“I’m not taking tips from somebody wearing moon boots.” My dad frowns, shaking his head at my sneakers. “What the hell are those?” “They’re . . . fashion!” my mom says, doing jazz hands. “They’re the re-drop of the Nike Air Mag,” I inform him. “They only made eighty-nine pairs. I could sell these for thirty-five thousand dollars right now. Used!” “I will pay you thirty-five thousand dollars if I never have to look at them again,”
