Looking on the bright side, if Ludo wanted all his senior people featured together, maybe they would bitch about her a little less.
‘Sure. Why not?’
‘I also want detailed notes on everything you’re doing. We may replicate some of it elsewhere in the store.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘I’ll speak to your hires when you bring them in, and eat lunch with the team captains.’
Dina had separated her staff into their areas of expertise: skincare; eyes and mascara; tan and body; cosmetics application; fragrance. She ripped up the old way of doing business, where you hired a dull girl who liked free samples and was willing to work for low pay. Dina recruited beauty students, fashion-school graduates, models who wanted some set hours, and placed them under well-paid pros who ran their departments: a consultant dermatologist, who’d quit her practice to fit work around raising her teenage boys, directed skincare; a renowned make-up artist, who wanted a steady job, was in charge of cosmetics; a former pro from Bobbi Brown was evaluating brushes; and two spray-tan salon perfectionists were running the bronzer area.
As well as classic brand booths, selling everything, Dina ran grouped walls of smaller products, the ones she could control. Indie eye shadows were together, racked by colour and type; lipsticks, fading from scarlet to clear gloss, tumbled down the colour chart like a computer screen. Women loved it when they came in for pale pink lips and found fifty glosses and sticks racked next to each other.
Even the part-timers were passionate. The old staffers had shaped up, or shipped out. Dina had transferred them elsewhere, if they couldn’t cut it – to lighting, or cushions, or outerwear.
‘Torch is for beauty. Torch is for babes,’ Dina said, when the human-resources people questioned her. ‘We want the cool kids, the enthusiasts, the elite. I don’t carry passengers.’
They muttered, but she was untouchable. Dina Kane was backed by Ludo Morgan, and she always got her way.
The beauty division was shaping up so well. Dina was on a roll, and the money kept pouring in. Employees got spot bonuses – a hundred here, five hundred there. If Dina saw or heard something good, she just passed out cash. Morale was through the roof, and the job applications rolled in.
And she was making money. Every month, Ludo increased her salary. There were perks – the free store card, the company car, parking included. She now drove an Audi, could afford to dress designer without having to wait for the good pieces to be marked down in price in the sales. Everyone was happy, and Dina Kane was happiest of all.
Except on the little matter of Joel Gaines.
She waited for the congratulatory call, the email. It didn’t happen. Radio silence. Sometimes Dina would drift off, thinking about him. She would fantasise about him coming into the store, walking around, looking for her. And they would laugh, and he’d hug her, pat her on the head . . . When her thoughts drifted like this, Dina caught herself and tried to stop.
Screw him
, she thought, trying to pretend it didn’t hurt her so much.
After all, things were good – even great. She had a dream job, was a big success. Even with Johnny’s bills, there was enough money. Her apartment had sold and she’d moved to a new one on Eightieth Street, a block from Central Park, with a great view of the museum. Finally, it was something for herself. No more fixing and decorating – Dina Kane no longer had time. She was a retail mogul, a maestro, and busy from dawn to dusk. And she loved it.
There was something incredible about buying new. Her apartment had a breakfast terrace just outside the window, a spare room for when Johnny got out, a lovely kitchen – small, sure, but with Sub-Zero fridges and a Viking cooker; the flat-screen TV was already on the living room wall, and Dina’s windows there looked out on to the tree-lined street and the Victorian townhouses opposite, giving a sense of the older, grander New York, of the Manhattan she’d arrived in.
Dina just supervised a little bit of design, using the crew employed at Torch. She installed blond wood floors to open up the light, bought Danish furniture with sleek lines; the bedroom was a fantasy of oyster-white and the bathroom, which had both a European tub and a walk-in shower, followed a beach-slate palette. The pops of colour on the gunmetal couch were orange and bronze, and it looked modern Mediterranean, chic as hell. She invested in a gas fireplace to keep her warm all winter: realistic flames, and no mess with the flue. They worked while she was out, and she came home to endless luxury.
None of it was enough to make her forget Joel Gaines completely. But, if he had lost interest in her, others hadn’t. Ludo Morgan was her boss, and he was also her boyfriend.
Dina liked how he kept it professional at work – backing her up, putting his name on everything, regular meetings. He’d kept his word: they were open about it; nothing was hidden.
