GRIND (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 1) by Tiana Laveen Page B

her, unable to contain himself.
    “Mr. Taylor, that’s enough. Please get your grandfather’s belongings, file whatever reports you wish, but please do not engage in conversation or confrontation with the staff. We will be speaking with them,” the other officer stated. Zenith prepared to say something else to drive his point home, but a trip in jail was not ideal at that moment, not for him and definitely not for Paw. He begrudgingly turned back around and resumed his task.
    “Zen,” his grandfather called out to him, as if awaking from some dream. The old man was on his feet now, but holding onto the railing of the bed as if at any moment, he’d topple over.
    “Yes, Paw?”
    “Are you… takin’ me home with you?” The man sounded like a little child, an innocent, tiny child in need of love and care. His light hazel eyes glossed over and filled up like tiny goblets of white wine.
    “Yeah, Paw, we’re leaving. You’re coming home with me, where you belong…”

Chapter Eight

    …One week later
    “W here’s the hot sauce?”
    “It’s on the table,” Zenith responded around a mouthful of bread. He passed the old man the half-empty and dried bottle of Frank’s Red Hot sauce, crusty deep orange running along the length of it from previous sloppy pouring. Paw unscrewed the cap and dumped bright red dollops of sauce all over his white chicken chili. One…two…three, four… The ivory beans, thick gravy, and green onions were soon slathered in the crimson stuff.
    “Paw, that’s too much.” Zenith grabbed another piece of cornbread and stuffed it into his mouth.
    “Don’t tell me what’s too much.” Paw waved his spoon in his direction, like some weapon to scoop some sense into him. “I’m the adult here, remember? You just keep your nose in the books and stay in school!” the man scoffed, his brows furrowed as he continued to pour liquid fire all over the chicken and beans, then stir it around for good measure.
    “Paw, I’m an adult, too… been grown for a while now…”
    Dementia is a bitch, and I hate her bitter, nasty ass…
    “No you aren’t, you’re only twelve. We just went to Canada for the weekend and you…” The man paused, suddenly coming back into the here and now. He lowered his head, causing thick strands of silver hair to fall forward and rain upon the table, covering the sides of his face. He slowly placed the bottle of hot sauce down with a slightly shaky hand, never looking up. Refusing to make eye contact.
    “I remember that Canada trip, Paw.” Zenith grinned, prepared to travel down memory lane. “It was fun; we had a good time.”
    The man nodded, but kept his gaze averted, as if ashamed that he’d caught himself in a web of confusion.
    “Paw, look at me.” Zenith stared at the man across from him. They looked so much alike.
    He slowly lifted his head and offered a sad smile.
    “It’s okay, alright? It’s okay.”
    The man smiled a bit brighter, then picked up his spoon once more. Stirring the red sauce better into the thick chili, he raised the utensil to his mouth and took a hard swallow.
    “Well, goddamn it, Zen! What did you put in this?!”
    “What did I put in it? Are you serious? You’re playin’ me. I know you are.”
    “This is not how I taught you to make chili! This shit’s too hot!” He grabbed his glass of cold cola, chock full of cubed ice, and gulped it down whole. The old man’s Adam’s apple was giving it ‘what for’ as the cool, carbonated brown liquid went to the hot land down under, hopefully extinguishing the flavorful flames. Zenith burst out laughing as he watched the antics play out. A second later, the guy vacated his seat, toppling his chair over in his haste to get to the restroom. He slammed the door behind him.
    “Paw! I told you not to dump all that hot sauce on this chili! You knew what was best though, right?” Zenith teased, giving it to him. “’Boy! I’ve been eatin’ hot sauce since I was knee-high to a