My South Indian Wife Swapped

There was a lot of yelling that they had the right to cover a shooting or any public crime. The cops just told them that if they ever wanted access to something that wasn't sensitive, they better get out of there. They reluctantly loaded up and left. My Marshal and I kept down in the seat of the car so we weren't visible to the camera while they had been out.Howard came over and said to me, "You aren't going to be popular with the guys. You let those bad guys shoot up the Mustang. This is the most popular car in the fleet. I've already called the pool so they can fix this thing tonight. It'll be good as new by morning. This is the third time the car has been shot. It's not very lucky."It took till almost seven-thirty before they hauled the dead guys away and loaded up the Victoria and hauled it off. The boss, Howard, said, "Drive this thing back to the garage, but park it downstairs by the shop. They are expecting you. Doug and I are going home."On the way back to the garage, I. The same one she always managed to create whenever I caught her off guard like this, even remotely. Giving her credit, mom had tried very hard to be candidly open and honest with me growing up, even when some of my questions were a bit more intimate and mature, especially at my early age back then. I realized as she began to answer, she was trying to read between the lines however, even though I hadn't meant it to be taken that way."If you mean do I love Steven more than I loved your father? The answer is no. I will always love, and miss your father Cynthia," she told me. Always calling me by my formal name, mom had never accepted or gotten used to the idea of calling me by my nick-name the way everyone else did. I even wondered at times if she hadn't regretted naming me that, because of it. "Just as Steven will always love and remember Jackie. They'll never, ever be able to take one another's place. But yes ... I do love Steven too. Differently perhaps, in a different way than I.
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