He thought long and hard about putting the kiss at the bottom, but did so because the length of the thought process took him through another order of both the beer and the sake, so by that time, he needed to summon the discipline for just the one kiss.

He asked for the bill, the check, and also if they had an envelope.

They brought the first request, understandably, but failed on the second so he asked for another piece of paper and fashioned it into an envelope-y kind of thing, a memory from school days, wrote the name Lomita on the front, realising he still wasn’t sure of the spelling of Nairn, especially after the beers, and didn’t want to get it wrong, securing the letter inside. Done. Good evening’s work. He hoped. Not that he was wishing to exploit her at all, but he felt genuinely stupid for what he had done and would be happy to continue their relationship whether she could help or not.

Who knows, she might be broke too, although something in her manner seemed to suggest an ease with money, at least either past or present.

He guessed he would soon find out.

As he got up to leave, four girls rushed in and shouted across the restaurant, oblivious to whoever was in there, which as it happened, was only him.

‘Food to go, we’ve come to pick up our food.’

Almost in a chorus, the last word food had the extended vowels that put it into a singing context; they were obviously regulars as the waitress smiled and no names were asked for in exchange. No one seemed to take offence at what Ever perceived as a rudeness, so if the staff didn’t, why should he? They looked at him as if he was sizing them up, which he wasn’t, and they blocked the exit, being pack cool. He politely said,

‘Excuse me please.’

That seemed cue enough to prompt the mockery that only the hunting pack have the courage to engage in.

‘Oh, he’s British, a Brit, oh, an English man.’

In the worst take on an English accent possible. Two were apple pie, pure blonde Americans and two were of mixed ethnicity, with an extract of Middle Eastern blood, that gave an even skin tone and smoothness of colour lending a natural and un-made-up glamour to their faces. All about sixteen or seventeen, products of the rich and living their own reality show. Ever smiled, they moved aside, as he hit the sidewalk, there was a white convertible BMW, with another girl sitting at the wheel as the car’s engine revved and then was put silently to rest.

‘What are you looking at?’