” ‘You just don’t have the balls,’ I thought. “Okay, fair enough,” I said, with a lump in my throat. “I’ll catalogue it tomorrow, like...you say.” I went home with all my dreams in tatters. I knew that painting was right, but without my boss’s approval I didn’t have a leg to stand on. In some ways, I saw his point of view. Firstly, there would have to be microscopic analysis and carbon dating. Then there would be intense scrutiny of brush strokes and canvass samples. Finally, assuming it got over. But he's killing her! His is supposed to be her Daddy not 'Father'," I spit the words out. "Even the Hayes's adopted kids call Eddie Daddy. 'But I must be respected!' Fuck him! And fuck his perfectionist bastard opinions and his entire fucken life. You should have let me go when I wanted to beat him into a pulp after the recital Andy, that would have fixed all of this." Recital?" Lisa's question stopped my rant."Remember when you were 5, honey?" responded Andy. "Your first piano recital?" Yes.. More

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