Page 231 of The First Taste
Tristen sends me a short look, choosing not to comment on that. Instead, he pulls his cell phone back and looks through the page, trying to gain insight from it. "Well, it says that she works at a local bookstore. And there are a number of posts here about being‘thrifty’. Patching jeans, resoling her shoes, mending a coat. A disgusting amount of posts about getting money from recycling. So… It’s likely that she doesn’t come from money."
I picture her, remembering the little details about her from last night. Her obviously worn coat, her frumpy skirt, her army boots. My lips twitch.
"No, that much is obvious. She doesn’t seem to have two nickels to rub together. It’s funny that a woman like that should even know my brother. I wonder how they came into contact?"
He squints down at his phone and shrugs. "It’s weird, most of the pictures on her Instagram are about books or places here in town. There are no flashy cars, no pictures of her partying, and no new vacations. So I would say that either she met Burn when she was a fish out of water, or vice versa."
"That much is crystal clear."
He presses his lips and tilts his head. "You know, in another life, with a better haircut and a stylist, Talia would be quite a beauty. Her hair is really something else."
I scowl at him. "Do me a favor? Stop trying to make Burn’s bad decisions seem like okay ones. The girl is frumpy and poor, just like Burn’s decision-making process."
Tristen rolls his eyes. "You’re the boss. I’m just here on vacation."
Closing the lid of my laptop, I rise and stretch. "Is it too early for a drink at the Raven’s Head Club?"
Tristen checks his watch and frowns. "Yeah, I think they are still closed. But we can go to that other place I like… What’s it called again?"
I scrunch up my face. "I think you mean Herbsaint."
"That’s the place that all the cute, lower class girls work at?"
I smile ruefully at him. "The very same. Come on, if we hurry, we can be there in time for happy hour. They serve this whiskey punch in the afternoon that I really adore."
"All right. Let’s go."
After I don a suit jacket and slick back my hair, we head down to the lobby, talking about Tristen’s recent surfing trip to Australia. He is just describing to me how it feels to look down and see what he thinks is a great white shark, when we step out of the hotel and practically run into Daisy.
Petite, dark-haired, and wearing a short white dress that shows off her miles of legs under a dark wool cape, Daisy is unmistakable. She has a beautiful face, a glossy dark mane of hair that falls to her waist, an upturned nose, and a wide, aristocratic forehead. Add a perfect, plump pout and a pair of flashing hazel eyes, and you have Daisy to a T.
"Watch where you’re going!" she says angrily. Then she realizes that she just ran into Tristen and me. Her expression quickly changes from scowl to sly smile. "Oh, it’s you."
It’s funny, that’s the second time in twenty four hours that I have heard those words from a woman’s lips. Steeling myself for the inevitable argument that is to come, I smile thinly and hold my ground. Daisy steps back after a long second, and Tristen jumps in.
"Hey Daisy," he greets her. "How’s it going?"
She looks at him, her expression as sour as if she were sucking on a lemon.
"I’m doing well. How are you, Tristen? I figured that you would have moved to the city for good."
He arches his brow curiously. "I did move to the city. That was years ago, by the by."
"Was it?" she asks. “You’ve always dressed like an old man, so perhaps that is why I get so confused when I look at you.”
His face tightens. He looks at me for support. My lips curl, and I smirk a little bit.
"You are kind of an old man," I tell Tristen. "Hell, even I am going to be thirty-four this year. It does seem like it was a long time ago, though."
Daisy straightens, pulling her dark cape more snugly around herself. "Time does fly, no matter how old you are. Is that not right?”
Tristen runs his tongue over his teeth. "You act like you aren’t the same age as we are. But we all went to college together. You just entered Princeton as we were leaving, a freshman to our senior class."
She puts her hands in her pockets and tilts her head, talking to him as if talking to a child. "I remember. I was there. Now, are you back in town or are you living in New York City?"
"No, I’m definitely not back. I am just visiting for a day or two."
"Well, that’s a pity. Harwicke could really use someone of your lineage. From what I can see, the whole town is going to the dogs. Everyone that I meet seems to be absolutely classless. It’s reprehensible, really."
