The Chauffeur
"Courtney?" I said to the limo driver. "Are you sure you know the right way to Club Frantique?" I drummed my fingers impatiently – perhaps a bit too impatiently – on the armrest of the limo. "I think we were supposed to make a left back there, maybe two blocks ago or so." "We were?" Courtney glanced back in my direction, trying to look past me and through the rear windshield of the car ... the one made out of dark tinted glass, the one she especially couldn't see through at night....