Isabella chuckled softly, she was sure Gavin DID have a story for everything he named.  Certainly, if he didn’t he was the sort of guy who could probably make something fascinating up on the spot to make her smile.  Yet another quality about him she liked which she added to her growing list.

“How about in order, that way I get to enjoy your secret talent last!  And… I presume fair turnabout will be expected?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Fair turnabout? Of course. It’s always nice to return the favor.”

He smirked as he started speaking. What was first? Easy things.

“Ah… I feel like you know a lot of the easy things. Grew up in Canada. Spent most of my early life outside. Family’s gone, except for Tara. Hiked down from Canada, hunting and scrounging to survive. Once we hit Philly, we hooked up with Jack Mezzo. At the time, he was a… Capo? Don’t even remember… anyways, he was in Spaceman’s crew. Well, Tara and I made some waves. Took over the docks. Helped Jack out however we could. Tara was the brains. I was the muscle. She could make money disappear… I could make people disappear- and Jack was the engine driving it all. He picked Tara as his RHM when he got authed, and we’ve been with him ever since.”

“Uh… what else is easy? Tara says I’m something called a “hedonist”, which is a fancy way of saying that I like to have a good time. I like whisky. I like women- well, one woman now, I suppose. My favorite color is green. I like jazz, even though I don’t understand it. Music in general, I guess. I never heard a band until I was 20 or so. I like… being outside? And... this. I like this.”

“What about you? What are your easy things?”

“I was born in New York state.  My mother met my father when they were very young and they had a short but intense romance.  My grandparents, who I never knew, didn’t approve and so when my mother turned up pregnant they sent her upstate to a home for girls who ‘get into trouble’ where she was to have me and put me into the system.”

“She ran away.  But she always had a respect for her father and so, she couldn’t bring herself to go back to Salvatore, who had been told she’d been sent off to a pre-arranged marriage.  So… he never knew about me.”

“I had to be about four the last time my parents saw each other.  It’s my understanding that was when they conceived Elie. A one night fling in a moment of my mother’s weakness.  She gave Elie into the care of distant relatives who ran a home for children. The idea I guess was she’d be adopted one day… but she never was.  I met her when my mother enrolled me in a boarding school at about 11.” She thinks about this a moment. “I might actually have been 10 still. Point is that I had to stay away from home quite a bit.  Mom thought if she could funnel all her money into my education I’d become something.”

She laughs.  “She most certainly did not want that something to be a criminal or mobster.  It’s why, as I understand things, she didn’t tell Dad about me… but, I knew who my father was.  Growing up I kept romanticizing the whole gangster life. I kept thinking he’d sweep into our lives one day and just … carry us off to a different and better life.”

“When I hit my teens I rebelled as most kids do… but since I was hung up on being my father’s daughter, my rebellion came with a short rap sheet.  Mostly pickpocketing and stealing cars. I think I already told you about that…” She laughed.

“I dragged Elie along with me on most of those adventures in our youth… I was a horrible big sister a truly bad influence.  Drinking, dancing, fast cars… faster boys.” She smirked. “Then… one day, mom calls and tells me we need to talk. She’s really bad sick and she isn’t going to be with me much longer.”

“I was stealing to make ends meet then… she couldn’t work, we barely had two pennies to rub together and she was living off the meager crap the state would allow her.  She was suffering and I couldn’t do a fucking thing about it - so, I went out and found some young guy in wing-tipped shoes and I beat the living hell out of him. I didn’t say a word, I just hit him repeatedly with a two-by-four.”  She let her voice trail off, the cracking of the fire was all there was for a moment.

“When I finally stopped hitting him, I told him he worked for me now.  He asked me what the hell I wanted and I told him it was simple. Do this one thing for me… find me Salvatore Luciano.  And two days later I was in an Italian restaurant in Chicago meeting my father for the first time with the only photo of my parents in the world clutched in my grip.  It was the only proof I had - but he never questioned it.” She smiled fondly.

“I’ve only ever asked two things of my father.  The first was that day and he did it without hesitation.  My mother lived out her remaining days in comfort. She was tended to by the best doctors and she never needed for a single thing.  When she breathed her last, I was there holding her hand.” She nodded to herself. “As good a death as anyone can hope for so it’s not a hard thing … but its kinda a big thing about me.  Mom’s death was the moment I knew the path I was walking. So, I went back to the only family I had left.”

