Unproven Chapter Eighty Two "Slaying the Demons"

The closest he'd been to believing that in the past year was the ten days after he'd first met Jay. But that had been the illusion. Literally, since for the most part he'd been high on something. Coke, pills, drugs that created a false sense of excitement, or a false sense of peace. And since he'd never tried them before, their effects had been as entrancing as they were enticing. But when he'd had to experience coming down from them? Not fun, definitely in the category of not particularly worth it.

Initially he'd skirted the downside by sleeping in until he'd slept it off or popping something else the minute he'd rolled out of bed. But ever since Dori's e-mail and his subsequent chance meeting with a wise hooker-you know where you need to be then honey-he hadn't touched them again. He'd told Jay it was because he'd be heading home soon and was certain his father would be able to tell and would not approve. But the truth was that he'd needed to see if they were the reason for his sudden sense of well-being, or if it truly was as simple as having a friend who'd been in his shoes and ten years later was still loving his privileged life. A living example of what his world of wealth and power had to offer.

And his conclusion was: it was the drugs.

The camaraderie had enhanced the experience, but without the drugs he'd seen Jay for what he truly was-a shallow guy who lived for the moment and might one day wake up and realize that there was nothing of real worth in his life. At which point he'd likely go on a binge and overdose. Or if his suspicions about him being in the employ of his father were correct- then he was just a poser, which meant that he was not a true example of anything.

But that wasn't the point of what he was trying to work through, so for argument's sake he would pretend Jay was exactly who he claimed to be. And one thing Grayson was sure of, he did not want to become him. And he definitely didn't want to become his father, whose sole purpose in life was making more money. What did James Teller do for fun? Other than visiting his mistresses and attending pretentious parties?

He had billions of dollars at his disposal and yet Grayson couldn't think of a single thing he used the money for that wasn't about making more of it. He did nothing, as far as Grayson knew, just for pure enjoyment. Unless making more money was what he enjoyed, in which case, good for him. But that was not the life he wanted for himself.

What do you want for yourself? He thought. And wasn't that the real question. What did he, Grayson, want?

Well, happiness for one thing, and in his whole life he had only experienced true happiness with her. So what did he want? He wanted her. He wanted his sweet and sexy little Ary. And beyond that? He wanted a family someday. A little Ary and a little Gray, running around in a backyard with a big goofy dog, while he and Ary sneaked into the pantry for a quickie. He smiled. Now that was a life, a future he could look forward to.

But his father would never allow it.

His smile faded, the scene in his mind replaced by the one his dad was dead set on creating. A woman, beautiful and elegant, but as cold as the Alaskan wilderness. Expensive mistresses to take care of his needs because fucking his wife was like fucking a log and he could barely stand her company anyway. Endless functions where every moment was a game of chess. No such thing as relaxing because if you let down your guard the wolves would eat you alive. A little Gray that he never saw because he was too busy with functions and endless phone calls. And his wife never saw little Gray either because she had charities and social galas to attend. A little Gray raised by nannies then sent to boarding school until he showed signs of carrying the Teller affliction, at which point he would begin his lessons at home on how to manipulate those around him then attend a public school because that's what Grayson had done, and just look what his dad had made of himself!

And not a dog in sight, because dogs shed and dogs got fleas and his wife couldn't stand the infested hairy mongrels.

He sat up abruptly, his hands closing into fists. No! Anything would be better than that. Even if he lived in a shack in the middle of the woods and had to hunt and fish if he wanted to eat. And if Ary was with him, Ary and a goofy dog, then a shack in the wilderness would be paradise in comparison.

Okay, so you know what you want, now how do you get it?

How indeed. He fought back the feeling of hopelessness threatening to swallow him. There had to be a way. Had to, otherwise he was destined for the life of misery and loneliness that Dori had predicted for him.

I'd rather die, he thought suddenly. Right now. I'd rather end this life before it has even begun than live the one my father wants me to live.

In that case, what the fuck do I have to lose?

He let the truth of that question sink in. He didn't have a thing to lose if he was ready to die, did he?

He could do this. He could figure out a way to live the life he wanted, to be the man he wanted to be. For himself... and for Aryanne.

He took a deep breath and let it out slow. He could fucking do this, he just had to see his way through it. Use that brilliant mind his father was so proud of. His father.

Well first off, his father could never know, or even suspect, which would be tricky since he monitored everything Grayson did. Meaning he'd have to use all of his acting and manipulating skills on the very man who had taught him. And he'd have to start stowing money away. If it came down to it he really would live in a shack in the woods, but it would still be smarter to have some kind of cushion.

And he'd need a prepaid phone, the anonymous kind. Well two actually, in case his father was spying on Aryanne as well, which now that it occurred to him was pretty damn likely. He'd never learned who had taken those pictures of her, which was odd. He would not put it past his old man to have set her up, made her look like some cheap slut to either gauge Grayson's reaction or ensure his son would view her the way he did the others, which had nearly been accomplished.

He fought back a wave of guilt, he needed to concentrate.

So two anonymous phones then he'd need to find ways to see her while they were still stuck here, meaning he’d need a cover for those rendezvous. A good one, damn near full-proof. How deep did his father's monitoring go? Did he track his car through GPS? Likely, so he'd need a different car. He could buy a cheap used one, but that meant it had to go in someone else's name- someone like Dori. Dori, he realized, would be key. And on the heels of that he also realized that with this plan, he would no longer be able to keep the promise to pay her back for all her help.

Doesn't matter, he thought, she's not in it for that anymore, she’d already concluded that real friends were more valuable than anything else. And even if she wouldn't do it for him, she'd do it for Ary.

Okay, he thought, taking a breath to slow himself down, okay you've got a base plan. But before you get ahead of yourself you better figure out a more suitable apology for the incredibly shitty things you said to the girl you love, who is integral to this entire plan. Mouthing I'm sorry didn't quite cut it, he snorted derisively.

He winced as he recalled every lousy word. It was a damn good thing she was the most forgiving person on the planet or he'd be screwed.

This was it. His chance to live the life he wanted to live, to be the man he wanted to be. A shiver of resolve went up his spine.

His days of wavering were done.