Page 241 of The First Taste

Dare glares at me dramatically and straightens his posture. "Let’s get this over with."

Dare turns and follows Clive, and I in turn follow them both down a narrow set of stairs to the first floor. We emerge just in front of a pair of pocket doors, through which I can hear the low rumbling of a voice. Then suddenly another voice, low-pitched and male, comes in, practically screaming at the other voice to get out of his office.

The pocket doors are wrenched open by an older man in a gray sweater and black slacks, dabbing at his balding forehead with a handkerchief. He looks at Dare and nods ever so briefly, hurrying past and down the long hall toward the foyer.

My eyebrows rise as I turn to see Remy Morgan himself, a squat little man with two huge white lines for eyebrows and a balding pate. He grimaces and swings his head around to take in Dare and I. He is wearing a dark pair of khaki pants and a tan golf shirt. He looks about as inviting as a skull found by the side of the road.

His face crinkles, and he steps out from behind his huge desk, waddling out to the doorway. It takes him a minute, but when he gets there, Clive slides in and hands him a polished black walking cane with an intricate gold monogrammed M carved into the handle. He thanks Clive and then waves him goodbye.

"Well? Clive says that you want to talk to me, Dare. Time is wasting."

Dare tightens his tie and steps forward, a balanced smile on his face. "Hello, grandfather. How have you been?"

Remy looks at his watch. He huffs, standing his cane against the floor. "It's been a busy day. If you could please just get on with it, I have another meeting to attend to."

Dare’s lips tighten, but he keeps smiling. "Very well. Grandfather, this is Talia. And she has come to ask for clemency in a financial matter."

Remy cuts Clive a look and leans on his cane, licking his teeth. "That’s very demanding of you, young lady."

My heart rate jumps up, making it hard to speak for myself. I clear my throat and stumble over myself as I try to explain my situation.

"Well, sir. You see, my Aunt Minnie has a bookstore and a bungalow, both of which belong to a real estate group owned by your family. In fact, it’s our little bookshop that your family shorted when they decided to buy the children’s books for the Christmas event at another place after already placing an order for the same books with us. You see, we rely on that money to keep the bookstore afloat. Without it, we are going to have serious financial difficulties. Maybe even with that money, honestly. Aunt Minnie, God bless her, is so charitable and generous that she borrowed money from some suspicious loan shark types to pay for..."

Remy starts yawning during my last sentence, and he throws a hand out, beckoning me to stop mid-sentence. "God, don’t make me listen to you tell me the entire financial history of your aunt."

My heart beats so hard in my chest that the blood rushes in my ears loudly. "Sir, that is why you should forgive our debt and pay me for the books that you ordered for Christmas."

"Oh, is that all?" he asks. "For fuck’s sake, Dare. I only have a limited number of hours left on the planet. And yet you bring me this?"

Dare shrugs, his smile vanishing. "I don’t mean to waste your time, Remy. I brought her here because I thought that you might be inclined to hear her out. My grandmother, Shelley, was often found lost in that bookstore. I thought that maybe you would show some clemency for her favorite store in town."

Remy’s eyes narrow on Dare’s face. "Don’t bring your grandmother into this; God rest her soul. She’s got nothing to do with our real estate holdings."

"Sir, if you could just..."

Remy holds up his hand again, stopping my speech mid-sentence once more. "That’s enough from you. Now get the fuck out of my office before I start to get upset. And Dare, don’t bother me with this little shit ever again."

With that, he turns away, leaning heavily on his cane while he hobbles back toward his desk. Clive looks at us out of the corners of his eyes as he closes the pocket doors of the room.

The tears that threatened earlier? Now they have made good on their promise, blurring my vision. I don’t want to cry in front of Dare or Clive. I never want to cry in front of anyone, really. However, having this avenue of financial culpability suddenly cut off from me is a significant blow.

Clive opens his arms and begins to shoo us away from where we are standing. I put my hands over my face, feeling my cheeks fill with blood. This is embarrassing. I’ve never been rejected quite like this before.

Dare’s arm snakes out, and he pulls me along, turning a corner and walking back into the main hallway. "Don’t make a scene," he tells me. His voice is flat and emotionless, giving nothing away.

"I’ll make a scene if I want to make a scene," I say. I shake off his touch and give him a filthy look. "You don’t understand anything. There are people who depend on me just to get by. Then again, how could I even think that you could understand? Just look at you. Look at this place. Look at the splendor and opulence that you grew up around. You have a freaking butler, for God’s sake."

Dare frowns at me. "Clive is my grandfather’s butler, for your information."

"It doesn’t matter!" I shout. "None of it does. Most people don’t have this kind of luxury. And it’s enough to make me sick."

He looks at me, crossing his arms. He makes no move to comfort me or change my mind in any way.

"Beggars do not get to be choosers, darling girl. You wanted a chance to plead your case to Remy yourself. I gave you that opportunity. Now you give me what I want. That’s how this whole thing works. Or am I suddenly the only one with integrity?"

"You know what you are? You are a bastard. A complete heartless bastard."

Turning on my heel, I rush toward the front door, my thoughts a mess.