I'm at the hotel. Jean Claude comes to my table while I am enjoying an aperitif with a very pretty girl named Fifi. "Your driver is here, monsieur." he informs me. I stubbed out my cigarette and excused myself to Fifi. Jean Claude pulls me aside and whispers in my ear to be careful about Fifi. Fifi senses she's being dissed and starts yelling a blue streak at Jean Claude, making angry faces and gestures, who yells and gestures back at her - "Salope!" stuff like that. I just want everyone to chill so I put a 100 Euros on the bar and tell Jean Claude to zip it, give everyone drinks and let the lady be. She's with me. Fifi gives me a big smile and I know I'm going to get over.
Then to the business at hand. Outside to see my driver. Now I'll get back on track, I think. But there's just an oldish dude in a horse and buggy. WTF! I look up and down the street and there are no cars except parked cars. Then a bus rolls by and I spot, a little too late, the same dude who roughed my up in my room the night before, sitting by the window with shades on. Once again I hit the ground. Once again a couple of rounds meant for me ricochet off the pavement. With all the other people on the bus there's no way I can return fire.
Jean Claude, Fifi, and the others came outside to see what was going on. Fifi came over and helped me up. "Le pti pauvre! Qu'est-ce que c'est cette connerie. Reste avec moi. Viens." It was tempting but business came first. I gave her cute behind a little pat. "Un peu plus tard, tresor" I tells her.
The driver hadn't moved the whole time, didn't seem to have minded any of the action. My kind of guy. I looked over at him. "Alors, Monsieur Butter Boy, vous-etes pret maintenant?" I climbed in and off we went, clatter clatter clatter
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