Keith took a long look at Jazmin; slowly, taking it all in.

"Oh shit, we can't go with you dressed like that" he grunted. She looked at him with a blank stare.

"What's wrong with my clothes?" she inquired in a young, naive voice that only the most experienced street smart would be able to detect the dripping sarcasm.

"Fuck, I have to deal with something serious, and I can't have you trailing behind me looking like a goddamn streetwalker. Don't you have something you can cover up with?"

"Sorry, dahling" she purred, "but I left in such a rush this morning, I barely had time to powder my nose; and the butler has yet to pick up my dry cleaning, silly old man, I may just give him a piece of my mind when I return." Jazmin fretted her rght hand in a dismissive movement for just a second before continuing. "And really, dahling, If I'd have known you would come a calling this morn, I wouldn't have left my Kavalli's at home."

For a split second, Keith wanted to hit her; but there was no time for that now. He had too much on his mind, the least of which was listening to the wayward stories of a loose woman of the evening. As intrigued as he was by her, business was business and he needed his wallet back and to get to Clara's house to figure out what was going on.

"I don't have time to play with you. Either find something to cover up with, give me my wallet back, or get the fuck out of the cab", he barked.

"Fine. Stop here", she directed shortly to the cabbie.

As the cab abruptly stopped on the curb next to two rusty garbage dumpsters, Jazmin reached for the door handle, but Keith was quick to snatch her wrist.

"You're not leaving until I get back my wallet", he commanded as his dark gaze penetrated into her very being.

"I'm not going anywhere, I have a bag of clothes behind that dumpster. You said you wanted me to cover up, that's what I'm trying to do", she retorted, brushing off his uneasy stare.

Still clutching her wrist, Keith wondered for a split second if he let go would he ever see her, or his wallet again. What choice did he have? Clara needed him. He didn't have time to waste.

"Fine", he said, and dropped her wrist. She looked him straight in the eye, and then turned to step out of the cab. When she did, she stood up straight, smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, and and walked with her head held high directly to the back corner of the right trash container. She swiveled her head back and forth with a quickness that was almost unnoticeable, and then swiftly bent down and snatched what looked like an old black duffle bag from behind the dumpster. Double checking both ways again, she walked briskly back to the awaiting cab.

"Well I'll be damn", Keith muttered under his breath. Where did she get off acting like that, like she was some glorified heir to billions, and then at the neck moment a swivel necked prostitute?

She slipped silently back into the cab, and Keith ordered the driver to continue on. Jazmin began rummaging through the duffle bag, and Keith watched with more curiousity and intense fascination than he cared to admit. His gaze waned as she pushed aside various sparkly tops and spandex skirts, until one thing caught his eye.

He reached his hand into the bag and pulled out a black and white Donna Karen tennis shoe and swung it in front of her by his pinky.

"Not exactly your style is it?" he sneered.

She snatched it back and shoved it deep into the bag.

"My feet hurt sometimes, thank you very much", she retorted.

What kind of a hooker carries around a pair of sneakers, much less a pair that costs a couple hundred dollars, he wondered. This was one strange hooker in deed.

Jazmin continued fishing in the bag until she came up with what she considered to be a fairly conservative black sweater, and slipped it on over her top. It came down a little too much in the front for Keith's taste, considering where he was taking her, but it was long enough to go below the bottom of her skirt and ended about mid-thigh. She then pulled out a thin brown belt from the bag, and cinched it around her waist.

"Very stylish", he said, and then plucked at her fishnets. "But these have to go".

Jazmin peeled off her hose without complaint, and stuffed them into the duffle bag.

"I guess the shoes will have to do", he said, as the cab came to rest in front of a pristine high rise.

"Where did you say we were going?", she asked as she turned to look outside. As her eyes scanned up the building to read the words printed on the marquee, Keith didn't even notice that her face fell. He was too busy sizing her up, and thinking how if she wasn't a streetwalker, she would actually fit in with the crowd he was about to introduce her to.

Keith paid the cab and walked around to the other side to let Jazmin out.

"Look, let's just say you're the sister of my pub's owner, and I'm just showing you around town", he said as he reached into the cab to pull her out.

Jazmin just sat there stubbornly with her face planted down.

Without looking up, she said softly, "I can't go in there".

Keith was beyond the end of his frustration level, and had now moved beyond wanting to hit her to just about to strangle her and dump her body in the river for the fishes to eat.

"What now, you'll be fine, come one we have to go", he started yanking her by the arm to force her out of the cab.

Jazmin just sat there like a stone. "I can't go in there", she repeatedly softly, still averting her gaze.

"Fine, then just wait here, I don't have time to deal with this", and with that, he slammed the cab door shut, turned on his heel, and walked straightforth towards the looming highrise.