It was a wet winter evening. I stood under the bus stop shelter while the rain tapped on the clear sides. A car stopped. A middle-aged man called out through the open window. “How much?” “Twenty dollars to the next stop. Fifty across town.” The lock clicked. I opened the door, slid inside. “You’re a cheap whore. You know that.” I laughed. “And you’re a cheap trick.” As his hand slid up my thigh, I heard my phone ring. “Da...