“I’m an artist,” Rocky says. “I don’t expect you to understand what I do.” “Head in the damn clouds—that’s what I understand.” She yawns, trying her best to act ambivalent. “And you wonder why I don’t come home more.” Dad grips his glass tight and sits down. “And this one?” Motioning to me. “This one wants my money to cut her tits off. Just look at both of you. Bunch of—” “DAD.” Rocky slams her hands on the table. “Freaks.”
