‘You didn’t mention that.’
‘Johnny was missing. I didn’t care.’ Dina breathed out. ‘Thanks for letting me talk, Joel. Now you know the whole thing. Ugly or not, that’s my life.’
Gaines said nothing for a few moments.
‘I jumped to conclusions,’ he said. ‘I apologise, Dina. If you were some kind of gold-digger, you were offered the entire mine with Ludo. But you turned him down. Ambitious – yes; desperate – yes. Gold-digger? No.’
She smiled sadly. ‘Funny thing is, until he fired me, I kind of felt bad for him. He said I led him on, and maybe I did. I just didn’t realise how little I cared for him till that night.’
‘And you can’t settle?’
‘Apparently not.’
Gaines looked out of the window. ‘Midtown. We’re coming up to my offices. I have to get to work; I’ve been away far too long.’
She lowered her head. ‘I understand. Thanks again.’
‘We have to talk some more. I need time to figure this all out. One thing I can say is that I don’t think badly of you, Dina. You messed up, but you’re amazing.’ He pressed the button, and the window slid back. ‘Carlos, I’m getting out here. Afterwards, take Ms Kane anywhere she wants to go, OK?’
‘Yes, sir. Of course.’
Gaines opened the door; as he did so, he reached back and squeezed Dina’s hand.
When she got home, Dina went straight to her bedroom. She peeled off her mourning clothes and changed into her running gear.
It was a warm, beautiful day outside, and she had nowhere to be. She started running; a couple of blocks west was Central Park and, two minutes inside the perimeter, it was like being in another world.
There was music in her headphones, but she paid no attention to the playlist. Her mind was on Joel Gaines, and his words, and how he’d held her hand. His forgiveness – could he forgive what she’d done to somebody else? – buoyed her, excited her. The depression was lifting, and it was spring, and there was a future.
She loved Joel. God, the relief of admitting that to herself – and to him! She loved him. She wanted to be with him, and nobody else but him. There would be no more Shelbys, no more Edwards or Ludos. Unless and until she fell out of love, Dina decided, she wasn’t going to try and date anyone else.
With every step she pounded on the hard paths, every stride she ran under the canopy of trees, she felt lighter, better. Her heart would fix itself. Joel liked her; he’d kissed her. Even if he wasn’t hers, that was something. She could try to be a better person, get some therapy, not see herself as the victim.
So she didn’t like Susan Gaines – fine – but if Joel was happy in his marriage, Dina needed to back off. So she wouldn’t marry; it wasn’t the only thing in life, right?
What was the point of being into beauty, if you couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror?
Her heart was racing, thumping. It felt good to run, to sweat, to be alive. This was her therapy, her confessional. Dina let her thoughts go, abandoned herself to the sheer joy of movement.
When she arrived back in her apartment, panting but content, everything seemed a lot clearer.
If she couldn’t have Joel, it was time to focus on something else she loved.
Like business. And sticking it to Torch and Ludo Morgan.
And, as for Edward Johnson, she would figure that out later. He had as good as killed her Johnny. Did she deserve it? Johnny certainly didn’t. But Dina had no thoughts of blood, of payback.
He hurt her. She hurt him. Johnny was dead. Where did that cycle end?
The most revenge she could have would be to succeed – to get rich, to live well, to make a mark – and not need a single man to do it.
Dina loved Joel. But she didn’t want to
need
him, not anymore.
And she had the perfect idea for what to do next.
‘I . . . It’s certainly a very healthy balance sheet.’
The banker’s name was Raul Benitez and he was fifty-eight years old. Not everybody got into his office. There were too many time-wasters out there. He made loans to small businesses on behalf of Luisitana Bank; they were a Brazilian outfit, trying to expand into North America, and they were minnows out here.
He was tasked with bread-and-butter banking: selling money to little guys who would repay it and spread the word. No giant financial punts, just a solid basis within the community.
Somewhere much, much higher up the tree, in Lima, his boss wanted to turn them into Santander. But they were starting here, at the bottom.
Benitez only saw business owners with a certain amount of assets, a plan and a proven track record. These were mostly men in their late thirties to mid fifties. He had lent to some female-owned shops, too: cafés, manicure salons, eyebrow places.
