Beauty

by Louise Mensch

  She wept.

  ‘Let me find out what happened to Johnny. It may not be tonight. Hold tight. When I know, I’ll call you.’

  ‘Joel, please—’

  ‘I’ll call you,’ he repeated, and hung up.

  Dina walked numbly into her bathroom and peeled off her clothes. With an incredible effort, she forced herself to throw them in the laundry basket and step into the shower.

  She dried off mechanically and reached for her cotton pyjamas. The toothbrush in her hand was like a lead weight. Just keeping herself upright seemed more effort than she could bear.

  Before bed, she reached into her medicine closet and brought out a small bottle of anti-anxiety pills: Valium. A doctor had recommended it once, and Dina had laughed at him. Weakness? That was for other people.

  She wasn’t laughing now. She took one, swallowing it with difficulty, gulping the water. And then she crawled into her exquisite antique sleigh bed, made up with crisp Irish linen, and lay down in it like she would never get up again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Joel Gaines looked at the body bag.

  He had put out the word, and taken the call about an hour ago. His anger at Dina – his disgust, his disappointment – it was wide and deep, but he wasn’t going to refuse the plea about her brother.

  She was desperate; he recognised that. And, if Johnny Kane was alive, Gaines was going to find him.

  It didn’t take too long for the answer to come back. Not the one he wanted. But he left his office immediately and met the cop at the scene.

  The plastic body bag was unzipped, and there was the unmistakable face of Johnny Kane – bruised, skinny, pale in death, but otherwise matching the photo Dina emailed him. The wasted frame of a young man. He’d been a failure in this life, his potential unrealised, killed by a fatal weakness. Stemming from what? The tension of a bad childhood? It had made Dina – and broken her big brother.

  Looking at the corpse, Gaines had no doubt that Edward Johnson did more than hand out wine. There were drugs in the system, the medical examiner said, lots of drugs: heroin, methamphetamine, coke. There was recent sexual activity. All of this, for a penniless ex-student with no money in the bank account, kept by his sister.

  The apartment had been ghost rented. There were no signs of anything other than a party, and an OD. Nothing forcible; no murder.

  He knew all this because he could hire investigators when he had to. And his law enforcement connections were rock solid. Gaines knew people in the police department, in the Mayor’s office, throughout the city.

  But Edward Johnson could not have tempted Johnny Kane without that huge void in his life. They were screwed up, both the brother and the sister.

  He wondered about it – the dead father, the mother who was there in the most literal sense, but not really there for her kids.

  ‘We’ll need next of kin to ID the body,’ the cop said.

  He wanted to spare Dina that. ‘No need; I knew Johnny Kane,’ he lied. ‘I can ID him for you.’

  The guy pursed his mouth, but nodded. Everybody knew Mr Gaines: richest man in the city, but stand-up, nonetheless. His gifts to the Benevolent Fund sent hundreds of dead cops’ kids to college, every year.

  ‘Hey, no problem. That’d be great; thank you, sir.’

  ‘Joel.’

  The cop smiled. ‘Joel.’

  DOA was a shitty job, always, but you got used to it – so used to it in New York. This guy lightened the load. He would remember meeting Joel Gaines; he was some kind of big shot, man. The muscles were also impressive. The guy must bench like a maniac. He liked that; exercise was no respecter of wallets. Gaines obviously worked for it. Respect. He had no need to work out to get all the chicks fluttering; his bank account would be more than enough to do that.

  ‘Over here, then.’ He walked across and pulled the body bag open a little more. The corpse was pale, a little blood and drool dried on his cheek. His eyes had rolled up into his head. Classic OD.

  ‘That’s Johnny Kane,’ Gaines said, without hesitation. He was glad Dina would never have to see it. ‘Did the medical examiner sign off?’

  ‘At the scene. Full autopsy tonight. Then the body can be released.’ He hesitated. ‘We really do need next of kin for that one.’

  ‘I understand. Thank you, officer.’

  Joel Gaines was not a praying man, but he sent a thought upwards – some kind of wish, intent, call it whatever you like – to whoever was out there, that somebody loved this boy now.

