Beauty (16 page)

‘Yes. Sometimes my friends stay – from church, or the Friends’ Club.’

‘That’s great, Mom. Look, I didn’t come to socialise . . .’

‘Of course not; why would you want to see your mother?’

‘You’ve never called me once—’ Dina stopped herself, swallowed her anger. ‘Whatever. This is about Johnny. Mom, he’s sick.’

‘Sick? What kind of sick?’ Actual concern spread across her mother’s face. ‘Is it cancer?’

‘No. No. He’s OK; it’s not that.’

‘Jesus. You scared me, Dina. Always so overdramatic.’

‘Mom, he’s having a rough time at college. Like, maybe it’s too hard for him . . . Anyway, he’s getting into alcohol. And drugs.’

‘A little pot and booze never hurt anybody.’ There was anger in Ellen’s eyes. ‘You always were the goody two-shoes over that. You ruined my life, back then. You know that?’

‘I saved your life. You were being passed round like popcorn, Mom.’

Ellen pursed her lips. ‘Now I don’t even dare to take a drink at New Year’s Eve.’

‘You’re better off.’ Dina couldn’t stand the self-pity. ‘You have an addictive personality. Johnny inherited it. He’s drinking out of control and he’s popping pills. Coke, ecstasy. Prescription pills.’

‘Maybe he needs a good romance. I got one, you know,’ Ellen said, triumphantly. ‘I’m dating again. Oliver Guyden.’

‘Of Guyden’s Funeral Home?’

‘It’s a good business,’ Ellen said, defensively. ‘And his wife died. She was in the church group with us. Oliver and I have been going out for a while, since the summer. I think maybe he’s going to pop the question.’

‘That’s great, Mom. Really.’ Dina smiled at her mother. Despite it all, she still wanted her to be happy; maybe it would soften her a little.

‘No thanks to you,’ Ellen said.

‘Let’s sit down.’

‘Why? Are you staying?’

‘Jesus,’ Dina said, softly. ‘I’m your own daughter. Why can’t you be nice to me?’

Ellen shrugged. ‘I would if you ever showed any respect. But it was always all about Little Miss Perfect. Come on, Dina, I have work to do here. What do you expect me to do about Johnny?’

‘Talk to him. Reason with him. He still loves you.’ Dina took a deep breath. ‘Mom, you need to give Johnny acceptance.’

‘I’ve always accepted my son.’

‘He’s gay. He has a boyfriend – Brad Evans. He’s steady, going to be a lawyer. He’s just what Johnny needs.’

Ellen’s face drained white. She stumbled and gripped the top of a chair.

‘Bullshit,’ she hissed. ‘You’re lying, lying just to hurt me. Johnny’s not
gay
.’

‘He is. He’s with Brad.’

The whiteness drained and came back red. Ellen looked flushed, as if she’d just downed a fifth of Jack Daniel’s. ‘He’s on drugs. You said so yourself. He’s just confused. There’s no way he’s homosexual. His dad was always chasing strippers . . .’

‘Mom!’ Dina shouted. ‘I don’t have time for this. Johnny is gay; Johnny is almost addicted. He needs your compassion and your love. For once in your horrible life, think about somebody else. He was born gay and he’s going to die gay. Put aside the nineteen seventies, focus on
your son
.’

Ellen sat heavily on her couch. ‘What will Oliver say?’

‘Nothing, if he loves you. And if he has a problem with Johnny, you should cut him loose.’

Ellen sat quietly for a few minutes, chewing on her bottom lip. Dina could see her mother thinking, see the hamster wheels turning as she chewed it over. ‘I’ll see my son; I’ll see the boyfriend too. He’s mine. I don’t care. Whatever it is, that’s what happens these days, right? Things are different.’

Dina breathed out with relief.
Thank God
. ‘Yes, Mom, things are different. The ladies at church would judge you a lot worse if you abandoned your boy. You know that.’

Ellen was rocking to and fro, hugging herself. ‘Why did he tell you? Why not me?’

‘You never go to see him, Mom.’

‘I pay for his college.’

‘It’s more than writing a cheque. I’ve been by most Sundays since I landed in the city. He was even nervous of telling me, at first. Then he met Brad and it kind of just happened.’

Ellen stared at Dina. ‘You’ve been over there every Sunday. Trying to get in with him. Talking to him about me.’

‘Mom, don’t be crazy.’

‘Crazy? I’m not crazy. Why is he talking to
you
? You’re just trying to take him away from me. Encouraging him in all this drug-taking and gay stuff.’