“I was with my dad for a while, worked my way up the ranks, and after I helped him take down the Godfather - he gave me the authorization to launch a crew.  I’m the youngest Don in Detroit, fuck maybe the history of the damn city for all I know.” She shook her head at the silliness of it.

“Ladies, don’t like to talk about age for fear of being seen as too old… me, I’m always running from youth.  I feel like I have a shit ton more to prove because of it. Let’s see… so you know I like driving fast cars and dancing of course.  Music… a shared love between us obviously. I draw.” She said. “Most people don’t know about it. I’m rather reluctant to share that one with people because I’m not a REAL artist, but I find it relaxing.  And I like trying to capture moments, places, and keep them forever.”

Isabella got a faraway look in her eyes and somewhere in the back of her mind, she could almost hear the haunting echo of a distant calliope.  She blinked and tried to dismiss the memory that had no place at this moment.

“I’m quite fond of wine and brandy.  Foods I certainly enjoy vanilla ice cream… not because my life is complex but because every year for my birthday it’s the flavor mom would bring me out to get at this little shop near our apartment in Brooklyn.  It’s long ago closed… I miss that little place. I wish I could remember the name of it… started with a G maybe.” She closes her eyes struggling for the power to recall something that meant so much to her.

“They had a soda fountain.  Coca-cola in these little glasses for a nickel.  The floor was black and white tiles and I use to jump from one black one to the next without letting myself fall into the white ones.”  She smiled. “Mom played with me sometimes, if no one was there.”

She looked out into the night.  “I think I’m an architect by nature.  I like to build things. Not literally really, but … I think your sister and I might have this in common, the ability to see what something can be and the drive to make it real.  Of course, sometimes the vision is too big and I need people to bring me back down to earth. I think maybe that’s why you and Will were so much trouble for me.”

She looked at Gavin.  “William… he was, safe.  I think I know how things might have gone with him.  But you? You’re a pretty dream… I was worried maybe all of this was too ambitious for what I was really capable of obtaining.  I questioned myself a lot on what I really wanted… and what was … right. But, maybe that discussion is more for the tough stuff part of this talk - if at all?”  She chuckled and winked. “Your turn.”

Gavin cocked his head to the side.

“How old are you?”

He laughed. He’d never actually asked. She hadn’t asked him either, to be fair.

Gavin froze. Wait. What was day was it? How old was he?

“Alright but you need to tell me your age too.  It won’t be fair if you don’t.” She smirked. “And you can’t break up with me just based on age… fair?”

“... you’re over eighteen, right?”

Isabella roars with laughter.  “Yes.”

Gavin exhaled with relief. He didn’t really think that. Sal most likely wouldn’t have let him out of the office alive.  

“Elie is about to turn 18.  I’m four years older than her.  I’m 22.” She smiled warmly. “And you are… ?”

Gavin blinked.

“I thought you were older….. shit, not like that. I just mean the way that you carry yourself, what you’ve accomplished. I would have guessed 26. 27 at most.”

“The last two years have really been… hard.”  She said nodding. Hard was the best way to describe it, politely.

“Dog years?” Gavin thought it, but thought it was wiser not to say out loud, so he stayed quiet.

“Let’s see, for the record it is now Wednesday.  I think.” She stuck her tongue out at him playfully.  “Maybe we should say it’s Monday and stay a bit longer!”

“Wednesday the what?”

“You want the actual date?  Um, the 27th I think. August 27th.”  She tilted her head to the side, “Why would you be thinking about that?  Do you have post to send?” She chuckled. “A bill to pay maybe?”

“Oh. My birthday was a few days ago. I’m 31 now. Shit, I should have called Tara. Whatever, she’ll understand. Between the Garrett shit and the recovery and everything else… I just forgot.”

“We should get her a gift while we’re in Montego Bay.  Something nice for her office maybe. She spend so much time there.”

Gavin sighed with mock frustration.

“And what about my gift?”

“We have not yet got to my special talents part of this discussion Mr. Byrne and if you try to rush me to it… I’ll have to include a proper birthday spanking as part of your celebration.”  She winked.

“Good answer.”

She could hear the grin in his voice.

“Unless you’d like something nice for your office instead?”

“Gods, the day Jack  gives me an office is the day I deserve a tag on my toe.”

Isabella thinks about it a moment.  “If Jack doesn’t give you an office after the shit you’ve done to improve Philly’s relationship with my Father… he’s a fool.  And… besides, I give my top enforcer an office. So, why the hell not. Yours might just have a nice mini bar and a couch for diplomatic consults with representatives from places like… Detroit.”  She clearly meant herself and NOT the sort of consults that involved talking.

