Bette reached down and retrieved my glass and carried it and hers back into the house to refill them. I sat back down in the lounge chair and put out the now finished cigarette in my hand. Tina sat across from me on the other lounge, looking me over, observing me in a way that made me wonder if this is what others felt like when they realised I was observing them. Tina plastered on a smile.

“So, how do you know Bette?”

Bette returned the back and handed out drinks, sitting down next to Tina on the lounge chair. I ran my hand through my hair. It had started to get shaggy, I hadn’t shaved it in months, instead letting it grow a bit. Still boyish for the johns, but enjoying having hair to run my fingers through for the first time in ages.

“Uh, we kept running into each other at this coffee shop near her old gallery. One day we just started talking…”

Bette smiled, “Yes, I remember watching you for weeks before I finally approached. Just something about you was very alluring, I just felt drawn to you.”

I looked down at my lap, slightly embarrassed by Bette’s confession, not sure what to say to that. Tina nodded.

“So you live down off Santa Monica then?”

I looked around, “Uh, well… sort of. Not anymore really…”

Bette jumped in again, “Shane has just come to this area of LA. She has some job interviews in the neighbourhood tomorrow, so hopefully in the next week or so she will be settling here.”

Tina saw straight through the vagueness of our answers. “So where are you staying now then?”

“My truck.” I said simply. There was no use denying it. And I wasn’t really ashamed or anything. I had lived in worse, and just accepted the hand life had dealt me so far. Tina seemed a bit taken back by my frankness and matter of fact answer. She glanced at Bette and the two had one of those conversations that happen without words, just looks, and in a matter of a second. I would come to see those conversational looks happen between the two of them for years. Tina pressed on.