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

*****

Twenty-Six Years

“Larry, great to see you.” He flashes his

can you bring them

shouts through the

in glossy black ringlets, and amber-gold eyes that dart one way, then another between Finchby, myself and Bech. The cuffs around her ankles drag at her

comments Finchby. “Quite exotic.

was on the last shipment

“Does she speak English?”

with the toe of a boot.

her hands together, holding them out to him, then to me, babbling something or other. The words

no,” says Bech. He turns to a boy, maybe ten years old, standing to one side. “You. Translate. Tell her to get her clothes off. Mr Finchby wants to see what he’s

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

tell

“Yes, Boss.”

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

Boss.” His skin is glossy,

European?

Dutch maybe…?

granted special privileges…” comments Bech… “… because he has a knack for languages. However, he’s not going to keep those privileges

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

strikes a match on the wall, then lights

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

gasps, then to sobs as she strips. She hesitates over what passes for

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

have a try

I take her,” says Finchby, “you’ll keep your fucking paws off her, Bech. I’ve them that’ll pay extra to

not seen it before. Bech enjoys his little games and, for the most

difference does

something about

Is it her?

Or is it…?

that

interested in this one.” He glances at his watch. “I thought he’d be here by now.” He’s interrupted by the

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

boy is speaking to the girl, talking quickly and quietly. She looks up, her

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

said to me about

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

I don’t know he gives you a cut for selling

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

kneel,” says Yakovlevski. “And to