Chapter 75: Chapter 76

The Present - Klempner “Out you come. You have visitors.”

Visitors?

Who the fuck’s going to visit me?

Some noseying lawyer I suppose….

The floor guard, Hartland, jerks his head at my door. Not that it doesn’t make a change to get out of the cell, but the insolent bastard gets on my nerves and makes a point of trying to do it.

“Come on, Larry. Step lively now.” He pokes a baton into the small of my back, jabbing harder than necessary to move me along.

Larry?

Little shite….

…. I'll make you eat your own liver for that one day….

“In you go, Larry.” Hartland juts his chin at the guard inside. “They’ve got half an hour with him if they want to use it all. See that Larry here behaves himself. Still thinks he’s someone does this one.”

“Yes, Mr Hartland.”

I don’t know the guard, but he is polite enough as he indicates the seat by the screen.

But as I look up and see my ‘visitors’, I hover, hesitating.

It’s her….

And one of the men….

…. Summerford….

What the hell are they doing here?

She sits on the other side of the glass screen. He leans against the back wall, arms folded, eyes flat. A couple of guards loiter, one to either side of the screen.

As I sit, her eyes follow me. Nothing else about her moves.

I flick my gaze to Blondie. “That’d be Michael then? Where’s the other one? James is it?”

Blondie shifts but doesn’t speak.

He looks dangerous….

And has proved that he is….

…. The muscle in their arrangement?

Her reply is curt. “Yes, this is Michael. And James isn’t here, because he’s recovering from when your friend Corby shot him.”

?

Shot him?

What else haven’t they told me?

Her eyes narrow, her head tilting. “You didn’t know about that?”

I don’t want to appear unsettled, try to be dismissive. “No, they’d not told me that.”

Ah…. Crap….

I’ve got to know….

“…. What’s his condition?”

“He’ll live, but it was touch and go for a while.”

“And Corby?”

“Dead. The police took him down.”

Suppose he was bound to get himself killed sooner or later.

Always was a charmless bastard….

“And why are you here…?”

Little ginger bitch….

“…. For that matter, why am I here?”

She licks her lips, scratching at a thumbnail with another thumbnail. “Will you talk to me?”

Talk to you?

Who let you in here little girl, just to talk?

You have powerful friends….

Got Haswell dancing your tune….

…. And he knows the Mayor, the Chief of Police….

I sit back, shrug, trying not to wince as I move my barely healed arms. “I don’t know. It depends what you want to ask. I don’t have a lot of incentive to co-operate, do I? They’re going to lock me up and throw away the key. And you’ll be testifying against me.”

What do you want, Jennifer?

Blondie snorts, coming up to her from behind. His arm on her shoulder. “You want to go? You’re going to get nothing from this one.”

She brushes him away. “No, not yet.”

That gesture, that dismissive let-me-be shrug suddenly bites, familiar and bitter.

Mitch’s daughter….

“So, how does it work then?” I ask, tossing my head at Blondie behind her.

She frowns. “How does what work?”

And suddenly I want to know….

How did you do it?

“You, with two of them? How does that work? Two men with one woman….” For a moment her mouth drops open, but I keep going….

You want to talk…. Talk….

“…. Okay, regardless of what I said when we met before, I know you’re not a whore. So, how does it work?”

She’s digging fingernails into her palm and her eyes lift to mine then slip away. “I don’t see that’s got anything to do with you.”

Come on Mitch’s Daughter…. Talk….

“Oh, you might be surprised…. You going to answer my question?”

Her eyes return to mine, hard as agates. “No, because I don’t see that it’s any of your business….”

Fuck you then….

“…. What’s your grudge against me?” she says. “You said it was because of Jenkins, but I don’t believe you. There’s more to it than that. It’s not really me at all, is it? It’s to do with my mother and father?”

“You’re going to testify against me. That hardly fills me with warmth.”

“I don’t believe that either. If that was it, you would simply have had me murdered. You wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble you have, to capture me, hurt me, make my life miserable….”

I chew a thumbnail. “Alright, Jennifer…”

“It’s Charlotte….”

“Alright, Charlotte. Quid pro quo. I’ll talk to you if you talk to me.”

“What do you mean? You hate me. Why would you want to talk to me?”

“I want to know about you, and how you make it work with two men.”

She looks genuinely rattled, turning to look at Blondie who lifts a brow, shoving hands in his pockets.

“Your call,” he says. But he stands behind her, feet wide, eye-balling me.

