"I'm not going to school today," I said casually as I poured myself a glass of orange juice.
Alan, still halfway through his first cup of coffee, looked up and shrugged. "After winning millions? You can skip the whole week if you want."
Charlie, across the table, smirked. "Look at that. A supportive father for once. I'm touched."
After breakfast, we stayed at the table, the Harper Management Fund still the hot topic. Evelyn was asking for updates on the paperwork, Alan was scribbling on a yellow notepad, and Charlie was doing his best to pretend he wasn't involved.
I leaned forward. "Hey, Grandma. Do you know anyone in fashion? Like, real fashion. Someone with taste."
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "I know several, darling. Why?"
I shrugged. "Now that I have money, I think it's time I stop dressing like a cartoon character. I'm also planning to get my hair cut at the same place Uncle Charlie goes."
Alan looked up. "I can help with clothes. I've got a few ideas."
I turned slowly to him, narrowing my eyes, looking the feet to the top, "I think I'll pass, dad"
Charlie tried to hold back a laugh and failed. "Yeah, unless Jake wants to start dressing like an overworked dentist from Pasadena, maybe let him figure it out himself."
"Hey," Alan protested. "I'm very organized with my wardrobe."
"Exactly," Charlie said with a smirk.
A couple of hours later, Charlie took me to his barber, a sleek place in Malibu with soft jazz playing and customers who smelled like cologne ads. After the cut, we met up with one of Evelyn's old acquaintances, a fashion consultant named Clarisse. She had a tape measure around her neck and an intimidating sense of style.
"Let's build you a wardrobe, young man," she said, already steering me toward racks of designer clothing.
Trying on clothes wasn't my favorite thing, but I had to admit, it was satisfying to see the change. Slim-fit jeans, clean sneakers, layered shirts—fashionable but not like a kid trying too hard to dress like an adult. The style felt balanced, refined, something that actually fit me, not just my body, but my attitude.
I also liked the new haircut. Clean, modern, not overly styled. Clarisse handed me a small jar of hair pomade—nothing like those cheap gels that make your hair look like it was licked by a cow. This was quality stuff. Light hold, natural finish. I could get used to this. For the first time, I looked in the mirror and didn't see the chubby, careless version of Jake Harper.
"I gotta work out more," I muttered, tightening the belt. Not becoming chubby Jake again.
Charlie overheard and grinned. "That's the spirit. Just don't turn into one of those kids who spends more time flexing in the mirror than studying."
"No danger there," I replied, admiring the sharper jawline starting to show.
We loaded the shopping bags into the car and headed home, feeling like royalty. But the moment we turned into the garage, we both froze.
"Is that... a Porsche?" Charlie asked, squinting.
Alan stood next to a brand-new, gleaming red Porsche convertible, grinning like a teenager.
I stepped out slowly, staring at the car, then at my dad. "You've had the money for less than a day"
Alan patted the hood. "It was a great deal. Low mileage. German engineering."
I turned to Charlie. "I thought you were the most irresponsible one with money."
Charlie took off his sunglasses and stared at the car in disbelief. "So did I, kid. So did I."