Michael Clifford Age Novels & Stories

I wanted to punch Cliff's face as he started calling me. “Hey, Tala, how old are you?” Cliff asked as we hiked up the mountain. I turned to him in disgust. It has been a non-stop question. If I could, I was about to put something in his mouth to make him stop talking. Me and Shaun walked with him. Aunt Kyndra and Ridge were ahead of us while Tyron and Chester were behind. “Don’t ask because I’m sure you’re older than me,” I sneered. “I’m only twenty-five and I'm pretty sure that my age is closer to you compared to your werewolf there,” he said, smiling like an idiot.

The second their eyes meet his, something in the air shifts. Clifford Wall looks hard at his secretary. “Is the conference room occupied?” The girl jumps in the fear of losing her job. “No, Sir! Mr Lux says—.” A hand stops her. The business King flashes an old friend’s smile. “Clifford, we’ve always used your office.” “Times have changed, old friend.” Clifford gives Ralph a stamp of approval on his back. “Prices aren’t coming down, and so is my age.” He turns back with a knowing smile. “The doctor advised me to watch my health these days.”

Myron also played the perfect mediator, lightening the atmosphere with a few jokes, making everyone laugh. Marcia had been worried that last night's events might affect the guests, but their lack of mention of it put her at ease. "Patricia, the last time I met Elijah, he mentioned he was still single. That was only a few months ago! And now you're married?! Why didn't you inform us?" The speaker was Cliff, a sprightly older man in his seventies, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. Despite his age, he exuded energy and vitality.

As for Philip, he asked indifferently, “From your words, your family seems to be rich and powerful?” Instantly, Clifford burst into laughter. Several of his rich second-generation friends behind him, as well as Zee and the others, also sneered and shook their heads mockingly. After laughing, Clifford looked at Philip with displeasure. Since when would a penniless garbage collector dare to ask him this question so pretentiously and arrogantly? Who did he think he was? “Do you know who you’re talking to?” Clifford was so angry that he laughed instead. He, Clifford Gold, was a famous rich second-generation young master of the Uppercreek circle. He dared not say that he reigned at the top, but h

It brought back so many painful memories, and today will only bring more. Today we say goodbye to Mike with all his other family and friends…I know there will be so many. He was truly loved. I am not ready for his funeral, but I have to go. I want to go…but I also know it will be hard. I still can’t believe Mike Clody is dead; it doesn’t feel real. He has been in my life since I was five years old and never significant until now, but now our moment is lost forever…

Brandishing a huge pair of shears, Michael began trimming back plants. Miss Calvin would appear at the back door every so often. Frequently there was a tray in her hands, a cool glass of lemonade resting on it for Michael to gulp down. She was an attractive woman in her early thirties. Truth be told, if Michael had been a little older he would have described her as stunning. As it was, his late-teen eyes were more concerned with the unattainable target of bedding Lucy Clayton than women almost twice his age.

I really did want to look good for her. I locked the doors of the old house and made my way out, heading in the direction of Clifford's residence. A million questions began to pop up and I took some time to ask myself the greatest of all which was what if he'd left the country? While we were used to seeing each other regularly, he often brought up topics like leaving the country once he'd gotten to the age of thirty. He was almost four years older than I was and in about four months, I was turning twenty-seven. No way. News would've spread since he had some sort of relationship with a few people at the castle.

Seeing his lack of response, I continued, "If you don't go now, it'll be too late. Elliot drives very fast." "There's no need for such tactics," Cliff said, taking my hand. He spoke indifferently, "You are the Mrs. Todd." I was taken aback, feeling a mix of emotions. Cliff was already leading me out of the venue. I looked up at his profile, my thoughts involuntarily drifting back many years ago. It was the first time I saw Cliff, when I was a twelve-year-old mischievous girl. He was just a seventeen-year-old boy, studying.

THE ACT OF SUBMISSION CLAIRE ANDERSON (FL) — 21YRS JEREMY GEOFFREY (ML) — 27YRS Claire Anderson, was that rebellious student that always comes late to classes, sleeps during classes and talks down on teachers when they try to punish her.

"Did you ever show me a shred of gratitude for that, though? Never! It's because you saw me as nothing more than Clarissa's stand-in, your personal live-in helper! "Do you even know how old I am? Do you even know when my birthday is? Where do I dream of traveling? What do I enjoy doing in my free time? Do you even know anything about me, Clifford?" "I…" Clifford trailed off. How could he possibly recall such details? He was constantly swamped, out the door before sunrise and back long after dark. His sole purpose was to wrest control of everything from the Johansen family. His childhood had been a living hell, and failure simply wasn't an option.