As much as Luke hated it, he had to go back to work the next day. Calling out twice in a row meant he would be on the chopping block, and he needed to make his part of rent, so he had no choice but to do his hours.

"Hi there! Do you have an Okay!Card?"

It had been a gorgeous sunny day on Luke's way to work. He counted the pieces of black, dried out gum on the sidewalks, occasionally readjusting his shoulder bag. He felt foolish for being upset on such a gorgeous day. Then, he remembered where he was headed, and he didn't feel like much of a fool anymore.

Luke had an eight hour shift that particular Friday, a rare occurrence. He normally had six hours at a time, but two cashiers had taken their vacation, so the other associates were expected to pick up the slack. Which wasn't too bad, if the workload wasn't overwhelming, even with everyone on board.

"Would you like bags? There's paper, they're five cents each! Or, you can get one of our reusable bags, starting at only 99¢!"

Simply put, retail work was slowly killing Luke. That day in particular, had been especially brutal. There were the beginnings of a tropical storm brewing in the Caribbean, so of course, everyone and their mother rushed to the store to get the essentials. That being;

Milk.

Bread.

And eggs.

This baffled Luke to no end. Should there be a power outage, the milk and eggs would spoil. Unless people were planning on having a feast of french toast, the so-called "essentials" didn't make any sense whatsoever.

"Actually, I need a delivery."

Luke had to take a moment to collect himself before he responded, "Absolutely! Would you like to pack, or would you like me to pack?" He forced a winning smile, which must have looked painful to an observant person, but to the average customer, sent the message, 'I love being here!'

The woman responded with a chuckle. "You're probably better at it than I am, so you can pack!"

That's what they all say.

As he was scanning the woman's items, Luke glanced down at his hands, and grimaced. There were several scars from the first month of him working there, a scab or two, and a new band-aid for a cut he got that morning. Plastic containers were always injuring cashiers.

One item refused to scan, as Luke tried again and again, after a few seconds, the customer chimed in.

"Well, you know what they say!"

Please don't…

"If it doesn't scan, it must be free!"

Ugh.

After a few more failed attempts to scan, Luke squinted at the barcode and entered it manually. And of course, the second it was registered, the customer once again piped up.

"Um, I think that was supposed to be $3.99."

Luke peered at the screen, and saw the item at a price tag of $5.99. He sighed, and yelled at the top of his lungs, "I NEED ASSISTANCE!"

The customer jumped, hand over chest. Luke was quick to apologize and clarify his need for shouting. "My flasher isn't working, and that's the only way my manager knows I need help."

"Oh, alright!" The customer laughed, but Luke had a feeling that he had seriously frightened her. He craned his neck to try and spot either Aaron or Debbie, and he saw a familiar blue clip approaching him.

"Sorry to bug you, Deb, but my customer says that one of her items didn't scan the right price."

"The tag said $3.99."

"Alright, I'll go check." With no ounce of urgency, Debbie sauntered off, leaving Luke to wait with a line. He simmered with annoyance, anxiously glancing at the people queued in his lane. He tapped his fingernails against the dull metal of his register, the noise only making his heart beat faster. The eye-numbing fluorescent lights hung over Luke's head, not quite white but not quite yellow, with a few bugs trapped inside.

He stared at the registers in front of him. One was unattended to, and one was being utilized for training two new employees. All of the summer cashiers, mostly high schoolers and some college students, went back to regular classes, so the store needed new associates before the holidays started.

After what felt like an eternity, Luke once again spotted Debbie's cobalt hair clip slowly approaching his register. She was clutching what Luke could only assume was the price tag, and upon further inspection, he saw that it did indeed say $3.99. The customer gestured triumphantly.

"See! I'm not crazy!"

"We never said you were, ma'am." Luke responded with a tired smile. Debbie made her way into the little space that Luke was in and played with the screen, explaining to the customer,

"I'm gonna have to void the item and manually change the price, this is gonna take a minute…"

"Ah, for fucks sake!"

Luke whipped his head in panic toward the voice that had just come from his line. The two people waiting also turned, stunned, towards the woman at the back, who Luke guessed had been the one to yell. She was the shortest, oldest woman he had ever seen, leaning heavily on a small laundry cart and wearing a smart plaid jacket. She continued her outburst. "I've been waiting in line for ten minutes! Do you know what 97 years does to your hips and knees?"

"I'm so sorry, I-"

"I'm not talking to you, kid, I'm talking to her!" The old woman pointed towards the customer that was currently being helped. The woman was about to retaliate, but the older woman stopped her.

"Two dollars! Who kicks up such a fuss over two shitty dollars? Not to mention you ordered a delivery for things you could easily carry home, or put in the car that you have outside! By the way, you need to work on your parking. I saw you struggle for quite a bit while I was on the bench outside. Gave me a show, at least."

"I-"

"Yeah, I know I'm being rude, I don't care! Now can we hurry this up so we can all go home with our food?"

