His name is Lee … Bill Lee. A man slouching toward middle age and suffering the malaise of someone who’s seen it all, heard it all, shot it all into his veins, he’s embraced the dissolute life of an ex-pat. Sporting an endless supply of filthy linen suits and ever-present fedoras, Lee cruises the bars looking to score sex and junk in Mexico. Sweaty afternoons are spent buzzed on cheap tequila and bantering with his fellow social outcasts. Evenings are spent in the company of willing young men and needles.