Page 255 of The First Taste

"She was wonderful. She will always be present. And she has visited me several times in my dreams. That’s how I came up with the challenge to pit my two grandsons together. The inheritance race was her idea."

At the door, my dad freezes. Felix tugs on his arm, but he turns around and blows a raspberry. "Your story sucks, Remy!"

Remy scowls at my father. "And what would you know about it, Tripp?"

"I know that it’s not real. I know the difference between reality and fantasy. That’s one thing that’s different between me and you."

"Fuck you," Remy hisses.

Tripp straightens and takes a wobbly step towards my grandfather. "You know, my wife died many years ago. She left the whole family in the lurch. But you don’t see me blubbering on about it, do you?"

Remy goes red, seething. "You drove your wife away with your drinking. You ruined your family. That is not my fault, Tripp. No matter how many times you accuse me of it, it really comes down to you and your flaws."

I feel my whole body lock up. I don’t want anybody knowing this much about my family, but especially Talia. In the usual course of things, we Morgans succeed in keeping things calm and normal as far as outsiders can see.

Most people don’t realize how broken and fucked up we are.

Talia looks at me, her eyes wide. But it's difficult for me to remain calm as I watch my father and grandfather go round and round at each other.

I wish I could say that this was the first time that I’ve seen such bad behavior between them.

My dad leans in, his face red. "It was the family that drove her away. Not me. You can say it was my drinking until the cows come home, but we all know the truth. Nobody ever wanted her here. And that’s what eventually came to be."

Remy’s lips curl. "You don’t deserve to have your birthday celebrated. You don’t even deserve to call yourself my son. That’s it, you are officially cut off. You’re not getting any inheritance, and I am not supporting you financially anymore either."

"I hate you!" my father says, as he lunges toward my grandfather.

His movements are hobbled by my Uncle Felix, who catches him and pushes him against the wall. Remy growls and makes moves toward my dad, but Clive neatly sidelines him by stepping in front of him and asking him a question.

"Everybody out!" Remy shouts. "I don’t want to see any of you anymore. Go back to your lairs and plot against me some more, why don’t you?"

I realize that Remy can’t leave the room until my Dad does. So I grab Talia by the arm and steer her over to Clive, touching his arm.

When he looks at me, I tell him in a low tone, "Can you see that Talia gets home? I have to go deal with my father."

Clive bows and agrees. I tell Talia that I will see her later; I am not in any position to worry myself over her concerned gaze.

Rushing towards the door, I help Felix grab my father by the elbow. Working together, we get Tripp out of the room and down the hall, the opposite direction Remy needs to go up the stairs.

"What should we do with him?" Felix mutters, hazarding me a glance.

"I don’t know. Throw him in the gutter maybe?" I joke.

Tripp raises his head and swivels his gaze toward me. "You know," he says quite drunkenly. He is tripping over his words, all the consonants and vowels sloshing together. "Your mother would not have liked who you grew up to be. She would’ve been ashamed of you. You’re a terrible disappointment."

I give a startled laugh and tell him to shut up. Felix looks at me sympathetically, and we each take one of my dad's elbows and hold him up, maneuvering toward the front door. I feel blooms of anger and a deep, dark sadness. But I stuff it down, just like I always do when the Morgan family is involved.

Fourteen

Talia

"No, no," my Aunt Minnie says as she looks at how I'm stacking the books in our store's display window. "These are children’s books. They may just be the books that the Morgan family didn’t want. But in order to capture our target audience, that being children, we have to entice them in an unexpected way."

She gestures to the books that I’ve just stacked in a neat pile, with one book leaning on the front to show the illustration.

"I’m not sure how you want me to stack them. You didn’t provide any instructions." I give my Aunt Minnie a long look and wave at the stack to invite her to arrange them as she wants them.

"I swear, the artistic gene just skipped over you entirely.” Aunt Minnie comes over and tousles the stack of books, nudging some out and arranging them in a pleasing pattern. She looks back at me, cocking her head. "See? It’s important to make the display alluring."