She turned and glared at me and snapped off the set.I was taken aback. "What's the matter?" I asked. "You don't know!? You really don't know!?" She wa... one pissed wife, but I hadn't a clue. "Brenda, why are you pissed off? I don't understand." "I can't believe it!" she said, "you really have forgotten haven't you?" "Forgotten what?" I asked. "You say you love me, but you've completely forgotten haven't you?" She sounded really sad now, which made me feel worse than when she was just pissed-off. ”Then he hung up.I must have tried on ten dresses before Morgan threw a heavy text book at me.“Ow!”I rubbed my arm and glared at her.“Wear the red one and chill the fuck out. Tate is a pussy cat.”My head shook back and forth. “No. You will not minimize him to me. I’ve already met him, remember? You can’t lie. He’s fucking terrifying.”Morgan rolled her eyes. “Everything and everyone terrifies you.”“Not true. You know he’s scary, that’s why you’re trying to be a bitch!”She stood and stretched,. The door-bell rang at 5pm on the dot. I opened the door to find a fairly plain looking brunette, with her hair up, standing about 5’8” in her 3” stilettos, wearing a white blouse and tailored jacket and skirt. I estimated she was in her late 30’s maybe 40. She was shapely, a nice ass and well-tanned. I let her in. She explained she needed 3 sets of shots of herself dressed in corporate attire. She had everything she needed in a couple of zippered covers on clothes hangers. She just. The Matchmaker's real business was dealing in contacts and selling information. He knew everyone and arranging introductions made him more than a modest living. In the clandestine world of German crime, The Matchmaker was the one man everyone trusted, if only because everyone needs help once in awhile."Here," Wolfgang said, dropping a small roll of Euros onto the man's lap before taking a seat on an old, well-worn sofa."I had visitors today," The Matchmaker said, picking up the money and.
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