C h a p t e r F o u r

A hundred and seventy-nine dollars?

A hundred and seventy-nine fucking dollars – for one bloody taxi?

Was he fucking high?

Okay...

Right...

Maybe – Bella thought hopefully – he was joking? Or perhaps she misheard the man? It wouldn't be the first time she couldn't distinguish anything but mumbling through his thick American accent. Determined not to believe him, Bella asked him if he could ever so kindly repeat himself, as she didn't hear him the first time he had spoken.

The strange, kind act fell from her lips as if a stranger had spoken, and her features were arranged into such a kind expression it was hard to believe it was Bella Swan speaking from under those kind brown eyes which suddenly seemed to have a surprising depth. Indeed, Bella surprised herself with her jaw-dropping performance of I'm-A-Little-English-Girl-Who-Needs-Some-Protection-You-Big-Handsome-Man pout.

Although how this man could ever be considered handsome was beyond her and as for the protection? She had just spent the whole journey fearing at any moment he was going to jump out from the driver's seat and rape her, while they both plummeted to an early grave. Well ... an early grave for her. Him – not so much if the wrinkles on his forehead and the crinkles around his eyes were any suggestion.

But there it was – the usual flicker of concentration in his muddy brown eyes as he himself struggled to make out her own accent. The taxi driver paused briefly, even stopping taking a drag on his cigarette as he tried to make out what Bella was saying. A heavy sigh escaped from his mouth and he tapped his cigarette so some black dust fell out the window and onto the tiled immaculate car-park of Kingston High – reserved only for teachers.

And then, with a wide smile which showed all of his yellow nicotine-stained teeth he answered her, "It'd be a hundred and seventy-nine dollars, Hun."Apart from his grammatical error – Bella couldn't help but think – he was back with the sex-toy names.

But a hundred and seventy-nine dollars?

A hundred and seventy-nine fucking dollars – for one bloody taxi?

Was he fucking high?

Okay ...

Right ...

They were officially back to the start.

"Um ..." Bella paused, "Are you sure?"

The taxi driver raised one yellow nailed finger – how could that even be possible? – and pointed towards the charging metre sitting beside him.

$179.00

"But," she stared at him, "there must be some mistake."

"Nah, Hun – not a single glitch. Now even yah have the money or you don't in which case ..."

"In which case what?" Bella asked, and she wondered uneasily whether she was right with her suspicion that if someone didn't have enough money they were sent to an African brothel? Dear Lord – why hadn't she walked? Why had she even gotten into this rapist's taxi? And why the hell had she insisted on stopping at designer shops on the way here?

Miserably she glanced down at her Gucci bag. Its leather was gleaming in the sun's bright rags – it was so perfect, so magnificent. It was ... so totally worth it! Bella gazed down at the unmarked white leather running a finger down the smooth material, admiring the flawless bag. If they tried to take it off her in the brothel, they were in for something else.

"In which case we have a special system for those unable or unwilling to pay." Oh God. She knew it. It really was a brothel.

"Well, what is this special system?"

He handed her a thin A4 sheet of white paper. It was crumpled, and torn in some places – obviously no one had bothered to finger the cheap paper carefully.

Unable/Unwilling to pay? Then let's show you some options!

If you're short of ...

$1-10: a kiss on the cheek

$11-20: a kiss on the mouth

$21-30: kiss with tongue lasting thirty seconds

$31-40: kiss with tongue lasting five minutes

$41-50: kiss lasting ten minutes with Touching

$51-75: One breast shown

$76-100: Both breasts shown

$100-150: Both shown with Touching

$150 +: Sex

Please note this applies only if one is

Hot

A girl

(Unless driver is gay, for more information see back)

Bella stared at her driver in disbelief – this was worse than a brothel. She glanced at him, looking him up and down, as if she was a cheerleader in Bring It On or something. What next? Would she spontaneously burst into song that everyone knows the words and exact choreography to? Perhaps she could sing about a brothel? Imagine it now – the number one hit single that topped the charts: The Brothel.

But, and she could feel any hope remaining shattering, her taxi driver was definitely not gay unless he was hiding it under his tattoos and piercings or something.

"This is like; some kind of sick joke isn't it? Do taxi driver's punk people now?"

"Not me, Hun."

"What kind of place is this?" Bella asked.

