I Think I'm in Trouble {Reimagined}

I.

"Mom's on her way home!"

Robert descended the stairs and he made his way to the foyer, shaking his head with a smirk.

"You don't have to scream, kiddo," he assured, dropping the palm of his hand to the top of his son's head as he walked passed him.

The teenager settled the phone back on the hook.

"She already told us she'd be home before dinner which is a miracle, but she did say her record was finally finished and set for release."

"And what a relief... She can make dinner then," he replied.

"My cooking isn't that bad, Nick," he replied with an eye roll as he opened the front door. 

"Dad, we've been living off of spaghetti and meatballs... I love that you're tuned into being Italian, but I'm over it. I'm sure Shannon can agree, no?"

"Don't be a smart ass... Besides, Shannon really doesn't care and she's never here anyway. Quite frankly, I don't know where she is now," he looked down at his watch. "Anyway, get used to just the two of us for dinner; just because your mom's done with the record, that doesn't mean she's not got to tour."

"Oh, that's right..." he took a long pause. 

"Don't bite the hand that feeds you," he smirked. "Why don't you go do something constructive? Go build something..."

"I'd rather read," he assured, turning back to head up the stairs. "Y'know, I'm gonna be a doctor someday!"

"You keep telling me that I can't help but believe you, bud."

Just then the front door opened and his daughter walked in; light wash denim jeans ripped to the max, a black band tee shirt to which was cropped and also torn in places, black combat boots on her feet and her long blonde hair in low ponytail. 

"Hey, where have you been, young lady?" Robert spun around as soon as he laid eyes on her.

"Whoa, young lady? What am I, five?" she cocked her brow and smirked. "I was working my shift at the bar and now I'm gonna go shower and change so that I can go and hangout with my boyfriend." She then moved passed him to get up the stairs.

He then gently grabbed her arm to stop her from moving too quickly. "Wait, just a second..."

"What, daddy? I gotta go, dude."

"No, you're not going anywhere. Your mom's coming back home in a little bit and I was hoping we could all go out to dinner tonight."

"Why, what did you do?"

"Shannon...?" he lingered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Look, you know my boyfriend studies abroad and he's gonna be leaving soon. He's been back and forth and he just called me to tell me to get ready to hang out..."

"That's very convenient, y'know? The night your mother finishes her album? It's taken her a long time to get through this for obvious reasons."

"It's not my fault her therapist almost sent her to the nuthouse last summer."

"Shannon, don't joke about that shit. It ain't fuckin' funny, kid," he shook his head.

"You're right, it ain't fucking funny. But the problem I have is that everything revolves around you guys all the time and who cares if she finished a record? This is record a hundred for her and big whoop, another fucking tour. I'm doing what I can here, I clean, I do my own shit, I work... Why do I have to do everything with you?"

"Fine, don't go, but tomorrow, when we pick Jeff up from the airport, you better be there. Your mom's been looking forward to it. He's been deployed for almost a year. Be supportive of that at least."