This girl was different. She was fifteen years younger than anybody else he had seen. She had no roots in the community; she wasn’t Korean or Hispanic. She was beautiful, like a model, but disturbingly cold, and she had the strangest résumé he had ever seen.
But she had a plan. And she had some wealth – money in the bank, and a very nice apartment. And she was willing to risk it all.
‘Torch is a very big name in retail right now.’
‘Because of me,’ Dina said.
He pushed his spectacles towards the end of his nose, raised bushy eyebrows. ‘Is that a little bit of an exaggeration, perhaps, Señorita Kane?’
‘No, it isn’t. I revamped the beauty division. All their sales flow from that.’
‘Then why were you fired?’
He saw people taking credit every day. She was less believable when she praised herself like this.
‘Because the boss’s son wanted to marry me, and I turned him down.’
Benitez looked at her.
She leaned towards him, over the desk.
‘Does your wife shop at Torch, Señor Benitez?’
He nodded.
‘I joined that store six months ago. Ask her when she started to shop there.’
‘Very well.’ He glanced down at her financial statement again. Everything was in place: all the bank statements, six months’ expenses. ‘You have very good security. For a million dollars, we will need to have a lien against the apartment.’
‘I understand that. This is the way I want to launch. You only have that chance once.’
He licked dry lips. ‘It would be by far the largest loan I have ever approved.’
‘I picked your bank because you need a home run,’ Dina told him. ‘You are scraping by on these tiny loans. You need a star client, for the publicity. It could make you.’
‘And a million-dollar loss could break us, too.’
‘No chance of that. My apartment is worth much more to you.’
He sighed. ‘I’ll ask my wife. Somebody will call you this afternoon.’
‘Very good.’ She stood up and, somehow, in her silk blouse and modest skirt, she was more of a powerhouse than all the older, suited males he was used to. ‘I’m in a hurry, Señor Benitez. I don’t want to have to head down the road to Chase.’
Dina Kane let herself out of his office. But he had the feeling he would be seeing much more of her.
Benitez took his lunch out to the park. He liked it there, especially on these hot days Manhattan specialised in, which reminded him of home.
There was a great little place just by the Hudson, with a wide running track the joggers raced up and down all day long, and a green garden on one side, with a few fountains and benches. New York was very good at that, carving out green islands in the forest of glass and concrete. This was almost a sea garden, with hardy, silver-grey plants and grasses that could take the swell and spray from the great river, the blasting summer heat and the winter freeze and pounding winds.
There were a couple of benches he liked. He could think here. Nature found its way. And so did women, so did beauty.
As he wolfed his sandwich, he looked idly at the women racing down the track. Some were heavy, just starting out – good for them. Most of them, though, were in tight Lycra, neon sneakers, their hair caught back in ponytails. Now he took time to notice, almost all of them were made up – even to run.
It was huge, the market in America. Especially in this city. Manhattan was goddamned expensive. If you lived here, you had money – enough to buy all kinds of beauty products.
He called his wife. What the hell? She had been noticeably more attractive, less frumpy, since she’d started shopping at Torch.
‘Cristina, it’s me.’
‘
Hola
, baby.’
‘I have a strange question. When did you start going to that department store uptown? Do you remember?’
His wife paused. ‘Maybe six months back. When that new girl came in and revamped it. I heard from my girlfriends we should try it, and we all took a cab together.’
‘That new girl?’
‘Oh, there was this kid they hired. It was all over the blogs and magazines. Then you stopped hearing about her. Whatever; she did a marvellous job.’
‘You have been looking wonderful lately. But then, you always did,’ he lied.
In truth, Torch had transformed his wife; she’d got rid of the harsh blond hair dye, the layers of mascara and bright red cheeks. The new light stuff she wore on her face, the olives and brown shadows that picked out her eyes, and the gloss on her lips made her look years younger. She was wearing less and looking better, and he loved it. They were having more sex; it felt like they were closer than they’d been in years.
‘Why do you ask, sweetie?’
‘You won’t believe it. The girl you were talking about – she was in my office this morning, asking for a loan.’
‘Get out!’ his wife said. ‘Really?’
‘She wants to start her own beauty store – with a website and big poster advertising.’
