She glanced at the Frenchman, and found him struggling with the portrait that was embedded around his scalp. ’ ‘Success?’ Her eyes narrowed. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. \"So what is up with you and John Diedermayer? Is he, like, after you?\" She looked at Michelle quizzically.
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