Matala by Craig Holden Page B

up with her, Will?”
    I shrugged and felt my face warm.
    â€œYou must be getting something good, or else she’s just too flippin’ much trouble.”
    â€œThis is Darcy,” Justine said.
    Maurice looked at the girl again. He reached over and put his hand on her head, as if she were a small child, petted her hair, and said, “Lovely.”
    â€œWe picked her up in Rome. Sort of an accident. She’s supposed to be off to Florence tomorrow.”
    â€œFlorence? What the fuck’s there?”
    â€œArt,” Darcy said and looked away, out the window.
    â€œArt?” Maurice said. “Coo, there’s art everywhere over here. It’s like litter. Justine said she thought you rather enjoyed her company and Will’s.”
    â€œI do.”
    â€œWant my advice? Then keep it. It’s the bloody Continent, you know? Do what the fuck you like. Be happy.” He looked at Justine and said, “That’s what I do, in’it?”
    Darcy smiled at him rather genuinely. Maurice just laid it out there. Said what was on everyone’s mind.
    â€œWell,” said Maurice, “listen, got others to see. Business hours, you know. There’s a bag under the table, Justine, with a package in it. Whatever you do, don’t leave without it.”
    â€œIs that what we’re doing?” I said. “Transporting?”
    Maurice looked at me, and I could feel Justine looking as well.
    â€œGet to Galini,” Maurice said. “You have enough folding?”
    Justine said, “We’re fine.”
    â€œFuck, Justine.” He took a leather currency file from his jacket, pulled a thick stack of bills from it, and laid them on the table. “Various shit,” he said. “Liras, drachmas, and some other stuff mixed in. Six or seven hundred quid worth. Against your end of it.”
    â€œI said we have enough.”
    â€œA train to Athens for three.” He looked at Darcy. “Two or three. A ship to the island. Buses, taxis. You’ll have to stay in Galini at least a couple days, so a room or two.”
    â€œWe have enough,” she said.
    He scooped up the paper and stuffed it back in the file, which he dropped in the side pocket of his jacket. “You bloody well better,” he said. “And you make fucking sure you have the package when you get there.”
    â€œThat’s it?” I said.
    â€œJust get there. Then wait. It’s not a big place. Someone’ll find you.”

    F OR SOME TIME AFTER HE’D gone, Justine dragged on her cigarette while staring at the table. I sipped at my beer and watched Darcy watch Maurice making his way around the room, sitting at a table here and there or hanging at the bar.
    â€œHe was serious about this being business hours,” Darcy said. “I don’t suppose you can tell me what that was all about.”
    â€œTo be perfectly truthful,” Justine said, “I don’t really know.”
    â€œWhat’s in the pack?”
    She shrugged.
    â€œBut you’re taking it.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œJust like that. You could get sent away forever where you’re going if it’s anything like it sounds.”
    Justine lit a new cigarette, the last one, from the ember of the one she was finishing.
    â€œFor what?” Darcy asked. “How much are you getting?”
    Now Justine’s face changed. For the first time around the girl, she started to look pissed off. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Darcy cut in.
    â€œHow much? A few thousand? For that kind of risk?”
    Justine said, “What do you care?”
    â€œI don’t. Not at all. It just makes my stomach hurt to see such pathetic losers getting pushed around and used.”
    â€œWho—” Justine said, then looked at me as if to say she didn’t know what to say. She was struck dumb.
    â€œâ€”do I think I am?” said Darcy. “I’m somebody at