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

*****

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

bring them

shouts through the

glossy black ringlets, and amber-gold eyes that dart one way, then another between Finchby, myself and

Finchby. “Quite exotic.

was on the last shipment from Ghana,”

“Does she speak English?”

shin with the toe

together, holding them out to him, then to me, babbling something

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

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

you tell

“Yes, Boss.”

and if you don’t want to go the same way she’s going, do your fucking

skin is

European?

Dutch maybe…?

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

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

wall, then lights

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

to gasps, then to sobs as she strips. She hesitates over what passes for her underwear, but Bech says, “Tell her that means

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

Bech. “Might have a try on that one myself

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

and, for the most part,

does it

something about this

Is it her?

Or is it…?

different. Plenty that

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

to me. Bech turns, addressing me, “Sir, Mr Yakovlevski here has spotted a niche and is moving into the film industry. He’s

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

Bech looks to Finchby… “… she goes to

Bech? Nothing was said to

best price possible. Mr Klempner has expenses

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

a smile. I know how it works. A man’s gotta earn a living. Those swimming pools in the Bahamas don’t

Yakovlevski. “And to open her