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à Vienne...
My young Austrian girlfriend (S.) enjoyed working in the local and assumed her responsibilities as manager with enthusiasm. The unhappy little girl that I'd met in the street, had blossomed into a happy, elegant young woman. She began rebuilding her relations with her family, her mother and little sister at least, and took them from time to time to a restaurant in the neighborhood and was proud to slip her little sister occasional pocket money.

Her father
(F.), a brutal factory worker, hated foreigners. He once saw us together in my car in the Mariahilfer Strasse and referred to her from then on, in conversations with her mother, as "the whore".
Since leaving home two years earlier, she hadn't once seen her father. She was so terrified of him that the idea of meeting up with him by accident was a continual nightmare. I was the only man in her life; a hero of sorts, psychologist and boyfriend. At twenty, she was a filled with fantasy, infantile preoccupations and jealousies. She was psychologically weak and incapable of making important decisions alone and was often overcome with self-doubt and guilt. Leaving her in charge of the locale sometimes left me feeling a little insecure, but I knew that this could be good for her and help her grow, and I hadn't the heart to take away from her the only responsibility that anyone had ever had the confidence to offer her. She was gentle, sentimental and innocent.
I wanted to give her a reward worthy of her efforts at the locale. We decided that she would begin her university studies starting in the fall. I went with her to buy her some new clothes and settle a few things concerning the club. I had an errand to do later and she volunteered to do all the paperwork at the chamber of commerce. She was carrying all the papers relative to the nightclub and, as I later found out, the entire 65,000 shillings I'd left in the glove compartment of my car to pay back the Turks who had loaned me the money for the lease takeover. (Those same Turks would later put a price on my head; 10,000 shillings to the first good man who could bring me back alive to explain the mishap). In the metro, she "lost" the papers to the club.