He gets roped into helping his dad with work.

Nicholas then showered and shaved. When he came out his dad was looking for him. “Son, I need you to help me at work. There are these people who are trying to buy insurance or something, but they are speaking Spanish and I haven’t the faintest idea what they are saying, but the are apparently very important customers . . .” His dad was flustered. “Dad, don’t worry. I will help.” Nicholas said. He was fluent in Spanish, and self-taught. He went along with his dad to his office and helped translate his dad’s messages to the couple and vice versa. Always thought I would woo some Senorita by learning Spanish, but instead here I am mediating an insurance dispute, Nicholas thought. To his surprise, the big-titted Hispanic MILF seemed to be ogling him, apparently impressed with his fluency. Is she really checking me out? He wondered. The couple took seemingly forever to get across the message they wanted and by the time they were done, it was late. “C’mon son. Let’s go home.”

They left in the van and headed towards home. But then Mr. Notts took a surprise turn into a Burger King drive thru lane. “Dad, I’m not supposed to eat this . . .” Nicholas was shocked and repeated what his mother had told him on countless occasions when he asked for junk food. His dad scoffed and waved his hand in the air. “I’d say we deserve to indulge ourselves. How about a Whopper?” Nicholas and his dad ate their Whoppers while parked in the parking lot.

“God, I’ve had a stressful day.” His father began eating faster and sucked down a gulp of his soft drink. “Son, I spend all day trying to sell people insurance. They want safety and peace of mind. The company will come up with an algorithm that looks at people’s habits, their lifestyles—whether they eat fucking whoppers--and then the algorithm determines if they are a risk.” Nicholas watched, shocked as his dad gestured wildly during his rant. “Well, son, I am not a risk. I am safe. Your mother and I have spent our whole lives making you safe.” His father paused to take a chomp out of his Whopper. “What does all this mean, Dad?” Nicholas asked, puzzled. “What I mean, is . . . Fuck being safe! Live! Life is meant to be lived!” Nicholas had never seen his father like this. But then his father stiffened up and slouched back in his chair. “I know it sounds contrived . . .” His father said meekly. “No, Dad. I get it. I know what you mean.”

Nicholas was amazed his father—his boring, old, stuffy father—was saying exactly what he had been feeling. “I’ll tell your mother I think it would be good for you to get out of the house.” Nicholas nodded, trying to mask how pleased he was that his father had said that. Finally, I can get to see the world, Nicholas thought to himself. He was so pleased he nearly forgot about his next door crush. Mr. Notts started up the car. When they pulled into the driveway, Mr. Notts turned to his son. “How was the Whopper?” He asked. Nicholas smiled, “Good. It was good.”