Patrick was un-obtainable by phone, and I wasn't about to spring tales of our airport escapades on Gellar. That would be signing my death warrant. So I had to think on my feet, and attempt to get us both to Vegas, preferably without tearing each other apart along the way. My usually calm, unfettered resolve nearly fell away this morning, but everything was a game to him. I had a feeling that Grit took nothing seriously, and let's face it, he'd never had to. Fame had found him way before he had a chance to find himself, and he lived in this ugly self absorbed bubble that scared me a little. Knowing my father was part of this world.
Grit refused point blank to fly economy, and all the premium seats were taken at this time of year. I had the taxi driver keep it rolling, clocking up an astro
