“A splatter paint room?” I ask, and I look around the lobby of the building Dallas led us into twenty minutes ago. “How does it work?” “It’s easy. We throw paint wherever we want. On the canvas. At each other. You can use your hands or the brushes. It’s supposed to be a fun stress reliever.” Dallas kneels down and helps June step into the provided jumpsuit we’re all wearing to cover our clothes. “JB. You aren’t allowed to eat the paint okay? It’ll make you sick.” “Okay, Daddy,” June agrees. “This might be the coolest thing I’ve ever done,” I say. “Way better than getting fired, right?” he
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