more page more page vc25
The light-green cursor blinked silently, a traffic signal saying start, now, write. Flub said, The thing is, we have to sound like the old fart. Put ourselves in his boots. Say what hed say. So we have to think.
Why would he admit that he has More Page More Page Vc25 a bastard son? That has to forever21
answered. Were dealing with Cactus Jack now. A lot of men would worry about something like that, but for the life of me, I cant imagine Jack doing this. Lets face it. Clint Bonner sprawled in the leather chair More Page More Page Vc25 with one long, denim-clad leg flopped over the arm. He thought of tummy tubs
as a Clint in the manner of Eastwood-a tough-ass Texas billionaire. He lit a thin black cigar-these were as close as he could come to the evil little numbers Yul Brynner smoked in More Page More Page Vc25 The Magnificent Seven-and blew three small perfect rings of sweet smoke. Guilty conscience, Flub said. The broad-shouldered Flub was superfecta
steadier of the two brothers, a shrewd competitor. His real name was Norbert, which he hated, but he got his nickname playing Pop Warner football. Once, after More Page More Page Vc25 he had unaccountably dropped the ball in the open field, he had told Cactus Jack that he had simply flubbed. There was no other marcin gortat
From then on he was Flub Bonner. We could accuse him of having a conscience. Thatd croak the old fucker. Clint grinned More Page More Page Vc25 sardonically and regarded his sweet, black cigar. Clint and Flub enjoyed scheming, an inheritance from their father they hadnt fully been able to exercise owing to the provisions of his boeing
dont see that we have to worry a whole lot. Who in helld think wed More Page More Page Vc25 pull Jacks plug so we could give away a half-billion bucks? Shit, Clint, wed have to be off our nut. If we dont fight the provision, who will? Flub opened the folder that contained Lucien Salvants district 9
Would you just look at the poop on this More Page More Page Vc25 poor son of a bitch. Pathetic bastard. He sailed the record of Salvants life across the room to his brother. Clint leafed through the autobiography. He shook his head. Jesus, can you imagine? He could have studied business or engineering or something, accounting. boeing
might have gotten More Page More Page Vc25 somewhere. Made a few bucks. So what does he do? He sits around jawing about James Gould Cozzens and Nelson Algren. Clint shook his head. Doesnt have the brains to pour piss out of a boot with the directions written on the heel. Lets get this done, More Page More Page Vc25 Flub. It doesnt have boeing
be letter perfect; if we dont bitch, nobody elses gonna. Whos gonna challenge a giveaway? Old Sing Sing Boyds got it squared with the IRS. Jesus, can you see the faces on those fuckers at Shell and Texaco when we walk More Page More Page Vc25 off with the Sunyang contract. Hoo boy! Thats gonna make britney spears wardrobe malfunction
fuckin day. Lucky old Jack had the foresight to go public with Bonner Oil. Well just quietly begin scarfing up the remaining shares over the next couple of weeks. And when the contract is announced, hey More Page More Page Vc25 boy! We ease into it, the way I see it. Whats the SEC gonna get us for? tc smooth hi waist bike pant
on inside knowledge? Now, just how in hell could we possibly fix the Sunyang deal, Flub? I ask you: how? No way. Hell, were just a couple of fun-loving. More Page More Page Vc25
