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Dressing in an over-sized sweater and jeans I nervously went downstairs and was surprised to find my dad cooking. He wasn't a bad cook but he hated do...ng it. I stood dumbly at the entry to the kitchen for a moment before I saw Jason sitting at the kitchen table. He was the last person I wanted to see so I went back to my room.Half an hour later there was a soft knock at my door. "Becky?" my father said. "Dinner's ready."The racist cops had barely fed me during my imprisonment and the smells. It was sunny, but cold. There was a stiff wind coming from the north, causing it to feel colder than it was. January was always cold in Michigan.Kelly and I held hands as we walked to the building. Inside we separated, each of going into the proper restroom. I was waiting in the lobby, checking the map on the wall, when Kelly came out.“Here’s where we are. Why don’t we stop in Gaylord for lunch,” I said, pointing at the map.“Gaylord looks like it’s about half way there,” Kelly said.“Yup. Let’s. He had been introduced to alcohol several years ago, as some of his closest associates in the garment industry drank at every conceivable opportunity. He liked drinking. He admitted that one or two drinks after work with his American friends did not break any moral code. He would casually sit at the bar and order a light beer. The beer relaxed him at first, but after three or four he felt more than loose, and in that period when relaxation gives way to a light inebriation, he knew he should. She shrugged her shoulders, “He’s rich, he’s naughty, he’s Italian – what do they expect?”Once we had eaten and polished off most of the wine, Veronica said she wanted to do some more glamorous nude shots. I wasn’t going to argue with that. We did some more shots with her on the Featherstone chaise. As the shoot progressed the shots became less Vogue Italia and more Penthouse. All I could do was follow her lead and capture the action. After a time she got up, walked away and poured another.
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