Beauty (35 page)

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 and 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.

‘Here. Sit. Eat,’ he said, laying it out on the table before her and fetching them both water. He pushed forward the cartons, just handing her a fork.

She ate, mechanically at first, not appearing to taste anything. He wolfed his down – he was starving – and, after a few moments, Dina began to eat properly, too, and to sip at her water.

Gaines was relieved. She was not likely to kill herself, after all, not once she started to treat herself properly.

The doorbell rang again. Dina started, but he held out his hand. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it in a second. It’s a grocery delivery.’

‘I didn’t order any.’

‘I did. I’m not having you use depression as an excuse not to eat. Your brother is dead, but you’re not. And you need to go on.’

‘For what?’ she said. ‘I don’t have Johnny. I don’t have a job.’ She sobbed. ‘I don’t have you.’

Gaines rose, opened the door and brought the bags in. There were a lot of them – all gourmet. Cinnamon and vanilla coffee beans. Zabar’s smoked salmon. Stoneground bread. Artisanal cheeses and honey. Sugar, milk and farm-fresh eggs. Bottles of squeezed orange juice, and an elegant fruit basket, nicely wrapped. It went on and on. Filet mignon steaks, packets of Cheerios, steel-cut oatmeal, Greek yoghurt, smoked almonds, Charbonnel et Walker chocolates.

He unpacked them as she stared. She was almost licking her lips, now, he saw; the taste of food had triggered her suppressed appetite.

‘I’ll fix us some ice cream,’ he said, as he packed away the Twinings tea. ‘You will be getting the call that your brother’s body is ready, after the autopsy; I want you to let me know. You can text me. Will your mother want to arrange the funeral?’

Dina shook her head. ‘Ellen – Mom – she was embarrassed of Johnny by the end. He was her pride and joy, her favourite, but when he came out as gay, she just withdrew. She said she accepted him, but she didn’t. I don’t think she visited him in the city even one time.’

‘And she never switched her affections back to you?’

‘She had a new man by then. Somebody who would overlook the past. My mom never really loved either of us. She just covered it a little better with Johnny. But she dropped him like a stone at the first sign of trouble.’ Dina’s face hardened, a burst of anger surging through the lethargy of her sadness. ‘You know, maybe that was worst of all. At least I knew I wasn’t loved by the time I left home. She tricked Johnny. She made him believe she cared. And when he needed her most, he found out she didn’t. She just loved the idea of a son, not the son she got.’ Dina shook her head. ‘No, she won’t take care of the arrangements; why should she? She’ll expect me to do that.’

‘Will she attend?’

‘She’ll come along – not because she gives a damn – to look respectable.’

‘Very well.’ Gaines paused, to take that in. Whatever sympathy he felt, he couldn’t express; Dina would fall apart again. The best thing he could do for her was to take over the situation, lift the burden off her back. That part was easy, and he ploughed ahead. ‘I will arrange the embalming and the funeral, in a couple of days. Do you have a preferred cemetery?’

Dina wiped her eyes. ‘Somewhere green – in Westchester.’

‘Done. Will you come to the funeral mass?’

‘Of course I will.’

‘Then you need to eat, sleep, exercise. Be there for your brother.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll try.’

He finished with the groceries, and put out two small bowls of vanilla ice cream. Watching her eat it was unbearably erotic. He needed to get the hell out of here.

‘I should go,’ he said, as she finished and stood up to clear the table. ‘You’ll call me when you hear?’

Dina nodded.

‘OK then.’ He stood to leave, and his legs were as heavy as iron. This felt wrong, walking out on her. But he had no more excuses to stay.

‘Joel, I want to thank you – for trying to help Johnny, for finding him and . . . and giving him dignity. I don’t think I could organise anything well right now.’

‘It’s fine, Dina.’

‘And for helping me. For coming here and . . . all this.’

‘We were friends.’

Tears sprang fresh to her eyes. ‘Please don’t say that. Don’t say
were
. Say
are
.’

