Daniel snapped on the car radio. Sad music--something classical--flooded thecar. "That's bullshit, babe. You know how much I have invested in you?" Hejabbed a blunt finger at her dress. "I could buy two good whores for what thatthing cost."

Then why don't you, she thought. Get back on your Metroliner and go home to NewYork City and your wife and your money and your two good whores. Aloud,reasonably, she said, "It's over, Danny, can't you see that?"

"Look, babe. Let's not argue here, okay? Not in the parking lot, with peoplewalking by and everybody listening: Drive us to your place, we can sit down andtalk it over like civilized human beings." She clutched the wheel, staringstraight ahead. "No. We're going to settle this here and now."

"Christ." One-handed, Daniel wrangled a pack of Kents from a jacket pocket andknocked out a cigarette. Took the end in his lips and drew it out. Punched thelighter. "So talk."

A wash of hopelessness swept over her. Married men were supposed to be easy toget rid of. That was the whole point. "Let me go, Danny," she pleaded. Then,lying, "We can still be friends."

He made a disgusted noise.

"I've tried, Danny, I really have. You don't know how hard I've tried. But it'sjust not working."

"All right, I've listened. Now let's go." Reaching over her, Daniel threw thegearshift into reverse. He stepped on her foot, mashing it into the accelerator.

The car leaped backward. She shrieked and in a flurry of panic swung the wheelabout and slammed on the brakes with her free foot.

With a jolt and a crunch, the car stopped. There was the tinkle of brokenplastic. They'd hit a lime-green Hyundai.

"Oh, that's just perfect!" Daniel said. The lighter popped out. He lit hiscigarette and then swung open the door. "I'll check the damage." Over hershoulder, she saw Daniel tug at his trousers knees as he crouched to examine the