Which I haven't, by the way. My scalp itches, but my hair isn't falling outthere. Not yet, anyway.Now it's hard to see while I type this. No, I'm not ...going blind. It's myhair. It's longer now, and it's darkened. I used to have ice blond hair. Notanymore. I watched in the mirror as it slowly turned jet black and begancreeping down past my ears. At the rate it's going, I'm going to have a maneof thick, luscious dark hair before very long. I've been reading the employeeorientation packet to pass. I’m...” I said, having been caught off-guard. Why was this tiny French girl so angry with me?She was giving me both barrels in a mixture of machine-gun French and mangled English, with a few choice Arabic phrases mixed in. I wasn’t getting slapped any more, but she still had me backed against a large, aluminium refrigerator door. She was literally stomping her feet in anger, but because I was and therefore seemed genuinely nonplussed, it eventually wore off.“So why are you here, Anglais?” she. Main boli buhat acha laga bhabi bhabi boli tu ladke ke sath nahi kari to main boli nahi bhabi nahi kari abi tak tu bhabi boli tuj ko karna haan kya main boli bhabi kuch hogaya to bhabi boli kuch nahi hota tu karti haan to main ladka lasakti ho to ready haan to nahi to nahi main boli kuch nahi hota to main ready ho bhabi muj ko achi kiss li phir dosre din bhabi suba muj ko othahi boli shaboo tu aaj school mat ja main boli ku bhabi to bhabi boli aaj ek admi anewala haan tuj ko rupe bhi milege. “Sure. Thanks,” she finally replied. “Great. I’m Reese. You’ve got some nice moves, lady,” he said. Reese was good looking. Rugged physique, toned muscles, about just over six feet tall, black wavy hair and cobalt blue eyes. He looked to be a couple of years older than Barbara’s thirty-three. “I’m Barbara and thanks. You’re not bad yourself,” Barbara replied, connecting Reese with the moments she'd shared with him on the dance floor. They enjoyed friendly banter while they drank. The third.