The Lover's Children novel Chapter 125

HARKNESS

“Why would I want a dried-up hag like you? When I can have her. And she's the hooker.”

“No, she’s not.” She shakes her head, sounding almost convincing. “You’ve got that wrong.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ve seen her. Making out with three of them so far. And that’s just what I’ve seen.”

“It was a fake. She’s a fake. It was just to draw you out. Everyone knows what you like. Long hair. A good body. The police thought you might come here. So…” she jerks her head, off-handedly, at the other one… “…she was acting up to try and draw you. The men knew about the hoax. They were helping. Trying to lure you out of hiding.”

“So, why’s there only you two here now? Why have they left you alone?”

She shrugs. “They’d given up on you. Thought you must have gone away somewhere.” She strikes a pose, running hands over herself, her tits, her hips. “You want a real hooker. A real whore. One who knows what she’s doing.”

She tilts up her chin, meets me squarely in the eye. “A woman who knows what she’s doing with a man.”

“You really think you're something, don't you?”

“I think I'm what you want.”

“You’re not a hooker.”

“I was. For years and years. And like they say…” She simpers at me, slipping open the top button of her blouse and giving me a bit of cleavage…

Good tits…

“…once a whore, always a whore.”

My cock twitches and my balls tighten.

“Mom…”

Her voice sharpens… “Jenny! Shut up!” …then softens as she turns back to me. “I've seen those photos. Read the reports and the newspapers. It was your mother, wasn't it?”

wtf?

“What would you know about my mother?”

“She gave you everything. Allowed you everything. Because it suited her that you were her perfect little boy. Just what she wanted. So ordinary. No competition at all. No competition for her anyway. Not like your sister.”

I don’t reply. She pauses, then continues… “But she had a string of men, didn’t she. Used them for the money, then moved on to the next one. She was a hooker too, but they didn’t call it that because she’s not on the street. She was the dishonest kind. Offered one deal to all those schmucks in her life but gave them another…”

“She was a whore then. She still is.”

“I thought so. Did she like it? When they told her she was beautiful? I bet she enjoyed the flattery. Enjoyed it more when they gave her money but then she kicked them out after she’d bled them dry.”

“Yes, she did.”

“Yes, I could see that when I saw her on the TV. Lapping it up...” She clicks her tongue. Wrinkles her nose. “… All that attention. At the centre of it all. She must have really hated your sister. She did, didn’t she? Because Sophie was young and beautiful. Turning the heads of her men. But your mother loved you, didn’t she. Or pretended to at least. Because you’re ordinary… I’ve seen the photos of those men too. They were ordinary too, weren’t they. All so dull. But they came with fat wallets…”

She pauses… “Do you know which one of them was your father?”

I’m tight inside. My hand’s shaking. The old bitch is getting to me…

“No? I didn’t think so. And you hated your mother for that didn’t you. And you still hate her. Because she’s selfish and narcissistic. And because she never really loved you at all. It was all about her. And that’s why she gave you your sister. She knew what you wanted to do to her. So she helped you. She helped you do what you wanted to your pretty sister. And she helped you cover it all up.”

Her head tilts. “What did you do with her? Your sister? The same as the other women? All those hookers…”

Do I tell her?

Why not?

‘S not going to make any difference now…

“Pretty much. It was all part of the learning curve. I’ve gotten better at it.”

“Where is she now? Sophie? Did you bury her? Or did your mother do it?”

“Mom got rid of her. Dunno what she did with the body.”

“But I bet she kept some little souvenir? Something to tie you in and to give herself some insurance? Just in case you got an attack of conscience?”

My mouth is dry. Something bitter, acidic, rises at the back of my throat…

“She did, didn’t she? Somewhere, your mother’s got something on you. What is it? Maybe a knife, covered with your sister’s blood and your fingerprints? Something like that? Or maybe she’s lodged a document with a lawyer. Only to be opened in the event of your mother’s death. Am I close?”

“Yes, you are.” My arm’s aching, dangling the kid, but I give her a bit of a shake to start her squalling. “Do you think any of this is going to help you? Or save this brat of yours?”

She smiles as though I’d not spoken. “You hate her for it, don’t you? Your mother. I get that. You really hate her. There you are. All grown up. You should be making your own way in the world. But despite everything, she’s still got her claws in you and you can’t get away from her. There she was on the TV. The centre of attention again. Pretending to care about you when all she was doing was playing to the camera and to her audience…”

She takes a step closer. By the stairs, the young one stands like a statue, hanging on to the other two kids. One of them starts bawling.

Old Whore’s still talking. “You don't just hate your mother. You loathe her. You despise everything about her. You'd love to do to her what you've done to all those other women, wouldn’t you? Your sister. All those hookers, out there with their claws into men, sucking them dry of their money.”

“That’s right.”

Her smiles turn to dimples. “I thought so.” She nods as though she’d just told me it was going to be fine weather later, or that it was my favourite meal for lunch. “…But you see, now you've got me. I'm about your mother’s age, aren't I? And look…”

She reaches up, pulling out pins and combs. Her hair tumbles down, loose and long, all the way to her waist… “Just look at my lovely long hair…”