His head felt like someone was tacking up posters inside his skull with a sledgehammer. The pain throbbed behind his left eye, causing him to squish it up and throw back whatever was left in the glass by the bedside table. Vodka. He thought it was water, but either way, it should do something to dull the aching. Liam looked over his shoulder at the girl lying on her stomach, a pair of angel wings tattooed down her back. Her name was… Ah, hell. Liam grabbed a cigarette.

  He stepped out on the veranda, not because of the smoke, just to take in Sydney during the wee hours. It was quiet except for a few tourists. It even felt a touch cool with his shirt off. Liam kept his chest shaved, something he’d learned in the Royal Navy. The ladies seemed to like it, though his belly hung over his belt in ways it hadn’t back then. Oh, well, a fat wallet seemed to matter more than carrying around a few extra pounds.

  He looked back inside. The girl hadn’t stirred. On the street below some pigeons bobbed along. It looked to him as though a cock was chasing after a hen. Ain’t that the way of things. He watched as the two birds ran themselves silly, till the hen finally got exasperated and flew off. Cunt, Liam thought.

  He’d been staying on the outskirts of Kings Cross for almost a week. He always came here when he was on shore leave. So often, in fact, he was considering selling his house in Warburton and getting himself a unit. He’d grown up in Portarlington, helping his dad look after the rich folks’ homes, scraping and bowing when they came on holiday. His dad eventually managed to buy a place on the outskirts of town, and fixed it up over time. But he never had enough to do it properly and the damn thing bled him dry. After he died, Liam refused to sell. He took small pleasure in seeing the place rot, getting what he considered its comeuppance.

  There was a knock on the door.

  Liam flicked his cigarette and went back in. What the hell was room service doing here this early? He left the sign out, didn’t he? He unbolted the door and threw it open to find a young woman standing there. It was coming back to him now. He’d tried to get both of them to come home with him, but this one had treated him like that blue-balled pigeon downstairs.

  “G’day.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Is she here?”

  “Is who here?”

  “Don’t be an arsehole.”

  Liam grinned.

  “I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

  “Be my guest.”

  He stepped aside. She went over and gently roused the girl.

  “Mia? You okay, honey?”

  Mia, that’s right…

  “You want a drink?”

  Liam grabbed the vodka and poured himself a glass. Mia stirred, sitting up, still gummy-eyed. The other one draped a blanket around her to cover her up. Strippers, mate, suddenly all modest in the light of day.

  “Could I get a glass of water for her? Please?”

  It was more of a demand than a request.

  “Wouldn’t you rather have a drink?”

  From her look the answer was no. Liam went ahead and got what she asked for. She forced Mia to take sips.

  Liam lit another cigarette. He wasn’t going to lie, seeing the two of them huddled up together on the bed like that practically made him hard. It was the other one he’d been trying to bag last night anyway. The younger one had been his consolation prize, and now that he had the older woman here, he didn’t want to let her go.

  “You pay her?”

  “Sorry, mate?”

  “You heard what I said.”

  “Wasn’t like that.”

  Mia started to come around. “It’s okay…”

  “See? Everything’s fine.”

  The older woman started to look for Mia’s clothes when Liam’s cell phone jingled.

  “Uh-huh… Still in Sydney… Tomorrow? Sure… Yeah. G’day mate.”

  Liam watched as the older woman struggled to get Mia’s shirt on.

  “She needs a bump.”

  He tapped out some coke on his thumb.

  “That’s the last thing she needs.”

  “How about you? Late night. How ‘bout it, love?”

  She eyed the coke. He could tell it was tempting for her. A long night. Who knows what shitheads she’d had to put up with. Why not feel good for a little while?

  She placed a finger to her nostril and snorted it then went back to trying to get Mia’s shirt on. Liam found his wallet. He took out several hundred dollars and placed them on the bed.

  “Look, I’ve got one more night before I gotta head back out. How’d you like to make a sailor happy?”

  He wasn’t a sailor, not really. It was impossible to explain what he did. He liked to think of himself as a kind of prospector, a kid at the beach with his bucket and pail, sifting for shiny baubles. The technical term was hyperspectral imagist of polymetallic nodules. But he still preferred kid at the beach, just with a more sophisticated metal detector and a bigger piggy bank.

  He peeled off a few more hundreds, dropped them on the pile. What was a little more cash when he was about to make himself a mint? Mia laughed and fell back in bed. The older woman eyed the money.

  “What’s your name again, love?”

  “I told you last night.”

  He waited.

  “Amelia.”

  “Amelia. How ‘bout that drink?”