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Carlow Van Cleef was furious. “Whaddaya mean you’re moving to New York City to start your own line of inspirational leather cuffs? I wanted to use your voice on the hottest new dance track of the coming summer, SummerSummerYeah by RedSauce Connection. It’s bad enough your mother’s on that opulent cruise ship. You’ve let me down. And not for the first time.” he ejaculated furiously at the errant Fox.
Fox was unmoved. “Daddy. I have dreams. Like plural. Not just one like Martin Luther King. And this is one of them” Fox knew about Martin Luther King because she wasn’t racist or anything.
“Isn’t the exotic, opulent location we live in enough for you?” spluttered Carlow who was not done talking. “And this RedSauce thing could be huge for you, it could really help to get your name out there. Promote your brand, as it were.”
He unbutttoned his waistcoat that he was wearing over a t-shirt and he also had big colouredy headphones on around his neck. They weren’t on his head because he was wearing an edgy leather trilby Phillip Treacy had made him for his 50th. When you were the undisputed king of music production in at least nine continents, you had to look the edgy, on-trend part.
Fox was torn. She loved RedSauce Connection. Everybody did. And their lead singer, Carbon Worcestershire was the living embodiment of sex. Lean, lithe and thoroughly delicious, Fox had dreamed about him since she was a little girl, watching him get crowned by Mick Jagger in an exclusive Vodcast only industry insiders had access to.
But music was elitist and linked to her father. Not like cuffs, hand sourced from vegan leather and embossed with inspirational quotes like “you can do it if you believe harder” and “go to yoga class, gwyneth.” All the A-listers would want several. And at 200 dollars a cuff, they were also available to lower income families and people who had to struggle. But not, sadly, to primary school teachers who were paying Dublin rent.
“Don’t you believe in me, daddy?” pleaded Fox.
“I respect the hell out of you, Foxy.” said Carlow, “You’ve really thought out this leather cuff thing and I’m determined to get in on the ground floor. Not as your wealthy father, but as a shrewd businessman.” Carlow knew when he was beat. Though sometimes he wished Fox’s star was only a star and not such a big nebula like you see on Black Milk leggings which they could both afford. Also, she had never been in love and that boded ill for grandchildren.
Fox swept out of the room like a beautiful tornado. There was work to be done. Money to take out of the bank. Cows to hand-rear. None of this slaughterhouse by-product for her leather cuffs. She wanted those animals dead on her terms. It was part of what made her business plan so baller.
Carlow Van Cleef failed to notice the single oxblood cuff lurking on his music accoutrement like a character reveal.
Emotionally Distant Father.
It was true. He was emotionally distant. More consumed with sick beats and dropping tracks than the little girl who had grown up before his eyes into the best young woman probably ever. Definitely ever. Trust issues with funky older men made it hard for a girl to know love, true, world-shaking love. Which was Fox’s biggest personal tragedy.