Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

Richard

I click off the video connection and almost immediately, there’s a tap at my door.

James?

Waiting for me to finish?

“May I come in?”

Yes… James…

He looks terrible…

“I wanted to apologise.”

I gather the sheaf of papers I was working with, injecting a business-like tone into my voice. “There’s nothing to apologise for my friend.”

Sounding unconvinced, “No?”

“No. We all have low points in our lives and I’d say you had one of those yesterday.” I regard the man standing in my doorway…

Face sallow…

Pupils like pin-holes…

Eyes like piss-holes in snow…

“How’s the hangover?”

“About what I deserve… Thank you for looking after Charlotte last night.”

“I wouldn’t have had it any other way, James.”

He stands, head lowered, seeming lost for words. This isn’t the James I know.

You’re not right yet, are you… Not by a long way…

I stand, walk across to him and am about to slap him on the shoulder….

Hangover…

Splitting headache…

Nausea…

… and settle for laying my hand on his shoulder. “James, I mean it. We all have times in our lives when our friends and family are what keep us going. If the positions were reversed, I’d like to think you and Michael would have done the same for Elizabeth. And she’s a lot more vulnerable than Charlotte ever will be.”

“Of course we would.”

Shall we

*****

- Twenty-Six Years

that garish medallion he seems convinced looks good. “Larry, great to see you.” He flashes his usual fake smile, the single

you bring

shouts through the door.

thing. Some variety of half-cast by the look of her; honey-skinned with hair that drapes her shoulders in glossy black ringlets, and amber-gold eyes that dart one way, then another between Finchby, myself and Bech. The

comments Finchby. “Quite exotic. Where’s

the last shipment from Ghana,”

“Does she speak English?”

shin with the toe of

his gestures, she clasps her hands together, holding them out to him, then to me, babbling something or other. The words are nonsense,

maybe ten years old, standing to one side. “You. Translate. Tell

head. “Yes, Boss.” Then he jabbers something to the girl, his breath coming in quick, short gulps as he gabbles the words. She whimpers, clutching at the front of her shirt. It’s sweat-stained, stinking and in shreds, but she grips

tell her?”

“Yes, Boss.”

her again, and if you don’t

Sorry, Boss.” His skin is glossy, fair hair

European?

Dutch maybe…?

here has been granted special privileges…” comments Bech… “… because he has a knack for languages. However, he’s not going to keep those privileges

enjoy some time with you. So, if you don’t earn your keep here, you can easily be moved along.

the wall, then lights up.

boy is sweating, his voice a whimper as he speaks to the girl. She protests something-or-other, but he gestures to Bech and Finchby. Her eyes well, then fall as she unbuttons her shirt. Bech stands back, arms folded. Finchby puffs on his

she strips. She hesitates over what passes for her underwear, but Bech says, “Tell her

weeping silently, she removes the last, then stands head lowered, trembling, her arms crossed over

comments Bech. “Might have a try on

your fucking paws off her, Bech. I’ve them that’ll

enjoys his little games and, for the most part,

does

about this

Is it her?

Or is it…?

no different. Plenty that come

his watch. “I thought he’d be here by now.” He’s interrupted by the door swinging open. “Ah,

Bech turns, addressing me, “Sir, Mr Yakovlevski here has spotted a niche and is moving

girl, talking quickly and quietly. She looks

to Finchby… “… she goes to

this, Bech? Nothing was said to me about

the best

know he gives you

know how it works. A man’s gotta earn a living. Those swimming pools in the Bahamas don’t pay for themselves, do they?. And we’ve all got to settle the bills for the villa by

says Yakovlevski. “And