‘There are other industries. Maybe you could be a fashion journalist?’
‘I make a good six figures.’ Dina paused. ‘That’s insane. Can we challenge that in court?’
‘We could, sure. You could make a case, it is too onerous. But it will be a long fight, and Torch has deep pockets. You couldn’t start work unless you got a judgement in your favour. Nobody could hire you.’
The pain and disappointment started to mix with fear. She glanced around her new apartment, wondering how long she’d be able to afford it.
‘My best advice is that you go see your ex-boyfriend and ask him to let you out of the clause. The firm could release you.’
Ludo Morgan was enjoying the day.
Maybe he’d been lucky. Dina Kane would have been a big mistake.
She wasn’t from his world. Couldn’t handle it. And all that pushy aggression was getting old fast. He wasn’t interested in working hard all day, then coming back to a rival at night.
Dina had a lot of enemies. Lots of rivals. As word leaked out, women had been congratulating him all morning.
‘Thank you, Mr Morgan – she was so bossy.’
‘Oh, well done, sir. She was always trying to change your orders.’
‘She made us work nights. Thank you.’
‘Not my place, but I really don’t think she was your type,’ said the large-breasted blonde girl from mascara, fluttering professionally impressive lashes at him. ‘You know –
so
ambitious.’
‘Why, thank you – Tara.’ He looked at her name badge.
‘I’m sure many of the girls thought she was
very
lucky, but she didn’t act that way.’
He smiled. He would bang the girl, since she was practically begging for it, but that was about all.
No more employees. No shopgirls. He would head back to the Hamptons and let Susan Gaines fix him up with somebody’s daughter.
The calls came in to the office, too: reporters, bloggers, other executives.
‘Was it wise to dismiss Dina Kane? She was one of the prime movers on Torch’s relaunch, wasn’t she?’
‘We have a great team, which I head. She was one part of it, but it’s time to move on. The company has other plans.’
‘Mr Morgan, thanks for taking my call, we just heard the news this morning . . .’
‘What news is that?’ Ludo asked.
‘About Dina Kane. Your beauty director.’
‘Oh, Kane. Yes, well, there were a few differences of opinion. We have a terrific team implementing my changes. I’ll be appointing a new head of social media soon, to reach out to you guys.’
‘You don’t really credit Dina—?’
‘Lots of people did a lot of good work, and we wish her luck.’
‘So your relationship wasn’t a part of this?’
‘We weren’t a good fit, personally or professionally, but I enjoyed spending time with Dina, and hopefully she’ll find the right person for her someday soon.’
‘OK,’ said the woman, tentatively. ‘Uh . . . Thank you.’
He gave out the same line all morning, then stopped taking calls. No press release; best not to encourage the idea that she mattered.
Finally, after lunch, there came the call he was expecting.
‘Do you want to take this?’ his secretary, Eileen, asked. ‘It’s from Dina Kane.’
Ludo smiled broadly. The anger inside him, from last night, was still clear and bright, cold as a diamond. It was interesting how much he minded her rejection.
But, best of all, he was in a position to do something about it.
‘Certainly. Shut the office door.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He depressed the red button on his phone.
‘Dina Kane.’
‘Ludo. I need some help.’
He chuckled. ‘Then you’ve come to the wrong place. I’m not interested in working with you, and your contract is rock solid.’
She paused, and he tried to imagine the turmoil crossing that beautiful face.
‘I understand that, Ludo. I think you’re making a terrible mistake. We were a good team, professionally.’
‘You led me on – probably so you could rise at Torch. You may call that professional, I don’t.’
She gasped. ‘That’s bullshit. You asked me out.’
‘And you couldn’t wait to say yes. Look, I’m not interested in your little games. I just thank whatever’s up there that I avoided a horrible mistake.’
‘You sound so bitter,’ Dina said, after a pause.
‘Bitter? No. You’re a joke, and I’m annoyed at the time I’ve wasted. Now, do run along and play in the traffic. If you’re looking for favours, you used up your share long ago, baby.’
‘I don’t want my job back. I accept you can’t work with me. I just need you to release me from the noncompetition clause—’
‘So you can go and work for a rival? Drive sales up at Bloomingdales? What, you think I’m dumb? Always underestimating everybody else, that’s you, Dina Kane.’
