Vin shrugged. “When I was growing up, I was laid-back. You know, never much interested in school, content to kind of flake along. But after my parents died…yeah, nothing about me was chill. I had this hunger.” He put his hand on his gut. “Always with the hunger. Nothing was…or has been ever enough. It’s like I’m obese when it comes to money—starved no matter what’s in my accounts or how much I have. I used to think it was just because I went from teenager to adult the second my parents were gone—I mean, I had to support myself because no one else was going to. But I’m not sure that completely explains it. The thing was, while I was working full-time for those plumbers, I got into drug dealing. The cash was crazy and as it began to stockpile, I just wanted more and more. I got into doing houses because I could be legit that way—and that mattered not because I was afraid of jail, but because I couldn’t make as much paper behind bars as I could out. I was relentless and uncurtailed by ethics and laws and anything but self-preservation. Nothing eased me…until two nights ago.”

“What changed then?”

“I stared into the eyes of a woman and felt…something else.”

Vin reached into his back pocket and took out the card of the Madonna. After taking a good long look at it, he put it down on the counter and turned it around so Jim could see it.

“When I looked into her eyes…I felt satisfied for the first time.”

Jim leaned in and stared at the icon. Holy shit…it was Marie-Terese. The dark hair, the blue eyes, the soft, kind face. “Okay, that’s eerie as fuck.”

Vin cleared his throat. “She’s not the Virgin Mary. I know. And this picture is not of her. But when I saw Marie-Terese, that burning pit in my stomach eased off. Devina? She just fed the drive. Whether it was the sex we had and the boundaries we pushed there, or the things she wanted or the places we went. She was a constant ramp-up of the hunger. Marie-Terese on the other hand…she’s like a warm pool. When I’m with her, I don’t need to be anywhere else. Ever.”

The guy abruptly took back the card and rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, listen to me. I sound like a Lifetime movie or some shit.”

Jim cracked a smile. “Yeah, well, things don’t work out, you could always go into the greeting-card biz from prison.”

“Just the kind of career change I was looking to make.”

“Better than license plates.”

“Wittier, certainly.”