Gavin pursed his lips, thinking.

“It’s more the idea that an office is a place to get trapped. Tara goes days before she escapes from hers sometime. She has a bed and a shower there. It’s disgusting. I have a few places I hang out; Jack always knows where to find me…”

“Sounds rather like your apartment based on her description of the place you live.”  She smirked. “I wanted to come to you in Philly but she absolutely wouldn’t hear of it so she put me up at that hotel and insisted she’d get you to come to me.”

“My place could use some cleaning. That’s fixable. Her place is disgusting because she never leaves. It’s the… symbolism that’s gross. Not the toilet.”

He paused.

“... but I’ll think about it, if you really think I should.

Isabella nodded seeming to understand, but her eyes look distant, thoughtful.  Not troubled exactly, but her mind was on weightier things than she had expected to be on at this part of the discussion.

Gavin broke the silence.

“I have other questions.”

He went down his mental checklist, trying to remember.

“What was the second thing you asked your father? You mentioned the first one.”

“And what do you like to draw? People? Landscapes? Crazy shit?”

“Let’s start with the easier of the two.  People and landscapes. I…” She paused. “I usually have a sketchbook handy.  I didn’t bring it this time. I just didn’t think about it really. I guess my head was in other places.  I suppose it’s a bit of a shame because this place deserves someone drawing it.”

She considered a moment.  “When we get up, I’m sending Neil into town for a camera and some film.  I want to take a picture of us here if you’d be okay with that? I’d like to keep it in my prison … er … office.”  She winked. “I spend a lot of time in mine too and I want to never forget that places and people like you are out here if I need to come up for air from time to time.”

“I’d also like it because I need something to replace a photo that I no longer possess.”  She figured she could try to dodge this, but it would be noticed, or figured out and Gavin would be annoyed with her in time if he learned of it.  Far better not to risk a future argument over something as petty as her wanting to make sure her father didn’t ruin her chances for a good life with Gavin, if her ‘dream’ wasn’t too big.

“As for what the second thing was… I hope you won’t be mad at me, but it had to do with you.”  She admitted and watched his reaction to try and understand something about him a bit more. Was he the sort of man who would resent her interference?  Would he simply be curious? Would it be funny? She just didn’t know and his reactions to her words were as important as anything he said.

Gavin arched an eyebrow.  “I’m listening. You can’t just stop there.”

She nodded.  “I know, it’s just… complex because it wasn’t probably the best thing to have done in regards to you, but what I did was for my own selfish desires and, I find myself not very apologetic about that?”   She faked a wince. “Sorry?” She chuckled.

“In seriousness though - I did step out onto a limb because I know my father.  He’s a simple man. If there’s a problem, his idea of how to fix it is usually hit it or shoot it.  In the case of every man who’s come to talk to him about me… it’s ended in violence. Every. Single.  One.”

She looked troubled for a moment, “When I saw that look in his eyes at the bar fight and heard him tell you that you needed to come to see him… I figured Marie must have told him that you and I weren’t just a … fling.  Which, according to Neil before I had him cut out his tongue... “ She looked guilty speaking that out loud.

“He said that my father had seemed okay, maybe even happy with what happened in Canada because he was very worried about me.  He … he just, can’t have people thinking that men can walk into his home… so to speak … and steal from him. Or… disrespect him.  A godfather who let’s that happen loses respect fast and I’m sorry to say but daughters to some of these caveman-fuckhead-mobsters are possessions.  My father included.”

“He loves me.  I know he does, but inasmuch as he loves me he fails to understand that his absolute need for a certain kind of respect absolutely destroys my own.  And that’s a price he expects me to pay - so I do. Most of the time.”

“I kept that photo of my mom and dad as kids.  They were maybe 15 or 16 in the picture. Madly in love.  You can see it on their faces… their bodies. It’s how I like to think of them and every once in a great while my father lets down his guard and I can still see that young man there and I remember that my mother loved him for a reason.  That he’s good, for all the wrong he does, and that he … is worthy of my respect and love and tolerance. So I went home after our fight and I didn’t sleep. I wrote twenty or thirty letters. In some, I threaten him with the thought that I’m my father and mother’s daughter… that if he doesn’t do as I ask I’ve got his rage and my mother’s absolute stubbornness which allowed her to not even go to her father again even in the hour of his death because she could never forgive him for not accepting my dad.”

