He dropped a booboo there. I never once gave him my name. I tell him as much but he simply taps his nose knowingly. ‘Kirsty,’ he says, ‘would you like your wish to come true and become the proud owner of one of America’s rarest coins?’

I think about that, wondering if Mr. Handsome himself would help out with my wish. This has still got to be a setup though, right? Then again, if this is some sort of gameshow and the prize is real… I decide to play along.

‘Okay, what do I have to do?’

He smiles an eager smile. ‘First, we must determine if you are indeed a damn fine sinner.’

I tell him I’m a good girl. ‘Ain’t no sinner here, mister.’ But he laughs at that. He opens the door behind him and asks me to follow him.

So, this is where the camera crew will be waiting. I suck in my tummy and, still clutching my Harley costume and plastic bat, follow him into a room that’s small and sparse. Two fat leather chairs face each other; a side table and lamp next to each. There’s a deluxe coffee machine to one side and the smell of the coffee is divine.

He closes the door and tells me to sit, makes us both a coffee. I place the costume and the bat on the red-carpeted floor and take the coffee gladly. It’s so rich to the taste. ‘Lovely coffee.’

‘Special import,’ he says, ‘one hundred dollars a cup, and it’s made from the shit of a cat.’

I literally spit my coffee. I’ve read about this expensive cat-shit coffee. ‘No shit?’

He laughs. ‘No shit.’

He sits in the chair opposite and picks up the pad and pen from the side table. With his other hand, he spins the silver dollar on the table top and leaves it there spinning as he stares at the notepad. Eventually the coin comes to a stop and falls flat with a clunk.

‘The seven sins,’ he says. ‘Let’s start with Pride. Have you sinned?’ He quirks an eyebrow at me.

I shrug. ‘I’m proud of being a good person. How can that be a sin?’

‘No, no. In the context of the seven sins, pride means arrogant, conceited, smug, self-important.’

I tell him I’m none of those things but he disagrees.

‘I do believe you were comfortably smug when you saw the coupon for a fifty-dollar discount.’

‘Not smug,’ I protest, ‘just… glad.’

‘Glad why?’

I tell him the truth, ‘I guess I saw the chance to look better. I didn’t want to be the ghost again.’

‘Self-important, then,’ he says with a grin.

‘They’re hardly sins.’

‘You’re not the judge here,’ he reminds me before referring to his pad and making a tick. ‘Greed next. Have you sinned?’

I’ve always been a little bit greedy. Always the one to have the last piece of cake or another sausage off the barbeque. ‘Yeah, you got me. My friends call me Joey Two-pizza – after, you know, Joey from Friends, he always orders two. And so do I.’

‘No, no,’ he says, ‘that’s Gluttony. In the context of the sins, Greed means lusting after material things.’

‘Well that’s not me,’ I tell him, ‘my meager wages don’t allow for opulence.’

‘I really do adore that word,’ he says, ‘but, opulent or not, dear Kirsty, you sinned when you saw that coupon.’ He makes another tick on the pad.

‘Really?’ I object, ‘I only wanted to look… nicer.’

‘Like your friends?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Which brings us to Envy,’ he says, and makes another tick on the pad.

I realize by this point that he’s going to catch me out at every turn, so I sit back and take another slug of the delicious coffee. Although it doesn’t go down so well once you know what it’s made of.

‘Gluttony…’ he continues, ‘your pizza tastes cover that one.’ Another tick. ‘And then we have Wrath. Have you sinned?’

I shrug. ‘Nope, I’m not an angry person.’

He gives a little laugh, looks to the ceiling and says, ‘Pissing, fucking asshat cats.’

‘What?’

‘That’s what you yelled when those cats made your tires screech. Oh, followed up with, I won’t fucking brake next time, you slimy little shits.’

My turn to laugh. I’m guessing they’ve planted a camera in my car. Shit, I hope they didn’t catch me picking my nose. ‘Fair enough. But I was only angry because they gave me a fright.’

He makes another tick on the pad. ‘Next up is Sloth. Have you sinned?’

‘Does that mean lazy? I’ve been known to embrace my laziness. I admit that much.’

He nods. ‘Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, Miss Adams.’ Another tick. Then he sits back with a smile on his face. ‘Last one,’ he says, ‘Lust… have you sinned?’

‘With lust? Well doh, who hasn’t?’

‘You’d be surprised,’ he tells me. ‘When did you last lust for sex?’

My legs snap shut. He notices. And once again I’m burning up. ‘In the shower this morning,’ I say quickly, not wanting to admit to thinking what Mr. Handsome’s dick would be like to ride.

‘Congratulations,’ he says, ‘you have passed with flying colors, a true sinner.’

‘Okay,’ I say, and hide my embarrassment behind my coffee cup.

He stares at his pad, writes something, crosses it out, ums and ahs, writes something else, scratches that, too. I get the feeling he’s keeping me waiting on purpose.

‘Is there a problem?’ I ask.

‘No, no,’ he glances my way, ‘it’s just that it’s often difficult to know where to start on such a complex mission.’

‘Mission?’

‘Yes, Kirsty… mission. I don’t want to miss out any important detail, or perhaps fail to foreshadow something for tension-building effect. Got to get the plot points in the best order, you see?’

‘I see. So, just start at the beginning.’

He seems to consider this. Then, ‘Very well. The beginning was when you made your wish.’

I tell him that couldn’t be true, because he knew about the herd of cats, and he quoted the exact words I’d used when I’d shouted after the slimy little shits, so logic dictates they planted a camera in my car.

‘They?’

‘Yeah, the production company, whoever it is.’

He shakes his head at that. ‘I meant the first time you made that wish. It was on the evening of your eighteenth birthday, when you experienced anal sex for the first time.’

My jaw drops.

‘And you wished it again when you had anal sex for the second time a month later. You loved it so much, you wondered what it would be like to… you know… your wish.’

I put my coffee cup on the side table with a trembling hand. I’m totally freaked out. ‘I really should go now,’ I tell him.

‘Oh, Kirsty,’ he says, ‘I have something to show you, and I guarantee you won’t want to go anywhere.’

I’m hesitant, a little scared if I’m honest. I mean, how could he possibly know this stuff?

‘I know everything about you,’ he says, ‘especially the fact you can be a chicken shit.’

‘Well thanks.’

‘You can thank me once you’ve had two cocks up your sweet ass.’

I’m speechless. My whole body runs hot and cold. I’m shaking. I’ve never told anyone my fantasy, so how could he possibly–’

‘Pick up the bat,’ he says. ‘Right now. Pick it up.’

I do as he says, pick up the bat off the floor and hold it across my palms. He shifts to the edge of his chair and leans towards me. I can smell his cologne; subtle but oh so heady. I want to lick him, is the thought that comes to me, and I’m suddenly horrified when he smiles and runs his tongue across his lips.

‘Your journey begins right here,’ he says and reaches towards the bat with an index finger.

He touches the tip of his finger to the bat and there’s a hiss and a spark that makes me jump. But I’m transfixed as the brown plastic bat changes color before my eyes… not just the color, the texture… the texture of wood appears, spreading across the length of the bat, and as it does, the bat becomes heavy in my hands, and I’m holding my breath at what I’m seeing as letters start to appear, big red letters and the words GOOD NIGHT are printed on the wood.

My hands are shaking like crazy. I don’t know what to say, except ‘Wow!’

‘Transformed,’ says Mr. Handsome.

‘How did you–’

‘Magic,’ he says, ‘and now it’s your turn.’

‘My turn?’

‘I’m going to transform you. Take your clothes off, Miss Adams.’