You have to walk to town.
You cannot just sit here and wait for a good Samaritan to stop.
Because they don't exist anymore.
# # #
She walked up the shoulder of the highway, swatting at the swarm of flies and gnats that had been attracted by her salt-tinged sweat.
In the distance, the mini-roar of an engine.
She looked up.
Couldn't see anything through the brutal glare.
Just blinding chrome and glass.
Thinking, If I took my top off, would they stop?
Could you handle that rejection if they didn't?
She raised her arm, held out her thumb, but didn't slow her pace.
Kept walking as she shielded her eyes.
The car streaked past.
She traded her thumb for a middle finger.
But something was different with this one.
The pitch of its engine had dropped.
She stopped, made a slow, staggering turn.
Damn.
Somebody had actually pulled over.
She stumbled toward the vehicle, moving as fast as she could manage, some part of her fearing that as she drew near it would turn into a mirage.
But the image held.
A burgundy Chevy Astro with deeply tinted windows.
She sidled up to the van's front passenger door, yanked it open, climbed up into the seat. The air-conditioning was crisp and roaring out of the vents.
She looked over at the driver, her head spinning, unwieldy.
Said, "I can't thank you e—"
At first, she thought she was hallucinating.
A symptom of heatstroke and exhaustion.
But when he spoke, the voice matched the face.
Christian said, "Shut the door, would you? You're letting all the cold out."
When she didn't respond, he reached across her lap and pulled the door closed himself.
The desert raced by.
Christian reached down, grabbed a bottled water from between the seats, dropped it into her lap.
"Glad you were still here," he said. "I swapped out Isaiah's car as fast as I could, but it took longer than I'd planned."
She unscrewed the water and sucked it down.
Still cold enough to trigger a brief, blinding headache, but she didn't care. The thirst-quench was orgasmic.
"There's a whole case," he said. "Help yourself."
She killed two more, leaned back in her seat.
They were speeding along on a descending grade.
The temperature readout passing the 110 mark.
The desert looking more hostile and unforgiving with each passing mile.
Like a lifeless planet. Like that painting in Christian's office.
The hydration and the AC were going a long way toward clearing her head.
She looked over at Christian. He'd changed. Maybe others wouldn't have noticed, but to her, a student of body language, it was like riding with a completely different man. He sat straighter. His shoulders implied confidence and ability. And there was a hardness in his face that hadn't ever been there before.
He said, "Your pride is wounded. As it should be. But you should know something."
"What's that?"
"I am the very best in the world at what I do. The game was over before it ever started. It was like a middle school kid trying to compete in the PGA Championship."
"Are you even a therapist?"
"Read a couple books. But it wouldn't be fair to say I had a practice. Or a diploma. You were my only client."
"How the hell did you do this? And why?"
"You first fell on my radar while you were still in prison. Friend mentioned you to me. Your work with Javier Estrada and Jack Fitch in the Keys was very impressive. Even then, I wanted to work with you, but I worried about your self-destructive tendencies."
Beyond the windows, the vegetation was shrinking, browning.
He said, "When you turned up in Charleston, I went to Charleston."
"But I came to you."
"Think back to how you first heard about me."
"One of the girls in the halfway house recommended you. She told me you'd changed her life. Gave me your card."
"Her name was Samantha and I paid her five thousand dollars to steer you to me."
"Jesus. You've been running this grift on me for half a year. But you helped me. You actually helped me."
"I'm glad. Although that wasn't really the purpose."
"I told you everything about me. Things nobody else knew."
"I wouldn't have had it any other way. I've never taken an interest in anyone with such intensity. I had to know you inside and out, Letty. Your secrets and fears. I needed to see your naked soul."
"It was a violation."
"Yes, but a necessary one."
"You were planning Vegas from the beginning?"
"No, that fell in my lap last month. Vegas was never the end goal."
"So what was?"
"You. Meeting you. Vetting you. Learning everything about you."
"I left Charleston and came west on my own. That was my decision."
"Was it really? Let's think back to the day you decided to leave. What happened?"
"A customer harassed me. I fought back. My boss fired me."
"Because I paid them to. I wanted you to leave town. You'd been talking about it already. You just needed a push."
"You sent me to Isaiah?"
"In a back channel sort of way. I knew he was planning to rip me off. You might even say I was so unreasonable in my terms that I encouraged it. Isaiah's ambitious and fearless. But he's lucky I didn't leave him in the desert. I figured if he wanted to do the hard work, let him. I had Javier recommend you to him."
"So I could get on the inside and you could manipulate me."
"So I could manipulate everyone. It's what I do. I took down a casino, kept one hundred percent of the haul, and all I did was drive. And I didn't even have to do that, but I wanted to see you under pressure."
"How'd you know I'd ask you to drive us?"
"I set it up perfectly. I had helped you with your addiction. Here was a chance for you to return the favor. Give me a taste of excitement. Snap me out of my misery. Possibly save my life. Even if you hadn't called, I had alternate plans to catch up with Isaiah's crew. I'd have won no matter what you did, Letty."
"Who's the man I stole the phone from?"
"My face. I have many of them. He's probably breaking it to the crew right now that Isaiah got the better of us. And despite the fact that you tried to rip me off, you're going to get paid, Letty. Won't be seven million. But it won't be shabby."
"What'd you do to Mark?"
"He's fine. Talented kid. Maid will find him tied up in my suite tomorrow morning. We'll work together at some point in the future. As I hope you and I will. The real stars of the show," he said, "are your hands. That grab you did in the Wynn casino was in the top three I've ever seen."
"You were there?"
"I was everywhere. You're an unpolished diamond, Letty."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"Coming from me? Yes. You've got more raw talent than I've ever seen crammed into one person. But you're self-destructive."
"I'm fighting it. I'll always be fighting it. You know that."
"You're good now," he said, "but I could make you great."
The road stretched on for miles—a straight shot into hell. It dipped steadily toward a valley floor distorted by heat shimmer.
"Is that Death Valley?" she asked.
"Yep. Your purse and phone are in the back seat, by the way."
Letty glanced back, saw her belongings, and then a wall of black duffle bags stacked where the third row seating had been removed.
"It's your pride," he said. "It's working against you right now. It's whispering, 'who's this guy to tell me my business?'"
But he was wrong.