John Kolter
I followed Gwen into the little Mexican place she liked so much. I hate Mexican food, but for Gwen I pasted on my s**t-eating grin and pretended. Keeping up appearances is important, and as they say, “if mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” Gwen might be pint-size, but she was a force to be reckoned with. We slid into our favorite table for two, right in front of the window, practically front-and-center of the popular little cantina.
“Hey Mr. Kolter, Mrs. Kolter welcome back,” the owner of the restaurant came to our table personally, as usual. Alex Moreno grinned at us, and shook our hands heartily, while he made stupid small talk with Gwen. After a moment he gave a little bow, “Please enjoy our signature shat was starting right in the base of my neck. I sat bac