Luke was sure that the whites of his eyes were showing, and he stared in awe of this woman. Once Debbie was finished with repricing the item, Luke made quick work of the rest of the order, and the woman stomped off, positively fuming over being insulted like that. Luke took care of the two people waiting in line, and at last reached the old woman.

"Lucas, eh?"

"How do you know my name?"

She raised a wrinkled finger, smiling softly. "Your name tag."

"Oh, yeah."

"Judith." The woman extended her hand to shake, and Luke took it nervously. As he had begun to suspect, Judith had an iron grip. She had well manicured nails of forest green, and an oddly shaped wedding ring.

As he began to bag Judith's groceries, Luke let curiosity get the better of him. "Your ring is beautiful! What design is that?"

Judith held up her hand and chuckled. "It's a claddagh ring! Stainless steel. I told Charlie I wanted something practical and simple." As if by instinct, she twisted the ring with her right hand. "Don't get me wrong, diamonds are beautiful, but they've never really been my thing."

"Is Charlie your husband?"

"Oh, hon, he was my husband. He passed on a few years ago." Judith stopped twisting her ring, leaving the royal heart to rest on top of her finger. "Alzheimer's."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"Oh, don't be!" Judith gave Luke a warm smile as he finished bagging and began to total up her order. "He isn't suffering anymore, and it makes me look forward to the day I pass on, so I can see that stupid goofy grin again!"

Luke wasn't sure whether to laugh or stay quiet, so he settled on a slight smile. "$36.69, please." Judith handed him three crisp twenties, and he was quick to point out, "Oh, here! You gave me an extra twenty."

"I most certainly didn't." Judith winked at him and gave him a coy grin. As she was retrieving her bags, she added on, "I would, however, like the change from the forty I gave you."

"Oh-oh, yes, of course! Hold on one second!" In a moment, Luke was giving Judith her change and receipt. "Have a wonderful day!"

"You as well! Oh, and-" She turned to face him before leaving. "Relax. Minimum wage isn't worth having a heart attack over. Find somewhere else that's gonna reward you for your time."

"I, um… okay, I'll look into it!"

—-

"So, how was work?"

"I'd rather shoot myself out of a cannon than go back to that store."

Luke had been home for a few minutes, and Kurt had just completed a work call with his boss, Isabelle. He joined Luke in the living room. Luke was resting his head on the back of the couch, petting Tracy, who was halfway on his lap and halfway hanging off, front paws on the wooden floor. Kurt snickered and nudged the dog off the sofa. "Come on, I want to sit there."

"But she got here first!" Luke replied, indignant on the dog's behalf.

Kurt raised a brow. "She's a dog."

"And she got here first."

Kurt rolled his eyes, huffed, and went to sit in the armchair nearest to where Luke was. "So," Kurt continued their earlier conversation. "Work was stressful today?"

"It was busy as fuck. I'm sore in places I never knew I could be sore."

"Language." Kurt chastised.

"Dad, I'm nineteen."

"Shhhh, let me have this."

Luke sucked his teeth. He knew his dad loved him, he really did. However, Kurt could be a bit of a control freak. Luke felt this the worst, being the oldest of three, so he often felt like a guinea pig. And a caged one, at that.

But, things had gotten better since Luke had gotten a job and started paying a part of the rent. He was actually beginning to feel like an adult, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to be one.

"Hey, dad?"

"Yeah?"

Luke shifted, causing Tracy to huff and hop onto the floor. "Did you ever have to work in retail?"

Kurt laughed. "I did, yeah. In high school, I worked in your grandpa's auto shop. Right out of high school, I was a barista. And in college, I was a waiter at a performing restaurant!"

"Eww…"

Kurt frantically tried to defend himself. "It really wasn't that bad! I liked performing there, but I basically relied on tips to survive."

"You were able to make rent by just being a waiter?" Luke asked, baffled.

"Well, sort of." Kurt said. "Rent wasn't that much for the three of us, that being me, your aunt, and your mom. Rachel's fathers paid for most of it, we were expected to pay for utilities and food."

Luke couldn't help but notice Kurt's shift in tone. He went from at ease to rather uncomfortable at some point in the conversation, but Luke couldn't figure out why. He decided that he was just seeing something that wasn't there. Luke changed the subject. "Why did you stop performing?"

Luke instantly knew that his question wasn't the way to put Kurt at ease, in fact, all it did was make things more tense.

"Well, uh, a lot of reasons. For one, editing at Vogue is a lot more stable than theatre, not to say that Papa has an unstable job, but it was too unpredictable for both of us at the same time."

Luke had a few early memories of his parents singing to him when he was a toddler, right before Liz came along. They always saved the last line of their song for him to sing, but since he was so young, Luke usually forgot a word or two. Then Lizzie was born, and the family had to move to a new apartment with more room. So, a more stable job made a lot of sense.

Kurt gave a second reason. "And, even if Vogue was my second choice, it ended up being one of the best decisions I've ever made. I've always been passionate about both theatre and fashion, and there's no shame in going a different direction when something doesn't pan out."

