”Jake sat down and looked her over. Marty was about five-five and stocky. She had black hair, cut short and crisp. She wore black horn-rimmed glasse..., a young woman trying to be taken seriously. Her accent was classic New York.“How may I help you, Mr. Turner?”“I want you to make you and me rich,” Jake said, “I have some ideas, but I need an expert to make them effective.”She laughed again. She had a nice laugh, genuine and unforced. She quizzed him about his aims and long-term plans. When Jake. She complimented her ensemble with a tight purple tank top, a black bra, clearly visible and brown wedges on her feet. "My goodness. How old does she think she is?" Mom remarked from the backseat."Go easy Mom." I replied."She looks like a cheap whore!" My mother exclaimed."Mom! Enough." I chided her before exiting the car to help with the bags."Faye, good to see you. We're glad you could come." We kissed on the cheek and I took her bag."I wouldn't have missed it sugar. I'm chomping at the bit. More

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