The partition between them and the driver slid down. The smell of his cigarette smoke entered their section. Rita handed the man a stack of cash. He didn’t bother to count it—he must know it was more than generous.

“I will call you,” she told the man. “Maybe four a.m.? Maybe later.”

He shrugged and nodded. “Is okay. Anytime. I’ll be around.”

“We’ll leave this bag with you,” Rita said, handing Elizabeth’s knapsack through the opening. The man took it without expression.

“It’s safe with me.”

“My ID’s in there,” Elizabeth said. Her school identification card, her Texas driver’s license, her passport—they were all in the bag.

“Better if you don’t have it on you,” Rita said. “There’ll be less questions that way. Come on!”

“Have fun, little girls,” the driver said.

They crossed the street, arm-in-arm, just as Rita instructed.

“Laugh like we’re already drunk!” she shouted, as though she was drunk and having a great time.

Elizabeth did her best to match Rita’s exuberance. They approached the velvet rope. A big man by the front door to the club saw them coming. He pulled the rope aside. Just before they crossed the threshold, Rita turned and pulled three young guys off the line. As Elizabeth looked on, she suddenly realized that one of the guys was Ahmet.

He wore a black leather jacket and jeans. He had a blue scarf around his neck. He looked at her, then quickly looked away as if he was shy. Then he looked at her again and smiled.

Elizabeth laughed.

Suddenly they were through the door and inside the club, a group of five young people, three guys and two girls. The lighting inside the club was purple. Everything was gleaming—the bar, the dance floor, the metal railings. The floor was crowded, people barely dancing, but standing nearly cheek to cheek.

Loud music pounded, the bass pumping below their feet, the lights pulsating.

Elizabeth pressed through the crowd, following Rita toward the back. There was a room back there, with tables and sofas, a VIP section, purple lights swirling. That’s where they were headed—to their own private table.

It was an amazing night already. Everything about it was incredible, impossible, just the most… she didn’t even have words for it. She was having the time of her life. Her mom and dad were going to kill her. She would be lucky if this little adventure didn’t make the newspapers.

Relax… relax… have fun.

She tried to remember to breathe.

* * *

A bottle of vodka came, along with a bottle of champagne.

Rita always spent money like water.