“Alright. I’ll talk to you,” she says, “If in return, you’ll tell me what I want to know.”

I fold aching arms, wishing I’d taken another pain-killer before I came through. “Okay. Shoot.”

“How did you know my mother and father? What were they to you? I know you murdered my father.”

Ah…. Mitch’s Daughter….

Conners’ Daughter….

And the pain and the shame and the dulcet bite of revenge come flooding back….

“Did I?”

“I’m told by the police that you did. And I believe it.”

“Okay, I killed Frank Conners, yes; if you’re determined to call him your father….”

Her eyelids flutter. “Why?”

“He was my friend, or I thought he was. It turned out I was wrong.”

“So why did you think he was?”

“We’d go out together, drinking, chasing women. You know, the things men do.

“What was he like?”

“The reliable type. Solid, dependable….”

“Was he…. a good man?”

You implying something?

Little bitch….

“What sort of question is that?”

“Did he know you were a trafficker?”

Don’t try to trap me Madam….

I eyeball her, and she leans back in her seat, then changes tack.

“And my mother? What about her?”

“She was a hooker.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You so don’t want that to be true….

“Jennifer….”

“Charlotte….”

“Charlotte, you don’t want to believe me. But I assure you, she was a hooker, and rather a good one.

She actually enjoyed what she did; worked at the top end of the market. Charged a lot of money.”

I find myself beginning to enjoy the conversation, the interaction. Blondie watches as I talk, one hand on her shoulder, his gaze shifting between me and the girl.

He’s very defensive of her….

She blinks, swallowing hard. “You said you ‘ran her’, with a string of other women….”

I wish….

“Yeah, well, I lied about that. I was running women, but your mother wasn’t one of them. Frank and I were in one of the classier hotel bars downtown. Some of the call girls would hang out there, looking for rich marks. She hit on us there….”

Her face twists….

“You still don’t want to believe me? She was very good at her job. Good enough that, at first, we didn’t realise she was a professional. We thought she was just being…. friendly. And I’ll admit, when I set eyes on her, I thought she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen….”

….. Mitch’s daughter….

Blondie’s knuckles on her shoulder whiten. “…. So did Frank. We took a room for the night and…. well, you know the script from there. You’ve had two guys together often enough I’m sure….”

Her face sets. “So, what then?”

“She was fun to be with. Not just a good fuck, but actually good company. We both liked her. And she seemed to like us…. Really like us I mean, rather than just pretend to because that’s part of the job description. In the morning, we took her number, and later, we called her back. It went from there. We’d meet up with her a couple of nights a week. It became regular. And then.…”

Blondie breaks in, his voice low. “And then you realised, that you’d fallen for the woman you thought you’d just bought.”

His words jolt through me. Our eyes meet and for the first time, I see beyond his broad build, the blond hair. He’s standing close enough that I can see the deep, intense blue of his eyes. His expression too, is intense.

You are in love with her. Not just fucking her….

“Which of course, is something you know about….”

He ignores my tone, his face mild then sits by her. “So, what happened then?”

Is he really interested?

Or is the interest on her behalf?

Should I go with this?

Why not?

It beats sitting in a cell….

“Conners was crazy about her. Never stopped going on about her. Talked about marrying her….” His brows raise. “…. She was a whore…. A high-class prostitute.”

His voice is dry. “But a whore you were in love with too….”

Fuck you….

Blondie leans forward on his folded arms. I lean back with my folded arms. Jenny…. Charlotte….

Glances between us, looking uncertain.

“So, quid pro quo,” she says. “What did you want to ask me?”

What do I want…?

Mitch’s daughter….

…. Conners’ daughter….

I try to sound unaggressive, to keep my voice level. The more I look at her, the more I realise that….

“I told you. I want to know how you make it work. And why? Two men sharing you…?”

Blondie’s head tilts, eyelids lowering. She blinks a bit.

“…. I know all about you up to the point I had you shipped out to that farm, up north. After that, I lost track of you for a while. When Corby first told me you were testifying, I gave him instructions to find out as much as he could about you from the last few years. He tracked the records; told me about you auctioning yourself, living with two men. I thought at first you had just grown up into just another whore.

But that’s not it, is it?”

But her face grows stony….

…. You could out-stare a fucking cat….

I try a different tack.

“Why did you auction yourself? You’ve grown up looking just like her….”

Mitch’s daughter….

…. My dancing green-eyed beauty….

