Clout Is Thicker Than Blood Chapter 1

My cousin came home for the holidays, and during a lull in the conversation, I asked the most standard, filler question imaginable: "So, Taylor, seeing anyone special lately?"

Taylor didn't even blink. She just rolled her eyes and snapped, "Why? You looking to hand yours over?"

I froze, the air leaving my lungs. I had no idea how to respond to that kind of vitriol.

My mom, bless her heart, walked over right then, totally missing the tension. "So, honey, when are we going to see you walk down the aisle?"

Taylor’s expression went flat. "I’m broke. Unless you’re planning on funding the whole thing? How much you got for me, Aunt Beth?"

"Oh, you silly girl," Mom laughed, reaching out to pat her arm. "You should have said something. How much do you need? I’ll help you out."

"Let’s start with a cool fifteen million," Taylor said, holding up a single finger, her lips curling into a mocking sliver of a smile.

The smile on my mother’s face didn't just fade; it calcified.

My dad, completely out of the loop, looked up from his drink. "Wait, fifteen hundred? Taylor, you’ve been working in the city for years. You haven't even saved fifteen hundred bucks?"

Taylor let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "And you’ve been working for forty years, Uncle Jim. You got a hundred million in the bank?"

Silence swallowed the room. It wasn't just quiet; it was heavy, the kind of silence that rings in your ears.

That night, lying in bed, I was scrolling through my feed when I stumbled across her account. She’d posted a new video.

The caption read: The internet really is a goldmine. Finally found the perfect way to make these toxic relatives shut the hell up.

* * *

It was New Year’s Day, and as per tradition, we headed over to my Uncle Bill’s place.

The moment we walked in, there was Taylor, sprawled on the velvet sofa, her face illuminated by the cold blue light of her iPhone. My dad and Uncle Bill immediately disappeared into the den to look at some vintage bourbon Bill had been bragging about.

That left me and my mom on the sofa with Aunt Diane, sipping tea and exchanging the usual pleasantries. After a while, the older women retreated to the kitchen to check on the roast, leaving me alone with Taylor.

She hadn't looked up once. Trying to bridge the gap—and honestly, just trying to be a decent cousin—I tried a bit of lighthearted teasing.

"So, Taylor," I said, "seeing anyone special?"

She didn't even tilt her head. "Why? You looking to hand yours over?"

I felt like I’d been slapped. I sat there, mouth agape, searching for a comeback that wasn't there.

My mom walked back in just then, caught in the crossfire of a conversation she hadn't heard the start of. "So, Taylor, when are you getting married? Any plans?"

Taylor’s tone remained icy. "I'm broke. You want to lend me some cash for a wedding?"

Mom clapped her hands together, her maternal instincts kicking into high gear. "Sweetie, don't be shy. If you're short on cash, I’m your aunt. Just tell me what you need."

Taylor’s lips twitched. "A small target," she said, echoing a viral meme about wealth. "Fifteen million." She held up one finger.

My mom spends enough time on Facebook to recognize a "rich person joke" when she hears one, but the sheer audacity of it left her speechless. Her face went stiff.

Right then, my dad and Uncle Bill walked back into the living room. Dad caught the tail end and Taylor’s finger in the air. He took her literally.

"Fifteen hundred?" Dad asked, his voice thick with genuine concern. "Taylor, you've been in the city all this time... you really haven't saved fifteen hundred dollars?"

The room turned into a pressurized chamber.

"Uncle Jim," Taylor said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness, "you’ve been working for decades. Do you have a hundred million in your savings?"

My parents traded a look of pure bewilderment. They didn't know how to handle someone who treated social graces like a blood sport.

"Hey," Uncle Bill barked, his face reddening. "Watch your mouth. That’s your uncle."

"He asked first," she shrugged, sliding her eyes back to her phone.

My mom, the eternal peacemaker, stepped in. "Alright, alright. It’s the holidays. Just a joke. Let's have a nice dinner, okay?"

But the damage was done. For the rest of the night, no one dared to speak to her. We finished our meal in a hurry and made our excuses to leave as soon as the coffee was served.

Back home, as I was decompressing in bed, I saw Taylor’s TikTok update.

It was a flashy, upbeat video with "Celebration" playing in the background. The text overlay read: The internet really is a goldmine. Finally found the perfect way to make these toxic relatives shut the hell up.

My heart sank.

She couldn't possibly be talking about us, I thought. But as I clicked into the comments, a cold knot of dread tightened in my stomach. She wasn't just talking about us. She was making us the villains of her story.