CHAPTER FIVE
Grayson rushed through the police station, shoving people out his way.
After waiting twenty minutes, an officer took Grayson to a jam-packed holding cell to see Connie.
Connie sat in the corner not looking ashamed as he expected but defiant with her arms crossed.
“Connie, what the hell?” Grayson rushed to the bars, the women whistling at him. “Hey, can someone open this?”
Some dingy blonde who looked like she’d been making out with a ditch, sat on the floor, l*****g her tongue out at Grayson. “Want a blow job?”
“Hey, Anisha,” Grayson summoned the black, female officer. “Come on, open it.”
She tottered toward him, her huge hips suffocating in her uniform. “I can’t, Mr. Paul.”
“Come on.” He held his waist. “It’s Connie for God’s sake.”
Anisha’s fat jaws vibrated as she
