Tell her to wait for me."That was when she told me Betty wasn't at the office, but with a client and would spend lunchtime with him too. No, she could...not tell me where. I paused, thinking."Please give me Robert Mancini," I asked."Mr. Mancini isn't in either," she answered.She did not say that there was a link between their absences. But funny enough, there suddenly was one in my brain. My poor paranoia-ridden brain.An hour later it was still there.I had by then tried Betty's cell phone twice,. I told her we would have a long break when it was over with the money she would make. I phoned Paul who lived forty miles away and told him we would be over to him on the weekend. I asked what she would need to take with her, and he said nothing just a coat or shawl. We arrived at Paul’s kennels on Saturday morning, and he showed us round the kennels and introduced us to his two staff. He has twenty dogs of various breeds, and sells the pups for a good price, he also mates them with bitch’s. So I quit my job and we left for Louisiana.We were both excited to see what kind of estate it was. But we were a bit nervous too because we had never been to the USA.When we got to the town in South Louisiana, we were suprised that the people who lived there were mostly black. We had never met any black people before. In our hometown there were just white people.We met up with the realtor, a black women called Clara. "So where are you from, your not from the us, are you," she asked. "We're from. She hears me come into the room, and I can see her blush as she tosses the shorts onto the pile of other dirty clothes. I feel embarrassed also, and realized I needed to be more careful. I didn't want my mom to know what I was up to, although it was pretty obvious she knew. I picked up the jizz soiled tissue from last night and flushed it down the toilet. Finding a pair of clean shorts in my drawer and headed back down for breakfast. Julie was already gone so I had a peaceful bowl of cereal. I.
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