Helen Black - Damaged Goods

‘Hi, it’s me,’ said David. Lilly wished she could put a cover over her ex-husband.

‘Is it about tonight?’

‘Yeah. Cara’s just surprised me with tickets to the opera,’ he said.

Lilly counted to ten. ‘It’s your evening to see Sam.’

‘I know. She must have totally forgotten.’

Of course she did. After all, it must be such a stretch to keep track of her manicures and facials, how could she be expected to remember trivia?

‘I’m supposed to be seeing a client,’ said Lilly.

‘Can’t you get a sitter?’

‘I could, but Sam wants to see his father.’

‘You know I’ll make it up to him,’ said David.

Lilly couldn’t be bothered to argue.

‘I’ll get him a programme,’ David said.

‘ La Traviata , I’m sure he’ll be chuffed.’

Lilly paid for three chocolate bars and stalked out of the shop. The assistant waved the newspaper she’d left on the counter but Lilly was too distracted to notice. As he put it back on the rack he shook his head at the headline:

PROSTITUTE BUTCHERED. POLICE SUSPECT SERIAL KILLER.

People today were out of control, he thought.

‘I think I have low self-esteem. Sometimes, when I’m in a room full of people I feel unable to speak. I think they won’t want to listen to anything I’ve got to say. Do you understand, Doctor?’

William Barrows nodded but he wasn’t listening either. He had no interest in her stupid problems. He couldn’t even look at her directly without feeling ill. Her gnarled hands and wrinkled skin repulsed him.

As she droned on he fantasised about hurting her, ripping her apart and causing inexplicable pain. Sometimes he couldn’t contain his fury, but today he internalised it, hid it deep within his core.

As soon as his patient left, Barrows threw open a window to rid his office of her smell. Piss, sweat and halitosis. Even with the air-conditioning on full blast the stench of her decaying body made him gag.

He looked outside to the street below where the nasty little black man was waiting. He wouldn’t come in until he had to, his distaste of Barrows was too acute. Let the fool bake in the sun.

Barrows left the window, sat at his computer and made a swift exit from the site he had last visited. ‘Modern psychiatry in practice’ held little interest. Instead he went to his favourites in the hope of something fresh, but nothing new had been posted since yesterday.

Barrows drummed his fingers. There was insufficient time for what he really wanted, but could he resist? Self-denial had never been a virtue.

He wandered over to the cabinet beside the television and video recorder. He opened the doors and ran his forefinger along the meticulous rows of video cassettes. Each in exact line with its neighbours, each with its title printed neatly on the side. He let his hand hover over ‘ Girl Sucking Thumb ’ but moved on to ‘ Nervous Redhead ’.

Decisions, decisions. At last he smiled and selected ‘ Shy Princess ’.

He always named the films after his co-stars.

Max waited outside the building. He pulled down a baseball cap to shield his eyes from the hard sun and lit a joint. The weed was good, but he yearned for something stronger.

A woman emerged from the clinic, presumably one of Barrows’ patients. Her clothes were smart and her hair shone. She certainly didn’t look mad, but you never could tell. Max guessed she was about twenty-five.

When he could put it off no longer, Max flicked the roach into the gutter and made his way inside.

It was a game. Barrows always waited until he was sure Max had seen what was playing before he turned off the video.

Max knew his discomfort amused Barrows. He pretended not to see the young girl on the screen, her tiara glittering, her vagina exposed, but his flinch gave him away.

He handed two ‘audition tapes’ to Barrows, together with a handful of photographs. If Barrows liked one of the girls he would instruct Max to set the wheels in motion for a film session, and Barrows would pay handsomely.

The money was everything to Max, the only way out of this shit-hole of a life. For as long as he could remember he’d been trying to save up enough to leave the estate, to put distance between himself and the filth he saw all around him. Thieving, dealing, pimping, he’d done the lot, still did if an opportunity came his way. But this stuff, the kids and Barrows, made good money, more than the rest put together. It was his ticket to freedom. Of course, he still squirmed when Barrows played the tapes and ran his fingers over the Polaroids, and he still felt relief for those girls Barrows rejected. But business was business.

‘I wasn’t sure I should come. Maybe we should both be keeping our heads down,’ said Max.

Barrows was dismissive. ‘The woman’s dead. Problem solved.’

He discarded the first tape within seconds, but the second retained his attention. His top lip trembled in appreciation of the girl larking about on a swing, nervously pulling at her silver boob tube.

Max wanted to smash every bone in Barrows’ body, but contented himself with smashing the man’s arrogance.

‘Grace may be dead, but the daughter ain’t.’

Satisfied with Barrows’ reaction, he left.

Max sat in his car. He’d enjoyed the look on that sicko’s face. He knew full well that Kelsey would never grass, but Barrows didn’t. The switch of power felt good, and yet it was not enough to expel the inevitable dread he felt as he anticipated the introduction of another child into Barrows’ world.

As a child himself, Max had known he was dirty and unworthy of anyone’s love. And as the years wore on, the layers of filth increased, until they were all that held him together.

He placed a small rock of crack cocaine into a pipe, put the flame of his lighter to it and inhaled as deeply as he could. The smoke rushed through him, minty cool yet white hot. It cleansed him from the inside out and peeled away the layers to reveal the man beneath. A pure man. A fearless man. A man without blood on his hands.

He bared his teeth at the world around him and laughed out loud. ‘You can’t touch me.’

All too soon the effects lessened and the dirt began to seep back into him until his pores were clogged and the layers had re-established themselves. He bit down hard on his bottom lip to recover some feeling, and pulled out his mobile phone to send a text to the girl in the video. After all, she was no angel, she knew the score, so no harm done.

Anyway, this was his last one. Barrows didn’t know it yet but he was going to pay double for the girl in the boob tube, and Max would have enough money to get the hell out of here.

Lilly laughed to herself when she arrived outside The Bushes. The scene was a classic. Kids milled in and out of the unit, beside themselves with excitement. Others leaned out of their bedroom windows and shouted to those below.

Surprisingly, Miriam stood apart from the throng. Perhaps she had decided to let the furore run its course. A risky tactic given how easily and regularly things got out of hand. The presence of Jack McNally’s squad car confirmed Lilly’s suspicions that something had really kicked off.

‘Trouble in paradise?’ she asked Miriam.

Miriam didn’t smile. ‘Kelsey’s mum is dead.’

‘Shit.’

‘You need to talk to Jack.’

‘Has he told you what happened?’ asked Lilly.

‘Not much, just that the police want to speak to Kelsey.’

Miriam placed her hand in the small of Lilly’s back and steered her towards the building. ‘You need to get moving.’

Lilly eyed her friend. Where was the fire? ‘I’m not sure what I can do except hold the poor kid’s hand.’