Page 130 of The First Taste
My mother nods, as if he’s giving her sage advice. Before his barb even lands, he’s already swinging his gaze around to Hazel and me. “Why are you dressed so casually, Kaia? In this house, we have a dress code.”
I struggle to keep my feelings off my face. “I didn’t know, Dad. I’m sorry.”
He takes a couple steps closer. “Your sister and your mother are wearing skirts. I expect you to dress up like a woman when you want to come to dinner here.”
This is entirely new since the last time I visited, just over a month ago. I swallow, bobbing my head. “Yes, sir.”
My mother hastily turns to us with a platter of roast chicken and vegetables clutched between two potholders. “Why don’t we sit down and eat?”
My father gives me a look as I stand up, shaking his head on the way to the formal dining room table. The table is long and glossy, laid with an extensive place setting for each of us, undoubtedly my mother’s doing. Dad sits at the head of the table and my mom hurries to set the chicken down in front of him. Hazel and I take our places across from each other as he clears his throat and starts to carve.
My mom rushes back to the kitchen, retrieving several more dishes. My dad serves himself first, then Hazel. My mom sets a perfectly poured pint of beer at his place, then scurries to her seat.
My dad takes a bite of his food, seeming to forget that my mother and I are yet to be served. I stand and move to grab the platter of food. My dad growls at me, his mouth still full.
“Manners, Kaia!”
Hazel smirks at me, picking up her fork and putting a piece of chicken in her mouth. It takes my father another minute to serve me and my mom tiny portions of chicken and vegetables.
“I’m trying to help you both out here,” he says, passing our plates back. “You both tend toward having fat asses. You guys both take after Serena’s mother, who was herself practically a fucking cow. She was disgusting.”
I glance toward my mother. I’ve never seen my mother bigger than a size two except when she was pregnant. But she just smiles benevolently down the table at my father, like he’s really doing something great for her.
“Thank you, Robert. You always look out for us,” she says. She glances around the table. “All of us should be very thankful.”
Hazel has a piece of chicken hanging from her mouth when she mumbles, “Thanks, Dad!”
“Thank you,” I echo quietly.
I look down at my plate, eying the tiny portions with a silent sigh. No sooner have I sliced a tiny piece of chicken off and popped it into my mouth does my father begin.
“When do you graduate again?” he asks, putting an elbow on the table. He spears a huge bite and chews it with relish.
“At the end of January.”
“And when do you hear back from New York Ballet?”
My cheeks turn pink. “I don’t know. I haven’t gotten my audition date yet. There are a lot of factors, like how many more people they have auditioning after me.”
He points his fork at me. “That’s not good enough, Kaia. I need a date.”
I swallow, dropping my eyes. “I’ll try to find out, Dad.”
“Good. I don’t want to have to ask you again,” he grunts.
“She is probably too busy with her social life to even pay attention to something like an important deadline,” Hazel says cattily.
I huff a laugh. “Social life? Have you never seen how much I practice? There is barely enough time left over for me to sleep.”
My dad fixes me with a glare. “I don’t like sarcastic comments or snark in my house, young lady. Now apologize to your sister.”
I give Hazel a dead-eyed stare. “Sorry.”
My father isn’t finished, though. He sets his fork down and leans in. “I would hope that you would have some fucking manners by now. I’ve spent almost twenty years and hundreds of thousands of dollars on your education and training as a dancer.”
My neck heats. “Yes, sir. I plan to repay you every cent.”
Everyone goes quiet. The idea of me earning that much money in my whole lifetime does seem absurd, on its face.
