The rain fell. Jean knew she shouldn't be here...but she was in love with Rob, the brooding castanets player. She loved him so much she gave up her career. Nightly, she journaled, a story that would one day sell, hopefully; not that anything else she had written ever sold. Still, she wrote, reams and reams pouring out her heart.
On this particular night, Jean waited for Rob to finish his last set at Los Toros Rojos - the Red Bulls. She was on her second dirty martini, when she noticed Rob flirting with a busty waitress. Enraged, Jean threw her martini--glass, olive and all. Then she got her gun. Rob stepped in front of the busty waitress. Jean fired.
Fortunately for Rob, Jean was a bad shot. She missed him, and hit a bottle of tequilla behind the bar.
"Hey!" he shouted, "Do you realise how much that costs?!"
Jean gripped the handle with both hands and took aim right between his eyes and began to squeeze the trigger. Rob held his breath. His eyes pleading with Jean to understand. The waitress meant nothing to him. She was a temporary distraction from the real worries in his life that he sublimated with tequila and badly written lyrics, if only Jean would surrender to him. He would give anything if she would just drop the gun, fall on the floor and make mad passionate love to Paris Hilton, even though he knew that lesbianism wasn't the
