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

hell

me then, scratching at the back of his head, weighs in. “C’mon Mitch. I know you’ve got client

widowed some years ago. He’s not forgotten what it’s all about, but he’s pretty elderly and, well… He can’t…” She rocks her hands…. “You know… He’s lonely as much as anything and mainly he wants someone to

Cream cakes?

the box. “Okay,”

to throw them at him,” she explains, her

Wtf?

end of his nose. “Run that

have to throw the cream cakes at him. And for every one where I, um, score

up. So

this been going on?”

“About four years now.”

of a bonus does he

for every

in that time you’ve become a fucking Olympic grade shot with a cream

chuckles. “I hit the gold five times out of

he wants?”

ammunition, he showers down, pays me and leaves. And I don’t see him again until the

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

“Me too.”

the box towards the

face is

it’s great to have you back, Mitch. That’s the best

“Just going to powder my nose. Back

view, I say, “You got those

a Polaroid camera and a dozen

inside shots,

“Yes, they’re fine…”

me speculatively… “I had to grease a

fine. Invoice me. I'll

it here. I've listed the fees as disbursements.” He flicks through the sheets, returns to the file and extracts another document, sliding it over the table. “That’s the last of

shuffle through the collection, totting up the total, then reach for my cheque-book. To Frank’s raised brows,

you, Larry. A man knows where

pass it across. “You deliver what I ask for. I pay you. That’s

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

to make my own, instead of camping in hotels all the

You still want me to

nothing elaborate. Cream

thing? Put your own mark

needed. I’ll have the furniture sent over when you tell me it’s ready.

shoulder to where Mitch went.

Are we?

what that means,”

brightens. “No?

reappears, rubbing her fingers

camera. “Let’s have a photo, eh.

Intrepid Trio?