‘Wonderful!’ His wife seemed thrilled. ‘Can’t wait to go. You’re approving the loan? Congratulations.’
‘I haven’t decided yet. It’s a million dollars.’
‘Oh, Raul. If you want to be the sucker who passes her up, go ahead. But, trust me on this – she knows just what she’s doing.’
He leaned back against the bench. ‘How can you be so sure? You’ve never even met her.’
Cristina laughed. ‘No, honey, I
wear
her.’
He blew her a kiss and hung up. Then he crumpled up his sandwich wrapper with the meal half-finished.
Break time was over. He wanted to do this deal, before somebody else got the chance. Time to gamble.
Her phone rang at ten to three exactly.
‘Yes?’
‘Your loan is approved, Señorita Kane. When can you sign the paperwork? We can set a date next week.’
‘I’ll be back in your office in twenty minutes.’
The ink was dry before close of business; Dina Kane had a new corporate account, and a million dollars was winging its way to her.
She worked from home. No point hiring an office, and she would need every red cent of that money. Nothing was going to be wasted.
First, the store: it could be small, but it had to be beautiful – and right in the heart of town. Nothing else would do.
But it was easier said than done.
Dina tried everything conventional. She registered with all the commercial brokers, listened as they tried to sell her snake oil, but flagship sites were far too much, charging rents that would have eaten up her loan in two months.
‘Well, you want the centre of town? That’s what it costs,’ said Roxie, a broker, standing in the middle of a small vacant space on Fifty-Third and Lex.
‘This is the third business to shut here in two years. There just isn’t the foot traffic. Won’t the landlord consider a lower rent?’ Dina pleaded.
‘Honey, one tenant fails, another takes his place. This is Manhattan. He wants what he wants.’ Roxie shrugged. ‘Look, with your budget, I would suggest Harlem. Or Brooklyn. Or maybe something industrial, like off Tenth Avenue, or First—’
‘I’m selling make-up,’ Dina said.
‘Sephora sells make-up – on Fifth Avenue. South of Saks.’ Roxie sniffed. ‘I wish you luck, honey, but you ain’t Sephora.’
After two months wearing out her shoe leather, Dina was truly desperate. Nothing would happen without an anchor store. Maybe the landlords were all correct; maybe she should go someplace cheaper. She travelled out to Brooklyn and looked at Cobble Hill and Prospect Park; she went to the outer streets in Manhattan, off the beaten track, looked at places in Chinatown, a former pawnshop near the jewellery district. Some of those spaces were bigger, cleaner, but they were also in Siberia, as far as she was concerned. And the ones in town were in the wrong area.
Yes, dammit – she wanted to be Sephora. But she didn’t have any of the money, or the connections, or the corporate clout that it took.
Sometimes, after a full day’s hunting for a retail space, Dina was so frustrated she felt like crying.
Maybe she should give it up. Perhaps online was the way to go.
But there were a billion online sites for make-up and skin care. Dina thought of the Green Apothecary, of Meadow, of turning Torch around. She was convinced in her bones that a store – a real place, a home – had to come first, and it had to be right there, in the news, where she wanted to be. This was the first time Dina had ever worked for herself, and she was a hell of a demanding boss.
It has to be big. It has to be perfect
.
At night, she would fall asleep and dream of a flagship store, a landmark, a palace of light and digital displays. Nothing she could achieve – not yet; not for years. But, in the mornings, there was always another meeting with another realtor; another boarded-up shop in another scummy area, off the beaten track.
‘You don’t want much, do you, Ms Kane?’
Gunther Fassbaum was losing patience with Dina. He’d shown her ten stores already within her modest budget. At first, she seemed the real deal: an ambitious young comer with bank backing; an entrepreneur in a hurry. But he was starting to think she was just wasting his time.
‘Centre-town premises, long lease, five to ten per cent rises, and you don’t have much to start with in the first place. Maybe we’re not the right agency for you.’
‘But I can move fast.’ Dina looked around the former boutique, another own-label clothes store on Lexington Avenue – too quiet, too old money. This place had been a vanity project; people saw Dina Kane Cosmetics the same way. ‘And I don’t need it to come with bells and whistles. I can fix up a scruffy place myself. I just want the right terms and the right location.’