The Retirement Plan

Chapter 4

The young woman raised her head from Phil's lap, winced, then wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. A fleeting look of shame crossed those big hazel eyes. Newcomer to the game. You could always tell. She clung on to the last vestiges of her dignity. Part of the new breed of working-girls on Spain's sun-baked streets. Young mothers who could not find employment. Used to be you would only find East-Europeans and Africans plying their trade in the back-alleys and roundabouts. Young girls, kids really, lured here with false promises before being sold into servitude. The economic crash changed all that. These new women didn't have pimps. Desperation was their master. Victims of circumstance.

Phil had heard every story there was to hear by now, these ladies accounting for a sizeable proportion of his clientèle. Most paid in hard cash. Others, like Selena, preferred to offer an exchange of services. Phil called it his Pro-boner work. Not funny, sue him. Comedian is not his job description. As it stated in raised black lettering on his embossed business-card, right there beneath his name; Philip Greene, Criminal Defence Lawyer.

Prominent red patches on her knees, Selena rose awkwardly to her feet. Those heels must be a killer. He recalled his 14-year-old daughter asking him to fork out for a pair, not unlike these thigh-high PVC babies. His reply; If I bought you those, honey, a hooker somewhere would have to go barefoot, burn her soles on the hot pavement. It worked too, his baby girl leaving the store in a pair of open-toed sandals that were on sale.

After he zipped up, Phil reminded Selena to be outside Court two in the main building tomorrow morning. Ten on the button. And wear her Sunday best. Her chances were good, first offence, disabled brother in her care. A fine and a record. No jail-time.

"Graçias, Señor Greene. Graçias." Bowed her head each time she thanked him. Conjured up image of a traditional geisha in Phil's mind, made him feel powerful. She slunk out of his office, closed the door quietly behind her.

Accepting a trick of a newbie, he ought to be more careful. Sure, Olivia, his prim, no-nonsense secretary, had gone home half-an-hour ago. And who would Selena tell? The Me-Too movement did not extend to members of the world's oldest profession. When had the plight of the sex-worker ever elicited much sympathy from Joe public? But, still. He didn't need any unnecessary aggravation. Not when he was so close to extricating himself from the unholy clusterfuck he had gotten himself embroiled in.

Phil pulled out the top-drawer of his walnut kidney disk, reached his hand in and dragged the hard-back law book from the bottom of the pile. Opened it on the desk, the book opening on the pages with the tiny envelope tucked between them. With a slight tremble, his fingers carefully picked the folded lottery receipt apart. Left hand forming a fist, he tipped the contents out into a small white mound on the back of his veined hand. He brought his nostril down and sniffed.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Phil threw his head back, the coke scouring his sensitive nasal membranes. Bing. Bing. The bell signalling that the outside door had been opened. His eyes watered, head about to lift off. He took a deep breath.

The panelled door opened, and Reggie strolled in, looking cool in those aviators. Kind that Tom Cruise wore in Top Gun. The other one, the smaller white guy, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down, mirrored shades hanging there. Sullen, boyish face, he projected a Steve McQueen on the set of Miami Vice vibe.

Reggie was first to speak. "Check this place out. What did I tell you? Our man got style. Carpet your feet get lost in. Green as the lawns of Wimbledon. Tell me where you ever see a carpet in Spain? They all about their tiles, keep their feet cool in summer. The odd time you see your hardwood. Not much. The way wood expands in this tropical climate, fuck up your floor, ain't fitted right."

"It's imported," Phil said, rising to his feet. "Cost an arm and a leg, let me tell you."

"Check this, Ricky. The man got himself a green leather chair an' everything." Reggie removed his shades, giving the walls the once over. "Teal. Interesting."