Hedgepig believed in himself; belief without question, utter faith . . .
I hadn’t been out for a while. There were four of us. Bill was the president of a motorcycle gang. His friend Rangi was a big maori guy. They had been in prison together . . .
—Why’d you come? she said.
—The boys were busy, I guess.
I looked around. Her Nana’s house was just how I remembered: another old villa that desperately needed a coat of paint. I tried not to look at her. I could remember how good Tala looked, dressed and undressed . . .