by Chloe Adler
“You don't look like you should be eating pancakes, Maria.” His chuckle stung. “But I'll meet you. In an hour?”
“That would be great. And, Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Can you come alone, please? I'd like to have a private father-daughter chat.”
“Of course.” He hung up.
I texted him the name and address before I showered, changed and headed out to the living room. Rex was back with the boys, tail thumping wildly upon seeing me.
“Hey, boy.” I ruffled his fur. “Wanna go on another walk?”
He barked up at me.
“Where ya goin'?” Carter asked from the couch, where he sat with Alec, both of them reading on their Kindles.
“To meet my dad at the cafe. I'd ask you two to come along but I need to see him alone.”
“Sure, sure.” Carter waved a hand at me. “We just got back from there anyway.”
“Have fun,” called Alec as I let myself and Rex out.
The walk was crisp, the autumn air cool on my face and slightly damp hair. Although it was warm enough out, I found myself shivering in the breeze, wrapping an arm around my body to steady myself. Walking along our ocean bay to the pier steadied my nerves. Surely I could work everything out with my dad, now that he had agreed to come alone. Daddy and his little girl, nothing could come between our relationship. I calmed, focusing on the seagulls calling from the water as they dove and circled. Rex momentarily strained at his leash before falling back in line. He wasn't the only one on a tether.
When I arrived at the Harbor House Cafe, I checked my phone. I was a few minutes early, and I didn't see my father so I chose an outdoor table. Rex immediately reclined at my feet. I was studying the menu when the sound of a metal chair scraping the wooden planks across from me caused me to look up. Expecting to see my father, I let out a small gurgle when I met Margery's darkening eyes. He was pulling the chair out for her and avoiding my eyes.
“Burgundy.” Margery was the only person I'd ever met who could say my name and make it sound ugly. “It was so nice of you to ask us to breakfast.”
“Actually, Margery, I needed to discuss some private matters with him.”
She waved her hand in front of her face. “Your father and I have no secrets. He wants me here, don't you, dear?”
“She has a good head on her shoulders, this one.” He jutted a thumb in her direction and then sat down next to her.
Shit. “Dad, I was hoping to talk to you about the sensitive matter discussed at the Council meeting yesterday, the matter that no one else is supposed to know about.”
“Your father has already told me about the werewolves wanting sanctuary here.” She shook out the white cloth napkin but didn't place it on her lap. “Disgusting matter, don't you think?”
“I think it's disgusting that they wouldn't be allowed to take refuge here,” I snapped. What the hell? He'd told her about the Council meeting? I hadn't told anyone, not even my two closest friends.
She put her hand up, palm out. “I need some food before we get into this.”
Really?
“Waiter.” She snapped her fingers at a bus boy who was scurrying by.
He looked over. “Un minute, senora.”
“Why should I wait? I'm the customer. Bring me some coffee right now.”
He hurried off without arguing.
“He's not a waiter.”
“I don't care what he is, he can bring me some coffee. He's getting paid to work, isn't he?”
My father sat still without saying a word, and a moment later the bus boy returned with three cups and a coffeepot. He placed one in front of each of us, then poured.
Margery held up her white linen napkin. “Get me a black one, boy.”
Heaven forbid she get white lint on her black silk slacks. The busboy took the napkin from her and looked at me, his eyebrows raised. I shrugged and mouthed, “Sorry.” Swiftly nodding, he scurried away again, returning quickly with a black linen napkin.
“Cream,” Margery snapped.
He ran back with a small silver container and placed it in front of her.
“Sugar,” she barked.
The poor kid rolled his eyes.
“Don't you dare roll your eyes at me.” Rex stood up and stared at her. “I want to speak to the manager. We are the customers. It's your job to wait on us. You only have one job to do. Is it that difficult?”
“Margery,” I kept my voice low and smooth, “this is not his job. His job is to clean the tables.”
“Whatever.” She waved a hand at him. “Bring me some sugar now.”
The boy scurried off again, returning with packets of sugar, which he placed in front of her.
“I'll have the French toast, bacon and a bowl of fruit,” she said without looking at him.
He gave me a panicked look and I gave him a tiny nod.
“Dad? Do you want anything?” I asked my father.
“Coffee is fine,” he responded.
“I'll be right back.” I got up and followed the busboy inside, where I apologized profusely and gave our orders to an actual waiter. Returning to the table, I said, “The food has been ordered.”
“Good,” said Margery, shaking out the black napkin and placing it on her lap.
I sucked in a breath, trying not to look like a guppy gulping for air. This woman tried my every nerve but what I couldn't figure out yet was if she was doing it on purpose or not. If she was trying to bait me, I would not bite. “So, Dad, I need to talk to you about your role here and the vote.”
“What about it?” he asked.
“Well, you were asked to join the Council because you're a Signum-rights lawyer.”
“And werewolves are not Signum,” said Margery hotly.
“Well they're not humans, so actually that does make them Signum. They're supernatural like the rest of us.”
“They're uncontrollable creatures,” she snapped. “Nothing like us.”
“Have you met a werewolf? Talked to any?”
