Thursday, 6 December 2012
Game in the Gift: Part Two
If I had taken that guy’s wallet I’d have known who he was.
I might have had a clue as to where to go. I hadn’t. Now I was sitting in my
living room, the only light coming from the intersection my apartment
overlooked. Mac was also there but I hardly noticed him, deep in thought as I
was. I knew Lucy had been involved in something
shady, but she never spoke of it to anyone. If she spoke to people there we
didn’t know about them. Often we’d asked her why she spent time to Carling – King Carling, his loyal subjects called
him – and never would we get a response. It had started sometime during our
first year studying together and had carried on after we left. She’d come into
class battered and swollen: black eyes, bruises, hell, sometimes even
scratches. We’d ask who’d given her The Broderick but she never told us.
Eventually the name Carling just sort of appeared and it all started to make
sense. Still we never knew why she was there.
It struck me then
and there, as I looked into the black mirror of a television screen in front of
me. An old teacher we had – an ex-Peterman and but still a well-known grifter
and persistent boozehound – was notorious for being rumoured to having had ties
with Carling. He was our old acting coach, back when we all thought the dream
was to work in front of cameras or in front of thousands, known for having
extra-curricular lessons with the young ankles he thought of as having it, if
‘it’ was an inexplicable inability to decline. Some people thought Lucy had
taken to accepting lifts home from him, and those were the days she’d come back
with red marks around her wrists and ankles. In those days we stayed out of it.
Maybe we shouldn’t have. Maybe if we hadn’t, Mac and me wouldn’t now be looking
to jump right into the Lion’s den with not so much as a chair and a whip.
I stood up. “Gold.”
“Our old teacher?”
“He’ll know where
to find Carling. And if not, then he’ll know someone who does. We don’t have
much of a choice.”
“Yeah. Right.”
Gold accommodated us in the main room of his squalid
quarters. God only knows how much money he was earning but almost none of it
went into his lodging. On a shelf at the back, barely visible, were teaching
textbooks he had never once bothered to bring to class. He seemed to live on
very little light – his workshops were always lit very dimly, and similarly
there was one small desk lamp burning that added an orange gloom over the
entire room. It took me some time to realise, hidden in the darkness, a naked
girl writhing on a couch, talking to no one in particular, scratching idly at
her arm.
“Care for something
to drink?” he asked. His voice was gravelly and broken, more so than how it had
been some years back. His face matched his voice. Wrinkles were drawn across it
like a map of substance abuse. His eyes were tiny black dots, gazing way beyond
where we were sitting. His hair was long, thin and unkempt. It stuck to his
face.
“No. Thanks. We’d
like to know where can find Carling.” Best to jump in at the deep end and hope
to not drown. Or get eaten by sharks.
Gold’s face stayed
motionless. He looked like an old stone carving, worn away by time and weather.
Eventually he licked his lips and spoke.
“What do you care
about Carling?”
“We think he might
have hurt Lucy.”
Gold’s laugh was
heavy and horse. “What’s that dumb broad gone and done now, huh? Hurt, I bet King’s just cut her down,
plain and simple. Hah!”
My blood started to
boil. My fists clenched.
Gold wiped his nose
with his hands, and his hands on the stained brown tshirt that was two sizes
too small. “You know, in your time, she was my star pupil! Always keen to do
her homework. Yeah, she was a great one that Lucy. Carling liked her more than
the others, I heard. Probably why he kept her around for so long. Seems she
outlived her purpose, huh? Ha-hahaha!” He stood up and saw a young woman walk
out of one door. “Hey, you, love! You
know Carling right?”
I remembered her.
She was called Alela and had signed up as a freshman to Gold’s classes when we
were leaving. She had been one of the newbies we had shown the ropes to. She
grabbed my attention then – a shy type who didn’t say anything. She hid behind
large jumpers, hair and glasses. Well, shit. Not anymore.
Walking dreamily, a
smug look on her face and wearing the torn remains of a cocktail dress, though
I say wearing like a slave wears rags. It covered her waist and part of a leg.
She sat down where Gold had been sitting across from me and leaned in close to
me. I felt incredibly uncomfortable. I could see her lips were stained with
illness. Her arms were criss-crossed with red.
“You want to find
Carling,” she said. I stared into her eyes, and found they weren’t as vacant as
I thought. Mac was finding something across the room terribly interesting. “You
know, he’s been operating near the students for years now. Saves time. He’s not
too keen on people stopping over unannounced. Suddenly her tune changed. She
leaned in further and spoke low. “I know where he is. You and I, we got the
same goals.”
“Lucy?”
“Teresa. My sister.
That asshole took her, but I don’t know where she is. But when I find her, and
she’s away from Carling and Gold, I’m going to kill them both.”
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