She shook her head.  “My father doesn’t react well to threats so most of those went in the trash.  Then I pulled out an envelope and I put every bill I had stashed in my office into it.  I thought I’d bribe him. I thought if the mob and money meant so much to him that he didn’t make my mother stay with him the night they conceived Ellie that maybe… maybe this was the way to talk to him.”

“But no.  Bribes wouldn’t work… he’s the richest man I know.  He’d expect money from me and call it tribute… and worst of all he’d expect as much next week.”  She laughed dryly. “So I kept looking at the picture and eventually it found its way into the envelope… with my weekly tribute.”  She smirked.

“The letter I ended up writing, in the end, was an invocation of my mother’s memory.  I figured if she’d lived she would have been the person I went to with what I was feeling about you and my fears of my father’s violence shaping your view of him forever.”

“In my head, I kept seeing your scars… and my father’s rage… and I just thought, there was no way I could let you go meet the man I might want you to look on as a father one day if his first response to you was one of … well, what you were accustomed to thinking fathers did.”

She winced.  She hated how much it sounded like she was calling him weak.  That wasn't’ it at all. She had to make him see. “I wanted… I need you to respect him.  Not because he demands it, but because I knew even then you were worthy of me. That we… might be amazing, but like my mother, I could never betray my father.  I will always follow his words - even if I hate them. Even if the spirit of them kills me… I can’t be anything but his daughter and no matter how much I would give to change it if he decided you weren’t meant to be with me in marriage one day…”

Gavin tensed.

She paused, not done clearly.

“I can’t change my blood, so I had to change him.  So… I had to make him see you as I saw you. So, I put my heart onto the paper.  I didn’t tell him my why… he has no idea about your past. I just asked him to show you the reason I bend my knee to him, kiss his ring, and follow him.”

“I asked him to use the qualities within himself to make you respect him… and not his fists.  I invoked the memory of my mother and I said that my grandfather, her father, was wrong to have done what he did.  That, he robbed me of my father, my father of his daughter, and both of them of love. And that she died, unhappy… and he died alone.  I begged him to not rob me of you the same way and I think that’s it. I just… feel bad. I don’t want you thinking that I didn’t think you could handle it.  I knew you’d survive it. Fuck… you’re tougher than Will, and don’t you dare tell him I said it.” She smiled.

Gavin smiled. He’d already proven that. But still, it was nice to hear it acknowledged.

“But, I didn’t need you to survive my father.  In my head, I like to think that the man I marry one day… that maybe he’ll actually like my father.  That he won’t see him as … a violent monster. I mean, I know he is - but not to me, and ideally not to the man who will one day be my husband.”  

Gavin listened carefully. There were points where he felt… sheltered? It was frustrating. But he tried to focus on how much Bella had cared about the meeting between her father and Gavin. And the talk about husbands and marriage was… a lot….even when he was committed to Bella, it was still a lot to think of.

In the end. Gavin smiled.

“Thank you for trusting me with all of that. I think it’s probably good that you did what you did, writing that to your father. I actually think he and I are a lot alike. I do like him. And he didn’t shoot me. So… that’s good, I think. But we are alike… and I think you know that meeting could have gone a lot worse. So yea. I think you did the right thing.”

He paused.

“Does that count as your ‘hard stuff’, by the way? Or did you have more to share there?”

“That was pretty damn hard.”  she chuckled. “But I made it that way… I could have kept the whole thing short and said - I asked dad not to fuck you up.  You probably wouldn’t have thought much of it beyond me being a tad overprotective… but then it wouldn’t really have been the whole of it.”

“My dad and I will always have a complex relationship.  I guess he didn’t think about it when he made me a Don, or maybe he didn’t care, but the dynamic will always be screwed up between us now.  And… if I’m honest, I’ve thought I might be happier if I weren’t a Don at all.”

“That… that’s my hard one.  I haven’t been happy and I don’t think it’s because of Elias alone.  I mean, shit that didn’t help, but… I’m good at what I do, but I haven’t really… committed to it?  I don’t think my dad noticed, maybe it’s nepotism, but there it is.”

“I really didn’t want to leave Canada.  Honestly, I’m dreading going back from here.  I envy the life you have - and I get not wanting to be boxed into an office.  It’s why I love the Tower. At least it’s not a box. I have windows, and I can sometimes just kick everyone out and pretend I’m somewhere I’m not.”  She forced a smile.