  Dina. Her name shoved itself into his mind. Dina loved him. Dina looked out for him.

  He didn’t want to give her credit right now. Didn’t want to think good thoughts. She was a low-life; what his wife said was true; what that schmuck Ludo Morgan said was true.

  The shock of her words hit him like a fist.

  I slept with his father, to blackmail him.

  That was what all the jealous bastards said about Dina Kane, that she was a user, a gold-digger, that she latched on to rich men. Shelby Johnson – by her own admission. Who now could believe her story over Meadow? Maybe she took that old chemist guy, Dr Green, for a ride like the rest . . . Stole his idea. And then at Torch . . . she winds up, in two minutes, banging the owner’s son.

  A job she got via him.

  And he was a very rich man, too.

  Loser. Idiot. It’s a pattern. You’re meant to be good at patterns.

  He was like some drunk asshole in a strip club, going, ‘She likes me!’ because the girl shakes her ass nearest to the dollar bills. What a fool! What an idiot. Of course, he was way too old for her. And to think he had gulled himself into believing . . .

  Believing that she loved him.

  The struggling, the wrestling, the way he’d become so dissatisfied that the torpor of his marriage was suddenly smothering to him – none of it had any point, because Dina Kane – so beautiful, so smart and so strong – was a self-confessed predator.

  There’s no fool like an old fool. Wasn’t that what they said?

  He didn’t know why he felt so angry. Hadn’t he vowed that kiss was the end? He was staying true. He wasn’t going to sleep with Dina, see Dina, anything. They could be friends; they could talk.

  And, within one day – this.

  What a difference twenty-four hours made. After the party, and the kiss, he had been utterly unable to sleep. He had no desire for Susan, not even enough for the mechanics of sex. He’d told her he was exhausted, and he’d lain down in bed, staring at the ceiling.

  And, the next day, he was staring at his cellphone from the moment he walked out of the shower. Waiting for her to call. Willing her to call.

  When he heard the news that she’d been fired, his heart leaped. How pathetic – to be pleased that she’d broken up with Ludo Morgan, and was free again. He wasn’t free – would never be free – but he rejoiced all the same. And when she didn’t call him for help on her business, did not seek his protection, didn’t ask him to extend his arm, Joel Gaines was bitterly disappointed.

  He recognised the illogic. The selfishness. The dog in the manger. But he wanted – how he wanted – to ride into battle for her and show her what real power meant.

  She would be helplessly aroused by it, he knew it: money and power as a proxy for sex.

  But Dina Kane did not call. And, as the minutes ticked by, he found himself falling ever more hopelessly in love with her. The bravery of it – the standing on her own two feet – not coming to him, not begging.

  When she finally called, it was late, and he assumed she just wanted comfort.

  But Dina asked for his power, after all. Wanted it for something he could not refuse. And the price was telling him the truth.

  He would have loved to have had that day over again. He’d have given a million dollars, ten million dollars, not to have heard Dina Kane say those words to him.

  Johnny Kane was dead. And, for a moment, Joel Gaines envied him. There was nothing true in this world, nothing beautiful.
<
br />   As he walked away, towards the limousine, that aggravating voice in his head corrected him.

  Her love for her brother, her care for her brother was true and beautiful.

  Johnny Kane didn’t fit Dina’s pattern. He couldn’t help her career, or give her money. He was a cost centre, without prestige or usefulness. But Dina had been devoted to him. Devoted enough to spend money, even when she hardly had any.

  Joel was not looking forward to the stop he had to make.

  She was waiting when he knocked on her door.

  ‘Dina, it’s me. Open up.’

  In a second, the door was wrenched open. She looked worse than Joel had ever seen her. That beautiful face was grey and lifeless. Her eyes were red; her hair was unwashed, unbrushed. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in a day. She was gaunt, listless. Not a scrap of make-up on her.

  ‘Joel,’ she said, and her whole body teetered and gave way. He reached forward, automatically, and caught her, under the arms. Her head lolled.

  ‘Easy; easy there,’ he said, alarmed. He kicked the door shut and guided her to a chair, forcing her to sit. She hadn’t fainted, but her head was pressed in her hands. Clearly, it was a dizzy spell. ‘When did you last eat?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know.’