‘Come on, Ludo! Beauty’s all I know. Just because we broke up, you want to ruin my life?’
‘Enough with the drama queen. Go get a job bagging groceries. I don’t give a shit.’
‘That clause is totally unfair. It’s restrictive—’
‘We paid you enough in bonuses to keep you for a couple of years.’
‘Not in Manhattan.’
‘So move back to Westchester, the suburbs, where you came from. If you don’t like the clause, take us to court. Torch has
great
lawyers, Dina.’
She breathed in and out, hard, ragged. He wanted to laugh.
‘I’ll go to your father. He’s the one that hired me.’
‘Don’t bother. Dad and I have already had this discussion. He’s not interested in you working in beauty for anyone else.’
Ah, yes . . . his father. The one cloud over his day. His father had been pretty goddamned furious that he’d fired Dina.
‘Ship her down to Los Angeles. We can open a second store; she can run it.’
‘Dad! Christ! I can’t work with her. She dumped me.’
‘Girlfriends are two a penny, Ludo. She’s done wonders with the goddamned store.’
‘I’ve seen what she did. I can replicate it. Please don’t worry. You can’t have me humiliated like that, Dad.’
His father sighed. ‘Next time, keep it in your pants. She was
useful
.’
Still, at least he’d agreed: no Dina anywhere else.
‘Make sure she doesn’t go to Saks. They’re already eating our lunch; we don’t need Dina Kane making things worse. Or opening a Manhattan branch of Harrods.’
‘No, sir,’ Ludo assured him. ‘Not a chance.’
Now he was glad to be able to rub it in. ‘My father specifically asked me to bind you to the noncompetition clause. You will learn that what you did last night has consequences. And your precious career is one of them.’
She spoke slowly, clearly. ‘I had no idea you were such a bastard, Ludo, but I promise you – you and your company will live to regret this.’
He laughed. ‘Sure, Dina.’ He hung up.
Goddamn you, Johnny
, Dina thought.
I don’t need this right now – I just don’t need this.
She was fighting to keep her head up. The emails were flooding her inbox; there were dozens of Google Alerts on her name. Reporters were calling. There were instant blog pieces, some supportive, others mocking. A lot of jealousy out there. And Ludo, such an asshole; she felt small and stupid ever to have dated him, ever to have thought it was OK.
Yet, even as she cried and tried to control herself, she could not find her brother. Every time she hung up the phone, she looked for news. The rehab was no help.
‘We can’t give you any assistance, Ms Kane. Yes, we know you paid the bills. But you don’t have a power of attorney. Mr Kane was free to leave with whoever he liked.’
‘My brother wouldn’t just leave me without word.’
‘If you get a power of attorney, we can send you videotape of the man who picked him up. Although he wore a hat and scarf . . .’
‘Goddamn it!’ Dina sobbed. ‘He was an addict. He’s in danger.’
‘Have you filed a missing-person’s report?’
‘It hasn’t even been two days; he’s an adult. The cops won’t touch it yet.’
‘Well, then,’ said the receptionist.
‘I just want to know the name of his visitor. Please. Just give me a name. They sign a book; how confidential can it be?’
‘Miss, please, I’ve told you, I need some kind of release. You can’t ask me to break the law. He warned me against giving out the name, the gentleman.’
Dina’s hand gripped the phone. She was suddenly struck with a horrible thought.
‘OK,’ she said, faintly. ‘I’ll come back to you.’
Her mother wasn’t answering her phone. Dina left four messages, then she called the police. A Sergeant Mukowski listened to her politely and told her he couldn’t help her.
‘Ma’am, he’s not a child. He could be anywhere. Could be on vacation. This could be a boyfriend, from what you say.’
‘But can’t you at least look for him?’
‘No, ma’am. He’s not a missing person. Why don’t you wait a few days?’
Maybe he’s right
, Dina thought, as she hung up the phone, yet again. Maybe they were all right. She was worrying for nothing.
But her heart told her different.
She lay on the bed. She wanted to call Joel Gaines, tell him her fears, tell him everything. But she didn’t dare.
If Johnny had been kidnapped, the people who had him knew where to find her. But where was the call? Where was the ransom note?
Even as she agonised over her future, the thought – that bad idea in the back of her head – would not go away, would not shift.
