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.”

see then... Shall we join the others for

*****

- Twenty-Six Years

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

bring them

the door.

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 cuffs around her ankles drag at her feet, but otherwise,

Finchby. “Quite exotic. Where’s

the last

“Does she speak English?”

her shin with the toe of a

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

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

ducks his 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 the cloth in her hands as though it’s her anchor

you tell

“Yes, Boss.”

why’s she still dressed? Tell her again, and if you don’t want to go the same

is glossy, fair

European?

Dutch maybe…?

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

he has a couple of customers who would enjoy some time with you. So, if you don’t earn your keep here, you can easily be moved along. Now, tell this little slut to get her clothes off or we’ll do it for

on the wall, then lights

protests something-or-other, but he gestures to Bech and Finchby. Her eyes well, then fall as she unbuttons her

hesitates over what passes for her underwear, but Bech

something to her and weeping silently, she removes the

“Might have a try on that one

her,” says Finchby, “you’ll keep your fucking paws off her,

as though I’ve not seen it before. Bech enjoys his little games and, for the

does it

about this

Is it her?

Or is it…?

different. Plenty that come

interested in this one.” He glances at his watch. “I thought he’d be here by

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

girl, talking quickly and quietly. She looks up, her eyes

Finchby… “… she

cigarette. “What’s this, Bech? Nothing was said to me about

my job. Which is to get the best price possible. Mr Klempner has

Bech. D’you think I don’t know he gives you

earn a living. Those swimming pools in the Bahamas don’t pay for themselves, do they?. And we’ve all got

kneel,” says Yakovlevski. “And to open her