  ‘You have to eat, drink. It’s low blood sugar. Here.’

  He opened her fridge. There was almost nothing in it – a half-empty milk carton, some eggs, some wilting lettuce. ‘Jesus. You don’t even have orange juice?’

  ‘Joel, please. I can’t think about food.’

  He felt lost. What did people say about shock? Sweet things – that was right. This was where women looked after men, not the other way around. He filled her electric kettle and hunted in the cupboards till he found a box of teabags and the remnants of a packet of sugar. She stared into space as he fixed her a cup of boiling hot tea and put three sugars in it, stirring it and brewing it, no milk. He didn’t trust the milk. She was falling apart, and he was about to help her on the way down.

  ‘Here.’ He blew on it a little, to cool it. ‘Drink.’

  ‘What did you find out?’

  ‘We’re not talking until you’ve drunk half of that.’

  Joel waited. As angry as he was at her and his stupidity, and as much as he wished he’d never heard the name Dina Kane, he could not stand there and see her broken.

  She took the mug from him and drank, numbly, not resisting. There was no fire in her anymore. It was nuts, but he felt his heart clenching with emotion. As pallid and dirty as she looked this evening, she was unutterably beautiful to him – vulnerable in a way he had never seen. He could not shake his feelings for her, no matter what he did.

  After she had drained most of it, he took the mug from her, so that she wouldn’t hurt herself if she dropped it, and knelt down in front of the chair. He took her hands.

  ‘Dina, you will have to be brave. Johnny’s dead. I’m so sorry. He died of an overdose, and it was very peaceful.’ God knows if it was peaceful or not – he remembered the blood and the drool – but that was what he was going to tell her. ‘I identified the body. There were no signs of violence, and it went down as an OD.’

  Tears sprang into her eyes, and her thin frame shook with sobs. Great, wrenching, heaving sobs, shocking in their intensity, jolted her out of her numbness and lethargy. He stood there, helpless, with no way to comfort her. In the end, he reached for the kitchen towel and handed it to her so she could mop her face, but the tears continued.

  Joel Gaines leaned in and folded his arms around her, wrapping her close, so close, holding her firmly, not letting her slump, until, in the end, her sobs ceased and she was breathing hard, shuddering against him.

  ‘I will take care of everything,’ he said. ‘They will release the body to you or your mother. The police will inform her.’

  ‘I’ll call Mom,’ Dina whispered.

  ‘I can have the best funeral home in the city pick him up and arrange any kind of service you like.’

  ‘Catholic.’

  ‘Fine. I give half a million to the Cardinal’s appeal every year.’

  She looked up at him with the suggestion of a smile. ‘But you’re Jewish.’

  Joel gripped on to that tiny flicker of amusement. ‘Baby, I give half a million to everybody important in the city. You buy friends as well as karma.’

  ‘Always at work, aren’t you?’

  ‘Aren’t we,’ he corrected her, but he was thrilled to see this stirring of life.

  ‘I don’t know how I’m going to tell Ellen.’

  He noted the first name. There was so little there, between mother and daughter; it was sad.

  ‘I’ll stay with you. I’m not leaving you right now.’

  Dina shook her head; more tears. ‘You have to go . . . Your wife . . .’

  ‘My wife can wait.’ He pulled out his cellphone and tapped on it. ‘I’m just texting her that I’m staying in the city. That’s normal on a weeknight.’

  She said nothing, and he could see her thoughts dragging back to her admission, and the breach between them.

  ‘You don’t owe me anything else, Joel.’

  ‘I didn’t owe you this,’ he said. ‘Go get in the shower. You look awful and you’re starting to smell.’

  Dina opened her eyes wider, actually shocked.

  ‘We’re past the sweet-nothings stage, Dina Kane. Get in the shower. Now.’

  She stood up, weakly, and headed to her bathroom. He waited a few seconds, to hear the sound of the water running, then walked in after her.

  Dina gasped.

  ‘Chill out, I can’t see a goddamn thing with all that steam against the glass.’