“…. You’re beautiful. You could have had men throwing themselves at you; throwing money at you.”

She is dismissive, throwing away my words. “I didn’t want to be some man’s property….”

Ahhh….

“…. If I did that, I really would be a whore. I wanted to be myself, to go to university, have a life I chose.

But I needed to raise money for the fees.”

What the hell’s she talking about?

You whored yourself to two men just to be a student and not get paid for another five years….?

“You sold yourself for a week, no holds barred, just to go to college?

She bristles. “Just to go to college?” she snaps. “I needed the education it takes to get somewhere in my own right….”

Why would…?

She pauses, looks at Blondie then back at me. Her chin juts. “…. Yes, I’ve got looks, but a woman who relies just on that, always ends up as property at some level. And looks fade in the end. What happens later? I want more than that.”

There is challenge in her eyes she glares, almost daring me to disagree with her.

Is she right?

If you’re still alive Mitch, what do you look like now?

I try to sound conciliatory. “So, you had your week with them. Then what?”

Like her mother, she is very pale-skinned, but dots of colour show at her cheeks. “I had the money. I started at university.”

“And later? What? You went back? To the man, the men, that bought you?”

“Yes, I did.”

Why…...?

“Why?”

She shrugs. “They’d been good to me. Better than anything else I’d had up until then…”

What the fuck?

It must show on my face. Her expression turns furious and for the first time, she shows outright aggression, leaning towards me, as close as she can before the screen stops her.

“Remember where I grew up,” she says, with a voice like a cat. “You dumped me in that hellhole at Blessingmoors. Two guys being good to me, and paying me well for it, felt like Heaven.”

Blondie reacts with a jolt, twisting to face her….

Interesting reaction….

Let’s play that one along a little….

Don’t be aggressive….

…. Keep her talking….

I try to sound perplexed….

…. Not that it’s difficult….

“So, you went back because they were paying you again?”

She sits back again, arms folded. “No, they weren’t paying me. I went back because I wanted more of it. And later, I realised …. I wanted them.”

Ah, Christ….

And just like that, I am flipped back in time…. “You wanted them? Or you’d fallen in love with them?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them?”

Her eyes narrow. “Yes, in different ways.”

Will she answer?

“You didn’t choose between them? They didn’t try to make you choose?”

And to my surprise, where I expected anger, she looks indignant. “Choose? Why would I choose? I love them both. They both love me. They get on together. Why should I choose?”

Blondie watches all this, his eyes following between us. Now he interrupts. “That’s what happened, isn’t it? With you and Conners. You both fell in love with Charlotte’s mother, and you made her choose between you. She chose Conners. And you murdered him for it and took revenge on her.”

It wells up, sour as vomit, the past surging over me. The memory of seething anger and sick regret when the anger cooled.

And the return of the rage and the fury whenever I thought about her.

Mitch….

Where are you?

That way she had of looking, as though you were the only man in the world….

Angel….

Whore….

Clever, clever whore Her smile Her sly manipulation Her belief that because I loved her, she had pulled my fangs….

And I see her now, sitting in front of me….

Mitch’s daughter….

Conners’ daughter….

And the rage boils again, bright and hot and seductive….

And yet….

There she sits, her man next to her….

…. One of her men….

The other, wounded….

Blondie still watches me, his eyes fixed on mine, waiting for my reply….

I underestimated you….

…. Thought the other was the brains….

But you saw it….

“Yes, that’s what happened,” I admit.

She is wide-eyed, staring at him, then at me, then back again.

His face is set. “Did she know what you were? A trafficker? A slaver?”

“No, of course not. She only learned that later, after….” My gorge rises.

Self-disgust?

Fear?

“After she’d already rejected you? Chosen Conners? What did you do? Threaten revenge by enslaving her? Like you did with Charlotte? Ship her out to some godforsaken part of the world where she had no hope of rescue, or of anything but a short, miserable life?”

You betrayed me, Mitch….

You wanted him….

…. Accepted him….

But Blondie keeps talking. “The two of you paid for her in the first place…. You knew that you didn’t have to have a conventional relationship with her; that there can be other ways of living. But when it came to it, you forced her to decide between you….”

Is he right?

Did it have to happen that way?

“When she learned what I was, what I did, she said I sickened her. She wouldn’t look at me.”

