It was the beginning of summer and I was working, as usual, in peak hours. The radio news informed listeners that the evil man Milosevic had finally been sent to Hague for the war crimes trial of the new century. Although before the war I enjoyed every mention of my country in American movies, nowadays, I hated all the attention the former Yugoslavia was getting in the media. Particularly, I didn't like how Serbs were labeled as the 'bad guys', which would often be used to create arguments at home. I already had enough material to constantly argue with Selma, so this whole political stuff was an unnecessary extra.

The day was sunny and hot at ninety degrees, but I didn't mind. I always liked warm weather that reminded me of home, and I had also just received a generous tip from a lobbyist for the independence of Corsica. And then, she waved to call me - a beautiful lady in her late thirties. She was in a beige Chanel-style set, with two suitcases and a laptop bag.

I pulled up to the sidewalk and stopped. Quickly, I took her suitcases and put them in the trunk. She gracefully entered the backseat. I realized then just how drop-dead gorgeous she was. She had big emerald-green eyes, long chestnut hair, and a stunningly pretty and smart face. She looked like an older version of Catherine Zeta-Jones. She must have been a real babe when she was younger, but even now, she was definitely my 'customer of the month'.

"Can you please hurry up?" It was the first thing she said to me. No 'Hi', no destination.

"Yes, ma'am. Where?"

"Listen, Zoran, is that your name?"

"How do you know?" I liked how she pronounced my name. But her voice didn't match her appearance. It was deeper than what I had expected it to be.

"Drive me straight to Union Station."

"Yes, ma'am." I moved the cab, thinking about her. I was always interested in my passengers; especially the good-looking female customers. When I didn't know their stories I would conjure them up in my mind. But how did she know my name? "Excuse me, ma'am, how did you know my name?"

"It is on your cabdriver's license."

"Why did you ask then, is that my name?"

"Well, I must admit your picture is awful." She smiled to make her statement less harsh. "You look better than that photo. And by the way, I don't believe in everything I see printed on paper."

I just nodded my head. She was good. But something was strange. She looked like someone who was very nervous but wanted to keep a cool façade.

She interrupted my thoughts. "Can you please drive a little faster? I know that everyone probably asks you that, but this really is an emergency."

"I'll try, but on five-minute route it is hard to make up much time. Late for train?"

"No. I am not going anywhere," she said with a troubled voice.

"Excuse me?"

"Just drive there, please."

I frowned and didn't notice that the traffic light had just turned red. I passed in full speed.

"Whoa, cowboy! Slow down a little! You don't have to break the limits and rules or get us killed."

"Lady, what do you want!?" I was getting annoyed despite being attracted to her.

"I want to arrive quickly and safely at the train station."

"...And to go nowhere..." I decided to tease her.

I had quite a lot of experience in picking up babes. Teasing girls, I filled with the occasional compliment that usually resulted in their defense, which consequently resulted in them letting down their guard when they would try to prove themselves. However, this didn't work with Linda:

"It's a long story." That was all she said.

"Doesn't matter. We are almost there." I gave up on the game. She seemed to be really worried and was way out of my league, therefore not an ideal target. Even though I try to aim high, I still know my limits.

"This is the plan. Drop me at the main entrance and go around the Plaza, and I will be at the crossing at Columbus Circuit. Got it?"

"What plan? What do you want me to do?"

"Just turn left around the Plaza and wait for me at the east station entrance. I'll be there in a minute."

"Why not wait for you here?"

"Because I said so."

The car slowed down. I stopped the meter and turned back to get the money, but Linda was already stepping out of the car.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

"Remember, turn left. See you at the station entrance." She then ran away with her laptop bag.

"Hey, lady! Come back! You owe me four bucks! Damn!" I couldn't believe she had played me up so easily and cheaply.

I looked for her, but she was already in the crowd, out of my sight. I was mad. To trick me just like that, for bloody four bucks. Then I realized that her suitcases were still in my trunk. Wait a moment. What was going on here? I didn't know what to think. I went out to check if her stuff was still in the trunk.

Linda Sears. That was the name on the luggage tag. Now what should I do? The most reasonable solution was just to go where she said and wait. I moved the car slowly in the crowded street and turned left while I was looking around for Linda. Then, for a moment, I thought I saw her, but a second later she wasn't there anymore. I was slowly approaching the spot at the entrance and stopped next to the curb. At the very same moment, my back door flung open and Linda entered the car. She then quickly crouched down to hide her presence from the people outside.

