‘And the address is A Tracy, that’s A – T – R – A – C – Y @—’

He stopped her right there with a white-faced exhalation that contained the word:

‘What?’

Somewhere during the last ounce of pouring out breath.

‘Tracy.’

She said.

‘My name is Anne Tracy, why so dumb-shit shocked? Simple enough name.’

Ever said nothing and did a lot. Like getting dressed, no polite ‘sorry’, or ‘have to go’. Just a silence that left Anne Tracy with a look of bewildered sadness and a feeling of being revolting.

‘What the fuck – what the—?’

‘I am going. Have to go. Go.’

And the door was his only aim and he shot straight through it, down the stairs to the parking lot, drove for ten minutes till he pulled up at the start of El Paseo, and wound down the window.

Thought he was going to vomit and then opened the door.

And did.

*

He felt at that moment that his luck with women was not the strongest card in his pack.

The psychic had said not to sleep with a girl who would want to sleep with him by the name of Tracy, as she carried HIV, and this person would change his life. He had this mantra in his head. She also predicted that he would find a solitary card – the Ace of Hearts.

He had left the psychic’s apartment, a block to the east of Park Lane in London, he was walking along and saw on the pavement a playing card – the Ace of Hearts – just lying face up, he picked it up, his hand shook a little. So, she talked sense: this authenticated her prediction, in his mind at any rate. Hence his dedication to the mantra – just make sure then you don’t fuck a Tracy. Make sure you make sure you don’t fuck a Tracy.

He just had.

He just had.

But he didn’t know if she had HIV.

His second thought was to drive back and ask her, his first thought was to get drunk. How could he ask her, and if she had, would she say? And if she said she had, would he want to hear it? And if she said she was on medication, that her viral load was undetectable, what would he do then?

Better to live in a state of his familiar disbelieving denial.

It wouldn’t necessarily mean that he could get it, that he would die. Not with modern antiretrovirals.

Did it?

What did the psychic say?

That he would get it. No, that she had it. Change his life. Oh God. That was all. All? Of course – he could get checked. What is the percentage chance?

No, stop it, get drunk.

Forget.