"I ... FUCKING ... HATE IT when you're right." Then her body seemed to deflate. "But I feel so damned useless ... helpless." You're not." I said, wrap...ing my arms around her. "If it weren't for you getting me out of my house, I'd be dead already. If you hadn't gotten us out of the motel room when you did, we'd both be sitting in jail or dead. You're the brains of this outfit – I'm just the muscle. And this particular job calls for muscle only." I know." She said, softly, into my chest. "but I. Impish, it kind of reminded me of Jack Nicholson. But there the resemblance stopped. She was petite, about 5’3, damned if she was over 105 pounds. Dark hair cut to frame her face. Small, swimmer’s body. She had a six-pack (she showed me). Deep brown eyes. It was hard to see her as a girl because of the gender-neutral hats, t-shirts and khaki pants we had to wear at the restaurant I managed. It was also hard to see her as a girl because she was my eighteen-year old employee, and although I was. More

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