Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

Chapter 14

The bar is seamy, dark and disreputable.

Just the place for a grieving man…

James has had two beers with chasers already and looks to be just hitting his stride.

Wonder what he’s eaten today…?

I flag the barman for a bowl of nuts, trying to be subtle about pushing it James’ way. He fails to notice and simply swills down half a beer in two swallows.

“I suppose I never really believed I’d lost her entirely…” he’s saying. “But the way she looked at me when I tried to tell her that her mother had lied.”

I put my glass down, trying not to touch the surface of the suspiciously sticky counter. “Who wants to believe bad things about their mother?”

His nod is microscopic. The tilt of his head as he knocks back another malt chaser is large.

“What did Georgie want?”

We’ve only been here twenty minutes, and he’s already slurring. “Money for her mother.”

“Pretty manipulative on Marlene’s part,” I comment. “You'd think she would have come to ask herself. Rather than use her own daughter that way.”

James flags the barman for another round…

Do I want to keep up with this?

…. What are friends for…?

We’re both going to pay in the morning…

“She did.”

“What?”

“She did. Marlene came to see me, at the office.”

I try to inject calm into my voice. “When was that?”

“Some weeks ago.”

“And you didn't say anything?”

“I didn't think it was your problem.”

“It becomes my problem when my wife is crying.”

and knocks back his shot, slamming

a burn

to drink himself

*****

and, I think,

is

… bars later…

than my body. My legs are definitely drunk and

malt James just ordered. “Last one,” he says,

“No prubl’m,” I mutter.

hell are we going to get home

bar, “Can you call us a

a tap on my shoulder. I turn,

the fuck are you

under my elbow. “Mr Haswell's orders. To

good

*****

 

James

Christ Almighty…

My head….

start to sit up, then flop back as my stomach rebels and

Where am I?

examine

Clean white linen…

A clean white ceiling…

my head cautiously, in case it detaches from my neck, I

a small table beside me are a plastic tumbler, a pitcher

mine, is Michael, lying on his back, his mouth open,

Orange juice...

Drink of the gods...

from

I'm naked...

When did I undress?

me upright without spilling me from the bed, I reach for the juice,

water instead, Michael stirs, raising

“Oh, fuck...”

he wipes down his face with a palm and

I lick them and try again. “There’s juice by

jerking my way then stopping in mid-movement. Moving with exaggerated caution, he sits up. As he pours a glass of juice, he looks across. “Next time I suggest going on a bender with you, remind me not to.” His face is sallow,

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