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he picked up two of her bags and walked off, searching for the number. Silently she lifted the remaining bag and followed him. She decided at once that she wouldn't enter the room until he was out of her sight. The room was upstairs on the second landing.
    Janet climbed the steps quickly, but first she had to stop and make him go ahead of her. He had wanted to come up behind her, but she was having none of that. She wished now that she had brought the hunting knife her father had given her. In her anger, she had tossed most of the things that weren't necessary on the bed and left them. Most of the articles her father had given her were left at home.
    As she followed the man, she remembered the long hours when she was younger that her father had spent with her, teaching her how to throw a knife so that it stuck in the middle of the target. She had become good but had never come close to acquiring the skill her father had. He was uncanny; his ability was incredible. She remembered seeing him hit the bull's-eye ninety-nine times out of a hundred, never being more than an inch off from the main spot.
    The cab driver stopped at a room that had "204" on the door. He set the baggage down and opened it. Stepping back, he nodded for her to go in front of him. She stopped and shook her head.
    "Could I have my key now?" she inquired in a shaking voice.
    She hated the little girl sound she imagined her voice betrayed. Janet held out her hand. They stood that way for a minute or two until the driver shifted his feet, not knowing which way to tackle his problem. He had believed that once he got inside the room with her he might be able to talk her into a little lovemaking.

    "Say, honey, suppose I run across the street to the whiskey store and get us a pint, huh?" he asked, coming up with the only way he knew to approach a woman.
    "No, thank you," Janet said coldly, still holding out her hand. "I would like very much to get my key from you. I've had a very trying time and now I only want to rest."
    "Well, now," he began, "I was thinkin' on them very same lines. I been driving all morning and it would be nice if I stretched out my legs for a while, too."
    Finally it dawned on her that being evasive wouldn't do any good. Her cold black eyes became mirrors of black ivory revealing a resemblance to her father. "Mister, I'm tryin' to be nice about it," she said, as she stared into his reddish, weak eyes.
    He attempted to grin at her, showing broken and yellowish teeth. "That's what I'm hopin' for, honey, that you'll be nice to an old man," he whined.
    Contempt appeared in her eyes as her temper blew. "Listen, you silly old bastard, I'm tryin' to pull your coat nicely, but if that won't do any good, I took your cab number down and if you keep fuckin' with me I'm going to spend a dime and call the police and tell them one of the best lies you ever heard! Now, they might not believe me, but by the time you get through explaining it to them, the cab company you drive for ain't goin' want to hear 'bout nothing you got to say, 'cause I'm under age and you ain't had no reason to come to the motel with me!"
    She saw the fear leap into his eyes and continued. "Now, I ain't goin' ask you but one more time to give me my key. I paid for it and I want it without no bullshit!"
    The man began to struggle with his anger and fear. Her words had shaken him to his very being. It was easy as hell for her to cause him trouble, he realized at once, and at his age, if he lost this job his ass would be up shit's creek.
    "Now, now, young lady, it ain't no reason for you to carry on like that. I didn't mean no harm, none at all," he whined, as he fumbled with the key. He stuck it into her outstretched hand. "That's one hell of a way for you to carry on, girl, after the trouble I went through for you."

    "You got paid for it, didn't you?" she said, still not stepping into the room.
    She stood with her hands on her hips until she saw him go down the stairway. Then she