We don't actually take our clothes off.
I'm not saying it's never happened, I mean, you know, there's been once or twice when a girl's had a few too many brandies from that special bottle Mirabelle keeps behind the bar. But that could happen anywhere.
Shadowlife has been here since Paloma was a Spanish fishing village with just a couple of beach restaurants for the tourists. The day I turned 18, I walked in looking for a job. I told Mirabelle I was new to the Costa but this old bloke drinking whisky in the dark piped up with the truth.
"That's Big Jim's girl," he said.
There was no use in denying it; if you asked around the place, you'd hear about my dad pretty quickly. He ripped off half the coast before he slipped away in the middle of the night, leaving us behind. My mamá still has a photo of him on the wall, half-grin on his face, winking at the camera. Mamá says he was a charmer. She never found anyone else. All my life, she’s been telling me never to risk happiness on a man, making me promise not to turn out like him and break her heart.
Well Mamá could talk. She was quite the little heartbreaker herself in her day. So which was it to be? Turn out like Big Jim, or turn out like--
"Yeah. Gotcha. What about that place, over there. Do the girls there take their clothes off?"
Brennans? They take everything off. Nothing left to the imagination there. If I was working there Mamá would kill--
"Think I'm gonna go to Brennans. Thanks for asking, though."
Opening: Sylvia.....Continuation: Anon.