“Do you work hereandwith the mayor?” I ask.
“Part-time with both jobs.” She glances down at her nails. “I’m in high demand.”
Ugh, no wonder Aunt Kitty heckles Marjorie. Who says they’re in high demand and actually means it?
“Oh, that’s…that’s great. Wasn’t aware.” I nervously look around. “Really like what you’ve done with your office.” My eyes fall on the plastic vines she has taped around the perimeter of her office. “Very…earthy.”
“Thank you.” Nose held high, arms crossed, she asks, “So what could you possibly need a loan for?”
Oh God, think of something.
Anything that doesn’t have to do with Rudder’s.
Because this is the last person we should be talking with about money. She could easily tell the mayor we lied on the application and then Rudder’s will be taken away, without even giving us a chance.
“Hobby horses,” Aunt Kitty says, stepping in and pulling me from my thoughts. “I was considering starting a hobby horse farm where I’d train individuals for competitions, lend them my secrets.”
Marjorie’s expression falls flat. “No one wants that, Kitty.”
Oh no, Marjorie just chose violence.
You can tell Aunt Kitty her hairstyle—a curly perm like Blanche’s fromThe Golden Girls—is an abomination.
You can call her outfit a cheap PrincePurple Rainknockoff.
But insult her hobby horses?
All I can say is, block your eyeballs, neck, and crotch, because Aunt Kitty has no problem poking eyes out, punching throats, and sticking her foot right up the old nether regions out of pure rage.
Aunt Kitty rears back, as if she was just slapped, and in a low, demonic voice, she says, “How…dare…you.”
Uh-oh.
Three fighting words that lead to no good.
Before she can pounce, I place my hand on Aunt Kitty’s shoulder, mentally willing her to calm down. “You know, I think that maybe we might seek a different route for the hobby horse thing, Aunt Kitty. Remember that, uh…that investor that wanted to help you out? I know it’s not your first option but might not hurt hearing them out.”
When Aunt Kitty looks me in the eyes, I mentally communicate with her to stuff away her anger and abort the mission, because the last thing we need in this mess is to get caught by someone like Marjorie. She doesn’t need to know that we don’t have the money for Rudder’s, and she definitely doesn’t need that piece of fodder to hang over our heads.
“The investor,” Aunt Kitty says with a slow nod. “Yes, you’re right, I think we shall give them a try.” She straightens herself out and pats down her suit coat. “I think the investor would be a marvelous idea, better than having to sit in this room with Marjorie and pretend that we actually like to hear the sound of her voice.”
My eyes widen.
For the love of God, Aunt Kitty.
“I beg your pardon,” Marjorie huffs.
“I think we should just go.” I loop my arm through Aunt Kitty’s and tug her toward the exit.
“Yes, please, take me away. Being around her is insufferable.”
“Stop,” I whisper. “You’re going to put a target on our backs.”
“You’re insufferable to this entire town,” Marjorie says, garnering our attention as she stands from her desk. Arms crossed, she looks ready to fight. “You know the only reason why Renley was granted the bid for Rudder’s was because the business society wants her to screw up, right?”
I feel my face blanch from embarrassment.
“What do you mean by that?” Aunt Kitty asks, her tone dripping in defensiveness.