‘He can’t be
encouraged
; he’s just gay.’

‘You’ll do anything to be first – anything to make him drop me. Me – who raised you both from children, on my own.’

Dina breathed in, raggedly; her mother’s cruelty was toxic to her. She found herself shaking; the lack of love was making her anxious, panicky.

‘Do you want me to bring him to you?’

‘No. He can come on his own. He doesn’t need you, Dina. Johnny needs his mother.’

‘You accepting Brad will be good. After that, you probably need to pay to put him in rehab.’

Ellen looked up again. ‘Pay? I pay for college.’

‘Rehab is expensive, Mom. Don’t you have anything left?’

‘I need my savings. Oliver and I are going to sell this place, buy something nice. It’s all been discussed. We’re going to move to Bronxville.’

Bronxville: the fancier village next door. Her mother had been talking about Bronxville for years before Dina left. It was her goal, her Shangri-la.

‘But Johnny needs it.’

‘Right. And he needed college, only he’s blowing that. And so did you, but you have a job, correct?’

‘I used to have a job. I’m kind of self-employed . . .’

Ellen wasn’t listening. ‘And what if I sink my savings into rehab and he comes right out and just starts up again? What’s to stop him?’

‘We just have to hope. There are no guarantees—’

‘Well, I can
guarantee
that, if I don’t spend my money on junk, I’ll still have it.’

‘Thanks, Mom.’ Dina had had enough. ‘I’ll get Johnny to see you, at least. Maybe that’ll do something.’

‘I’ll meet his boyfriend,’ her mother said, grandly. ‘I’ll give them my blessing.’

But no money
.

‘That’s great.’ Dina stood up. Her mother didn’t rise, not even for a peck on the cheek.

‘I’m feeling faint,’ she said. ‘You can see yourself out.’

Brad took Johnny down the next day. Dina waited in her apartment; she had to think. She’d tried calling Hector, but he wouldn’t pick up the phone. When she went round to the store and pressed the buzzer on his apartment, there was no reply; she’d seen his curtains twitching shut.

She moved to her windows, looking out over the street. This place was functional now, a little more her; even though there was no money to renovate as she wanted, Dina had decorated cheaply, had painted, hung a few mirrors. Already it looked more spacious. But she would have to do better if she wanted to sell.

She felt tired – so tired. She thought about Johnny, her mom, Hector, Meadow. Desperately, she wanted independence, to cut loose. There could not be any waiting, could not be any more limbo. Dina wanted a life, wanted power. She had come close, but something was standing in her way.

Hector Green looked about him. These were unfamiliar surroundings: the long, walnut panelled conference room; the green leather armchairs. Four lawyers sat opposite him with yellow legal pads, writing furiously, even though he hadn’t said much. A young man with pallid skin and a foppish haircut sat next to them, wearing an expensive suit.

‘And you are sure of this?’ The chief lawyer was a white-haired man of Hector’s own age, perhaps a touch younger. He was heavy around the middle and spoke with supreme confidence.

‘I’m afraid so,’ the young man said. ‘Miss Kane is a fraudster. She was involved in an unfortunate blackmail attempt on my family.’ Edward Johnson spread his hands. ‘Mr Green, you were successful on your own terms before she came along.’

‘She did bankroll the launch of Meadow.’

‘After your sweat equity,’ the lawyer said. ‘You designed the product; you worked around the clock. She was back at the shop selling things you ordered. In essence, it wasn’t bad for Ms Kane to ask to be paid. Our quarrel is with the ludicrous contract she had you sign.’

‘She could have asked for recoupment of her loan – even ten times over,’ Edward said, sadly. ‘Instead, she took fifty per cent. It took you a lifetime of learning to devise Meadow.’

‘She took advantage of an old man without proper representation. It’s eminently challengeable.’

Hector shook his head. He had no idea what to think. If only they would stop talking!

He blamed Dina for this. Why was she trying to stop him making money?

‘I would like to do the night cream, and retire.’ He shrugged. ‘It is very simple. I wish to go somewhere warm. I am old, I cannot work any longer.’

‘The problem is, it would be a Meadow night cream. And she co-owns the name – unless we fight in court.’

‘I can make it a different name . . .’

‘The Glamour store wants your branding: Meadow.’

Hector snapped ‘Then why are we here? She owns half. She has a contract.’

‘We can fight—’

‘I am not interested in work; I am not interested in fight.’