He sits back, arms folded, his face full of loathing. “Well, most people don’t like the idea of slavery. So, for the sake of a convention you didn’t really believe in, you threatened and drove your lover into hiding, murdered your best friend, and have spent the years since trying to convince yourself that you did the right thing…. to the point that you continued your revenge against someone who was completely innocent in all of this…. Charlotte, probably Conners’ child, but possibly yours.”

Her face….

The loathing in her face when he says that….

The idea that she might be anything to do with me….

…. Conners’ daughter….

…. Not mine…

“And your final revenge on her was to steal the child, to force her to grow up into slavery herself…. To fit your idea of….”

I claimed you….

…. Mine….

…. My due….

…. My redress….

Blondie is still talking…. “And when you found she’d grown up to look like her mother, you became obsessed with it again, determined to have the daughter forced into a life that the mother had already told you repelled her….”

And I remember the disgust in her eyes….

My beautiful Mitch….

…. Looking at me like shit on a shoe….

“Is she alive? Charlotte’s mother?” Blondie asks.

I can’t stomach looking at him. “I’ve no idea. The police gave her a new identity, hid her from me. I couldn’t find her, and I’ve not seen her for over twenty years. But if she’s not still alive, it’s nothing to do with me.”

Mitch’s daughter….

…. Have you made it happen?

…. Have you made it work?

“Don’t the two of you get jealous over her?”

Blondie’s head tilts, but some of the aggression drains from his voice, to be replaced by derision. “He’s my friend. Friends share things. They don’t go to war over them.”

Friends share things….

And she accepted that…?

She’s watching me with that wide green stare of hers, silently listening to the exchange between me and Blondie.

And you’re not afraid of me….

You never were….

You should have been, but you weren’t…

What are you?

“I thought you were a complete lunatic with that performance you gave, you know….” If it were possible, her eyes widen further but her mouth sets tight. “…. Daring us to rape you. I know what you were doing, keeping us off the other one.… Whatever else you are, you’ve got balls.” I look to Blondie.

“No wonder it takes two of you to keep her in line.”

For a moment the two just stare at me, then both burst into laughter.

“I’m glad you think we do,” he huffs.

But I barely hear his words. In that moment, her face has changed, transformed by the laughter….

…. and it is twenty years ago….

More than that….

…. And I am dancing with an angel in my arms, her face bright with laughter, shining with sheer joy and merriment….

Her expression changes again as she sees me watching her, turning sharp and feral. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Mitch….

“I’ve never seen you laugh before.”

She shakes her head. “You were always threatening to have me raped or assaulted before. Why would I be laughing?”

What have I done…?

“You do look like your mother.”

She chews at her lip and Blondie’s fingers creep around hers….

Is your nerve finally failing?

Here?

“Looks after you, doesn’t he?” I comment.

…. Those rings….

They gave them back to her….

What do they mean?

And she had two sets….

“Nice rings. You getting married? To this one? What about your James then? Where does he fit in? I see you have your two rings back. Is he wearing one too?”

She ignores the question. Instead, “So, what happens now? I testify against you and your…. gang. You keep the dogs set on me…. ‘Cause I don’t doubt that even though you’re in here, you’ve still got contacts out there….”

Abruptly, her eyes flood.

How old were you that last time I saw you cry?

The last time I made you cry?

Six? Seven?

Her voice tightens up too, “…. Everything I’ve done, and gone through, to make something of my life….”

She’s growing shrill, an edge to her tone that begins to gnaw at me. The guards look askance at Blondie, but he gestures them away with a flick of the fingers, listening to her closely.

“…. Right now, it’s wasted, isn’t it?” she continues. “I can’t return to my college, because if I step outside I’m hunted, kidnapped, assaulted. You’ve made my life impossible; threatened and endangered my friends. You took my mother from me. Murdered my father. You tried to murder Michael. Corby shot James, even though he was aiming for me. He barely survived. Your men set an office tower aflame.

It’s sheer luck that no-one died there. You were going to gang-rape my friend, and me. Where does my life go from here? Everything I did to drag myself out of the hole that you dropped me in as a baby has been trashed. And all because you’re obsessing over something I had no hand in. I wasn’t even born for most of it….”

Her tears brim. Blondie’s hand over hers is white at the knuckles.

Obsessing?

Bech said something….

And I knocked him back….

“Obsessing?” I say.

She’s crying freely now. “What you would call it?”

What the hell?

This is what upsets you?

“And now you cry? Not over threats to enslave you, ship you out, gang-rape you? But because you can’t go back to your university?”