He twisted. ‘Look, it’s not the time to talk about it. If you’re grateful to me, don’t make me talk about it now. I want you better. I want you healthy and well.’

‘You can’t forgive me? Let me tell you the story – the whole story. Everything that happened.’ Her voice cracked, and she looked at him, openly pleading, imploring him. ‘Joel, I can take it if you don’t love me and you don’t want to be with me. But I can’t bear it that you should think so ill of me. I know what I did was wrong. But you need to understand what happened, why it all happened. I beg you, Joel; I beg you.’

‘Who gives a damn what I think? Just live your life, Dina; be well.’

‘I give a damn. Right now it means everything to me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m in love with you.’ She shrugged. ‘I just don’t care anymore; I can’t hide it anymore. Even though I know there’s no point, I need you to like me – I need that at least.’

‘I do like you.’
God help me
. ‘I like you very much.’

‘Then you’ll let me talk to you? And, if you feel the same after that, I’ll accept it. I won’t bother you again.’

He nodded. ‘OK, Dina Kane. Here’s the deal: if I see you at your brother’s funeral, and you look well, and strong, and put-together, we will go someplace quiet for coffee afterwards, and you can tell me everything. Enough?’

She breathed out – a long, ragged sigh of relief. ‘Enough.’

He leaned forwards and, with incredible restraint, kissed her on the cheek. Then he let himself out of her apartment, closing the door behind him.

Chapter Sixteen

The funeral was two days later, on a warm day, in a beautiful church in Bronxville. Dina wore black. She stood with her mother and Ellen’s new husband, Oliver. Joel Gaines was the only other mourner.

Nobody had been able to track Brad down. Gaines was struck by the smallness and loneliness of it all. Ellen Kane never put her arm round Dina; she cried a little, but her daughter seemed destroyed.

The priest was sensitive, and kept the mass short. Johnny’s corpse was beautifully embalmed and dressed, giving him a serenity he never had in life. But Joel had ordered the casket closed; he wanted Dina’s last memory of her brother to be of a warm, living body – a young man getting better.

Oliver, the stepfather, seemed disengaged. He patted his wife’s back and shook Dina’s hand. Gaines could not see him attempting to make conversation. What a lonely, sad little family they were.

He stood at the back. There were limousines waiting outside the church: one for the casket, one for the family and the priest, and a third for him. He had ensured everything would be done perfectly. There were white and yellow roses atop the casket, and beautiful displays in various colours, labelled with love from Dina, from Ellen, from Oliver, and from himself. As the priest finished the final words, Gaines slipped out of the church to double check everything was ready. He wanted it to be seamless.

Immediately, he saw it. Leaning up against the old brick walls, the extra floral arrangement – a heart – stuck out like a sore thumb. It was made up of garish red and orange carnations, ridiculously huge; clearly designed to be noticed.

Gaines quickly walked over and checked the label.

So glad to have met Johnny. Dina, you deserved him. Love and kisses, Edward Johnson.

His heart thudded.
She was right
.

His driver had come out of the limo and walked over to him. ‘Everything OK, Mr Gaines? Some goons got here just a minute ago and brought this thing up. Took two of them to carry it.’

‘Get rid of it, Carlos. Now.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Gaines ripped off the label, and Carlos hefted the huge arrangement up and hauled it away, round the back of the church; he heard him stamping on it.

At that moment, the church doors opened and the pallbearers came out with the coffin; the priest followed, and the three family members walked behind. Dina lifted her head, looking for him; tears had streaked her face and make-up, but she smiled at him, gratefully.

Gaines crunched the card in his pocket as they climbed into the limousines. His driver came back; he was ex-Special Forces, like all Gaines’ personal employees.

‘It’s in a trash can. Anything else?’

‘No. Thanks. Just take me to the cemetery.’

They buried Johnny Kane with final honours in the best plot money could buy, under a spreading oak tree, in the quietest part of the grounds. Gaines had ordered a simple gravestone, with a cross, and the name and dates. Dina threw earth on to the coffin, and a white rose Gaines had made available for her. The priest said prayers, and then they all walked back, quietly, towards the cars.