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I saunter over, cool as you like, “Shaken, not stirred, love.” She laughs—proper throaty, makes me grin. “Tenner for a quickie,” she goes. Bargain, innit? But I’m ragin’ inside—ten quid? Inflation’s a bitch! Used to be a fiver in the ‘80s, swear down. Still, I’m chuffed—beats chasin’ Blofeld. We duck into an alley, all dark and damp, like the estate in the movie. “It’s all fucked, innit?” I mutter, quotin’ Mia’s mum. She nods, smirkin’, like she gets it.

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So, I head to the arena, and let me tell you, the energy is insane. People are yellin’, music’s blastin’, and I’m just tryin’ to keep my cool. I’m backstage, and my heart’s racin’. I can hear the crowd chantin’ my name. “Matador! Matador!” It’s wild. I’m feelin’ like a rockstar, but also like I might throw up.

Photos: Segura, Calderon Reunion at Guaynabo Workout