"I was just going," Laurence said with a show of dignity.
"I've had enough of your face for one day," Greta said, edging
toward her.
"The feeling is mutual, Mrs. Locke," Laurence replied with a
smirk. Then, "I must say, after finally meeting you in person, I
can stop feeling guilty about my relationship with Matthew." She
brushed a long wayward lock of hair from her face. "You, madam,
and I use the term generously, are a quintessential bitch."
Greta's mouth gaped. "You little tramp!" She lunged for
Laurence's throat.
"Stop," Jean-Pierre commanded, catching Greta by the waist just
in time. "Go," he said to Laurence.
"I don't ever want to see you again!" Greta shouted after the
girl.
Laurence climbed into her car and slammed the door shut, started
the engine, and rolled down the window. She look as though she
were about to shout a retort, but then she thought the better of
it. Or so it seemed, until she lifted her closed fist and ever so
slowly raised her middle finger at Greta.
Greta made another lunge for the girl but Jean-Pierre's hold on
her was too strong to break away.
Laurence laughed heartily at this little show of helplessness,
then gunned the engine and she raced away in her BMW, kicking up
a great cloud of dust in her wake.
Jean-Pierre pulled Greta inside and closed the door.
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