Service not… er… you know.”“We’ll say twenty then.”“That’s very kind.”I reach into my bag and root around for my debit card. I root ...round some more. Then I put the bag on the nearest table and look through it even though by now these actions are merely cosmetic because my fucking card is gone and it can’t be a coincidence that my phone is gone too, as is my backup cash. I’ve got no idea which of the people I’ve been with would do this – if indeed it was any of them.“Fuck,” I. For an hour, when she wasn't cramming her mouth full of the most delicious shrimp she'd ever tasted, or taking gulps of the sinfully sweet and rich wine, she talked constantly.She told him how she'd grown up in a strict, conservative family. Her father was a blue collar worker in an auto plant. When she was thirteen, she and two male playmates had been caught playing doctor and she'd been sent to her grandparents, who lived so far from anywhere that the only boys she didn't see at school were. More

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