Jake X Jane Homestuck Fanfiction

Model Community Ventures

Chapter Fourteen : Model Community Ventures

After school, I took a bus to Luna Blu, the cut down the alley to the kitchen entrance.

I found my dad in the cramped office-a converted supply closet, by the looks of it-sitting at a desk.

There were papers spread out all around him, and he had his phone to his ear.

"Hey, Gran. It's me," he was saying. "So, look, it's not as bad as you feared. That said, though, it's far from good

"

Gran was the owner of EAT INC.

Yes, fucking GRANd Highblood.

Don't blame the shit out of me if I couldn't figure out any other good names.

A former HS and NBA player, he was over six seven and built like a Mack truck, the last person anyone would ever want to call a name like Gran.

My dad, though, had been one of his best friends since his own glory days. Now Gran was a TV commentator and a multimillionare.

And loved to eat

lowbloods

which is how he'd ended up owning a company that bought up and rehabbed restaurants before selling them off to the new owners.

'Lil' Seb' had been one of his big-time favorites whenever he was up for a Homestuck game, and now, that he'd lured my dad away from there, he worked him hard. But he so paid well and took very good care of us.

I dropped my backpack on the cold and hard tiled floor of the office-supply closet, not wanting to disturb them, then headed out into the restaurant proper.

Which wad empty, except for Porrim, herself, who was standing by the front door, surrounded by a stack of cardboard boxes.

The UPS man, who was parked outside, was in the process of wheeling in even more.

"Are you quite sure there hasn't been some sort of mistake perhaps?" she asked him as he put another one by the hostess stand. "This is actually quite a lot more than what I was surely expecting."

He glanced at a clipboard that was balanced on the top box as he ran his hand through his clean mohawk cut hair. "Thirty out of thirty cartons," he said, then handed it to her, looking up. "All here and accounted for."

Porrim signed the sheet and gave it back to him. She was in her usual long-skirt dress below until her ankles and bright red heels.

"You know," she said to the UPS guy, "It's kind of pathetic what a person has to do to secure ample parking to this town. Pathetic."

"Can't fight city hall," he replied, ripping off a sheet and handing it to her. "Hey, you got more of those fried pickles lying around? Those I got the other day were damn good."

Porrim sighed. "Et tu, Summoner?" she said sadly. "I thought you loved our rosemary rolls!"

He shrugged. "They were pretty good for sure. But those pickles? Crispy and crunchy, and, you know, pickly? Damn! They're just beyond."

"Beyond," Porrim repeated, her voice flat. "Fine, go back and ask *** to throw a few in for you."

"Thanks, doll."

He walked past me, nodding, and I nodded back. Porrim put her hands on her hips, surveying the boxes, then added over her shoulder, "And tell him to send someone out here to help me carry these upstairs, would you?"

"Will do," the delivery guy said, pushing into the kitchen, the door swinging out, then back behind him.

I watched as Porrim bent down over one of the cartons, examining it, then pushed herself back to her feet, rubbing her back.