‘Mr Green, if you’ll allow me,’ Edward Johnson said, ‘Ms Kane does not have the money to hire lawyers for a protracted period. She has a cash crisis. My suggestion would be that you merely threaten her. The firm here can serve her the notifications, file the actions. We can bury her in paperwork. She’ll soon admit that you are the real owner of Meadow.’ He laughed. ‘You will be generous if you refrain from suing her for fraud – attempted theft.’

Hector gnawed on his knuckles, an old habit. ‘I want this all to be over.’

‘Do you think a twenty-year-old girl should steal a life’s work?’

He shook his head.

‘Then you have to do this. Are you willing? Mr Johnson is paying our fees.’

Dina was jogging down the street when the pretty student ran up to her.

‘Are you Dina Kane?’ she asked. ‘You know, who makes the Meadow cream?’

‘I’m Dina,’ she answered, startled out of her thoughts of Johnny. Brad had found him in Chinatown that morning, badly beaten up and dumped on the side of the street. He was in a hospital, and sweating and puking through withdrawal.

They said it was narcotics.

Johnny Kane was going downhill like a teen on a helter-skelter, faster than anyone suspected. The visit to Ellen had not gone well. Brad told Dina everything over a plate of spaghetti: the tight lips, the wooden hugs. Ellen’s new boyfriend was there, he said, and kept coughing every time Brad touched Johnny, or talked about their relationship. And Johnny asked for a drink, and left twenty minutes after realising there was nothing in the house.

‘I don’t know if she loves him. I don’t know if she really loves anything.’

‘She hates that he’s gay. My mom cares how things look, always has.’

‘Well, she’s going to have a dead son, if she’s not careful.’

Dina called up after that and begged one more time for money. She found a rehab centre up in the Catskills, a remote place with great therapists and a good reputation. Johnny should stay a month, maybe six weeks; that might cost sixty thousand bucks.

‘You must be kidding, Dina. Oliver and I are starting our own lives. Let Brad take care of Johnny.’

‘He’s still a student, Mom.’

‘Maybe his parents are richer than me. Anyway, Johnny needs to want this,’ Ellen said, piously. ‘I don’t feel he’s ready.’

Dina shivered. The gossamer thread she thought was there – Ellen’s love for Johnny – was tearing, weakening. She wondered which was worse, the revelation he was gay, or the news that he spent time with his sister.

Dina didn’t want to face that. She’d clung to the idea that at least Momma loved
one
of them. Today, she wasn’t so sure. The jealousy . . . the pathology in Ellen Kane . . . But at least Mom was making her own decision easy. If Ellen wouldn’t help – wouldn’t support Johnny – Dina would.

‘Well, I’m glad I found you, then,’ the student said, jerking her back to the street and her jogging. She slowed up, looking at the girl. ‘These are for you.’

She reached in a backpack and handed Dina some envelopes.

‘Excuse me?’ Dina gasped.

‘You’ve been served. I’m sorry. Have a pleasant run.’ And the girl took out a camera and, before Dina could move, snapped her holding the crisp white envelopes.

Dina looked up First Avenue, towards her apartment building, and her heart started to pound – with more than the exercise.

Shaman and Kebler
, the envelopes were stamped.
Attorneys-At-Law
.

They were stiff, thick bond paper. She stopped and ripped one open.

Our client . . . fraudulent coercion . . . Intellectual property, rights and trademark . . . Advantage of the vulnerable . . . Suing for release of contract, costs and damages in the amount of ten million dollars . . .

Dina almost laughed. Ten million dollars? It felt like she barely had ten dollars. And, if she did, she’d need nine of them for Johnny.

Chapter Eight

‘I’m sorry,’ Eliza Sherman said.

She looked her young client over. Dina Kane was an interesting girl, one of the most unusual people ever to walk through her doors. She wanted to help her, but the kid had no money. Not enough to fight.

‘It’s just that they are such a big firm – corporate law experts. You have a great case, in my opinion, but they can file motion after motion. Without money, no firm is going to represent you. No-win, no-fee is a risk here, because they have so many lawyers.’ She squirmed a little; here was a twenty-year-old who’d pulled herself up from nothing, got fifty per cent of a hot beauty product and was about to get skewered. ‘Look, I can recommend some suburban firms, maybe. You’d need to try and get a bank loan. Or maybe you have a lawyer in your family . . . ?’

‘So, what would you do, if you were me?’

‘It’s a tough break.’ Sherman’s small, cramped office on Third Street was full of law books, with a small window that looked out on to another building. She did bread-and-butter stuff, lawsuits at work, slips and falls, corporate liability. ‘I think I’d hire a lawyer to write a couple of letters saying you’ll fight it all the way, and then I’d settle.’