‘Once they discovered much of the money he’d cheated them out of they told me that, as a thank you, they weren’t going to cut my tits off (as they had threatened to do). They also let me know that I had twenty-four hours to get out of Vegas and never come back. As long as I never showed my face in their world again, they were going to let me keep my life. That was ten years ago. I was broke. I was frightened. I needed work. I had a cousin who ran a bar up here in Sequoia. He offered me a job. Time flies when you’ve fled the Mob and you have no idea what to do with your life. Ten years on I’m still pouring shots and living in the same trailer I found the week I arrived from Vegas. Still … in you walked two weeks ago and I found myself thinking: now that’s a lovely young guy and someone who believes in being nice and decent with me. And treating me not like the potential fast fuck behind the bar, but a person … which is why you should meet me at my trailer around a half-hour after we close up at one tonight.’

That’s how it started. Because we were in the smallest of communities – and because Bernadette feared she was going to get severe shit from everyone for taking up with ‘the new boy in town’ (as she sometimes called me) – she wanted to keep ‘us’ quiet. When I pointed out that I was a legal adult she gave me a light kiss on my lips and said:

‘They’re still gonna call me a cradle robber.’

Bernadette would only see me three nights a week – and exclusively in her trailer. Thanks to her not only did I learn much about sex (and how to make it more than just sex), but also about the way that passion stays passionate if you’re not doing the day-to-day thing with the person with whom you think you love. And after just a few days I was certain that I was in love with Bernadette. Just as she was certain that what we had here was nothing more than a very pleasant moment in our lives.