“FUCK!” I scream, feeling the sharp pain shoot up my hand as my fingernail gets caught in the closing car door.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for your next nails,” he dares to say, barely looking up from his phone, while I watch blood trickle down from my torn nail.

I stretch out my hand towards him, keeping my face calm, like it’s no big deal. He pulls out a crisp 50€ note and hands it to me, his fingers brushing against mine. I stuff the bill into my coat pocket without a second thought, then look out the window as the car starts moving toward the hotel.

The old guy, I don’t even know his name, but I can tell by the way he carries himself that he’s probably loaded. Whatever. I’ll just play along. It’s easy — keep the smile up, make him feel good about himself. He rests his hand on my thigh, and I glance down at it before flashing him a smile that makes him think I’m into him.

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As his attention is momentarily distracted, I slip a few small valuables from the car’s glove compartment — cash, some gum, little trinkets that could come in handy later — into my bag. It’s a habit now, collecting anything useful when I can. You never know when you might need something.

As the car comes to a halt, he steps out and, like some cheap romance movie, opens the door for me. I step out, used to this routine, and take my phone out, acting like I’m busy.

I glance at the screen. A call.

I know what I’m doing. I don’t even need to look at the number. I tap the screen and put on my best concerned voice.

“Mom’s in the hospital. They need me there now. I have to go,” I say, keeping my tone shaky enough to sound genuine.

The old man’s face shifts, confusion crossing his features. I offer a quick, apologetic smile, and then step toward him, throwing my arms around him for a hug. “I’m really sorry, I have to go,” I say, making sure he buys it. He nods, his face softening as he tells me to be safe. He doesn’t even question it. They never do.

I break away from him, telling him I’ll text him later, and run off toward the city. I turn a corner, and then stop, breathing in deeply.

I pull my phone from my bag, smile to myself, and start counting the cash I just scored.“This trick always works,” I mutter under my breath.