Shady Blue
Immediately, she sunk in her seat.
Vincent cracked a small smile. “Looks like someone’s paying him… I always got the feeling he was a prostitute,” nervously, Blue glanced towards Vincent. It seemed his joke had been lost on her.
“But look, he’s getting out his checkbook—why would he trade money for money?” Squinting at the man who leafed through a bloated envelope and reached into his back pocket, Blue found herself holding her breath. Oddly enough, if only for a second, she felt she was seated in the front seat of the car; glancing around nervously, checking the lock on the door, tucking an envelope in her suit, and paying a strange man in a decrepit vehicle. Lifting a finger to the window,
Bab Populer