‘If Momma could see you offering me a cancer stick and me giving you a beer when you’re driving.’

‘It’s just going to be one beer,’ I said, calculating that almost ninety minutes had passed since I’d finished that very good glass of Italian red in Westwood. I was not running any risks … as long as I didn’t touch anything more than one bottle of the fancy craft lager she’d put in my hand.

‘Yeah but Momma is always looking for original sin moments to bring me down on.’

‘Cigarettes and alcohol and weed aren’t exactly original sin.’

‘Momma still wants to think that everyone’s in a fallen state of grace.’

‘That’s also called: her very own form of unhappiness.’

‘Which you put up with.’

‘Let’s not go there.’

‘Papa, you know she raises all sorts of objections with me, and has done so for as long as I can remember. Because I always remind her of the blessed first child who died. The son she worshipped. Unlike me. The girl she didn’t want.’

‘Don’t say that.’

‘Why? It’s kind of true. And kind of sad. But it’s what she sees me as: the consolation child whom she’s never warmed toward.’

‘It’s a little more complex than that. And when you become a parent –’

‘I’m never becoming a parent.’

‘As you’ve told me many times. But, okay, if somehow, somewhere down the line you do become a parent –’

‘As I just said, Papa: that won’t ever happen.’

‘Fine, fine, got it, not trying to convince you otherwise. But just understand this: to be a parent is to worry all the time.’

‘To be a proper parent. Unlike Momma.’

‘She does love you … in her own way.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘How’s the job?’

‘We’re dealing with state budget cuts all the time. I didn’t want to worry you – because I know you worry all the time – but last month my boss Helen told me that, as I was the last person they’d hired, I’d probably be the first to be let go.’

‘Damn,’ I said, trying not to overplay my distress at this news. Especially as good work was so hard to come by everywhere right now. And I knew that Klara loved her job – as difficult as it often was.

‘Yeah – damn,’ Klara said. ‘But just a few days ago Helen told me that she had some interesting news. You know all about Patrick Kelleher … the great patron of “Uncle” Todor?’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Who in LA doesn’t know Patrick Kelleher?’