"Drive and don't turn around. Just drive. Slowly," she said, still panting.

"Where?"

"Anywhere. Anywhere outside the city. Go to your place, I don't mind, just go!"

"Lady, what is going on here?" I moved the cab, confused about everything that had happened to me in the last five minutes.

"Listen to me carefully. I think I'm being followed. Can you please keep an eye out in case someone is following us? OK?"

"Who is following you? Listen, I don't want to get into any kind of trouble." I was becoming frustrated.

"You won't. Trust me. But you need to help me now. I'll explain it all later, just drive."

Like any other idiotic alpha-male primate, I suddenly felt protective. I wanted to help her. I felt so close to her at that moment and so powerful at the same time because a gorgeous lady was asking for my help and protection. She even suggested going back to my place. I decided to calm her down.

"Your name is Linda?"

"Yes, how do you know?"

"I know some tricks as well."

"What tricks?"

"Your luggage tags. Don't worry. Who are you running from?"

Still crouched in the backseat of my cab and clutching onto her laptop bag, after a few seconds of contemplation she said, "My ex-lover."

"Ex-lover?" I repeated, as I couldn't believe what I had just heard. "You know, you look scared like you are running from his wife." I slowly began laughing, an honest laugh. I have experienced mad husbands chasing me. The very thought of them knowing their wives were cheating on them with me was half of the cheating fun. Yet, I couldn't imagine a guy chasing a runaway mistress. Well, I sensed that the guy was probably married; at least being a 'lover' in my head meant being married.

"He must be pretty desperate guy. And very in love with you," I said, feigning compassion.

"Not really. He's just a control freak."

"I got it." I nodded my head. "Tell me, Linda, where are we going?"

"Well, if you could buy me a drink, I would love to go to some bar. I really need a drink."

"I must admit, it is really hard to resist that offer, but this is still work hours," I said, putting on my seductive grin that I thought was cool, but I was afraid that it was, for most girls, just funny. Inside, I was jumping with joy thinking how lucky I was. This would be one of my easiest pulls. I wanted to make sure that I was getting the right signals.

"How about having drinks in some hotel?" I hinted with a cocky voice.

"You are very sweet, but I really just need a drink and some company, without any funny ideas. Are we clear?" Linda said, and although she was still hiding in the backseat, her voice radiated authority.

I was disappointed and was already thinking of ways to withdraw my offer.

"I don't know what you have in mind. I'm married, you know." Despite being rejected many times before, I still didn't like to accept the fact and my exit strategy consisted of claiming miscommunication. This was particularly easy, however, with non-Yugoslav girls when I was forced to speak in English.

"In fact, I'm very married," I continued my story. "You probably did not understand me well. You know, maybe this whole drinks thing is very bad idea." My strong Slavic accent was usually sharper when I was excited … or lying. I hoped she didn't notice.

Linda interrupted me. "Please, I really need a drink and I'm afraid to go alone. They are after me."

"They?" I was surprised. The balance changed again. She needed my help. I briefly turned my head and looked at Linda squatted in the backseat, so vulnerable.

"Please help me, Zoran." She gently put her hand on my shoulder while asking me for help, with a voice loaded with despair, and I roused.

I immediately felt bad about my behavior. Couldn't I just for once act like a human being without those last thoughts? What was wrong with just having a drink with a beautiful, smart and rich lady? Rich at least for my standards. Surprisingly she didn't mind drinking with a cabbie like me. Although I wasn't fond of talking to girls without any hidden agendas of my own, this time I agreed to just talk.

I looked at Linda's big green eyes, curiously trying to read if I would go with her. This eye communication seemed more effective than English, but this moment of silence was soon interrupted by Linda, who seemed to sense that I was cooked.

"OK then. Go to Morrison Clark Inn. Do you know where it is?"

"Yes, I know."

I turned left and continued thinking. I had always thought about the people I was driving, but I didn't have much conversation with them. People don't talk about meaningful things with cabdrivers, apart from the regular chitchat so loaded with politics in Washington D.C. This time I had a stunning lady in my cab who wanted to talk with me. Just to talk. This has never happened to me before. To be invited for a drink by a passenger, it was something new and interesting. I turned back and said, "What the hell. Let's go for drink."