A heavy pounding rattled the door of the penthouse hotel suite and roused Grayson Taylor early Friday morning. His heart hammering, he jumped from the bed, disoriented, but prompted by the banging, he rushed to the door. He looked through the peephole and rubbed his eyes. Pressing his eye to the door again, he studied the man on the other side.
He tiptoed back to the bedroom and told Pamela to stay in the room and not come out. His heart rate steadied as thoughts of the past swirled in his head. Still confused, but less startled, he answered the door. “Andy, what brings you by?”
“I just came by to tell you what a rotten son of a bitch you are,” shouted the irate man in jeans, a t-shirt, and a ball cap.
Grayson peeked into the quiet hallway and opened the door wider, motioning Andy inside, leading him to the couch in front of the huge window showcasing the Nashville skyline. “What’s this all about? I haven’t seen you for years.”
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