Lee Weeks - Kiss and Die

Mann didn’t draw the blinds that evening. The sky was clear outside. A plane blinked at him as it passed high above. Mann wished he was on it, he wished he was anywhere but there. He poured himself another vodka and took a slug. The liquor burnt as it made its way down into his empty stomach. Mann gave a drunken sigh, placed his hands against the cold window and leant his forehead against it, closed his eyes. Never had he felt so vulnerable or alone. He rolled his forehead over the glass. The more he thought about things, the less he understood. He had done as Mia had said and he stayed at home sorting his father’s papers. He stood alone in his apartment surrounded by the piles of communications from solicitors and accountants. On the table was the original deed to the Mansions. It had been amongst the last of the papers to be delivered to him. Victoria Chan was right, they had several shared interests whether Mann wanted it or not. He could see why she and CK wanted him on board so badly. His father had made some shrewd investments.

He picked up his phone and dialled a number.

‘Hello stranger,’ a deeply accented Dutch voice answered.

‘Hello Alfie. Sorry, meant to keep in touch but you know how it is-work took over. How are things? How is Jake?’ Alfie took his time answering. ‘Is he there?’

‘No. He is not here much now. I think he is not coping well. We all miss Magda more than I can say.’ Mann bowed his head and listened. He knew Alfie was choked. He knew just how Jake felt. He felt it too.

‘She was a brave woman, Alfie.’

‘Yes.’ Mann could hear Alfie dragging on a joint.

‘What is going on with Jake?’

Alfie sighed. ‘I don’t know. He is drinking, taking drugs. He is getting out of my reach. He stays away for days. He doesn’t want to go to university in October any more. I have tried to talk to him about Burma, about what happened but he will not.’

‘You have to give him time, Alfie. He’ll be all right.’

‘I hope so, Johnny. I hope so. He needs his family.’

Mann showered and dressed. He couldn’t think in the flat. He had to get out. He had already drunk enough to render most people unconscious but the alcohol had little effect. He walked across the shopping mall and down to the MTR station, getting on the first train that came.

Ruby waited until she saw Mann leave. She smiled sweetly at the doorman who was sitting behind his front desk. He got up to let her in. It was a different man than last time. He wouldn’t have remembered Ruby anyway, but they changed buildings on a rota and she hadn’t seen this man before. ‘Sorry, I’ve forgotten my key.’ He looked at her and hesitated. She felt in her bag for her purse and discreetly handed him two hundred Hong Kong. ‘Silly me. I’m so forgetful. I hope you don’t mind?’

‘No, no, of course, miss, please come in.’ He was delighted with the generosity of her tip. She took the floor up to Mann’s apartment and let herself in. She gently closed the door behind her. She opened her bag. She had a special surprise to leave Mann this time. This would really freak him out. She looked at her watch; she hadn’t time to stop longer. She had much to achieve before the night was over.

Mann stood in the stark light of the carriage holding on to the handrail. He felt as if every person in the carriage was staring at him. He felt that he was falling off the end of the world.

He walked into the Cantina. Miriam was talking to someone: a European, a businessman, by the look of him, he wasn’t a local. He was Miriam’s type; tall, fifty-ish, a hint of Cary Grant about him. Mann listened to her laughter, it filled the bar. He smelt her perfume. He watched the curve of her waist, the smoothness of her dress as it rounded her hip.

She came over. Mann looked over to see her friend putting on his jacket.

‘Hello, Miriam. Thought we might pick up where we left off the other night.’

He saw the look in her eyes as she stared deep into his, then he realized the rules had changed.

‘Not tonight, Johnny. I have a date.’ The European was waiting for her.

‘Okay. No problem but, if you change your mind,’ he smiled, ‘there’s always a place for you on my pillow.’

She kissed his cheek. She turned back to smile at him at the door. He knew she was waiting for him to say something else. She wanted more from him. He understood, the way he always did, that their relationship had run its course. She was pushing him, even though she knew in her heart that pushing him just pushed him away. She knew but she couldn’t help it.

He turned back to the bar and finished his drink then he took a taxi across town. He turned his phone off. Mia was trying to reach him. He didn’t want to be found. He had a lot to think about.

He walked into the Blue Velvet lounge, just before midnight. It was a place he hadn’t visited in a long time. It had once been a trendy nightclub on the edge of town, now a hostess bar with pole dancers and dwarves serving drinks, dark corners, and private booths. Enigma was playing: haunting erotic music.

He sat watching the stripper. She wore a long blond wig and a shiny red bikini. She squatted in front of him and her thighs opened as she held on to the pole and leant back, crotch in his direction. He smelt the aroma of cheap perfume and stale sex and as he held his drink on his chest he felt the ice-cold glass penetrate into his heart. He looked across at the other punters in this lowlife club, a Triad hangout. It was a place that the bosses like CK kept a tab open for their officers’ entertainment. Ice was laid out in white lines on one of the tables at the side of the room. A noisy group of 49s were out of control at the far end of the bar and grabbing at the dancers, drinking each other unconscious with shots.

Mann was aware that someone had come to stand next to him-too close to be anything but a friend or an enemy. He turned. It was Lilly.

‘You buying drinks, Mr Rich Policeman?’ The pole dancer left for pastures new.

‘Finished your homework, Lilly?’

‘I don’t need to learn anything else, Mr Policeman. I could even teach you a few things. You look like you need a friend. You want to buy me a drink and I’ll tell you all about it?’

Shrimp came out of the lift and walked through the lounge bar. The place was rowdy and full. The evening was in full swing, the atmosphere loud as the drink took the voice levels up and the inhibitions down. He spotted at least one of his colleagues, sat on a lounge chair reading a guide book. The large television screen at the end of the lounge had changed from showing sports to catwalk models. Shrimp walked on through to the bar. The place had a liberal sprinkling of sex workers, small groups of guffawing businessmen and then the lone peanut eaters at the bar. He spotted another colleague looking suitably melancholy on a stool at the far end.

Shrimp found a space in the middle of the bar. He could see the girls in the band from there. No Michelle, she was still being held by the cops, just Cindy and Sandy, their repertoire severely cut down from not having Michelle. He looked about to see if there was anyone else he recognized. No, he was pretty sure no one would know him. He had chosen just the right look to blend in: open-necked shirt, high-waisted jeans, wire-rimmed glasses. His hair was parted differently, roughed up a little but not quite stylish. His wedding ring was large and loud.

He looked at the few lone girls sat at the tables around the bar. He made eye contact with one of them. She got up and walked away. For a moment he thought it was Lilly with a caramel-coloured long wig and short skirt. She disappeared somewhere behind him. His eyes settled on another. They played the game: look up, look down. Shrimp fiddled with his fake wedding band. He made sure he kept up the staring. He had to look desperate. He pretended to check his phone and then placed it on the bar. He ordered a Coke from the barman with the gelled hair. He put Shrimp’s drink on the beer mat and scribbled the amount on his tab.