“Erm, oui?” she replied, but thought better of trying to fake her comprehension. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak much French.” “Ah, you are Am...rican?” Amy nodded an affirmative. “I said that it is quiet in here tonight.” Amy hadn’t really noticed, but as she twisted in her seat and glanced around the bar, they were in fact the only two people there. “My name is Michael,” he continued, offering his hand. “Amy,” she replied, as her small hand became buried in his warm, soft palm, “Nice to meet you.”. Get over it. The other one tried to shoot under the tug, but his angle was all wrong. I waited until he was out of ammunition and shot him, again. He shut up after that. Permanently.Nothing happened for a long time, unless you count Renee coming to and ripping her gun out of my hand, and giving me a withering look as she did. Sometimes it's just best to shut up, and this was one of those times. She looked around to get an idea what was happening, couldn't see much except for the dead guys on. Ladies to give you a mental image, i am 30, white british male, slim but athletic build, dark hair, brown eyes, wearing a 3 piece suit and tie.Like many, im sure you agree the morning rush hour is annoying as hell, when your trying to beat traffic to get from point A to point BBut in my case I set off early, to arrive 40 minutes early, so I was in no rush, but lets face it, traffic is traffic and its no fun.Whilst cueing i happen to have glanced in my rear view mirror and saw a hot woman. My wife was a gold digger. I wanted to help her. I wanted her to blossom just as much as I wanted to blossom. My belief was that paying into our relationship would bring us both into successful careers, careers where we both contribute. We both had degrees. We both went to work for the same employer. We both started at the same level. But it was our willingness to contribute time and energy to our financial wellbeing where the truth about our relationship started to reveal itself. I didn’t.
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