“I know I can be better - I have to be, for them; but I’m not looking forward to paying that price and if we’re really talking hard shit: that’s it.  The hard price I pay for being good is that I lose something of my freedom and I’ve had concerns that if you were the one I wanted that it would be the thing that sent you running from me.  The very part of my life I like least of all. So I split the difference.”

“While sitting at your bedside watching you cling to life - I said to God that if he let you live that it was my message.  I’d let you keep doing for me what it is you do best. And I’d breathe. I’d laugh. I’d get out and when I wasn’t… I’d work harder than ever before and I’d do something good and real with all that power and money.  Cause, if not, what the fuck is the point? I should enjoy it… right? I mean, if I’m unhappy - why do all this?”

“So there’s some more hard stuff.”

“So my hard stuff...”

“Well… shit.”

Gavin was quiet for a long time, so long that Bella almost thought that he’d fallen asleep again. Between the gentle crackling of the fire, the night sky above them, and the rhythm of Gavin’s breathing, she may have almost started getting tired herself if his voice didn’t gently destroy the silence.

“I…”

She could sense his inner struggle, whether or not to say something. She’d heard it before in his pregnant pauses.

“... I’ll tell you something that no one else knows. But you have to promise to keep it a secret.”

Another very long pause. Her head leaning against him, she could hear his teeth grinding against each other. Finally, he sighed. Then he spoke- a short declaration, followed by a torrent of him filling the space after to prevent an awkward silence or respond.

“I… can’t read.”

“I never learned when I was a kid. My mother taught Tara, taught her really well. She wanted to teach me, but my father wouldn’t let her. He said he’d never had to, and I wouldn’t have to either- that he’d teach me everything I need to know.  I think she even had to fight to be able to teach Tara… but that was the deal, I guess. She tried teaching me secretly. Once. Anyways, Tara spent the day learning from my mom. I spent the day learning from my father. Well I was fifteen when my parents died, and Tara offered once or twice, but I shot her down. Pretended I knew more than I did, brushed it off.”

“Well, she stopped asking. And who else would ask me? You’d be surprised how well you can get by, bluffing your way past. I know a few words. I’m not stupid. I can usually figure out what I need to do. I’ve had Tara’s write letters for me and then I copy them; I tell her it’s just for the phrasing. And if someone ever hands me something to read, I just stare at it, hand it back, and ask what they think we should do about that, or whatever. I’ve been trying to learn more, recently. But it’s not that big a deal, really.”

He abruptly grew very quiet and still.

Isabella kept quiet for a long while after he was done talking but she continued to move her fingers, brushing across his skin so he knew she was awake and feeling affectionate still.  She thought, racking her brain for all the things she’d stored away in her brain that she figured would never matter to her much - things from school.

“There was this guy… a long time ago.  Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, big guy… over a lot of armies and land; certainly rich enough to have had a whole school full of teachers.  He ruled the known world almost … couldn’t read. Plenty of good folks I know can’t. It’s useful to know, for sure, but it’s not a thing one should be ashamed of not knowing any more than I am ashamed of not having learned a shit ton of things that you do without thinking a thing about it.”

She looked up at his face.  “If you want to learn, you know you can - any day of the week.  In this life, until the moment you are dead, if there is something you don’t like about yourself or that makes you feel less… you can change it.  And you’re lucky in some ways… your sister knows your past, she does care… she might not be the best person to teach you but she could find you a good tutor.”

Isabella smiled, “Or maybe someone else you trust could help.  I dare say there is someone right here who cares enough to try if you’d like.  But Gavin, the only thing I’d ever care about you being able to read is a really simple phrase.”

She sat up and in the sand, she drew out, ‘I Love You.’

“That phrase right there.  Other than that… if you are okay with who you are and what you know and how you live your life - then you should know I committed myself to the idea that I wasn’t in this to change you.  In fact, I think that one of my biggest fears is that you will try to be something you aren’t happy being because of me. And I want to be clear from the start - I don’t want that. Even if I lose you… I’d rather you be who you want to be than to conform to what you think I need you to be.”

“Our relationship… I don’t think it will work if either of us starts doing that.  Whether it’s me refusing to return to my office or you forcing yourself to have one - when we start doing that… I think we’ll both be very unhappy.  There has to be a middle road, if there isn’t one that we can both be happy on, I think I can trust you’d tell me. And I promise to do the same for you.”

“But if you want to read or any other goal you might have for yourself and your own reasons - I’m here to help you.”

