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

I arrive, with his slicked-back hair and that garish medallion he seems convinced looks good. “Larry, great to see you.”

bring them through

through the door.

little 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 cuffs

comments Finchby. “Quite exotic. Where’s

was on the last shipment from

“Does she speak English?”

with the toe of

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

Bech. He turns to a boy, maybe ten years old, standing to one

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,

you tell

“Yes, Boss.”

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

skin is glossy, fair hair plastered to

European?

Dutch maybe…?

knack for languages. However, he’s not going to keep those

already told me 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

then lights

he gestures to Bech and Finchby. Her eyes well, then fall as

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

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

have a try on that one myself before

her, Bech. I’ve them that’ll pay extra to have

enjoys his little games and, for the most part, I’m happy enough to let him get

difference does it

something about this

Is it her?

Or is it…?

that come

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

Yakovlevski here has spotted a niche and

to the girl, talking quickly and quietly. She looks

Finchby… “… she goes to the

Bech? Nothing was said to me about an auction. What’s in

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

break, Bech. D’you think I don’t know

sour and Finchby cracks a laugh, slapping him on the shoulder. “C’mon, give us a smile. I know how it works. A man’s gotta earn a living. Those

her to kneel,” says Yakovlevski. “And to