That first Friday, Ludo showed up right on time. No flowers; no chauffeur. He took her for dinner at Jean Georges, one of the most expensive restaurants in midtown, and they lingered over a tasting menu for three hours.
The next week, they went to a play; Ludo procured tickets to the hottest show on Broadway, sold out for months in advance.
After that, he invited her to his palatial apartment, above the store, and they ordered Chinese takeout. He didn’t pressure her to go to bed. Dina was wary, but happy.
Ludo would kiss her on the cheek in full view of the other staff, then go about his business. The staff – especially those outside the beauty department – resented it, gossiped and bitched. She knew that. But Dina believed her results were unarguable.
For the first time in her life, Dina Kane was part of a couple.
And she liked it. She liked the sense of respect, of fitting in. She liked the way people tilted their heads and smiled indulgently when Ludo kissed her on the cheek. She liked the way it felt when he opened a door for her, or flagged down a cab – like regular people did, people with lives. And, because she worked at Torch, she could throw herself into the job round the clock and still see enough of her boyfriend.
Boyfriend. Boss.
A taboo, but it worked.
‘Good. So you’ll see more of my stamp on your remodel, Dina,’ Ludo said, bringing Dina back into his office, tearing her from her thoughts. He reached forward and clicked his mouse, closing the window on the computer, then pushed back from his desk, indicating the meeting was over. ‘How are you fixed for Saturday?’
‘I can’t this Saturday,’ she said.
Ludo frowned. ‘Wait. What? You have a previous engagement?’
He made it sound ridiculous. And, she had to admit, she was wedded to the job.
‘I’m going upstate to check on my brother. He’s been making progress; they say he can be released soon.’
‘Your brother. You’re going to have to introduce me.’
‘Sure, one day. I’d like to.’
He didn’t mention her mother. Dina had already explained how little there was there. She sent money back each month, and never got a thank you for it. Often, she berated herself for still looking through the mail, as though that would ever change.
‘Meantime, how about you go see your brother on Friday? I have plans for Saturday. Big plans.’
Dina laughed. ‘Ludo, we work on Fridays.’
‘You deserve an afternoon off. Take one. It’s an order, if that helps.’
She smiled; as though he could order her about!
They were companionable together, friendly. She’d gone to bed with him, about five weeks in, once it seemed respectable and the right thing to do. She was nervous; the almost-virgin, the workaholic; boyfriend-free since Edward; no sex since bringing down his father. But that trauma was almost forgotten, and Ludo was tender and patient, and made sure she’d had a couple of glasses of champagne and, even though Dina felt little pleasure, it wasn’t actually painful. She enjoyed his desire, his sweating, gasping lust, the way she saw herself through his eyes. The only time she sensed anything, was when she started to get excited, and then her thoughts drifted helplessly, inevitably, towards Joel Gaines; her eyes closed, she felt wet, open, as if she was lifting out of herself . . .
‘Come on, baby. Oh, that’s good; you’re so good,’ Ludo panted. She heard his voice, and the vision shattered. But she moaned and whimpered a little, and he came, and was done with her.
Maybe things would get better in time. When she got more used to him, and less shy. For now, it was enough to have a young man who treated her well, prized her, took her out.
But the whispers at work continued.
‘She’s caught herself a nice one.’
‘Set her target the day she walked in here. The job’s just for show.’
‘Dina’s smart; she got close; she’ll be out of here in six months.’
‘Lucky bitch.’
‘This whole place will be hers one day. Did you hear about the palace he’s got on the fucking roof? They say it’s ten thousand square foot of space with a garden and a goddamned pool.’
‘He can’t even drive. Daddy got him a chauffeur.’
‘Why does she bust her ass like that? All he wants is a respectable version of a model.’
‘She’s not
that
pretty. She must be on fire in bed.’
‘No wonder he signs off on everything.’
‘She isn’t even the force, she’s just the front woman, you know? Where did she go to college? He’s got the MBA and she’s just like this sexy brunette, fronting it, playing with make-up.’
‘You’ve got to give it to her – she knows how to climb. She’s from the middle of fucking nowhere, out in Westchester.’
