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

great to see you.” He flashes his usual fake smile, the single gold tooth winking. “So, what do you

you bring them through

through the door.

variety of half-cast by the look of her; honey-skinned with hair that drapes her shoulders in glossy black ringlets, and

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

on the last

“Does she speak English?”

pokes at her shin 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,

to one side. “You. Translate. Tell her to get her clothes off. Mr Finchby wants to see what

boy ducks his head. “Yes, 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

you tell her?” asks

“Yes, Boss.”

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

skin is

European?

Dutch maybe…?

for languages. However, he’s not going to keep those privileges long if he doesn’t make himself

he head-points. “Mr Finchby here has 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 or we’ll do

then lights up. “My pleasure.

to Bech and Finchby. Her eyes well, then fall as she unbuttons her shirt. Bech stands back, arms folded. Finchby puffs

She hesitates over what passes for her

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

try on that one myself before

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

his little games and, for the most part, I’m

difference does it

something about

Is it her?

Or is it…?

different. Plenty that come this way

chills. “In fact, there’s someone else interested in this one.” He glances at his watch. “I thought he’d be here by now.” He’s interrupted by the door swinging open. “Ah,

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

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

short…” Bech looks to Finchby… “… she goes to

his cigarette. “What’s this, Bech? Nothing was said to me about an auction.

doing my job. Which is to get the best price

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

shoulder. “C’mon, give us a smile. I know how it works. A man’s gotta earn a

to kneel,” says Yakovlevski.