“Still Jobless, Still Figuring It Out,” My Brother Toasted at a Rooftop Party — Minutes Later a Harassment Complaint Hit My Phone, and by Monday He Learned the Company He’d Been Mocking Belonged to Me

“Still Jobless, Still Figuring It Out,” My Brother Toasted at a Rooftop Party — Minutes Later a Harassment Complaint Hit My Phone, and by Monday He Learned the Company He’d Been Mocking Belonged to Me

At a rooftop lounge overlooking downtown Austin, where the heat clung to skin even after sunset and the skyline glittered with the kind of confidence cities like to borrow from their own reflections, my brother lifted his glass and decided that I would be the evening’s entertainment, and what hurt wasn’t the words themselves but the ease with which they landed, the practiced timing, the certainty that the room would follow him. My name is Avery Quinn, I am twenty-nine years old, and I stood there beneath warm amber lighting with a composed smile that had taken years to perfect while Bryce Quinn, my older brother, laughed and said loudly,

“Still jobless, still figuring it out,”

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