She began to open herself up to me. She had been born in New Jersey, but her family had clung to their traditional Indian culture. They had kept tight...control over her. Even when she had attended an out of town college as a resident student, she had been required to go home every weekend.I found Damini fascinatingly different, and I enjoyed listening to her.Her dinner arrived, and Damini agreed to share a bottle of wine with me. By the time we had finished eating, the wine was also nearly gone.. "No, not a truck. An SUV. And it's one of ours — a Ford Explorer, I think." All RIGHT!" Louie roared, as they exchanged high fives. "An American truck, not another British shitwagon."They hurried toward the house. It was made of timber and mud, with a corrugated tin roof. A porch ran the width of the house. A big wooden cistern loomed on one side of the house, and in back was an outhouse.As they approached the porch, Gene pulled out a BXP submachine gun."Put that away," Louie said. "We didn't. More

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