Page 36 of Masquerade

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Twenty-one

Ebony rings my bell in the afternoon. I open the door and stand aside.

She enters wordlessly. I lead the way to the living room.

‘Can I get you a drink? Vodka? Goat’s milk?’

She shakes her head. She is wearing something that looks like a super-sheer, giant condom. To give her her dues, she has the figure for it.

‘Have a seat.’

She eases herself onto my sofa.

I walk to the sofa opposite her and sit down. ‘Well, what brings you here, Ebony?’

She smiles at me coolly, but I can see that she is seething. ‘You’ve been to the island?’

‘Yes,’ I say shortly.

She smiles tightly. ‘He’s so predictable. Takes all his conquests there.’

A hot bubble of pain starts in my bowels. The thought: he has taken her there. He takes all his women there.

‘What do you want?’

She smiles. ‘Did he catch land crabs for you?’

I want to slap her hard, so hard I leave marks, but I swallow hard and keep my cool. ‘Is that what you came here for? To ask about my holiday?’

That puts her back up. ‘Of course not. But he is very good at catching land crabs, isn’t he? He has the long arms of a gorilla. It is easy for him.’

‘True, he has beautifully long arms.’

‘So you had a good time?’

By now I am barely hanging onto my temper and yet I know she is here for a reason and that she has secrets I want. ‘Yes, I had a very good time. Was there something you wanted, Ebony?’

‘In fact there is. I wanted to tell you that while you are enjoying Jaron’s large cock, don’t forget that you’re just a temporary diversion. One of many. You can’t even begin to guess how many. The man’s a slut. But I’ll always be in his life. We have something special. It transcends sex.’

‘Ah, that’ll be why he took me and not you to the island then.’

Her eyes glitter with hatred. Jaron has no idea, but this woman is crazy in love with him. ‘You don’t know anything about him,’ she snarls.

‘What is it I should know?’

She smiles a nasty smile. ‘Ask him what he does for a living. I think you will be rather surprised by the answer.’ With that she stands up and sails toward the door. I stand up and go after her.

‘I know what he does for a living,’ I tell her.

She laughs. ‘Oh yeah?’ she taunts. You see, she has one final, ominous parting shot. ‘Then ask him why he chose you.’

I close the door after her. My mind is blank. I light a cigarette. My hands are shaking so much I stare at them in surprise. I go onto the balcony and watch her walk down the street toward an illegally parked bright yellow Mercedes. It is one of the ones I have always liked. Jaunty. The SL400.

A parking attendant is busily writing a ticket for it. Even from here I can see the ingrained expression of sanctimonious and self-righteous indignation on his long face. He has nearly finished writing his ticket. I exhale smoke from my mouth. My attention flicks away from the attendant to Ebony. She is strolling toward her car. There is not an ounce of distress or worry in her stride. I would have been running toward my car, waving my hands wildly, and cursing loud enough to wake the dead. Jewel thieves probably don’t have to worry about pissy parking fines.

The parking attendant has already written his ticket, torn it off, put it into its yellow and black plastic case, and is in the process of pasting it on her windscreen when Ebony leans all her hot curves against the bonnet of the car. He turns and goes rather rigid. Then he fidgets and I can almost imagine him blinking and gulping. Who knows what Ebony says to him, but he looks around aggressively, as if demanding, ‘What? What the fuck is a mere man supposed to do in such a situation?’

She says something to him and he actually preens. I’ve never seen a man preen. She tears the ticket from the windscreen and holds it out to him. It flops in her hand. The wind picks up and it waves half-heartedly. Like some sort of white flag. For a moment longer he hesitates. Then he looks around again and fidgets. Suddenly the ticket is back in his hand. She blows a kiss, gets into her car and waves at him, then revs her engine loudly before roaring off.

And I stare at the sky and wonder what the hell I am going to do with my situation. It feels as if I have been left holding someone else’s parking ticket.

After a while I decide. I am not going to play into her hands. If she wants me to ask him then that is the wrong thing to do. Let him tell me when he is ready.

When you’re twisting in the wind, don’t spit.


Tags: Georgia Le Carre Erotic