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.”

then... Shall we join

*****

Twenty-Six Years

with his slicked-back hair and that garish medallion he seems convinced looks good. “Larry, great to see you.” He flashes his usual fake smile, the single gold tooth winking. “So,

bring

shouts through the

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

looks,” comments Finchby. “Quite exotic. Where’s she

on the last shipment from Ghana,”

“Does she speak English?”

with the toe of a boot.

his gestures, she clasps her hands together, holding them out to him, then to me, babbling something or

old, standing to one side. “You. Translate. Tell her to get her clothes off. Mr Finchby wants to

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

you tell her?” asks

“Yes, Boss.”

dressed? Tell her again, and if you don’t want to go the same way she’s going, do

skin is glossy,

European?

Dutch maybe…?

granted special privileges…” comments Bech… “… because he has a knack for languages.

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 her.” He turns, his voice conversational. “You wouldn’t mind helping on

wall, then lights up. “My pleasure. Always

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

hesitates over what passes for her underwear, but Bech says, “Tell her that means all of

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

try on that

off her, Bech.

I’ve not seen it before. Bech enjoys his little games and, for the most part, I’m happy

difference does

about this

Is it her?

Or is it…?

Plenty that come this way are

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

“Sir, Mr Yakovlevski here has

boy is speaking to the girl, talking quickly and quietly. She looks up, her eyes

Bech looks to Finchby… “… she goes to the highest

Bech? Nothing was said to me about an

job. Which is to get the best price possible. Mr

know he

a living. Those swimming pools in the Bahamas don’t pay for themselves, do they?.

her to kneel,” says Yakovlevski.