Austin and Dwight stood, waiting anxiously. Liat’s father was an intimidating man. He stood over six feet tall. His black hair was shot with silver, his blue eyes penetrating. His voice was a loud and rumbling baritone, laced with a distinctive Oxford accent.
“You’ve studied Shakespeare,” Austin said as he stepped forward.
The man’s blue eyes twinkled. “I have indeed, young man. Royal Shakespeare, 1971 through 75. Astute.” He shook Austin’s hand.
“No one rumbles like a Shakespearian,” Austin replied. “Which must make you Gordon Vogel.”
“It must, indeed! Gordon Oliver Desmond Vogel, God for short.”
© 2016 Dellani Oakes