TanzieI decide to just walk the property first, just to get a lay of the land. I wander the living quarters, finding probably ten bedrooms, some locked and others wide open, beds made and tidy, like hotel rooms awaiting guests. I hear s****l escapades behind several doors and find myself shocked that this is going on so early in the morning.
Maybe I’m just naïve. I mean, I never spent much time wandering my dad’s club headquarters at all, mainly because he forbade it. I have more freedom here, as a prisoner, than I had there. Of course, I also wasn’t there that much. I would occasionally visit with him, usually for formal functions—honoring someone’s retirement, funeral send-offs, holidays. I always had to stay where he could see me, even after I turned eighteen.
My dad had a house a cou
