The light would betray us. She was a lone white woman, therefore marked. . She painted on the Root Beer Lip Smackers lip gloss that Shari had bought her last Christmas and rouged her cheeks as she had long ago as she once had for Sebastian. “Not a bit of it. I’ve made no one happy. ‘Jacques!’ He stopped, but he did not turn. A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease. I’m taking no chances. .
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