Up the wall

We'd been on the road about two hours when she pulled out the flask. Given the earlier filching of her mother's credit card, it probably shouldn't have come as a surprise. Still, I looked at her as if she were from Mercury.

'What?'

'What do you mean, "what"? What in God's name are you doing?'

She eyed me askance. 'I like to drink this, Alfie.'

'Yeah. . .that's bad enough,' I said, remembering one of our trysts. 'But you're driving a car, Sam--and you sure are going fast enough, by the way! . . .Are you out of your mind?'

'You're too uptight, Alfie,' Sam said. 'Relax.'

'Relax?' I said. 'Relax, when we're driving down a wet highway at eighty miles per hour and you pull out a goddamn flask? You might as well tell a bird in a crocodile's shutting mouth to relax. Put it down, Sam! Now!'

'No,' Sam said, and stepped on the accelerator.