Page 132 of Over Her Dead Body

“I’m not going to fuck you either.”

He looks relieved.

A little too relieved.

“Hotel,” I say.

He looks down the road and shakes his head.

“Please. I’ll pay you. Cash. All you have to do is drive.”

He looks at the gun again.

I can’t believe how badly he does not want to have sex with me.

Finally, he nods.

I get in.

He pulls away.

I decide not to ask which part convinced him.

For the first few minutes, neither of us speaks.

Lisbon slides past outside the window.

The driver looks at me once.

Torn dress. Blood on both hands. Red eyes. Hair that has not benefited from the evening.

He looks back at the road.

Good man.

Lisbon, I am discovering, is a city that asks very few questions.

I am grateful.

I will never be back.

When we reach the hotel, I point toward the entrance.

“Wait.”

He looks at me.

“My cash is upstairs.”

He presses his shoulder against the driver’s door.

“Not like that. My room. The money is in my room.”

He closes his eyes for a second.

“If you wait five minutes and take me to the airport, I’ll pay you more.”

“How much more?”