The Border: The Complete Series

by Cross, Amy

  She opened her mouth to reply, before simply getting to her feet.

  “Turn around.”

  She did as she was told.

  “How tall are you?” he asked.

  “Five foot six.”

  “That's what I thought.” He made a note. “Weight?”

  “Um... About a hundred and thirty pounds.”

  “Yep.” Another note. “Glad to see you're not a stick insect.”

  “I can lose some if you want.”

  “No. God, no.”

  She swallowed hard. “Okay.”

  “Good,” he replied, making yet another note before looking at her again. “Take your clothes off.”

  “I... How far?”

  “All the way.”

  “All the way?”

  “All the way.” He looked down at his papers again and made a few more notes, before glancing at her. “Yay or nay?”

  She paused, before nodding and starting to unbutton her shirt. Her fingers were trembling and, with each button, she considered stopping and leaving, but she kept reminding herself how good it would feel if she could actually start making even half the money promised by the advert. Finally, she slipped out of her shirt and dropped it onto the floor, before pausing and then starting to unfasten her jeans.

  “Camera's on, yeah?” the guy said after a moment, still making notes on his paperwork. “Sorry, I was supposed to mention that at the start. You're okay with that, aren't you?”

  “Yeah.” She stepped out of her jeans.

  “Best that way for everyone,” he continued. “I always think it's good to keep a record of what goes on, especially in a sensitive situation.” He glanced at her again. “Everything off, please.”

  She swallowed hard, before unhooking her bra and dropping it to the floor. Reaching down, she took hold of her panties and tried to stay calm. There was still a part of her that wanted to turn and run, but she just kept thinking about the money. Finally, slowly, and with a growing sense of nausea, she slipped the last of her underwear down. Feeling slightly short of breath, she stood and waited for the man to look at her again.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  Finally, he leaned back in his chair and stared at her, before frowning.

  “Socks?”

  “What?” She looked down and saw that she was still wearing her socks. “Oh.” Getting out of them quickly, she forced herself to keep her arms at her side as she waited for the man to do or say something.

  “Cool,” he muttered finally. “I think we can work with you, Katie. The advert mentioned the money, so I assume you're happy with that amount?”

  She nodded.

  “It's not that far from midnight,” he continued. “Have you got anything planned between now and six in the morning?”

  “Between...” She paused. “Um, no. But... I mean...” She glanced at the door on the far wall. “I don't really... I mean, I read the ad, but I'm still not sure...”

  “You seem like a smart girl.”

  “I guess. I mean, I hope so.”

  “The kind of girl who can pick something up as she goes along?”

  “Sure.”

  “I'll show you,” he muttered, getting to his feet and heading over to the far door. After fumbling with the key for a moment, he got the door unlocked and pulled it open to reveal a set of stairs leading down to the basement, with a flickering red and orange light dancing across the stairwell's otherwise dark wall. There was music, too, a kind of repetitive, thumping rhythm reaching up from below.

  “What's that?” Katie asked anxiously.

  “That's where you'll be working,” he replied, still holding the door open. “There's not really any point, uh, talking about it too much. You'll be safe and you'll finish at six on the dot, and if you do well there'll be regular paying gigs for you. Obviously the ad had to be a little vague, so it's not so much modeling as...” He paused for a moment, as if he was struggling to work out how to phrase the next part, before letting the door swing shut and heading back over to his desk. “Are you a discrete and smart girl, Katie?”

  “I... Yeah.”

  “Can you handle yourself?”

  “I... Yes, I think so.”

  “Are you capable of entering a new situation, without having it explained to you, and working out the right thing to do?”

  She nodded.

  “And do you want to get ahead in this world? Do you want to make enough money that you don't have to scrabble about in the dirt like so many other people?”

  She nodded again.

  “You don't want to still be in this dusty little town in five years' time, do you? Desperately trying to find another meaningless job?”

  She shook her head.

  Picking up one of the pieces of paper from his desk, he slid it toward her.

  “This is a good gig. It's very well paid, and it has a future, at least in the medium-term. Most people work here for a couple of years at most, and do you know what they do after that?”

  She shook her head.

  “They take the money they've earned, which is a substantial amount, and they get the hell out of this shitty little town. They go far, far away, so far that they barely even remember where they came from. All it takes is a little emotional maturity, and the ability to...” He paused again. “The ability to put your head down, do what's necessary, and then get the hell with your life. Can you do that, Katie? Can you sacrifice something today, in order to secure a better tomorrow?”

  She nodded.

  “Then you'll need to sign a confidentiality agreement,” he added, taking a pen and holding it out for her. “This part's really important, Katie. My clients value discretion above all else.”

  Stepping forward, she looked down at the piece of paper and saw that it was a contract. “What's...” She read the first few lines. “What's The Border?”

  “It's the name of the place down there.”

  “So it's like... a club?”

  “Sure. It's like a club.”

  “And I... I mean...”

  “I can't tell you what to expect,” he replied. “I can't walk you through it, Katie. That's why I need to know you can roll with the punches. Well, not punches, there are strictly no punches, but you get the idea. I need people who can take the initiative and make quick decisions when they're put on the spot. Does that sound like you?”

