"Same again?" Sasha asked, twisting the cap off the brandy and raising her thin brows at Jase in question. He was sitting at the bar in the club. Red and purple lights sparkled off the glittering bar top. Loud music bounced off the walls as the girls started their evening shift. There were booths full of businessmen hiding from their wives for an hour or two after their work-week. These were men aware of their budgets, bad tippers. The girls used them as warm-ups before the more generous customers started to filter in at ten.
"Double," Jase replied. Sasha free poured a generous amount of brandy, placing the bottle back on the shelf and using tongs to drop a single ice cube in the tumbler.
"Who are you waiting for?" she asked, picking his glass up and running a cloth underneath to wipe away the condensation.
"A customer." As if on cue, the doors opened and in walked a vaguely familiar face. His forehead, an extended surface due to balding, was shining with what Jase assumed was either grease or sweat. Both men wanted this meeting to be over as quickly as possible for entirely different reasons.
"Peter," Jase greeted, getting to his feet for the handshake. Madison's boss smiled in an attempt to hide the wince at Jase's intense grip. Jase wanted the meeting over because he couldn't stand Peter. Peter wanted it over because Jase scared the shit out of him. He was visibly nervous, which pleased Jase as he picked his glass up, washing down the bad taste that had risen when Peter had walked through the doors.
It was one thing picking the girls up off the street and offering them a different version of a job they already worked. It was another paying £20,000 for someone to bring in a girl less than half your age because your wife "just isn't doing it" for you anymore. But business was business, and whilst in Peter's presence, Jase made sure to stray from the remnants of his moral compass. Regardless of his disdain for the repugnant man.
"Jase, good to see you," Peter said. The feeling couldn't be further from mutual where Jase was concerned. He refrained from curling his lip and turned to Sasha.
"Another brandy, please," he ordered, taking out his wallet and handing over a ten-pound note. Peter was still grinning. The stench of desperation and eagerness permeated the distance between them.
"She hasn't been at work, so I'm assuming you have her?" he said, swirling his drink once Sasha slid it over.
"We'll discuss this somewhere more private," Jase replied. Peter quickly looked around, uneasy at the thought of leaving the eyes of bystanders but not having the guts to speak out on it. He bobbed his head reluctantly, letting Jase lead them down a corridor and into one of the red-light rooms. These rooms were where all the shady stuff took place, the unlicensed 'dancing', drug deals and so on.
The men seated themselves in leather chairs opposite one another, placing the drinks on the small glass table in the middle. Jase allowed Peter to dwell in his jitteriness, letting the atmosphere weigh down on him. Peter rubbed his sticky hands together, then on his trousers as he absorbed their surroundings. His right knee bobbed up and down frantically. Stretching out the silence, Jase took his time retrieving his cigarettes, slipping one from the box with his lips and extending them to Peter.
"Oh, I don't smoke," he said, waving them away. Jase shrugged, putting them back in the inside pocket of his leather jacket. "So, when do I get to see her?" Peter asked, unable to contain himself any longer. His discomfort had gotten the better of him. Jase took a deep lungful from the cigarette, watching the oily pig in front of him through his lashes as he exhaled.
"You didn't tell us she was seventeen," he said finally. Peter frowned, but before that, there was a fraction of hesitation and Jase was fast enough to clock it. Peter had known Madison was seventeen and had lied to them. Jase didn't like being deceived.
"Why does that matter?" he asked, taken back. Jase took another drag,
"We have rules, Peter. No one under eighteen in the house." This was partially a lie. There wasn't a strict criterion they followed, but they avoided anyone that wasn't legally an adult. They were more likely to come up on the news when missing. It was a risk on their part, one they didn't enjoy taking. Especially not for a measly twenty grand.
Jase hadn't trusted Peter from the off-set which is why Benny had asked Madison her age as soon as Sam and Adam had dragged her in.
"So what now? Are you going to let her go?" Jase shook his head, watching his cigarette burn.
"You've got two options. You can wait until she's eighteen and you can pay double our usual price per session for lying to us, or you can pay an additional ten bags now. It's entirely your call." Peter's jaw dropped open, his fat cheeks rippling with fury.
"This is absurd. I've already paid-!" Jase snapped his head up, his dark gaze smouldering Peter's indignation. With his righteousness snuffed out, the rest of his sentence quivered out in an almost inaudible blubber. "This isn't fair. I've already paid."
Jase looked over the dumpling of a man with a subtle disgust. The shirt he wore had once been white but was now discoloured and stretched ambitiously over a bulbous gut. His face had no shape to it, jowls forming on the sides and a double chin mimicking his stomach folded between his head and neck. The thought of this man nearly suffocating Madison as he sweated and grunted on top of her was enough to make Jase's insides tighten at the revolting imagery, and he'd seen plenty that would turn the average person's stomach.
"You don't have to pay again. You can just wait," he said, shrugging as if he was indifferent to whatever option Peter chose and simultaneously trying to ignore the strange sense of relief he was experiencing.
"I sold my car to save up for that first payment," Peter mumbled, more to himself than Jase, who sat back, smoking and sipping his drink.
*
There's the big reveal, it was Peter. Did anyone guess that? Do you think Madison will make it to her 18th?