When Jim got the hint and left, and Abby finished her story, Bobbi hunched forward on her elbows and drank. There was something in her eyes that made Abby nervous; it looked as if she was making some sort of complicated calculation. She was silent for a long time, and then said, ‘Shit.’

‘Yeah, shit,’ Abby agreed.

‘Have you asked him about it?

‘I don’t think I’d know how,’ Abby said.

‘Okay, well, first up, just because he’s looking at those kinds of magazines doesn’t mean he’s gay. As someone who can speak with authority on this subject, sexuality is not black and white. Why do you think they have all those colours on the rainbow flag?’

‘Logically, I know that. Emotionally, I can’t help wondering if he pictures Brad Pitt while he fucks me.’

Bobbi cracked a smile and sipped her chardonnay. ‘Nah, I reckon Ray’s more of a Richard Gere type.’

‘You’re not helping.’

‘But you said it yourself, it’s not like you and Ray don’t have sex. Eddie and Lori prove you’ve done it at least twice, and don’t think I’ve forgotten all those late-night sex talks we had at the Buy & Bye. He’s hot for your lady parts, is my point. So if I had to guess, I’d say he might just be a little … curious.’

A flash of something dark sprang into Abby’s mind like a jump scare in a midnight horror movie. The old ferry terminal was a gay beat. That was the rumour, anyway. Just how curious was Ray? Was he curious enough to—

Stop, she commanded herself, slamming a lid over the thought and pushing it away, the way she had slammed the lid of the first-aid kit shut. The truth was, she had no real way of knowing what Ray was doing with those magazines. He might have found them stashed in one of the houses he looked after – there were plenty of rich pervs on Neef Street. That didn’t explain why he hid them behind his workbench, but it was something to hold on to.

‘I have to talk to him about this, don’t I?’ Abby said.

‘I’m afraid so,’ Bobbi told her.

Abby finished her wine and shook her head. She went to the bar to fetch fresh drinks. When she came back to the booth and sat down, she said, ‘Your turn.’

‘Huh?’

‘You said you needed to talk to me about something,’ Abby said. ‘What is it?’

Bobbi shifted nervously in her seat and gulped her wine. Apparently, whatever she needed to say required a gutful of booze. That wasn’t a good sign.

‘Jesus, Bobbi, what is it? You’re freaking me out.’