<div class="floatleft"><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><div align="center">(https://www.mediafire.com/convkey/ff6d/2eiwghvw6s44q42zg.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>Jaclyn Rosendahl</strong><br/>Entrepreneur<br/><em>About her</em> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=289408.msg14241614#msg14241614)<br/><span style="text-decoration: overline;">         </span></span></span></div></td><td>(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/4/4d/AlTeregoSeparator.png)</td></tr></tbody></table></div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>… we make it safely to the curb … Peter dismisses our limo and then manages us into a random taxi …<br/><br/>…why not our limo? … his paranoia is mine … he gestures and goes around the taxi … Ari urges me and then Taffy into the back … closes our door and takes the front … Peter gives instructions … a bar … and notes we will look to see if we are followed … wedged between Taffy and Peter, I rest one hand on Peter’s knee and the other on Taffy’s and try to watch around us for anyone following … the driver apparently has the spirit … we take some very obvious yet effective maneuvers to see it we are followed …</em></span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">  “Watch over my shoulder, Taffy. My eyes are still messed up.”</span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>… and after several stops and starts and pauses, we’re deposited in front of a nice, neighborhood Zurich establishment … not a car appears to be moving ahead or behind us as we get out … I let Taffy lead up the three steps … Ari follows while Peter pays our driver … inside, we look around … choose a booth where we can watch the door though I’m not sure about an escape route … I order a Glenmorangie neat and the woman seems to understand  … answer Taffy’s question …</em></span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">  “The hair? I had no choice, I guess. I was <strong>sent</strong> back to du Monde’s and she sent me to her hair dresser for color. I was German mousy brown before that because I needed a disguise in Berlin after <strong>some people</strong> thought we were being trailed but that never panned out. You like it? I haven’t seen it yet. My eyes, you know. On my way back top du Monde’s, they attacked and glued lenses to my eyes and I just got rid of those yesterday afternoon. But if you like it, I might keep it. I haven’t changed my look since, well, since I lrearned who I was back in Vegas.”</span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>… our drinks arrive … take a sip …</em></span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">  “So how have you been, Taffy? How’s the project since I left? I enjoy those, lots more than I’ve enjoyed the crap that’s happened since then. Right Peter?”</span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>… another hard pull on my double whisky … glare at Peter … he damn well started this shit! …</em></span></span><br/>