It had been years – years. And she hadn’t heard a word from him.
Edward Johnson
.
Of course, she still had the address, the phone records, tucked away – everything she’d found out from his father, whilst mercilessly screwing him for revenge. She’d hoped that the rage within her would calm afterwards, but instead she’d felt like she was dying inside, a little, every day.
What she’d done had destroyed Shelby Johnson. And his son.
She understood now that it also destroyed her.
Workaholism had redoubled. No real boyfriends. No trust; no hope. She had been fixated on the safe . . . until Joel Gaines came along and she was tempted again by another married man – for good this time.
Dina buried her face in her hands. She was a disaster, an emotional cripple. And now she was nothing at work, either.
But her brother was still out there, out there somewhere. Feeling sick, dizzy with fear, she dug out the old number and called it up.
‘Johnson residence,’ said a voice.
‘I want to speak to Edward. Is he there?’
‘Who’s calling, please? I’ll see if Mr Johnson is available.’
Dina felt that surge of hatred again, jolting through her heartbreak. Overprivileged, spoiled little brat; rich guy who’d done nothing to deserve it; pampered prince, laughing at her. Her remorse over his father, what she’d done, that dirty, arid, deceptive sex, almost vanished at the sound of the servant’s voice. Jesus Christ! What fucking century were they living in? One where you could bang the help, laugh about it and just walk away.
‘My name is Dina Kane. I think he’ll remember me.’
‘Hold a moment, please.’
She waited maybe thirty seconds, and every one of them, an eternity. He was there, playing with her, making her wait. The acid bubbled in her stomach.
‘Dina!’ said that familiar voice, too brightly, and she understood at once that he loathed her. ‘What a pleasant surprise to hear from you again, and on such a worrying day for you! Or so a little bird tells me.’
‘Edward –’ she choked down the insults that sprang to her lips – ‘do you know something about my brother?’
‘Oh, Dina. I know
masses
about your brother. He was kind enough to enlighten me, all the way back from the rehab facility. It’s a long drive, when you’re stuck with such a
boring
companion. I can’t abide sob stories.’
She shuddered with horror. ‘If you’ve done anything to him – I’ll go straight to the police.’
‘My dear girl, don’t be foolish. I’ve done nothing to him. He checked out quite voluntarily. The staff will tell you that. He had a very slow time of it up there: no drink; no boyfriends. So, to celebrate his checking out, I gave him some champagne. He asked to be dropped off in Red Hook – quite a party zone, I believe. He was going to visit a few fellows.’
‘You gave him alcohol? After all this time?’ Her heart thumped wildly. ‘Where is he, Edward? For God’s sake, this is his life.’
‘He’s an adult with choices, Dina. There’s nothing criminal in it.’
She whispered. ‘Where is he? Is he dead?’
‘How the hell should I know?’
She sobbed. ‘You bastard! I’ll call the police—’
‘And accuse me of what? Offering him champagne? That’s not a hanging offence, even in Manhattan. Think hard, Dina Kane. Do you really want the police to sit down with us? What I did isn’t illegal. Blackmail is, however. Do you know what happened to my parents?’
‘They are adults, too.’
‘Right – isn’t it marvellous? Everybody’s an adult here! My mother was free to divorce my dad and slide into alcoholism; my father lost his position and became a hippie for the world to laugh at. My mother nearly died, too; forgive me if I don’t give a flying fuck about your junkie fag of a brother. Except in so far as it makes us even.’
‘I never killed anybody.’
‘And nor did I, darling. Not that you can prove, anyway.’ The sarcastic lightness of tone dropped away. ‘It’s on your brother. Or, if you prefer, it’s on you. The same as your failure at work, and your failure with your latest ex. See, that’s the problem with whores like you: you just fuck around.’
Dina gasped. She hung up, shaking, trembling across her whole body. A wave of panic coursed through her, so strong her legs gave way, and she collapsed on to the couch.
When it passed, she had only one thought.
She picked up her cellphone and dialled Joel Gaines’ number.
‘Dina.’ He answered immediately. ‘Give me a second. I’ll call you back.’
She waited, miserably, knowing that he was leaving his wife, leaving Susan, to take her call, heading out of their kitchen, or bedroom. Sneaking around.
It was low and dirty, reaching out for Joel, but she had no choice.