Gavin grinned as he looked down at the sand.

“You’re just trying to get me to say it.”

Still, he squeezed her slightly harder, to let her know her words were appreciated.

“It’s a miracle.  See what a great teacher I am!”  She laughed. “And don’t worry… I’d never tell something like that.  That’s… yours.”

She laid back into his embrace, “So, what’s next on our list?”  

“Food, I think. But we already talked about it a little. What about… best meal you’ve ever had?”

She thinks about it a moment.  “That’s tough. I’ve had memorable meals for sure, but the best one?”  She tilts her head to the side as if that will somehow make her remember better.  She smiled then.

“Peanut butter and jelly on white bread, freshly baked.”  She chuckled. “It was so warm that it made the jelly run - and it felt heavy in my belly which at the time was rather complaining.  And the company wasn’t bad either.”

“Paulie Zukco.  I hadn’t thought about him in a dog’s age.  God, I wonder whatever became of him.” She laughed.  “He was a sweet kid. His Dad owned the bakery down the way from my mom’s place.  We use to play in the streets when we were no taller than your knees.” She smirked.  

“I had such a little girl’s crush on Paulie.  He made me a ring from bits of paper and we said we’d love each other forever.”  She laughed. “Oh lord… he’s probably over-weight with twenty brats running around his house by now.”  Her laughter slowed.

“I hope he turned out happy.  What about you? Best meal ever…?”

“Fire roasted sea bass.”

He grinned.

“What was the next question again?”

“Colors … games… and if memory serves then we get to talk about our first experiences but I’m not sure that the topic won’t lead us far away from our secret hidden talents.  You must promise to control yourself.” She laughs. “I mean… once you get a girl talking about such things, it can easily evolve into something more - or so the pamphlet at the doctor's office tells me.”

Isabella crawls across the sand and grabs up the bottle of rum that was sadly nearly gone from several days of drinking.  

“I like … orange.  It’s not yellow which is too much or red that is full of itself.  It’s warm and happy and … reminds me of autumn which is my favorite season by the way.”

Gavin nodded.

“I can appreciate autumn. All the seasons, actually. But my color is green. If I’m being honest with myself, I feel most… like me… in the woods. Not that this…”

He captured the entire Caribbean with a sweep of his hand.

“... isn’t amazing.”

Gavin shrugged.

“And games is easy. Poker for me. You know I’m good. I play a little blackjack or dice. Roulette if I’m bored. But poker’s my game….and I know it’s not yours.”

He laughed.

“Actually, depending on who my opponent is, I love poker… particularly strip poker.”  She smiles. “But I’m really not much for games. Just to be honest, I’m a sore loser.  Every time I lose at the poker tables, you don’t even want to know the sort of fit I pitch when I get home.  It’s rather embarrassing, but I can’t help it. I just… feel … angry? Like a fool? Competition brings out the worst in me, I suppose.”

She looked eagerly at Gavin.  “As for first times… well, I want you to hear yours first.”  She laughed. “I fear mine isn’t probably the most amusing story.  It ends…” she thinks about putting two slugs into a man’s head who she then had put into a trunk.  She remembers his mother’s tears. She shook her head. “The story ends unfortunately and should have been a bit of a clue as to future issues… but, I’ll get to that.  You go first. I’ll drink more.”

“I could teach you more about poker, you know. All you have to do is ask.”

“Teach me?”  She said with a smile drinking deeply of the rum.  “Please.” Another drink. She’d forgotten about the connection her first time had to the whole story that Gavin was now a part of.  She wanted a lot more rum into her before her turn.

Gavin grinned.

“Later. Poker by firelight doesn’t work quite as well when it’s a bonfire.”

“Fair enough.”  Another swallow and then she put the bottle down.  Her buzz kicking into full swing she was sure it was enough.

“My first time is actually… pretty normal. I was sixteen. On my own at that point- well, with Tara. We had a village an hour away from us where we went every now and then. There was a woman there. Mary. Probably… mid twenties. Older than you.”

He glared.

“Apparently. Anyways, her husband had been killed in the war. She was good looking, but... well she had two kids. I think she wanted something more than what life had given her. One night she saw me walking by myself, invited me in for “tea”, and one thing led to another. I had no idea what I was doing. But I learned.”

Gavin smiled, but it faded quickly.

“She died a couple years later- kids too.”

He reached over and took the bottle from her, drinking a long swig from it before placing it down again.