The last punch did the trick. His assailant dropped like a bag of bricks, thumping to the concrete of Jake's porch, where he lay there, moaning in pai... and... was that crying? Yes, to Jake, it sounded like the man was actually crying!Jake kneeled down and grabbed the man by the back of his hair. He lifted up on his head and stared at his face. He found himself looking at a bleary-eyed Scott Adams Winslow, who was now blubbering in pain and fear. The odor of alcohol was radiating off of him in. How long have you been, you know..." Deputy Bluett cleared his throat."A girl?" I asked gently and smiled because I got that question a lot it seemed."A fag." Oh. Ever since I was born, I think," I shrugged and that word didn't bother me. "I can't do anything about how I am, inside or outside." Yeah, I guess so," he scratched along his double chins. "Being queer, it's uh, illegal in this state." Not for a slave, sir," I said. "Right?" Right. Yeah, I guess," the deputy said, making it sound like. More

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