Luke wasn't imagining things before, as there was an obvious shift in tone from Kurt. His father sighed, and got up, explaining, "You're old enough to see this. Hold on one second, I'll get it."

Curious, Luke's eyes followed Kurt as he disappeared into his room. About two minutes later, he returned, holding a sheet of paper. The paper looked rather old, and seemed to be cut from a newspaper. Kurt handed it to Luke.

"You can read it, if you want." Kurt said. Luke wasn't sure he wanted to, given Kurt's expression, but he began to read the first line of the article.

Sunday, March 14, 2027

As many of you know, I've been around a while. I've seen many a show, made or broken many careers, and published many critiques. A great deal of you have been asking me what I think of recent up-and-comer, Kurt Hummel. Now, believe me when I say that, despite my criticism, there's no denying his passion. All too often, I see performances devoid of all heart and soul. Hummel comes to life when the curtain rises, and he lives and breathes whatever role he takes on.

However…

To see him being considered for a Tony nomination is almost laughable. He's being treated like some kind of breath of fresh air, which is asinine! Because the Great White Way was lacking countertenors, apparently?

Furthermore, the show he would be nominated for, 'Message In a Bottle' also boasts Rachel Berry as its female lead, who positively shines in her role. It's clear to see the difference in talent and vocal prowess, and the show suffers as a result. Berry overpowers Hummel in every song, which is almost a mercy, given that his voice resembles that of a cat. A talented cat, but still a cat. A poor man's Andrew Rannels, if you will.

Being second best is something Hummel should be familiar with by now, seeing as how the exact same issue arose in his first major performance, 'Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?' His husband, Blaine Anderson, who is quickly turning into a household name, outshines him at every turn. Now, normally, I would say that comparing most people with Berry and Anderson is extremely unfair, and it is. But something tells me that Hummel wouldn't fare against a college performer.

So, to conclude, no, I don't think Kurt Hummel is anything special. He's just another performer with hopeless aspirations. I wish him nothing but the best in his career. Let's just hope it's nowhere near a microphone.

Regards,

Robert Barthlow

Luke gaped at the article, jaw hung open in shock. He stared at the pictures at the bottom of the article, a flattering headshot of Barthlow, and a snapshot of 'Message In a Bottle', featuring his mom in the middle of a spotlight, and Kurt behind her. Luke never knew you could feel so angry just looking at a headshot, but Barthlow had the most punchable face that he had ever seen. Luke lifted his gaze from the sheet of paper to Kurt, and exclaimed,

"What the fuck is this guy's problem?"

Kurt shrugged, appearing more tired than angry, like his son was. "Beats me. I was getting mostly positive reviews before that article came out, and suddenly, after Barthlow got his word in, I was treated like a joke." Kurt crossed his arms, voice shaking with each word as he continued. "I went from being considered for a Tony to being laughed out of auditions."

Luke couldn't wrap his head around any of the new information presented to him. He had always wondered why his dad didn't sing anymore, and now he knew why. Luke thought that Kurt's voice sounded amazing. High, yes. But still amazing. Although, years of lullabies and sing-alongs got him used to his father's voice very fast.

The one thing that annoyed him more than anything else in the piece was the unnecessary praising of Rachel and Blaine. Luke thought their voices were amazing, as well, but comparing three people with completely different voices was useless.

The last time Luke had spoken to his mother was his nineteenth birthday, when she had surprised him with a phone call. Even the calls were rare, given how busy she was. If Luke had a nickel for every time he saw the words 'Starring Rachel Berry', or '(Insert Award Here) winner, Rachel Berry', he wouldn't need to set foot in Okay!Food ever again. Luke couldn't remember the last time he overheard a conversation with her and his parents. 'You'd think the person who housed your first child for nine months would be more willing to reach out, but she's probably way too overbooked.' Luke thought to himself.

"Okay," Luke tossed the paper onto the coffee table, as if it was actively corrupting him. "This dude obviously has no taste."

Kurt chuckled. "You're my son, and you're biased."

"Yeah, I'm your son, I'm biased, and I'm right!"

"Alright, alright!" Kurt got up, groaning as he strained himself. "Yes, reading that article really affected my confidence. But, it's all shit I've heard before! You're a critic employed by the New York Times, and you couldn't come up with something more original?"

"That's the spirit, Dad!"

"And at the end of the day, while that piece was the beginning of an end for my performing career, it was the start of my career at Vogue. And I wouldn't trade my job for anything in the world. Now," Kurt turned towards Luke. "You want to help with dinner?"

"Okay!"

"Oh, and…" Kurt motioned for Luke to follow him as he entered the kitchen. "I would understand if you quit your job. I really would. As long as you have enough to pay rent and your part of the phone bill until your next job, then Blaine and I couldn't care less if you stayed there." Kurt reached for a cutting board. "We really want you to enjoy your job. Well, not despise your job, more like it. We can help you, if you want, you know, to find an alternate path?"

Luke swerved around his father and made his way to the knives stuck to the magnetic strip at the back of the kitchen. "Sure! That shouldn't be too hard. I mean, what's worse than retail?"

"You'd be surprised."