  Actually, that was not true. He could see the shape of her body just fine; not everything, maybe, just the still-firm curve of that ass, the long hair hanging slick down her back. He bit his lip against the surge of desire and tried to focus. Her clothes were on the floor. He gathered them up and laid out a white waffle robe for her.

  ‘I’m going to wash these. And put new clothes on your bed.’

  She said nothing.

  Gaines went into her kitchen and found the washing machine. God, she still lived so small, for a girl that could have been married to millions of dollars. This was middle-management stuff, and Dina’s brain was way above that level; she was meant to be a superstar, a CEO, a revolutionary.

  He flung the clothes in there, added a bag of soap, then went into her bedroom and stripped the sheets from the bed. Dina was a minimalist: just a fitted sheet, pillowcase and a duvet cover in white linen. It smelled bad – of sweat and despair. So he added them to the wash.

  Then he charged back into the bathroom. The steam was really up now. Dina said nothing, no word of protest. He imagined she had not eaten all day, maybe longer. Opening her mirrored cabinet, he found shampoo, conditioner and a disposable razor. He opened the door to the stall.

  ‘I’m not looking,’ he lied, and extended his hand. ‘Take these. All these. Use them. Clean up.’

  She lifted them from him. ‘OK.’

  ‘When you’re done, there’s a towel outside this stall, and a robe. Clean your teeth. Then you can go into your bedroom and change.’

  ‘You don’t have to do all this.’

  ‘Where do you keep your spare bedding?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just answer the question.’

  ‘There’s a chest at the foot of the bed.’

  He left her then, and went and made the bed, something he had not done since he was a student. The washing machine became a dryer; he was rather proud that he was figuring this stuff out. Her clothes hung in the wardrobe and lay in her chest of drawers: exquisite things, but not many of them. He picked a pair of soft cashmere lounge pants, a bra, panties and a draped jersey T-shirt. It would not be such a disaster if she fell asleep on a couch dressed like that.

  Then he called for delivery: Chinese – Manhattan’s answer to everything. He got her beef lo mein, for protein an
d carbohydrates, and a helping of steamed vegetables, and the same for himself. Then he called his assistant.

  ‘Marian, I want you to get a week’s groceries for one person delivered, right now. Get the best of everything: Häagen-Dazs, fillet steak, fresh-squeezed orange juice, milk, fruit, smoked salmon, cereals – everything. Tea and coffee. When the guy arrives, have him ring the doorbell but leave it outside. I will unpack myself. Tip him in advance; I don’t want to see him. And I want it here fast.’

  ‘Right away, Mr Gaines.’ She didn’t ask questions. ‘What is the address?’

  He gave it to her.

  ‘And what name?’

  ‘My name,’ Joel said, shortly, and hung up.

  He could hear Dina stepping out of the shower. The temptation to go in there, to give her something else, just to see her naked, was overwhelming, but he fought it. Goddamn it; he hated to be here, but he didn’t want to leave.

  ‘Do your teeth, like I told you,’ he said, loudly.

  He heard the sink running as she obeyed him. Right now, she was washed, clean-shaven and doing her teeth: coming back to life because he had ordered it.

  Gaines was torn. This was real emotion, not faked. He did not know what to think of her. There was pity, and fury, and jealousy, and disgust, and concern, and admiration, and desire.

  No woman had ever made him feel like this. He wondered who was weaker – she or he?

  He waited. In a few minutes, he heard her pad to the bedroom, and then she came out to meet him, dressed in the simple clothes, exactly as he’d laid out for her.

  ‘More tea,’ he said. ‘There’s a meal coming. I’m not leaving until you’ve eaten it. Don’t argue with me; I am going to watch you eat.’

  ‘Yes, Joel,’ she said. She twisted her fingers, like she was trying to get up the courage to say something else.

  ‘You should ring your mother.’

  ‘Yes.’ Dina’s gaze broke away. ‘Of course; I’ll do that now.’

  He moved away from her as she made the call. He could hear her voice rise, pleading, arguing with her mother. More tears. The doorbell rang for his Chinese; when he brought it back inside, she was done, and in tears again.