Masters & Lovers Box Set Three
Chapter 47
Michael
Klempner is, as usual, waiting as we arrive. From his seat, behind the barrier, he watches me enter with Charlotte. He looks rough; shadows under his eyes and he's lost weight.
The guard, Hartland, is there. He leans down, whispers close by my ear. “If it looks like trouble, just say the word.”
“I will.”
Then he straightens up and levels his baton towards Klempner. “Behave yourself, Larry.”
Klempner looks up, just barely tilts his head in acknowledgement. But I remember the look he gave Hartwell the last time we were here…
The monster stirring…
Klempner watches as James follows us in, letting out a barely audible sigh as he sits.
“That leg giving you trouble?”
James reply is curt. “Cold, damp weather.” But I hear his surprise at the question lurking behind the words.
Klempner fingers a long white scar on his hand. “It can't have been pleasant when Bech shot you. Tell me, do you remember it happening?”
James’ eyes shoot arrows. “What's it to you?”
“If you had just discovered you have a daughter, don't you think you would want to know something about the man she answers to?”
James shifts. Not much and perhaps not visibly to those who didn't know him, but I see it.
Unsettled?
“I didn't remember it at first, no,” he says. “The memory resurfaced after a few months.”
Klempner raises a flat, mirror gaze to him. “The memory was repressed?”
“Apparently.”
Klempner has a plastic cup of water by him. He takes a long mouthful, then sets it down again. “Interesting,” he says, “how the mind protects itself.”
What the hell’s he talking about?
Between me and James, Charlotte sits, shuffling awkwardly. Klempner chews at his upper lip. The pair regard each other in silence for a long minute then Charlotte finally speaks. “Thank you for sending the necklace.”
In restrained tones, “You’re welcome.” His eyes dip to her collar bone. “It suits you. As it did your mother.”
Charlotte swallows and lapses into silence again.
This could take a while…
After another long pause, Klempner says, “Are you going to ask me about your mother? That’s what you usually do.”
Charlotte fidgets then blurts, “I don’t even know what to call you.”
Klempner blows air. Looks down. Looks up. Then, “I suppose Dad is too much to hope for?”
James huffs and Klempner levels a stare at him. Then, “What do you want to call me?”
Charlotte’s voice would cut glass. “Don't tempt me.”
He coughs a laugh with no humour in it. “They know me as Larry around here. You can call me Larry.”
“What's your real name?”
“What?” He seems genuinely taken aback by the question.
I don’t think it’s Klempner. I think you've probably gone by a lot of names. In a
mean my original name. I left that behind when I was fourteen.
“And Larry?”
was what
“Your mother?”
have one you
ignores the sarcasm. “I wanted to ask
a fingernail on the
“What was she like?”
a basilisk. “Why
who my family were… are…. You told me that your father beat you. I wondered what your mother was like. Did
around his eyes. “No,
He looks haunted…
“Tell me about her.”
“I barely remember her.”
me what
one day. But
What going on?
counter. “You
violent man. It was
“He beat you?”
small, he used my mother as a punch-bag. Later, it was
into place, Charlotte sits, frozen as he speaks. Klempner jerks
“Yes.”
his head; forward, backward, slowly, as though considering, then, “I was fourteen, maybe fifteen. He had me backed against the kitchen table. He was drunk. Throwing punches. Not caring what part of me he hit so long as he got something. I
knife from the dinner plate. Nothing special. Not a bread knife or a meat knife. Just the kind you’d use to eat your eggs or scrape butter onto bread. But it’s what was in my hand. I stabbed him. I
chest rises and falls; rises and falls. “Did you enjoy it?”
shocked; in pain from the beating he’d already given me. I was scared. I
“Where to?”
the kind of thing. ‘Learn skills. Become a man.’ But I was too young,
you. Not for defending
I’d run a knife into a man and watched him die at my feet. I thought they’d lock me up and
Charlotte’s face goes slack…
Jenkins…
to her at the
she’d
She ran…
And she kept running…
so long as you pull your weight. And it was easier back then. They
arms, leans
in Lagos, but I moved around a
dangerous places to be. And dangerous
almost bored,
“What were you doing? Why
pass to her, then back to
shrugs. “There’s always a war to be found
over for a moment,
“I was. Yes.”
would you do
“It’s a living.”
“But it’s so dangerous.”
tilts. “Compared to
She holds… chewing her
leans forward, resting on folded arms. His voice is almost gentle. “A piece of advice, for what it is worth to you. If you find yourself in
Tell me.” Klempner doesn’t speak. “Tell me. You wouldn’t have said all that unless you
was on the run,” he says, a
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