Heat.

Three men sit in the car as torrential rain pounds the heat of this tropical island into the ashphalt. The wipers intermittently clear the windshield blurred by water. Outside a man passes by on a tricycle, a large sow caged like cargo. The three men in the car watch the waiting shed as the car idles.

Soon a tricycle pulls up and two girls jump from the tricycle to the waiting shed shielding their heads from the rain.

There was no backing out now.

"That's them." The driver said.

The front seat passenger squinted. The back seat passenger said to pull up, he couldn't see.

Key. Ignition. Roll. Stop.

Window down.

"Hello ladies, how are you?"

Plesantries exchanged. One has her hair down, the other pinned back. They look nothing like working girls, you'd expect them, they way they were dressed, to be going to the laundry mat to do a load or two.

Window up.

"So what do you think?"

"Not my type. One looks like my cousin."

Phone call. Send those home. Send two more.

Wait. Tricycle. 2 girls. Pimp.

Phone call. Car door opens. Pimp. Car door closes.

"So, who is from Canada?" Hand shake. "How about these girls?"

"Not my type."

Send home. Can't wait here. Suspicious. Backseat passenger lives close. Meet there.

Key. Ignition. Drive. Stop. Gate open, gate close.

Wait. Sun is out.

Heat.

Knock at the gate. Pimp. 2 girls.

Can't back out now.

Pimp, "How about these two?" he's looking at the front seat passenger suspiciously.

"The one in red."

The backseat passenger says have fun and goes into his house. The pimp hops on his scooter and rides off. The girls and two men pile into the car.

Key. Ignition. Drive. Stop.

Hotel. "Here's your key. Don't worry, my treat cousin. When I come to Canada you can show me a good time."

Walk. Key. Lock.

Alone.

"I don't want to do this. So if we can just sit here until he's done with his girl... you'll still be paid."

"Okay with me, Canadian Boy. You don't think I'm pretty?"

"It's not that, I just don't do this."

"Do what? You some kind of bakla?"

Heat. "No, I just don't fuck whores."

Heat.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"You don't know me."

Heat. Cigarette. Lighter. Puff.

Tick. Heat. Tock.
"You want one, Canadian boy?"

"Not my name."

"You think Diamond is mine? We all have other names. Here, smoke."

Cigarette. Toss. Lighter. Puff.

"Why do you do this?"

"Always have."

"What do you mean always have?"

"When I was young my parents taught us to make money any way I can."

"And you chose this?"

"I chose nothing. My body is my bank."

Heat.

"Don't feel sorry for me. That's life here."

Questions. School? Money. Move? Money. Other job? Easy money.

"What do you do in Canada?"

"I write."

"What do you write?"

"Stories."

"You gonna write about me?" Smoke. Puff.

"Maybe."

"You sure you don't want to have a good time? Would make a better story." Bra strap. Smile.

Heat.