"This is America, Hun. Anything we taxi drivers want once you get in the car is our business. Welcome to California, Hun. Now either pull out some cash or I think I know what you're option will be." His gaze flickered to the bottom of the page. "Do you have a hundred and seventy-nine dollars, Hun?"

Bella reached into her purse, hoping that by some miracle it would turn out that she hadn't decided to pay for her Prada bag with cash, or that maybe there was some that she had forgotten about. There had to be money in her purse – there was always money in her purse. It just had to be fate that she actually used cash on a day when she was going to meet some insane rapist!

Twenty ... Forty ... Sixty ... Eighty ... One hundred...

Come on! You have to have it Bella! You have to!

One hundred...

Twenty ... forty ... forty-five ...

Change! What about change?

Forty-five ...

Forty-six ... Forty-seven ... Forty-eight ... Forty-Nine

A hundred and forty nine?

But – but then she was – she was ...

Thirty dollars short.

Okay – there was no need to panic. Absolutely no need. Just stay calm.

"My Dad's a lawyer!" Bella found herself screeching to the driver's amused face.

"And yet sadly, as I've said, this is America. You're not in England anymore. Now give me what you have and we'll see what's happening."

Resentfully, Bella handed him the money, trying as much as possible to make absolutely no body contact. If this man was going to force her to do this, then he wasn't going to be able to touch her! Maybe she would pretend to be a bad kisser just to annoy him ... She Had heard there were types of kissers with really bad breath and prickly tongues but she wasn't sure she'd be able to manage that in such short notice...

Jane had once went out with a guy who'd given her stitches on her tongue he'd bitten her so hard ... Maybe if she tried Bella would be able to make that happen. And Heidi – she had once gone out with some complete slack that smacked his mouth to hers and made a couple of her teeth wobbly for the few days before she's fixed a dentist appointment.

That was it – that was exactly it! She would act really badly on purpose!

"So ..." The taxi driver coughed, immediately interrupting her plotting. "You're thirty dollars short – and according to the rule guide, though I'm sure you've realised this already, that makes for a five minute snogging session."

He was leaning forward, coming in for the kill. It was different, yet still the same. She was older, she was wiser and but she still had no choice in the matter. Then again, hadn't Bella gone through much worse? It was only a kiss – one kiss with a little tongue and she was making sure that it was going to hurt.

He was so close now that she could smell the stale drink radiating off him, each wave stronger than the last, the kind of smell you're pretty much guaranteed to smell off alcoholics.

And then he was pressing his mouth against her, so surprisingly gentle that Bella immediately relaxed against his soft lips, and she granted access happily when his tongue touched her lips. All plans of sabotage were forgotten as she greedily raised her hand to touch his hair, his face, his neck...

It was amazing how her insane rapist taxi driver had changed so suddenly in her eyes because of a kiss she had been dreading, but some how he had gone from rapist to Sex God in about thirty seconds. Less than that, actually ...

Images were flashing through her eyes, coming and going so quickly that they barely flickered before her mind but for once she found herself able to push back the memories and into the present.

It was the fact that he was so gentle ... and soft ... and loving .It was easily the best kiss of her life, and it was worth all of those terrifying moments when she feared he was going to murder her. Or rape her, which now that she thought of it, didn't seem unappealing.

Of course, like all good things, it ended all too soon and five minutes later an egg-timer was going off and Bella found herself gasping for breath. It was with a new found thirst for this man that Bella was gulping in the air tainted with tobacco and his own stench of drink.

And he too was looking at her with a new expression – unreadable, yes – but new. Before long, it switched to a more comprehensible face, gazing at her with tender eyes.

Perhaps the little English girl was a little more than he had thought, much more than the average idiotic tourist. More than the annoying Daddy's-girl he had taken her for. Even more than the shopaholic it had seemed she was as he sat in his car waiting for at least half an hour, only able to watch the charging metre shoot up every minute or so.

"Well," he said, breaking the tension, "that's all. So if you'll get out now, I have more work to do."

"Right then." Bastard, she added silently.

She got out, reaching for her bags, and making sure she had a firm grip on her Prada handbag. Reaching for the handle on her suitcase, Bella was about to walk into her new school when she paused and turned to face the bastard one last time.

"What's your name?"

"Me, Hun?" The man asked laughing – perhaps this girl was more clingy than he'd thought.

"No, I'm talking to that statue." Bella glared – the sex name was back in action.

"Well, I'd be Edward, Hun."

And without waiting for her to say another word he had reversed out and was speeding down the motorway.