Kingsley unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk—the large one made to hold files—and took inventory of its contents. Eleven bottles of bourbon, two grams of cocaine, one ounce of marijuana, two bottles of pure codeine, ninety pills— one-hundred milligrams each—and one bottle of ketamine, because sometimes only a tranquilizer made for horses and the magical Wonderland it sent him falling into would do.
He reached for a bottle of the codeine, but his office door opened. Kingsley slammed the drawer shut and sat back in his chair.
“Do you never knock?” Kingsley asked.
“The moaning and groaning had stopped, and the walls have stopped rattling,” S?ren said. “I assumed the coast was clear.”
“Clear for what? What are you doing here?”
“Fulfilling my end of the deal, like I said I would.”
“Are you here to yell at me again?” Kingsley asked as S?ren walked in.
“I didn’t yell,” S?ren said, taking a seat opposite Kingsley’s desk. “At no point did I raise my voice at you.”
“It felt like yelling.”
“Even the lightest touch can hurt an open wound. You can’t blame me for being worried about you.”
“Stop worrying. You aren’t my father.”
“I should hope not,” S?ren said, furrowing his brow. “If so, my infant self has some explaining to do.”
“You aren’t my priest, either,” Kingsley said, although S?ren didn’t look like a priest today. He wore his usual off-duty uniform of a long-sleeved black T-shirt and black pants.
“Why, Kingsley, aren’t we looking very defensive today.”
“Leave me alone.”
“I can’t do that. You asked me to teach you the whip trick. Here I am.”
“I asked you to teach me a whip trick?”
“I can’t say I’m surprised you don’t remember.”
“I remember.” Kingsley narrowed his eyes at him. Now that S?ren had reminded him about it, he remembered.
“I can go if you’ve changed your mind,” S?ren said, standing up.
“No. Sit. Don’t go.”
S?ren looked at him and sat back down.
“I don’t do coke very often,” Kingsley said. “I was having a bad night. That’s all.”
“How many bad nights do you have?”
“One or two. Not many,” Kingsley said.
“I know I gave you the money with no strings attached. But I never suspected you’d use it for drugs.”
“You want the money back?”
“No. I want you to take better care of yourself. That’s all.”
“Take better care of myself? An interesting statement coming from the man who used to beat me black-and-blue on a regular basis. I see you’ve found some new whipping boys.”
“Whipping girls.”
“Only girls these days?” Kingsley asked.
“Only women. I’m less likely to go too far.”
“I loved it when you went too far.”
“And now,” S?ren said with a smile, “you know why I don’t play with you.”
Kingsley lowered his head and rested his chin on his crossed arms.
“Kingsley?”
“What happened to you? You’re different,” Kingsley said.
“You want to know the truth?”
“I asked.”
“Her name is Magdalena.”
“Secret girlfriend?”
“She’s the madam of a Roman brothel. She and her employees cater to a very specific clientele.”
“Masochists?”
“Mostly.”
“That’s where you’ve been going to…” Kingsley waved his hand.
“It is.”
“Normal men join a gym to work off their extra energy,” Kingsley said. “So I’ve heard.”
“I’m not normal men. And don’t pretend you are, either.”
Kingsley rolled his eyes, waved his hand again. “So she’s your friend and…?”
“My first two years of seminary were difficult. I’m not sure I would have made it without Magdalena. I owe her, but she refused to accept any form of remuneration from me.”
“I’ve known a lot of prostitutes. Never heard of one refusing money from a john. Of course, it’s you, and I’d pay you money for another—”
“Kingsley, she and I never slept together. We were friends. I learned from her.”
“You learned how to knock a cigarette out of someone’s mouth with a whip?”
“One of the first skills she taught me, yes,” S?ren said.