  She paused, staring at the pen.

  “It's a grand a night,” he reminded her, “cash in hand, and that doesn't include tips.”

  “I'll get tips?”

  “Good-looking girl like you? Definitely.”

  Slowly, with a trembling hand, she took the pen.

  “You're making the right choice,” the man told her, watching as she signed the contract. “My name's Simon, by the way. Sorry, I don't think I introduced myself properly when we met.”

  “Hi Simon,” she said, trying to stay calm as she set the pen down. “So do I...” Turning, she looked down at her clothes, which were still in a pile on the floor.

  “They'll be waiting for you when you finish your shift at six. Or sooner, if you decide you want to quit. That's allowed, but there'll be no money if you do. You're in complete control of your participation.” After checking everything was okay with the contract, he headed back to the door and pulled it open, so that the music could once again be heard. “Are you ready to rock n'roll, Katie?”

  She paused.

  “You'll do fine,” he added. “I have a kind of sixth sense about these things. If I didn't think you could handle The Border, I'd have made an excuse to send you on your way by now. I believe in you.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded.

  “No-one's ever...” She paused again, before making her way around the desk and over to the door. “Are there lots of people down there?” she asked.

  “Not lots. A few. Some people like you, working there, and then there are the clients.”

  “And I won't...” She swallowe
d hard. “What will I have to do? Is it completely safe?”

  “It's completely safe,” he replied .”All our clients are aware of the rules, and the other girls will look after you. There's never been an incident, not in all the years this place has been running. I doubt your local dive-bar can say that.” He waited for her to step forward. “Or, if you prefer, I think I saw a sign at the supermarket this morning. They're looking for cashiers. Minimum wage, long hours, no future. You could go and do that if you only care about getting by, and if you don't mind getting yelled at by customers who think you're an idiot.” He watched her face for a moment, and he could tell she was wavering. “Do you know Sally Clements?” he asked finally.

  “Sally?” She frowned. “Yeah. Yeah, we're friends. Well, we were friends, before she moved away.”

  “And how do you think she got the money to do that?”

  “She worked here?”

  “Bingo, and if she could do it, you sure as hell can.”

  “Yeah,” she replied, suddenly feeling a little more confident. “I can.” Finally, taking a deep breath, she began to make her way down the stairs.

  “You'll be fine,” Simon said, watching for a moment before closing the door and turning the key in the lock. “Absolutely fine.”

  Heading back over to his desk, he reached down and picked up Katie's clothes, carefully folding everything before placing it all in a clear plastic bag. Once he was done, he took a seat and grabbed the pen, before opening another file and starting to go through the rest of the night's paperwork. A little while later, he grabbed his phone and started playing a game.

  III

  She stormed straight out of the elevator and into the office. “Is he here?”

  “Huh? Beth?”

  “Is he here?”

  “Bob? Um, no, I don't -”

  Marching across the brightly-lit room, holding Lucy's hand and pulling her along, Beth made her way quickly to her husband's desk, which was piled high with paperwork.

  “Beth?”

  Turning, she saw Tom Lanegan watching from a nearby doorway.

  “Hey, Tom,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear as she forced a smile, “I was just wondering if by any chance Bob was working a night-shift tonight.”

  “Bob?” He frowned. “No, sorry.”

  “Right. And what about last Tuesday night? Did he do a night-shift then?”

  “I can check the sheets, but I don't think so. Bob never does night shifts these days.”

  “He doesn't, huh?”

  “Not for years. We tend to avoid giving night-shifts to the guys who've got families. Wouldn't be fair.”

  “No night shifts at all?” she asked, clearly frustrated. “Well, that's sure interesting, isn't it?”

  “Are you okay?” Tom asked with a frown, as he took a sip of coffee from his mug.

  “Oh, I'm peachy,” she replied, leading Lucy to a nearby chair and forcing her to sit down. “Just wait here for a moment, darling, okay?”

  “Mummy, I'm tired.”

  “Which is why we're going home right after this,” Beth added, kissing her daughter's forehead before turning to Tom again. “So is that girl working tonight?” she asked, feeling a little breathless. “The younger one, the new one, what's her name again? Claire? Kathy?”

  Tom paused. “You mean Candy?”

  “That's the name, yeah. The one who's twenty-one, blonde...” She paused, before spitting the next word out as if it was coated in poison. “Perky.”

  “I don't think so, no,” Tom replied. “She doesn't really do many night shifts, either.”

  “I bet she doesn't,” Beth muttered.

  “I'm sorry?”

  “Nothing,” Beth continued, making her way behind Bob's desk and taking a seat. “I just need to leave a quick note for my husband.”

  “Sure,” Tom replied, clearly surprised. “Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?”

  “Thanks,” she said, grabbing a post-it note and a pen, “but I'll be real, real quick.”

  “What about you, Lucy?” Tom asked, turning to the little girl. “Do you want a drink? Something to eat?”

  “I've just had a Burger King.”

  “Lucky girl.”

  At the desk, Beth was furiously scribbling something on the post-it note, with the tense energy of a woman who was on the verge of exploding with rage. There were tears in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away.

