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 join the

*****

- Twenty-Six

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, what do you

you bring them through

the door.

a pretty 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,

looks,” comments Finchby. “Quite exotic.

on the last shipment

“Does she speak English?”

pokes at her shin with the toe of a boot. “Do

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

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

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

tell her?”

“Yes, Boss.”

still dressed? Tell her again, and if you don’t

is glossy, fair hair plastered

European?

Dutch maybe…?

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

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

match on the wall, then lights up. “My

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

she strips. She hesitates over what passes for her underwear,

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

Bech. “Might have a try on that one myself before

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

seen it before. Bech enjoys his little games and, for the most part, I’m happy enough

difference does it

something about this

Is it her?

Or is it…?

that

watch. “I thought he’d be here by now.” He’s interrupted

me, “Sir, Mr Yakovlevski here has spotted a niche and

the girl, talking quickly and quietly. She looks

to Finchby…

“What’s this, Bech? Nothing was said to

get the best price possible. Mr Klempner

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

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 swimming pools

to kneel,” says Yakovlevski. “And