impairment

noun

1. the state or fact of being impaired, especially in a specified faculty

I managed to get Grant into the car before the drugs in his system started to affect his mind and motor function.

"She drugged our drinks." He repeated for the fifth time. "Why would she do that? At the annual banquet of all places? What was she expecting to happen?" Like we all didn't know what she was expecting. I bet there were enough reporters in the venue to make for an amazing story on the social columns the next day if it had worked out as Eyva had planned. I got the shivers just thinking about the 'what if's'.

"Grant, just relax, we're nearly home." I patted him on the shoulder and watched as his brain to mouth filter eroded away as he kept complaining. I was sitting in the back seat with him as Patricia drove us home. She watched us in the rear vision mirror, checking for our safety as much as remembering what being drugged felt like. I'd heard her full story, twice now. It was awful.

"But she's a bitch. She is such a stuck up, horrid little witch who always bullies anyone who is different to her and her stupid perfect little bitches. Ha! Witch Bitches. That's funny." He cackled as I pulled out my phone and called his mum.

"Hi Ms Lily, how can I help you tonight?" She answered on the second ring.

"Hey Mrs H. Could you have a staff doctor arranged to pay a house visit tonight please?"

"Oh dear, what's happened to you Lily? Are you alright?" Worry tainted her voice and melted my heart just a little bit more. She was genuinely concerned about me.

"Its not me. We had an accident at the banquet and Grant accidentally drank something he shouldn't have."

"What? Did he get himself drunk? That child."

"Oh, no. It wasn't his fault. He's OK, but we will need a doctor to check on him, and also take a blood test. Can you have one arranged, please Mrs H?"

"Yes, yes. I can do that. Will you be long?" She asked.

"We're about twenty minutes out from the estate."

"OK. The doctor on staff should arrive just as you do. His home is just down the road. I'll see you all soon."

I said goodbye, hung up then turned to Grant, who was watching the lights swing by the car as we dove along the motorway.

"You OK there, hot stuff?" I asked him. He faced me, but it took some time for his blown out eyes to focus on me.

"Hot stuff?" He sounded really drunk now. "Not hot stuff. Not my type. I ain't in to girls, you know?" He was getting loud and smiling droopily. When he tried getting out of the car as we stopped at a red light, I quickly pulled him back in and locked the door.

"Hang on, Grant. We're nearly home."

"Donnn wanna." He slurred. "Ohh, now that is a nice piece of ass..." He was watching people as the light turned green and the car sped off.

"Sweet thang, you gonna wait until we get home? I heard the new pool guy is hot-as-hell."

"Really?" He gulped and I giggled. He was going to hate me when I tell him about this tomorrow. I started recording the conversation as we drove into our neighbourhood. The crazy language that came out of his mouth, hilarious! I tried really hard to stop giggling, but Grant started showing off, playing up to my attentions.

"Then I told him, I've been working out too, wanna see?" He then proceeded to pull off his tuxedo jacket, getting it caught on his elbows. When he couldn't get his shirt un-done he whined in frustration.

"Stuck." He complained.

"Let me help." I pulled his arms out of his jacket, hoping it didn't get ripped. It was his father's suit. Before I'd even got the jacket off his frame, he'd pulled open his white shirt and was showing off his ab six pack. And he was ripped.

"Why are all the good ones always gay?" I complained out loud.

"I know, right? And look here." Grant started to undo his pants.

"Woah there, Buddy. We're home now. Lets get out and go check out the pool guy." I bribed him with the lure of a hot male pool attendant. That was enough to get him out of the car, but he tripped up on his own feet, nearly pulling me down with him. I managed to knock my sore knee, hissing in pain.

Mrs H found us on the driveway trying to pull her son up off the ground.

"Is he OK?" She asked before she'd made it to us.

"Oh no. That sounds like mum." Grant tried to whisper but he was loud as a fog horn. "Don't let her find me. I'm hiding." He took a couple of tries to get up and stand behind me. I caught him as he started sliding sideways.

"Come on Grant, let's get you inside." Mrs H came over and took his other side. "The doctors is waiting in the lounge room on the second floor." This was the lounge room over the garage, designated for staff who lived on the estate.

"What about the hot pool guy?" Grant whined.

"Doctor first, then hot guys. You can dream about him the whole night long."

"All night long? Alright!" He perked up, started walking, then tripped up again. Both his mum and I started giggling and caught him before he smacked his face on the driveway.

It took a lot to get him up the front steps and inside the mansion. I decided using the lift was the best action as he was getting too heavy for us to carry. That and I was still using a crutch to get around. When his father met us on the staff floor outside the lift, Grant stiffened up like a board.

"You alright, Grant?" I asked him.

"No. Yes. Um..." Then he did his loud, slurred whisper again. "Don't tell dad about the hot pool guy. He doesn't know I'm gay yet." Oh crap!

"Grant. Its OK. Lets get you inside first." We pulled him into his family suite and into his room. His father was too shocked to follow us in, standing outside the lift where Grant had just dropped a massive bomb. His mother didn't seem bothered, probably already knew her son was homosexual.

What a way to come out of the closet. I watched as Grant's father slowly walked into their rooms and wondered if he was going to be OK with it all. He looked confused.

I left Mrs H and the doctor – who was waiting for us – in Grant's room, helping him into bed.

"Mr Hepburn? You OK?" I asked quietly.

"Tell me what happened, please Miss." He didn't forget his manners with his demand.

"Ah, I think it best to talk to Mr Overmeyer about what took place, but our drinks were roofied and Grant drank the whole glass."

"He was drinking alcohol?" He demanded.

"No. It was lemonade. He only drank non-alcoholic all night, Mr Hepburn."

"OK. Thank you." He nodded.

"He's a good man, Mr H. Please go easy on him. I still have plans for him with my business ventures and university. Don't beat him up too much, and no scarring his face, please." I tried for making a light joke about his reaction to the whole your-son-is-gay thing, but Mr Hepburn's face wasn't showing an ounce of humour. OoooKaaay... Time to go.

"OK, I better go. I'll visit Grant in the morning to see how he is." I walk past Mr Hepburn and left them to it.