“Only a problem if you try to fighthim.” He laughs through his nose, then adds, “I’m supposed to meet a woman here.”
“You are,” I assure him while showing him my face.
“Oh right, get in then.”
I go around the front of the car to the passenger side, pop open the door and sit down.
I study him once more to get a good idea of his features. Male, early maybe late forties, but well-aged, hook nose with a prominent bridge, small lips. He is wearing a tight maybe even fitted purple shirt with three buttons undone to reveal his macho-man chest hair… Two, no, three gold chains hanging from his neck and a few cheap-ass bracelets of assorted colors that sound like someone threw a few quarters inside a washing machine every time he shifts gears.
“So,” he starts, “you like to dress like a man, I see.”
“Is that seriously going to be your first line?”Who is this guy?
“Hey, I don’t judge. I’m merely an observer.”
“No, it was Rage’s idea,” I mumble while inspecting my clothes.
“Ah! Of course. Well, can’t blame him. The man knows what he’s doing. After all, this isn’t a suitable place for women to be traveling alone. You know?” He nods.
“So I’ve been told.”
The car is moving through the city. Behind these windows I feel less anxious and can observe everything while I talk to a human being for the first time since I left the United States.
“American, no?”
I nod.
“That’s double the money.”
“Money?” I ask dryly. I don’t like where this conversation is going.
“Yes, I don’t know what the matter with Middle Eastern men and American women is, but they go crazy and would pay double if I were to sell you to them.” Now he’s arrogant. “I just can’t see past your ordinary demeanor and lack of class. No offense.”
“Non-taken, especially coming from a…French guy.”
“Yes, I’m French, my accent gave me away, no?”
“I was going with the smell, but yeah the accent helped a little.” Of course he doesn’t smell. I just want to tease him for what he said.
“Hey! Don’t tell me that. I’m not doing so bad considering the weather here.” Yet he smells his armpits. “I even showered before coming here.”
“Well, friend, it seems you forgot how to use soap, deodorant, or both.” I have to bite my lips to avoid a smile.
“That’s probably the case, American Girl, but with the trip we have ahead of us, you won’t smell too good yourself.”
“Yeah, okay, it’s going to be hot, I get it, nothing new.”
He shifts down and takes a corner, the bracelets clinking against each other. “No, you don’t understand. We have to cross the Red Sea. That takes time, and under the sun, yes it will get hot, very hot. You see, underground travel is not clean or pretty, my friend, but the sea will transform you into a man.”
“Woman. I am a woman.”
“Oh yes, I meant… how do you say.” He waves his hand in circles then looks at me to come up with the word he’s missing.
“Tough?” I guess.
“Oui! Tough,” he claims happily then pulls the car over in a quiet, unpaved street. “We’re here.”
“Here where?” I ask while opening the door of this rusty car.
