The Tied Man

Blaine pushed a black and white photograph across her desk and I wondered how many pictures she had accumulated from her years of playing her games.  ‘Well, take a look for yourself.  Dublin, three years ago this January – our boy, providing for an ungrateful alcoholic mother, and two little sisters who’ve no doubt taken up that very same pitch he vacated.’

The picture had the granulated texture of a long lens shot, but there was no mistaking the subject:  Finn stood hunched against a graffiti-covered wall.  He wore frayed jeans and a combat jacket that was pulled tight around his neck to keep out the driving sleet.  Heroin made him twenty pounds lighter and his blond hair was cropped close to his head, and he looked about fifteen.  His gaunt, haunted face stared out at me,  eyes burning into the lens.

‘Do you have any idea how long it takes to find someone like him?’  Blaine asked.

I said nothing.

‘It took over four weeks of looking in every shadowed corner that the tourists wouldn’t touch.’  Blaine smiled at the memory.  ‘I had people searching all over the city.  Those boys that were attractive enough for clients of the calibre I invite to Albermarle tended to turn squeamish at any request beyond the very basics, and those that were prepared to engage in something a little more adventurous tended to do so because their face wasn’t likely to be their fortune.’  She tapped the photograph with a fingernail.  ‘And then I got word of this young man.  Underneath all that filth, the face of Calvin Klein’s next model, and the ability – not to mention willingness – to do just about anything, for what turned out to be a ridiculously low price.’

‘Blaine, why are you telling me all this?’

‘As you’re clearly not in the mood for the niceties, I’ll get to the point.  During your stay I’ve been screening your emails -’

‘You’ve what?’  My plan to stay calm vaporised.  ‘You have no fucking right!  What the hell did you do? Hack my account?’

‘I’m not an expert in these things, but I have an IT technician who’s an absolute wizard.  Added security for me, but in a way it’s a service to you, as well.  After all, I would hate for your business to suffer through your residency, and if anything important arises I can inform you.  For example, there was a note from your agent, letting you know you’ve won the Helicon Award for Triptych.  The ceremony’s in London in six weeks’ time, apparently.  I’m sure we can come to some arrangement that lets you attend.  I’d hate for you to miss out on my behalf.’

The words hardly registered as I struggled not to explode, but Blaine was content to carry on.

‘You also received this yesterday morning.’  She handed me a paper copy of an email.  ‘It’s from your stepmother.’

I read.

Darling Lilith

I’m so sorry I haven’t written in such a long time. I think of you often, and the support you have given Daniel and me is one of the few good things I have from my time with your father.

I am typing this at a computer in the departure lounge at Heathrow, and  I’m not sure how long I have on this machine before the money runs out, so please forgive my brevity. Yesterday I returned from town to find your father in our bed with his latest personal assistant when he was supposed to be looking after Daniel on his weekend home from Beechwood.  I had already told him that I could not put up with his behaviour, and he had made his usual empty promises to change, but I realise that the rest of my married life will be filled with similar experiences unless I leave. My family has promised to support me and Daniel. I promise I will write with our new address and further details once we are settled in our new home.

All my love, thanks and best wishes.  I am still proud to call you my stepdaughter.

xxx

Mai

My hand shook so hard that the paper rattled.  After ten miserable years of putting up with my father screwing anything with an orifice my obedient, long-suffering stepmother had finally seen sense.

‘You can see how that presented something of a problem,’ Blaine confided.  ‘Your father was adamant that she would never leave him, and based on what he told me about her devotion to him,  I was inclined to agree.  But it seems that the very meekest of worms can turn if they’re pushed to their limits.  Even if we assume that she’s taken your brother home to Thailand, my influence doesn’t extend quite that far.’

Realisation dawned, and with it, brief but unbounded joy.  ‘He’s escaped.  you can’t touch him now, can you?  I bet that’s pissed you off.’  I threw the paper back onto her desk, grinning at the thought that Daniel was out of her reach.