Dina heard that stuff every day, out on the shop floor, as she moved about unobtrusively, amongst the crowds of women browsing and snatching. She tried not to resent it. They couldn’t conceive of a girl who wanted to make money, not marry it. Ludo was great, handsome, good to her, but she tried not to think about it too much because she wasn’t sure he was the one. He was a boyfriend, a good boyfriend, and Dina was trying to live a normal life. But marriage . . . ?
She shuddered a little. That was the sound of freedom gone and iron gates clanging shut.
Maybe other girls would jump at the chance, and they were surely welcome to go right ahead. Dina concentrated on her work. She was so sunk in Torch, she dreamed about it. That buzz when a beauty editor ran a feature, or they cleared yet another fifteen square foot for her playground, it was electric, inspiring. She lived on the adrenaline, and the humdrum love life was fine; Ludo was her friend, her boss.
And now that friend was asking for a favour.
‘OK. I could do with a break.’
It was true, she felt exhausted. You couldn’t mainline this stuff around the clock. It would be nice to focus on Johnny, not on the latest brand of cream eye shadow, or the new low-heat hair tongs she was bringing in to her beauty-tools section. ‘So where are we going on Saturday?’
‘Out to the beach,’ Ludo said. ‘I want you to meet my parents.’
Dina smiled tightly, hoping her nerves didn’t show. ‘Your parents! Wow. That’s so great.’
‘I thought you’d be pleased.’ He smiled, and Dina tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.
Joel Gaines looked at his wife, reluctantly.
Susan had come bounding in from the beauty salon, wearing the hideously expensive ‘casual’ wear from Prabal Gurung’s resort collection and Jimmy Choo ballet flats, and her hair was as big and bouncy as Farrah Fawcett’s. She was done up to the nines, her eyes thick with mascara, artfully applied bronze shadow and chocolate liner, and her face was immaculately made up with some kind of airbrushed foundation and a high pink blusher. She looked like a model, an older model, perhaps, but still with that stylised perfection.
He hated it. All the women in the Hamptons did this, whenever a celebrity threw a party. It wasn’t enough to have a fifteen-million-dollar beach house; you had to compete on the ‘best trophy wife’ circuit, like you were entering a prize dog at Crufts.
And he was as guilty as anybody. For years, Susan had worked the trophy-wife thing perfectly, and Joel had not complained. He’d bought her jewels, an emerald and South Sea pearl necklace, a canary diamond ring the size of an M&M, a platinum watch studded with rubies. Not so much to see her wear them, but as a vehicle for boasting about his wealth and power.
‘How do you like it?’
Susan pirouetted. She was always happiest when she felt great about herself, when she was the star. They did less and less together these days.
‘Stunning,’ he lied.
Make-up should be subtle, present but not present, barely there, so you could see the woman. All the men that piled on this ‘jewel eyes’ crap were gay – the same men that designed the curves out of catwalk models and pushed ‘menswear’ trends on the girls every season.
Dina Kane, for example, had it down perfectly. Always groomed, but with a touch as light as gossamer . . .
No –
no
.
‘What do you say we skip the party? I mean, altogether. Just go for a moonlit walk on the beach. We could make a bonfire, roast s’mores or something.’
Susan laughed. ‘You’re funny. We could do that every day. This is Roxana Felix’s party, you know – the supermodel.
Everybody
will be there.’
‘Right,’ he sighed.
‘Hey, honey, look at this magazine; I stole it from the salon. Though, with what I tipped them, they could buy a hundred of them.’ She triumphantly plunked down a copy of
Vogue.
‘See this? A double-page spread on Torch. You know Torch, that fusty old store uptown? It’s been turned around, like
completely
. All my girlfriends are shopping there, in the beauty department. This is an interview with Ludo Morgan; isn’t he cute? You know the father, right?’
Joel nodded.
‘Ludo is the heir and he’s really transformed the place. He’s everywhere these days! Interviews in
Vogue
, in the
New York Times
. . . Haven’t you noticed? He’s really the coming man.’
‘Let me see that,’ Gaines said. He looked at the spread, the young man with the bland features photographed artfully against the blond, well-lit beauty department. The article raved about the revamp, the coming shock to other departments, the soaring bottom line. Ludo Morgan was given all the credit.