TWENTY-SEVEN
Caitlin's car looked almost new, a pristine white hatchback that contrasted strongly to Alanna's battered old convertible. I threw my bag in the boot and slammed it shut, almost missing Caitlin's wince at the force I exerted on her car. Virginal car, I guessed, looking at the number plate. She can't have had it for more than a few weeks.
"So is the car a virgin? Never been touched by a man?" I asked as I slid into the passenger seat.
The Caitlin I used to know would have blushed and had difficulty answering. The confident woman beside me replied, "Oh no, I insisted she get started early. I had a team of two men detail her, polishing and rubbing every surface, before she was mine, and the same guys service her interior every fortnight. I can't stand that chemical new car s
