100- My voice is mine

She shakes lightly in laughter, and it causes me to tighten my arms around her body, so she doesn’t fall off. I’m almost drifting off to sleep when she reminds me of my earlier missed call. Since I’m reluctant to move, she peels herself off me, much to my protest. My cock slides out of her and the discharge that follows, spilling onto my thighs and the sofa, is so erotic that for a few moments I can only stare at it.
She soon returns with the phone.
I grab at her waist to pull her back to me. I unlock the screen and it’s the Sheriff. The very sight of his name immediately drives away the bliss and contentment I was just experiencing, because it can only mean one thing; that my father has once again, stepped out of line.


atching Grady’s face fall so drastically, is so disheartening to see.
And as I have come to learn now, this call could only mean his father is once again in
some kind of trouble.
He listens quietly, nodding his head and then he says. “I hear you. I’ll be right there.” He ends the call and then stares straight ahead at nothing. He rises to his feet and begins to put his clothes on. Quietly.
I don’t know what to say at first and don’t want to intrude with questions, so I also gather my clothes and begin to dress myself.
“Blair, I have to go to Aurora,” he says. “You can remain here if you want to, or go home. I’ll give you a call later on.”
“I’ll go home,” I say and turn to grab the remote so I can turn the television off. I’m then reminded of the movie we were in the midst of watching before we got preoccupied. I also remember the question he asked me earlier on.
What moves people?
An idea occurs to me, so without thought, I turn around to face him. “Let me go with you.”
He is just about to head towards the front door when my words sound across the room. I know that I spoke lightly, but in the expansive space and given the delicacy of what I’m saying, my voice seems to have been amplified a hundred times.
“Thank you, but—”
“Grady, remember the movie we just watched? You never know. It seems unlikely but maybe there might be a difference if he sees you with me.”
He studies me. “It’s not that simple.”

“Maybe,” I say. “But maybe it is. My father was in the military too. I know what it’s like to lose one and I don’t think your father would want that to be the case for you. This might be a start and if it doesn’t work, then you just brought your assistant along. Not much of a big deal there.”
He releases a heavy sigh at my words, and then nods his head.
I almost don’t believe he has agreed to it. Quickly, I get myself together and we exit the house.
About forty five minutes later, we arrive at the station and I walk in with Grady to bail out his father. I stand aside but I’m soon able to hear from the Sheriff as he speaks to Grady about what transpired.
Apparently, his father was rude to a woman in the store, pushing her roughly aside to get out of his way in one of the aisles. Her husband watched it happen and confronted Grady’s father, telling him to apologize. His father resulted to using his fists and at the end of the day, both men were severely bruised and injured. The woman’s husband is insisting on pressing charges, especially at Grady’s father’s unapologetic behavior.
I watch as Grady goes silent at the information, and then looks towards the cell where his father is being held. A little while later, he comes over to me and we both turn to watch an older man released from the cell.
He has an ugly purplish bruise on the side of his face, disheveled hair, and stained clothes. He’s limping just a bit and muttering curses under his breath. He stops the moment he sees Grady, and the both of them glare at each other without a word. Then his father turns and yells, “Mark! Why the fuck do you keep calling him? Is he paying you for this?”
“I wish he was Gary,” the response comes. “I wish he was.”
“They’re going to press charges,” Grady says to his father who is almost as tall as he is albeit slightly overweight.
“Let them do whatever the fuck they want,” the older man snaps and heads out of the building. I head over then but he more or less swats me out of the way without even caring who I am.
Grady holds on to me and I can see the concern in his face at letting me come along.
With a small rub down the side of his arm, I console him not to worry about me and to instead, focus on his father.
A few minutes later, we are all seated in Grady’s car, and it’s quiet.
Grady’s gaze and attention is completely focused on the road as we drive, but I keep trying to sneak looks at his father through the rear view mirror.

He is staring outside the window, deep in thought. I want to ask if he’s hungry so we can stop before anything else to get him some food, but between the father and the son, I don’t know whom to address. I’m beginning to think that perhaps insisting on coming was a bad idea, when my gaze goes to the rear view mirror. It meets the eyes of Grady’s father; cold and piercing just like his son’s from our earliest encounters.
My reflex reaction is to take my eyes away but then I realize just how much of a bad move this is, especially since my intention is to establish some sort of rapport with him. So I send him a smile that I know is excruciatingly awkward.
He seems to be glaring at me so my gaze turns sheepish. “Who are you?” he asks.
I feel a little jolt at his attention. I share a glance at Grady but his mood seems to be extremely sour. I don’t think I’m going to be getting much help from him, so I just focus on his father. “I’m Grady’s assistant. I mean uh- Mr. Abbott’s assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” I’ve turned around to face him, but I don’t bother offering my hand as it’s very likely that he will not take it.
“You work on Sunday’s too, Mr. Hotshot?” His father asks. A snort escapes my lips before I can stop it.
Grady sends me a brief look of part confusion and betrayal.