The car stopped in the gravel park.
‘Get out,’ he said to Becka, leaning across to open the passenger door, his arm against her tub. She picked up her plastic bag and stood there awaiting his next instruction.
He wound down the window and shouted, ‘Get to the front of the car and look at me.’
She walked round in the rain. He flicked on his full beam and turned up the music, Dirty Old Town. ‘Dance bitch!’ he shouted, clicking the lights on and off in time. ‘Sexier,’ he bellowed, his head out the window.
Becka shook her hips arrhythmically, pulling her skirt up tight over her thighs. She smiled. She was hopeful.