Page 50 of Damaged

James tilts his head back, like my question is ludicrous. “Nobody messes with Big Kitty.”

I’m silent for a moment. I look at James’s face, searching for the hint of a grin. That this is a joke. But there’s nothing.

“Okay, so let’s be clear. You don’t have a cat. You have a feline tenant.”

“Sure, but I respect his autonomy. I don’tnotlike animals. Don’t label me that way.”

“Alright,” I say. “Fair enough.”

“But we’re not going to see any crocodiles. Karim scheduled a meeting for me to meet the Deputy Minister of Defense. They might be interested in some firewall product of ours. I’m going to be dropped off. The car will continue to take you to the hotel. The driver has worked for Karim for thirty years. I trust him, but Brock has to come with me.”

“Oh,” I say. “Okay.”

James doesn’t ask me how the appraisal went. He doesn’t ask me for the price estimates, and I don’t offer. I have a hunch he’s purchasing no matter what. He’s busy with something on his phone, and before I know it, he’s getting out of the car. Nogoodbyeor I’llsee you for dinner.

He does turn back though. “Copy those appraisals into an email and send them to me.”

“Of course,” I say.

James just shuts his door.

It looks like Icy Hot is back.

Sophia

We hit traffic just a few blocks from the hotel. Bumper to bumper. And just like New York, everyone loves to honk even when nothing can be done.

It’s not my idea of venting frustration. The incessant honking just makes everything worse. I’m starting to get a headache, and I never peed at Karim’s palace.

Big mistake. It’s gotten to the point where my bladder has turned molten. Burning.

“You know what? I can just walk from here.” I lean forward so I’m closer to the driver and point out the windshield. “I see the hotel,” I say, pointing at the white wall I recognize. “It’s a few blocks. It’s no big deal.”

He says something back in Arabic.

I point again and pantomime walking with my fingers. “I can walk.”

From the snail’s pace we’re moving at, I’ll be in the car for another half hour if I don’t. I hit the unlock button on the door. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t want to be rude, but I figure he’d prefer this to me peeing on the white leather seats.

He shouts out the window after me but doesn’t leave the car.

“Sorry!” I say again, baring my teeth to show my shame.

He waves me off and mutters a single word I figure is an insult. Probably calling me an idiot.

The pressure feels better when I walk, but the heat outside is oppressive.

Dry. Oven like. It’s over one hundred degrees. I get to the white-painted walls, only to find a wrought iron gate. I realize this isn’t my hotel.

Oh no.

My heart sinks and lands directly atop my bladder.

People on the street are giving me a skeptical eye. I look like I’m a long way from my dig site. I start walking back to the car, but it’s not where I got out. The car is nowhere to be seen.

He must’ve turned down one of these narrow streets that leads back the way we came.

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