Page 55 of I Am the Messenger

She soon says, "You're my best friend, Ed."

"I know."

You can kill a man with those words.

No gun.

No bullets.

Just words and a girl.

We sit on the porch awhile longer, and I look down at Audrey's legs and her lap. If only I could curl up and sleep there. It's still just the beginning of all this, and already I'm exhausted.

It's decision time.

I have to pull myself together.

It's evening now, and I'm driving into the city. The distant buildings shadow the sunset.

The night is quiet, for thinking.

The most interesting person I pick up is a prostitute-looking woman who sits in the front. Her body is hard. Physical. Her hair waves at me and her mouth is beautiful, though her teeth are ugly. Her words are blond and sweet. She ends all sentences with an endearment.

"Why the long face, honey?"

"I've never been this way before, sweetie."

Contrary to stereotypes, her makeup is very tasteful and light. She doesn't chew gum. She wears black knee-high boots, a white skivvy that gives her a lovely shape, and a dark jacket-vest.

Keep your eyes on the road, Ed.

"Honey?"

I turn to her.

"You remember where we're going, sweetie?"

I clear my throat. "The Quay Grand?"

"That's right--I gotta be there by ten, all right, sugar?"

"Sure." I give her a friendly look. I enjoy customers like this.

When we get there, the meter says eleven sixty-five but she gives me fifteen and tells me to keep the change. She leans in the window. "You look sweet."

I smile. "Thanks."

"For the cash or the compliment?"

"Both."

Now she even reaches a hand in and says, "My name's Alice." I take it and hold it. "They get to call me Sheeba, but you can call me Alice, okay, honey?"

"Okay."

"And you are?"

"Oh." I let go of her hand reluctantly and reply. She mustn't have noticed my driver ID on the dash. "Ed. Ed Kennedy."