but I just thought I was different. I know I'm not, I'm just like the rest of the scumbag rich kids who haven't got anything else to do but flaunt there fake Id's at security guards, to get into shitty bars with the same people every night. Only a week or two has gone by since I graduated, but this has been going on for years now.

I looked up from the magazine I was pretending to read when I heard my dad trotting down the steps. He was the head photographer for a select few huge magazines in this town. He got me into taking pictures. I mean I wasn't in love with doing it but it passed the time, you know? He buttoned up his shirt and looked at me stone hard.

"Get dressed nicely please, I've spoken to Mr. Attsworth about your situation and he wants to have a discussion with you." He spoke loud and clear. Like he always had.
If I had been drinking something I would have spit it out, "Pardon me?"
"Mr. Attsworth may have a job offer for you, it's one of the more turned away ones every year but it is looked very highly upon when you get a real job."
I blinked a few times. Great now I was probably going to get to spend my times taking pictures of shitty folk bands who thought they were the next-best-thing for a couple months. "I'll need maybe a half an hour dad."
He stared blankly at me again. "You have ten minutes."

I knew my father wasn't joking. He never does, about ANYTHING. I scrambled quickly to my feet and grabbed all of my things off of the floor. God forbid I leave a mess in this pristine house, my mother would have an aneurysm. I trotted up the stairs quickly, pulling the hair tie out of my tangled hair. I an into the bathroom and brushed it out. It was mortifying the sight I saw. I brushed my locks quickly and clipped them back into a messy but cute flip behind my head. I had never done make-up so fast in my life, probably because I skipped half of the things that usually made me look good.

My room was large partially because I had a large house. Most teen-aged girls would dream of having mine. My closet was large too, color coated because of my mothers need for order, although she never noticed the color coated bongs inside my secret compartment at the bottom. I pulled out the last dress I had worn to see Mr. Attsworth, it showed off all of my assets and as much as my father disapproved of me wearing it he knew as much as I did that it works every time. After accessorizing not too heavily I realized I had already gone two minutes over my ten minute mark. My dad was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and we strode out to his Range Rover together.

~

Mr. Attsworth was a not very surprisingly old hairless man. A few more days and he'd have a ventilator hooked up to his for fucks sake. I sat calmly at his desk though. Important people didn't phase me. They were usually too busy listening to themselves talk anyway.

"So Lailer, I know you're big into this 'scene'" He started obviously having no idea what a 'scene' was, " And so I have an opportunity for you, since you're father says you're going no where as of now." I frowned and looked sharply at my father. He was embarrassed too.

Maybe if he learned to shut his damn mouth every once in a while things like this wouldn't happen.

"I'm all ears sir." I said in a fake peachy smile.
"Have you ever heard of the magazine AP or Alternative Press?" He muttered and not letting me answer he continued. "I have some serious connections to that magazine and my friend over there has allowed me to let you jump along the Vans warped tour as an intern photographer. If he likes was he sees, He said he'll think of offering you a permanent job."
My heart stumbled a little. I wasn't sure what to say. I wasn't sure if I actually wanted to go. I looked at my dad standing in the corner and he slowly nodded at me. I couldn't refuse this, even though a part of me really wanted too.
"Of course I would like to Mr. Attsworth." I smiled pleased.
"Alright, here is your information, tags, keys, equipment pick-up information, and schedule. I hope you're a fast packer Ms. Lailer, you're leaving tomorrow."
My mouth had literally just dropped. Who can pack in one night for such an extended period of time?