“Of course not.” She shook her head. “Why would I do that? They're savages.”
“Need I remind you that humans called us savages and worse before we came out?”
“Maria.” My father was using his diplomatic tone on me. The same one I used when the discussion was over and I couldn't be swayed. Is this where I'd learned it? Why had I never seen how manipulative it was? I crossed my arms tightly, covering my chest.
“Margery is simply concerned for the safety of all,” he said, “humans and Signum alike. It would be irresponsible of us to let a new race into the Edge without knowing if they're volatile or not.”
“You don't think they can control themselves? Is that what this is about?” I asked as the waiter appeared with our food, placing it down before us.
“Thank you,” I said, making eye contact with her and smiling.
Margery and my father ignored her completely, but as soon as she walked away, Margery snapped her fingers in the air, pointed to her plate and called out, “This bacon is not cooked to my satisfaction. Bring me another serving that is fully cooked.”
My father didn't even seem to notice how rude she was being. Or maybe he didn't care. Was that a proud smile he wore?
“Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry, ma'am,” the waiter responded, lifting up the plate.
“Don't be sorry, girl, do your job.”
I had to sit on my hands to keep from punching her, reminding myself that my dad found redeeming qualities in her that I had yet to uncover. I cleared my throat and turned toward Dad. “So what you're saying is that you have no idea if werewolves are dangerous or not. You know nothing about them. You've never met one, but you've decided they shouldn't be given a chance?”
“Correct,” Margery answered.
“Excuse me but I'm speaking to my father.”
He sighed deeply as the woman returned, placed a plate with four strips of well-done bacon next to Margery and hurried away.
Margery pushed th
e plate aside. “This is worse, it's burnt. No wonder she's only a waitress.”
“Darling,” he put his hand on her arm, “let it go.”
“I'll do no such thing. You know how I feel about letting people get away with things. How will they ever learn or improve? By saying nothing, we simply perpetuate bad behavior. I'm doing them a favor.”
“Yes, dear, of course you are. You're right.”
“Burgundy, sweetheart,” she drawled.
“Yes?”
“The real reason I wanted to be here with your father today was so I could talk to you.”
“About?”
“Your future, dear.” She took a bite of her pancake, not looking up when one of the waiters refilled her coffee.
“What about my future?”
“Well, your father and I have been talking,” she looked at my dad and he nodded, “and we think it's time for you to settle down.”
“What does that mean?”
“You're not getting any younger. You are a gorgeous girl.” She smiled over at my father. “You obviously got Hervé's handsome looks, but . . . those will fade with time.”
“So?”
Margery leaned forward. “You may not always be able to use your beauty to make money, dear.”
“Again, so?” I looked at my dad but his face was impassive, watching her.
“Do you mind if I ask how much money you make at the club?” Her tone was light as she blinked her clumpy, mascara-clad lashes at me.
“Most nights I bring in about six fifty.” I jutted my chin out. I was proud of my dancing and my earnings.
Margery made an ugly noise in the back of her throat reminiscent of a cat choking up a hairball. “I make six hundred and fifty dollars . . . an hour, dear.”
“So what? That makes you better than me?”
She clucked. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I brought that up as a reference. I only desire that you be taken care of.” He smiled at my father. “You are daddy's little girl, after all.”
Ew. “Again, what the—”
“Maria, please, just hear her out. She has a lot of experience in this area.”
“It's my specialty.” She offered me a catty grin, like she'd just swallowed someone's pet mouse when they'd turned the other way. “I know about relationships, better than anyone. I can look at a couple and tell you not only if they're going to stay married or get divorced, but also the number of years it'll take.” She winked at my father. “That's when I pass out my business cards to the bride or groom at their wedding.”
He grinned back at her, his gray eyes sparkling.
Surely she was joking. If she was, it was funny in a very twisted way.
“Women come to me for advice about men on a regular basis, and I'm always right.”
My father beamed. “Margery gives her time for free, to help them.”
I just bet she does.
“Your father is worried about you.” She gazed at him, and he nodded, eyes wide.
“Is this true?” I asked.
“Yes, of course,” he said.
“We've discussed it and for your own benefit, we both think that it's time for you to find a man.”
“What? A man? What kind of man?” That was nutters.
“A rich, fat, balding, older man.” She blinked at me. “You find one of those and you'll be set for life.”
I laughed, sure she was joking. “Money can't buy you love.”
She and Dad exchanged looks and responded in unison, “Oh yes it can.”
No way. They were playing with me, had to be. In a matter of seconds, they'd both jump up and say, “Gotcha!” I leaned back in my chair, determined to let them play it out and have their fun. I'd act surprised when they admitted the gag.
Margery continued, “I'm sure you have your pick of rich, older men at the strip club. They're probably falling all over you.”
Dad nodded on cue. “She's got a point, kiddo. If you marry a rich man, you won't have to strip anymore.”
“I love stripping,” I bit out before I could curb my tongue. How far were they planning on taking this?
Margery tsked. “What you are doing affects your father's business. I thought you cared more about him.” She leaned back. “And, I really hate to play this card but,” she sighed deeply, “if you are to be a part of this family, you must properly represent it.”
