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

*****

Twenty-Six Years

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,

can you bring

through the

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

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

last shipment from Ghana,”

“Does she speak English?”

at 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

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

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?” asks

“Yes, Boss.”

dressed? Tell her again, and if you don’t want to go

Boss.” His skin is glossy, fair hair plastered

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

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

wall, then lights up. “My pleasure. Always glad to be of

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

breathing turns to gasps, then to sobs as she strips. She hesitates over what

something to her and weeping silently, she removes the last, then stands head

Bech. “Might have a try on that

“you’ll keep your fucking paws off her, Bech.

and, for the most part, I’m

does it

about

Is it her?

Or is it…?

no different. Plenty that come this

one.” He glances at his watch. “I thought he’d

Yakovlevski here has spotted a niche and is moving into the film

girl, talking quickly and quietly.

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

was said to me

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

Bech. D’you think I don’t know

slapping him on the shoulder. “C’mon, give us a smile. I know how it works. A man’s gotta earn a living. Those swimming pools in the Bahamas don’t pay for themselves, do they?.

to kneel,” says Yakovlevski. “And to open