Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago

The bar is still dressed for Christmas, but at the far side of the room a girl is taking down green and red foil decorations from a tree while a man in blue overalls reaches from the top of a ladder with a screwdriver, fiddling in an electric box, looking back as coloured lights flicker on then off again.

Behind the bar, Angelo is doing his ‘forever work’ of polishing glasses…

“What’ll it be, Larry?” He reaches towards the bottles…

“Just a coffee. It’s a bit early.”

“Coming up.”

To the hiss of steam from the kitchenette, Frank arrives, briefcase in hand.

“Hi, Larry. Happy New Year.” He glances at his wrist. “Not late am I?”

“Not at all. I just arrived myself.”

As we seat ourselves, Angelo arrives with my coffee. “What are you having, Frank?”

“I’ll have a beer. Thanks, Angelo.” He lays the briefcase on the coffee-table starting to click it open…

“Not just now.” I nod towards the door.

He follows my gaze, frowning as he puts the case to one side and Mitch sashays in.

As beautiful as ever, she’s wearing a dress in that shade of green that suits her so well. Classically cut, it suggests her perfect figure without displaying too much of it…

And she’s wearing that fucking necklace that Conners gave her.

“Hi, Mitch. Good holiday?” Angelo holds up a box of tea bags. “Your usual?”

She flashes teeth. “Yes, great holiday.” Then, “And yes. Mint please.”

Mitch undulates over, settling on the couch between me and Frank. “Hi, guys.”

“Hey, Mitch. Great to see you.” Frank breaks into a broad smile, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. “Happy New Year. I was beginning to think you were never coming back.” He jerks a thumb at me. “Did he give you a good time?”

“Hi, Frank. Yes, we had a wonderful time. It was the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

He looks a bit blue at that. Angelo arrives with a tray, setting down beer and tea, then vanishes behind the bar, to return a moment or so later. He dumps a large flimsy cardboard box on the table, the kind a baker might use.

“Old Mr Vacarrelli called by,” he says to Mitch. “I did explain to him that you weren’t working again yet, but he’d brought them with him and he said Happy New Year and we should share them between us. But that if you changed your mind, you should give him a call.”

“Er, right. Thanks.” There’s a touch of pink at her cheekbones. “No, I’m not working yet, and I don’t think I have my phone book with me anyway.”

He thumbs across the room. “You left it in the back there before you left.”

“Fine. Thanks.”

“What’s in the box, Mitch?” I sip my coffee. “Dare I ask?”

She sips at her tea, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s just say that not all of my clients want the same thing.”

My cup hovering half-way to the counter-top. “Really?” I eye the box.

She’s actually blushing…

makes a professional hooker

the hell

“C’mon Mitch. I know you’ve got client confidentiality and all that, but we’re all grown-ups

foxy look. “You think? Okay…” she sets her teacup down on its saucer. “He’s an old guy. He had a good marriage but he was widowed some years ago. He’s not forgotten what it’s all about,

Cream cakes?

I both stare into the box. “Okay,” he says.

me to throw them at him,” she explains, her

Wtf?

the end of his nose. “Run

he undresses and stands in the bath, and then I have to throw the cream cakes at him. And for every one where I, um, score a direct hit, he

creases up.

this been

“About four years now.”

a

for

you’ve become a fucking Olympic grade shot with

hit the gold five times out of six. It’s earned me a nice little bonus over the

he wants?” I

again until

and I meet eyes. “Think I’ll pass,” he

“Me too.”

offers the box towards

Mitch.” His face is bland. “Maybe

an arm around her shoulders. “Ah, it’s great to have you back, Mitch. That’s the best laugh I’ve had

door. “Just going to powder my nose.

she vanishes from view, I say, “You

here. And I’ve taken some shots for you.” He fishes out a Polaroid

flip through; inside

“Yes, they’re fine…”

your signature about a dozen times over and um…” He eyes me speculatively… “I had to grease a few palms to

me. I'll

fees as disbursements.” He flicks through the sheets, returns to the file and extracts another document, sliding it over the

the collection, totting up the total, then reach for

business with you, Larry. A man knows

it across. “You deliver what

everyone paid on the dot like you do. Still…” He turns thoughtful. “… I should have the keys for you at

thinking about it. At any rate, I want somewhere to make my own, instead of camping

want

nothing elaborate. Cream and neutral

canvas kinda thing? Put your own

furniture sent

it with me.” Frank’s gaze travels over my shoulder to

Are we?

not sure what

brightens. “No?

fingers

camera. “Let’s have a photo, eh. The Intrepid Trio

Intrepid Trio?