Page 58 of Minding the Minotaur
Then Tippy walks up the garden path.
“Oh hi, Clarisse,” she says, clearly appraising the situation. “Me and Sammy will go get lunch ready. Give you two a chance to talk.”
I nod, rolling my eyes dramatically at Sammy, who gives a little grimace before following Tippy down the hall toward the kitchen.
“Come in here.” I drag Clarisse into the snug, where she promptly flops down onto the sofa. “I’m buggered,” she says. “This one’s really taking it out of me. Must be getting old.”
“Whose is it?” I demand through gritted teeth. “Fred’s?”
Three of her kids are his, so it was a good guess, but she shakes her head.
“Nah. Met this guy at the Tunnel Ramble Festival. Followed him to level eight, had a fantastic weekend, but forgot my contraceptive device, didn’t I?”
I pull hard on a horn in sheer frustration. “Gods, Clarisse, how many times have you done that now?”
She flashes me a toothy grin. “Well, at least eight times before this, right?” She must read my thunderous glare because she huffs, “Thought I’d be okay, ’cos it isn’t my fertile season. But he’s a fucking breeder bull, that guy. I guess all the shenanigans must’ve triggered heat.”
“What’s he do for work?” Please, please let this one be a decent guy.
She shrugs. “Dunno. Didn’t ask.”
“What the fuck, Clarisse.”
“Let’s just say conversation wasn’t high on the agenda, hon.” She gives me a doe-eyed look, and I know what’s coming next. “So, anyways…” she wheedles. “Gotta get a bit more coin off you with another mouth to feed soon.”
I curl my hands into fists. “You’re intending to keep it, are you?”
“I can’t get rid of my baby.” She starts to cry, but this time I’m not buying it. This time, I have a higher goal. I can’t just keep supporting Clarisse’s kids.
“Not my problem,” I grit out.
Clarisse’s jaw slackens. “W-what?”
“I’m saying no, Clarisse. I can’t give you any moremoney. You can go back to the father and maybe have aconversationwith him this time. Ask him to pay for his kid’s upbringing.”
Clarisse stares at me out of hurt brown eyes. Then her face crumples and she starts to low, bowing her horns and rocking on her strong haunches. The sound gets more and more melancholic, a low, pitiful moan that literally makes the walls vibrate. I harden my heart. We’ve been through this before. She does it every time she doesn’t get her own way.
When I can finally get a word in, I say firmly, “I’ll continue to fund this year’s school fees for Gemma, Tony, Baden, Luke and…” My memory fails me.
“Fallon, Suzie, Shelley, and Trixie,” she bellows angrily. “You’re their uncle—you could at least remember their names.”
I snap my mouth shut. Nothing good will come from talking back. Clarisse will fight dirty, and it will end up with us both in the mud.
But I’m not going to back down. For once in my life, I’m going to put my needs before anything else.
I dig my hooves into the ground. “I mean it, Clarisse. This time you can work it out with the father of your kid.”
“Fine. I’ll tell Fred it’s his.”
“Hell, he’ll know it isn’t.”
“Nah, he won’t. Hasn’t got a clue about the female cycle. Besides, he’s getting good money at the munitions factory. Says they’re upping production tenfold.”
A chill spreads down my spine. I knew we made guns and the like for the human guards. Ironic—we makethemarms to guard the portals to keepusout. But increased manufacturing of munitions? That’s a real worry. I shake my head, frowning. “That’s not good.”
“It is good, ’cos Fred’s getting rich working in the factory. He reckons the humans are going to attack one of the other domes and kill each other off. Good riddance, I say.”
I worry at my lip with my teeth. I wonder if Otis knows about this. I wonder if that’s why he’s been so preoccupied of late. I want to ask more questions, but there’s no point. I know Clarisse, and I know she only cares about the tiny sphere of her life. Her wants. Her needs. She’s self-centered to the core.
