Page 20 of Shadow Man

Giving up on the taxicab sign thing, I head for the nearest restroom. It’s surprisingly clean and empty. Six stalls in a line, no lines, only one occupied. I stand aside to let an old lady exit, and then I’m heading for the nearest stall. Throwing my bag down, I pull out a dark blue denim skirt and a white tee and set to work, kicking off my Chucks and shimmying out of my sticky jeans to savor a brand-new kind of freedom. I go to yank off my sweater when there’s loud cursing from the stall next door.

“Fuck!Hijueputa!Fuck!”

It stops for a beat, and then resumes, this time accompanied by a series of loud bangs. I freeze, my arms still locked in the sleeves of my white tee as the partition wall shudders in protest.

“Hey,parcera,”comes a soft growl suddenly. “Yeah, you next door. The one pretending to ignore the party going on in here… I got a question for you.”

Her English is perfect, but it’s not enough to keep me interested. I finish dressing and stuff my jeans and sweater into my bag.

“You American?”

Again, I ignore her as I slip on my Chucks and crouch down to tie the laces.

“… Or maybe you’re a mute?” My lack of response is spiking her words with irritation. “So? Which is it?”

“American,” I mutter, reaching for the lock, hoping it might shut her up.

“Are you a good girl? Do you bake cookies on Sundays? Does your boyfriend get a blowie for his birthday?”

“Excuseme?” This girl is nuts.

“Let me rephrase that… If you found fifty dollars on a sidewalk, would you keep it?”

That’s it. I’m out of here.

“Would you buy yourself some new candy-pink Chucks, or detour to the nearest cop station?”

My hand freezes on the lock. “How do you know I’m wearing Chucks?”

“I looked under the partition. Ever cheated?”

Only on myself.“No! Why are you asking me this?”

“Lied?”

I think of Joseph. I think of how I said I could never love a man like him, and my silence answers for me.

“So you’re a little of both, huh? That’s good, ’cos I’m in deep shit, and I could really use your help. But hey, if you’re gonna run straight to the cops—”

“No cops,” I say quickly. Men like Joseph steal information from their databases like a bad kid steals candy. He’d be on the next flight out to Colombia.

She must have read something in my answer that ticked her boxes. The next thing I know, two piercing black eyes are peering over the partition wall at me.

“Nice skirt,” she comments, raking her gaze over my outfit.

“Nice invasion of privacy,” I say, frowning up at her. “Ever heard of personal space?”

“Nope,” she says, sounding amused.

Just then, the door to the restroom opens and she drops back down into her stall. I listen to the newcomer pee her heart out, followed by the flush and the sounds of a running faucet. When the restroom door opens and closes again, the girl’s face reappears.

“Okay, Miss America, I have a deal for you.”

“No deal. No thanks.” I swing my bag onto my shoulder and unlock the stall door. “I’m not in the habit of looking for trouble.”Not anymore.

“No, you’re looking to disappear. Am I right?”

“Wrong. I’m on vacation.” The lie comes easily, even though my heart rate is spiking.

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