Annnnnd I should probably put on some clothes.
She glanced down at her bra, wincing at the boring unsexiness of it all—a plain navy T-shirt bra that did little to boost herbarely there B cup. Okay, fine…A cup. B on a good day. Why hadn’t she put on a cuter bra this morning?
Oh right. Because she didn’t own any. Cute bras were for showing off. Miri hadn’t had a reason to show off her bra since…since…well…Hmm. Whenwasthe last time?
Pushing thoughts of her nonexistent romantic endeavors to the back of her mind, she finished getting dressed, peeking out the door to make sure the coast was clear before finally emerging from the bathroom. Not that any of this mattered, but she didn’t particularly care to have a hot guy seeing her in such an unflattering state. Last thing she needed was a look of pity from Mr. M&M’s. She had already given herself enough of those to last the remainder of the day.
Now…time to figure out how the heck she was going to get to Manacapuru tonight. Looking around the station, her eye caught on the taxi stand outside with one, and only one, taxi parked in front of it. Phew. There was still a chance that she’d make it before the team dinner.
“Com licença, fala inglês?” she asked the driver in passable Portuguese.
“Um pouco.”
The tension in her shoulders relaxed. “Can you take me to Manacapuru?”
“Sim. Trezentos.”
Miri looked down, trying to recall her Portuguese numbers and do the math in her head.Tre…trezentos in Brazilian real. What is that…Fifty…fifty-four-ish U.S. dollars?Certainly more than the bus ticket had been, but at this point, Miri didn’t care. One way or another, she needed to get to Manacapuru before nightfall.
She pulled her wallet out of the money belt tucked in her pants, counting the U.S. bills she hadn’t had a chance yet to exchange.Forty-five, fifty…fifty-two.
“Will you take fifty-two in U.S. dollars?”
The man shook his head. “Não. Three hundredAmericano,” he said, exaggerating.
Miri’s eyes about popped out of her head. “Three…three hundredU.S.?” She choked on the words.
He nodded.
“That’s outrageous!”
He shrugged.
“Please. I need to get to Manacapuru tonight. Could you make an exception this one time?”
“Trezentos.”
Shoot, shoot, shoot.Think, Miri. Think. What would Corrie Mejía do? WWCMD?
Well, Corrie probably wouldn’t have been in this situation in the first place. And even if Corrie hadn’t been able to outrun the bus—which was unlikely—and was stuck begging cabbies for rides, they’d take one look at her and practicallybegto drive her. For free. Miri, not so much. Even on her best day, Miri looked like a plain house sparrow compared to the beautiful, sexy, elegant swan that was Corrie Mejía.
Sparrows were cute, too, though, right?
“What if…what if I give you fifty-two now, and the rest when we get there?” Surely, the crew would help her make up the difference.
The man scoffed. “I take you, then you disappear. No deal.”
“No, I promise! I won’t run,” she said, clasping her hands in a pleading position in front of her chest. “Once we get to the hotel, I can get the money from my boss.”
This time, he gave no response. Simply a grunt as he pulled out a cell phone and leaned against the car, paying her no attention.
“Fine. Fine, then I’ll find someoneelseto drive me.” As if he cared.
He gave her body a quick glance up and down, then snorted. “Good luck.”
Miri cocked her head back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“No one will drive a street urchin for less.”