What? She was serious? “Okay, you two, you got me. I'm sorry but I can't play along with this shtick.”
“Shtick?” My dad's eyes flashed. He leaned forward, baring his fangs. “This is no joke, Maria. This is your life we are talking about. You're breaking my heart right now!”
“I'm breaking your heart?” I pushed my chair back. “What's really going on here?” Did this woman have that much power over my father? And the power to cut me out of my own family? Power over his heart and his money? If so, I'd gravely underestimated her.
“Whatever do you mean?” She put her hand to her chest, blinking those big, ugly lashes at me again.
“Maria.” My father put his hand on my arm, using his vampire strength to pull both me and my chair back toward the table. Pain seared up my arm and I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. The liquid warmth of my own blood seeped down my throat. He'd always been gruff, not realizing his own strength, and as a child I'd had the bruises to prove it. But anytime I'd complained, he'd been surprised, then told me I was too soft and needed to suck it up.
He removed his hand, the outline of his fingers pulsing crimson against my skin. “Please don't be so difficult. Margery is the most caring woman I know. She wants to make all of our lives better.”
Bullshit. The stench of this woman's manipulation overpowered me, my knuckles whitening as I gripped the sides of my chair.
“Burgundy, darling,” she drawled, “please think about all of this. We're not asking you to make a decision right away.”
“A decision? About what?” My nostrils flared, eyes narrowing. Looking at her without flipping the table was becoming a challenge.
“Whether you want to remain in your father's life or not.”
I turned to my father, but he said nothing, running his hand over his face.
“I don't understand what's going on here. So you're saying if I don't marry a rich man, you won't love me anymore?”
He rolled his eyes. “Always so dramatic.”
Margery drummed her perfectly manicured fingers on the table. “Two things, dear. I'll spell them out for you. First of all, we want you to explain to your boss how bad it would be for the citizens of the Edge if he were to allow werewolves in, and secondly . . .” She picked up her water and took a long swallow. “We'd like you to stop stripping and settle down. I suggested a rich man because, let's be realistic here, your dad can't keep supporting you forever.”
I shook my head to clear it. Did this woman have something on my dad? Or over him? The man was no pushover. Why would he let her dictate what he did with his money? It was his to do with as he pleased. And why would he care that I was a stripper? Didn’t he used to visit strippers himself? Back in Nicaragua? Obviously he cared more about what this woman thought than his own daughter. Well, fuck them. I didn't need his money, and if his love had suddenly become conditional, I could live without that as well.
Margery cleared her throat. “Think about it, dear, that's all I'm saying. With your father on the Council and working here as a prominent lawyer, it looks bad to have a daughter slumming it.”
“Not as bad as it looks to have a cunt for a wife.”
Chapter Thirteen
Walking down to the end of the boardwalk afterward, I wanted to vomit. What an awful woman. My father had tried to make me apologize but I'd refused and Margery had claimed she respected a woman who wasn't afraid to speak her mind.
Then she'd become even more belligerent to the waitstaff, demanding that the cost of her entire breakfast be removed from the bill because the food was “tasteless.” I'd been eatin
g at the Harbor for years and their food was delicious. They had hundreds of four- and five-star Yelp reviews and had been voted the best breakfast spot in the Edge five years in a row. I had the feeling this woman would even complain about a three-star Michelin restaurant.
What the hell was going on with my father? How could I fix this? Suddenly he was a racist. Or was he just acting that way to placate her?
Stopping to let Rex do his business, I pulled out my phone and called Benedict.
“Burgundy.” His sharp British accent flooded the line. “What can I do for you?”
“It doesn't look like my father is going to help with werewolf rights. Is it too late to replace him on the Council?”
“He was voted in,” Benedict said. “And no one can be replaced until either their term is up or they quit on their own.”
“What happens now?”
“We meet next week, and each member will present their arguments, and then we'll vote again.”
“And if it's still a tie?”
“We'll have to bring in all past members of the council that still live in the Edge, and they will be the deciding factor.”
“Is there any way that could end up in a tie?”
“I've looked through the list and no, it's an uneven number but . . .”
“What?” I continued walking with Rex, not even able to enjoy the glittering ocean waves.
“Nothing like that has ever happened before. We'd be in new territory.”
“Great.”
“I wish I could predict the outcome, or that I had more leverage over everyone, but the Council was created to debate and decide contentious issues just like these.”
“Yeah.”
My one-word responses gave me away.
He chuckled. “Hey, cheer up, I've got a good feeling about this.”
“I hope so.” I hung up. His optimism surprised me. If that stately curmudgeon could look on the bright side, why couldn't I? Probably because my father was on the Council, voting it down. But was it really my dad talking or was it that woman's voice coming out of his mouth?
“Burgundy?” A familiar voice rang out and I looked up to see Elijah walking out of a shop.
Tension hung thick in the air like a dense fog blanketing the bay. I was torn between sprinting the other way without responding or throwing my arms around him to cry and bury my face in his chest. What's behind door number three? Deal with this situation like the responsible grown-up I was.