  Tom watched for a moment, as his concern grew.

  “Are you okay, Beth?” he asked finally.

  She nodded, as she crossed something out on the note and added a few more lines.

  “It's late, huh?” he continued, glancing across the office and seeing that the other night-shift workers were all watching from behind their monitors, trying to work out what was going on. After a moment, he turned to Lucy and saw her tired eyes. “Are you sleepy, honey?”

  She nodded.

  “I'm sure your mother's gonna get you home soon,” he replied, turning to Beth. “That's right, isn't it? You're not going to keep this lovely young lady up too long after her bedtime, are you?”

  “We're headed straight home after this,” Beth replied, fixing the post-it note firmly to Bob's monitor before getting to her feet and heading back around the desk. “I just need to use the bathroom first, if that's okay?”

  “Second door on the left,” he replied, as she slipped past him and stormed out into the corridor.

  “Hey,” said Aaron Giles, one of the other workers, as he wandered over, “is that Bob's wife?”

  “Yeah, that's Beth.”

  “Is she okay?” he asked. “She seems kinda... tense.”

  “I think...” Tom paused, before turning to see that Lucy had wandered behind the desk and was peering at the post-it note. “Um... She's... To be honest, I'm not really sure.”

  “What's a whore?” Lucy asked, frowning as she peered at the note her mother had stuck to the monitor. “What's a...” The next words were difficult for her to pronounce. “What's an ass-brained bimbo?”

  ***

  As she lifted the last two crates of empty bottles and set them on the shelf, Mel checked her watch and saw to her relief that it was finally 2am, which meant she could close up. There was just one problem.

  Glancing back at the door, she realized she'd have to tell the strange guy to leave. She'd managed to keep busy for the past hour, coming up with little jobs to avoid being near him. Something about the guy just made her skin crawl, and she was worried he'd try to strike up another conversation when really all she wanted was for him to go home, or back to his motel, or wherever the hell he was staying. Finally, realizing that she should just get on with it, she wiped her hands before heading back to the bar's main room.

  “Okay,” she announced, “sorry, but -”

  Stopping suddenly, she looked around.

  The stranger was gone.

  ***

  “Mummy, are we going home now?”

  “Yes,” Beth replied as she pulled the car door shut. She paused for a moment, staring at the steering wheel, before checking her phone again. “We might stop at one more place on the way, though.”

  “Mummy, I'm tired.”

  “I know, honey, but -” Looking over at her daughter, Beth suddenly paused as she saw the overwhelming tiredness in the girl's eyes. After a moment, she leaned across to the passenger seat and gave her a big, tight hug, the kind she'd been meaning to give her all night. “Of course we're going home,” she continued finally. “Right now, and no stops along the way. You need to get to bed, I should never have dragged you out like this.”

  “Are you mad at Daddy?”

  “I -” She paused, watching the lights of the office building. After a moment, she realized there was a figure standing at one of the windows, looking down at them. Probably Tom Lanegan, she told herself, worrying about the late-night visit. She'd asked him not to mention any of it to Bob, but she didn't know Tom well enough to be confident that he'd respect
the request. “I'm not mad at anyone,” she said finally, pulling back from the hug and smiling at Lucy. “I promise.”

  “Are you crying?”

  She shook her head.

  “Are you upset?”

  Another shake. She was worried she'd start crying if she said a word.

  “You sound upset. It's okay, Mummy. You can tell me.”

  “Don't be silly,” she replied finally, although her bottom lip was starting to tremble and her voice was shaking. Anyone else would be able to see that she was on the verge of a breakdown, but she figured she could probably allay the concerns of a six-year-old. “Mummy's absolutely fine,” she continued. “You, however, must be exhausted. Come on, young lady, let's get home and tuck you into bed.”

  “Can we decorate the Christmas tree?”

  “Soon.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  The last thing Beth wanted was to start putting up Christmas decorations. Christmas was still a week away, but with everything in so much flux, she had no idea how much everything might have changed by then. Still, she could see the enthusiasm in Lucy's eyes and she knew it would be a way to calm her down.

  “Tomorrow,” she said finally. “Sure, why not? And we -” Spotting a glint of light on the window, she leaned over and ran a finger along a thin crack. “When did this happen?”

  “It started earlier,” Lucy replied, staring at the crack with a hint of dread. “It's much bigger now.”

  ***

  “Hey, buddy! Hey! Slow down!”

  Stopping for a moment, Joe turned and drunkenly looked back along the street. He blinked a few times, struggling to clear his vision as the lights of the town center blurred and spun around him. Finally, he realized with a sigh that the smiling, talkative stranger from the bar was hurrying to catch up.

  “Oh, hell no,” Joe muttered, turning and stumbling toward his truck.

  “Hey!” Reaching him, the stranger kept pace and watched as Joe pulled his keys from his pocket. “You're not thinking of driving home in this state, are you?”

  “It's two minutes. Straight line.”

  “Yeah, but still, I don't think that's a very good idea. Why don't you let me take the wheel?”

  “Ha.” Reaching the truck, Joe tried to slip the key into the lock, only to miss completely and scratch the paint. He muttered a few expletives under his breath before trying again.