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.”

we

*****

Twenty-Six

“Larry, great to

bring them

the door. “First

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.

Finchby. “Quite exotic. Where’s

the last shipment from Ghana,” says

“Does she speak English?”

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

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

to a boy, maybe ten years old, standing to one side. “You. Translate.

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

you tell

“Yes, Boss.”

and if you don’t want to go the same way she’s

Boss.” His skin is glossy, fair hair plastered to

European?

Dutch maybe…?

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

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 it for her.” He turns, his voice conversational. “You wouldn’t mind helping on that would you,

match on the wall, then lights

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

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

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

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

paws off her, Bech.

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

does

about

Is it her?

Or is it…?

that come

voice chills. “In fact, there’s someone else interested in this one.” He glances at his watch. “I thought

man entering is a stranger to me. Bech turns, addressing me, “Sir, Mr Yakovlevski here has spotted

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

Finchby… “… she goes to

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

don’t know he gives you

know how it works. A man’s gotta earn a living. Those swimming pools in the Bahamas don’t pay for themselves, do they?. And we’ve all got

to kneel,” says Yakovlevski. “And