Page 12. 'Jim, James. Please. I don't have a clue what you're talking about. I don't know what you're alluding to or what you're getting at. Fo... God's sake. What do you want from me?' 'What I'm talking about, and what I want from you, is if I stayed far away, how could I touch you. I wouldn't be able to touch you then, would I?' This had no where good to go, and she bloody well knew it. She scrunched up her face and clenched her resolve into her jaw (not to cry full. Very much," Scott replied."What days are you working for Mr. Mendoza?" Thursday through Saturday, sir, but only for six hours each day so I could work evenings if you needed me."Mr. Piotrowski slapped the table with a big meaty hand. "You've got the right attitude son. I'm an old man though and don't need to work that hard anymore. Would you mind working Sundays? Do you go to church or anything like that?" Sundays are fine sir." Don't go to church?" asked Mr. Piotrowski."No, sir." Well young. More

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