"Ready to go to the movies Louise?" asks Gene as he walks into Louise's room, Tina follows.
"I guess" answers Louise once again staring at the ceiling.
"Are you still upset about Logan?" asks Tina, picking up on Louise's bad mood.
"Yeah I don't really want to talk about it though" answers Louise flatly.
"Louise, we hate seeing you like this. I know Logan's always bothered you, but never like this" says Tina concerned.
"We want to help you woman!" exclaims Gene.
"I ran into him on the beach today" whispers Louise. "I think something's wrong with me".
"How so?" asks Tina.
"Idunno" mumbles Louise.
"Come on Louise" complains Gene.
"We can't help you if you can't tell us what's wrong" states Tina.
"Fine" grunts Louise. "It's my…. feelings. Oh my god I hate myself so much right now" complains Louise.
"Louise, it's perfectly normal to have feelings" reassures Tina.
"It's just he's always made me so mad but now he's making me feel something else and I don't like it" says Louise in a hushed tone.
"Gene gasps. "Could it be something that rhymes with the word glove?" asks Gene. "You know the word you get when you take away the g in the word glove?" he continues.
Louise is silent.
"I knew it" declares Tina.
"Guys stop it" moans Louise. "This is serious".
"Sorry Louise, it's just I pride myself in taking notice in this kind of thing" explains Tina.
"Well there I told you, now help me" demands Louise.
"Well what do you want to happen?" asks Gene.
"I want these feelings to go away and I want to go back to solely hating him" explains Louise.
"Louise you just have a little crush on him right now. You haven't seem him in a while it's understandable" says Tina. "The crush might just burn itself out with time" she elaborates.
"Just like my love for kawaii metal bands " adds Gene.
"But what if it doesn't?" asks Louise.
"Uhhhhhh" utters Tina.
a few days later
"Logan you've been home for a week now and I'm tired of seeing you sit around the house. Have you even tried to find a job?" scolds .
Logan doesn't answer.
"I didn't send you to school to become a bum" she complains.
Logan sighs. "You're right mom I'll go look around town" agrees Logan.
"No Logan that's not what I mean" she argues . "I didn't work my ass off for you in high school and send you to NYU so you can run some dinky business down by the wharf" she continues frustrated. "I didn't pay those fraternity fees so you could waste all that networking" says Mrs. Bush angrily.
Logan's rage start to bubble up inside of him."You always say you want to do what's best for me and that you want me to be up happy" says Logan sharply. "But you never meant it did you? You've never once asked me what I wanted" Logan persists.
"Logan you know that's not true" disputes Logan's mother.
"Whatever you say mom" says Logan curtly walking out the front door.
Logan was so done with his mother. Why did she have to be like this? So obsessed with the family's image. Sure he liked that they were well off but his dad was never home. When he was they just fought. His parents should have divorced years ago but his mom thought it would ruin the family name and his father was afraid it would hurt his practice so they stayed together.
Logan didn't want to be a big CEO for some boring corporation. He wanted to run his own business. Be his own boss selling or providing a service for something he cared about. He didn't know what it would be yet. It didn't matter anyways because his parents would never loan him the money to start a business. He needs to start somewhere build up a reputation earn some money, get some investors then maybe he could finally start living his life the way he wanted.
Logan stopped walking and looked up. He was across the street from Bob's again. Why does he keep gravitating towards this place? Something caught his eye next-door. "Puparazzi- pet photo studio". From the looks of it the place was deserted. Logan had always like animals but never got a pet because his mom was worried about it messing up the house. Hanging on the bottom right of the cluttered display window was a help wanted sign. Perfect.