Chapter Eighty

East 126th Street
November 29, 8.50 p.m.

 

After Maurice left, Sebastian went through to the bathroom and ran the water in the bath. He started taking off his clothes. Lucy was still out cold from the blow he’d given her. He was furious with Mo.

‘You’re going to get yourself fucking caught, Sebastian. The cops are going to find you easy, if Mo keeps taking girls. Why can’t he get himself a fucking dog? What’s wrong with a dog? He should get a dog if he wants something to stroke. For fuck’s sake. Get a dog and leave these girls alone.’

His hands took the bar of soap and tried to get a lather under the running tap. ‘What a fucking place this is! It’s a shithole. It’s a shithole and it stinks.’

Mud and shit ran brown and black around the porcelain and into the drain. Sebastian looked at himself in the mirror. He looked pale. He hadn’t eaten much in days.

He came back into the bedroom, rubbing his wet hair with a towel. He looked again at the girl. She was a problem.

He wandered over to where she lay on the floor, pulled her up and threw her body on to the bed. Lucy’s eyes were open now. He sat on the edge and stared into her terrified eyes. The small, innocent face of Lucy James looked back at him.

‘You’re not a hooker, are you, sweetheart?’ Sebastian said. ‘I made him promise only hookers, cos that way the cops couldn’t care less, but you’re worth more than that, aren’t you?’ Lucy stared in fear. ‘Only hookers. Only hookers. What a fucking mess!’

Mo reappeared at the door holding a set of keys. ‘I got the van for you, Nick.’

‘That’s a good boy, Mo. Well done.’

The two men looked at each other. Sebastian saw Mo looking down at Lucy. ‘You like this one, don’t you?’

Mo nodded, his eyes heavy with pain.

‘She’s not a hooker, Mo. That’s why the cops are chasing you.’

Tears welled in Redtop’s eyes, and he started to cry like a baby, big fat tears rolling down his face. ‘Please can I keep her, Nicky? Just for one more night?’ Behind Sebastian, Lucy looked on in horror.

Sebastian moved across to Mo. ‘Hey, big feller, maybe we’ll get you another soon. This one’s had her stroking. They go bad if you keep them long. She’ll be mean to you just like Lottie, and the cops will be hunting this one. You got to let me take her away, just like I did with Lottie.’ He led Mo to the door. ‘Now quit crying, go and get me an outfit and I’ll take care of this. We’re going to have to move her right now. Get some clothes for me and I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.’

Mo opened the door and left. As the door shut, Sebastian shivered. Alone with a girl. He walked across to her and pulled up her dress. Lucy didn’t move. She was just like a princess. It was uncanny how they all looked like one of his princesses. Uncanny. He touched the girl’s face, softly. Stroked her long hair.

‘You’re pretty,’ he said and her eyes, dark and intense, stared at him. Sebastian found his trousers on the floor and pulled out a plastic bag from his pocket. His appetite seemed to be growing. He moved on top of her.

Lucy stared up at the man moving above her. He had a handsome face, but his eyes were dead. She was dreaming, perhaps. She tried to move, but like in a dream found she couldn’t move her limbs. He had her pinned down. She was utterly helpless.

The man calmly lifted her head and pulled the bag down over her face. Breathing became more difficult as the bag kept being drawn into her mouth, but if she breathed slowly she could still get some air.

She was keen to wake up from her nightmare now. Very keen. This was wrong. This was all wrong. Wake up, she was shouting, wake up. But she didn’t. She didn’t wake up at all. She tried to remember how she woke herself up in her dreams, but none of it worked.

Through the crumpled bag she watched him looking down at her body, then at her eyes. He was looking deep into her eyes and seemed to be transfixed.

His hand came forward and closed the bag around her neck. She gulped for air. Her body was young and not ready to die. It didn’t want to. Every fibre kicked out against it. Every atom and every molecule wanted to carry on. To live. She bolted and tugged and kicked, but she was held tight and the man rested his body on top of hers, pushing the last breath from her lungs.