Food was evidently preferable to playing marble, and after they were both through the front door, Vin locked it and put the chain in place. With the way things were going lately, he wasn’t taking any chances with anything.

“Holy fuck,” Jim said, “your living room…”

“Yeah, it’s been redecorated by Vince McMahon.”

In the kitchen, Vin got out some cold cuts and the jar of Hellman’s using his left hand. “You got a choice between rye or sourdough.”

“Sourdough.”

As Vin grabbed some lettuce and a tomato from the crisper, he braced himself. “I need to know how it went down. With Devina. Tell me everything—Shit…not everything. But how did she come on to you?”

“You sure you want to go there?”

He took out a knife from the drawer. “I have to, man. Need to. I’m feeling like…I’m feeling I was with someone I didn’t know at all.”

Jim cursed and then parked it on one of the bar stools at the counter. “Not so much mayo for me.”

“Cool. Now talk.”

“I don’t believe she is who she says, by the way.”

“Funny, me neither.”

“I mean, I did a background check on her.”

Vin glanced up in the process of getting the blue lid off the plastic jar. “You gonna tell me how you managed that?”

“Not on your life.”

“And the result was…?”

“She doesn’t exist, literally. And trust me, if the people I use can’t find her true identity, nobody can.”

Vin went light with the Hellman’s on Jim’s sourdough, heavier on his own rye, but it was a messy, imprecise job. Ambidextrous he was not.

God, it was so not a surprise about Devina….

“Still waiting for Thursday-night deets over here,” he said. “And do us both a favor and just talk. I don’t have the energy to be polite right now.”

“Fuck…” Jim rubbed his face. “Okay…she was at the Iron Mask. I was with…friends, I guess you could call them, although ‘sonsabitches’ would also cover it. Anyway, she followed me out into the parking lot when I left. It was cold. She seemed lost. She was…You sure about this?”

“Yup.” Vin picked up a tomato, put it on a cutting board, and started slicing with the grace of a five-year-old. Hacking was more like it. “Keep going.”

Jim shook his head. “She was upset about you. And she appeared to be really unsure of herself.”

Vin frowned. “How was she upset?”

“How…you mean what for? She didn’t go into specifics. I didn’t ask. I was just…like, I wanted her to be okay with herself.”