But they weren’t. They were all still listed. Every fucking one of them.
Stupid fucking tosser.
Topaz flew through the door without so much as a proper knock. She was definitely getting too fucking big for her little boots.
“Haven’t you heard of privacy?” I snapped.
She caught her breath. “I’m sorry, Mr Morgan, but we’ve been looking for you everywhere. The dancefloor’s flooded, someone’s twisted an ankle over by the main stage, at least three bottles have been smashed by the bar, and Demelza’s lost some of her new induction members. We’ve both been looking for you. We couldn’t find you anywhere, either you or Faye.”
I held up a hand. “Alright, alright, just calm down.” I made to close the website, but the scrolling comments section at the bottom caught my eye.
Disgusting! Master Blake should be ashamed of himself. I hope she never goes back to him, you filthy fucking pimp!
I scrolled down, and amongst the gushing I loved it so much, best book ever, there was another.
Selling a woman for sex is never for love. Disgusted reader.
I could feel Topaz’s eyes on mine. “What is it, Mr Morgan?”
“Have you read Bird in the Bush, Topaz? The new one?”
Oh her face, it turned fucking crimson. “I… um…”
“You’ve read it, haven’t you?”
“Oh, Mr Morgan, I didn’t want to get involved!” She covered her pretty eyes.
“Did he sell her for sex, Topaz?”
She didn’t say a word, didn’t even move and I lost my fucking temper. “Did that sack of fucking shit sell Faye for sex, Topaz? Yes or fucking no?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “That’s what it says.”
“And you didn’t think to fucking tell me?”
She shrugged, pitiful. “I only just read it, it wasn’t my place!”
“Did she know about it? Did Faye know that dirty cunt was fucking selling her?”
“No,” she said, and her eyes were glassy. “She didn’t know, that’s why she ran… in the book. In the book she thinks she’s doing it to please him, out of love, only one of the guests asks her for extra, a one on one… he asks her how much, and then she knows… she runs…”
“In the fucking book,” I spat. “In the filthy twisted fucking book. How many times?”
“Sorry?”
“How many times did he do that to her? Once, twice, three fucking times? More?”
“More,” she said. “I don’t think you should read that book, Mr Morgan, even I didn’t finish it.”
I jabbed a finger through the air. “I want your copy of that fucking book on my desk first fucking thing.”
She nodded. “Ok, Mr Morgan, I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as he’ll fucking be when I get my hands on the cunt.” I scrolled back up to events, checking out his next venue, and that’s when our cosy little duo became a trio. Demelza came dashing in.
“Mr Morgan…” she began, but I held up a hand.
“I know, I know, Topaz has been filling me in. I’ll get on it in a fucking minute.”
I was shaking with rage, my ears fucking ringing, and Topaz, bless her ditzy little socks, she took the fucking reins like a trooper.
“Don’t worry, Demelza,” she said. “I’ll give you a hand, just until Mr Morgan is ready.”
Demelza sighed. “It’s not normally a problem, it’s these masks, I can’t tell who’s bloody who tonight.” I felt her eyes on me, and turned to see her pouting. “And these weren’t put on the system properly,” she said. “I didn’t have any photos for this batch.”
“My bad,” I acknowledged. “I was a little distracted when I last processed them.”
“Who’s missing?” Topaz said, cutting my pathetic apology short.
Demelza flicked through the sheets. “I had four new starters, two came straight to me, I found one about fifteen minutes ago, and that was all good, but I can’t find this guy. George Frederick Winstanley.”
“Sorry?” Topaz said, and she was quick, ripping that sheet straight out of Demelza’s hand.
“What?” I said as her blushed face turned to fucking snow. “What is it?”
She put her hand over her mouth and her eyes were pools of fucking dread. “George Frederick Winstanley,” she said. “That’s Vincent Blackthorne’s real name.”
***
“Go!” I shouted. “Demelza get the fucking door team, get them to lock the main doors. Hell, get them to lock every fucking door. I want nobody in or out. Nobody, understand?”