He raised a finger to his lips and then he pointed it at her reprovingly. "You don't leave a guy, Bibianna." He turned to me, one hand out, palm up, arguing his case. "I've been in love with this woman for how many years now? Six? Eight? What am I going to do with her, huh?"

Bibianna was silent, her eyes full of dread. I couldn't believe the change that had come over her. All the confidence was gone, the high energy, the sexiness. My own mouth was getting dry, and a whisper of fear tickled me in the small of the back.

We reached the car. Another fellow stepped out, a Latino with a dark knit watch cap pulled down to his ears. His eyes were black, as flat and dull as spots of old paint. He had acne scars on his cheeks and a mustache made up of about fourteen hairs, some of which looked like they were drawn on by hand. He was my size. He wore sharply pressed khaki pants with numerous pleats across the front and an immaculate white undershirt. Tufts of underarm hair were visible, straight and dark. His bare arms were muscular, tattoos extending from his shoulders to his wrists – a graphic rendition of Donald Duck on his right and Daffy Duck on his left.

"That's a copyright violation," I remarked, nearly giddy with anxiety.

"That's Luis," Raymond said.

He had a gun. He held the rear car door open, like a well-mannered chauffeur.

Bibianna balked, one arm braced against the car. "I'm not going without Hannah."

Raymond seemed taken aback. "Why not?"

"She's my friend and I want her with me," she said.

"I don't even know this girl," he said.

Bibianna's eyes flashed. "Goddamn it! This is just like you, Raymond. You say you love me. You say you'll do anything. First thing I ask for, all I get is an argument. Well, I'm sick of it!"

"Okay, okay. She can go if she wants. Anything you say."

Bibianna turned to me with a look filled with mute pleading. "Please. Just for a few days."

I felt myself shrug. "I got nothing else to do," I said.

Bibianna got in first, sliding across the backseat. Raymond slid in beside her. I hesitated briefly, wondering at the wisdom of it.

Luis turned the gun so that it was pointing at my chest. It clarified my thinking most emphatically.