Little Deaths, page 5
Becky frowned and pursed her lips. ‘You’re something of a son-of-a-bitch aren’t you, Daddy?’
‘You could say that. Yes, you could definitely say that.’
‘How do you know she’s home?’
Jason glanced at his watch. ‘Forty-five minutes ago she finished her tennis lesson with the club pro. Then she fucked him. She is showering now in preparation to take a nap so she will be fresh for a night of dancing and drinking with the same tennis pro.’
‘Where is her husband?’
‘The Bank Account arrived in Paris two hours ago aboard the Concorde for a two-week stay, doing whatever it is he does for a living—international gun trading, I think, though I have no proof and in any event, I don’t care.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘It’s cost me a fortune, but since my daughter was killed I’ve been close enough to my ex-wife’s schedule that if she shits, I smell it.’
‘I thought we were going to avoid that kind of talk.’
‘Accidental slip on my part. Happens at times when I think of my ex-wife. I am not a man much given to hate, but when I hate, I hate hard.’
‘I think I could have figured that out.’
‘Good for you. You’re a perceptive young lady. If you can just get your head in the right place to do this, it’ll be a piece of cake. I’m hoping we can get her to pull out her picture albums of when you were a baby. I think somehow that’ll do the job.’
‘Why would she have pictures of me?’
‘Strange woman. Very strange. When she left me and Becky for the Bank Account, the only things she took were her clothes and every single picture we had of you.’
‘How do you know she’s still got ’m?’
‘Anything can be discovered with money. If you need anything badly enough, throw enough money at it and you’ll get it. I even know where she keeps them in her apartment.’
‘You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for this, haven’t you?’
‘More than you could ever imagine.’ Jason made a small gesture with his hand to signal the waiter who had been hovering about the table. ‘Let’s get the check and get out of here.’ He smiled. ‘It’s show time.’
‘I only hope I can do the job you want done.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘I feel it in my bones.’
On the street, he whistled down an air-conditioned taxi. From the back seat, he said, ‘Trump Towers’.
‘Jesus,’ said Becky, ‘that’s where she lives?’
‘One of the places she lives. They have a country house in Connecticut, one that would qualify in most people’s minds as a mansion.’
‘She didn’t run off with a bank account. She ran off with a mothering bank.’
He only smiled and shrugged. ‘It won’t be long now. I’ve waited sixteen years for this.’
In the lobby, Jason, holding Becky’s elbow, went directly to a security guard standing beside a long table. Crossing the lobby, men and women turned and watched Becky as she passed them. Jason, holding firmly to his superstitions and signs, was beside himself with what he considered his colossal luck. He could not imagine choosing a more perfect young girl for the job at hand. And never was he more aware of his immaculate dress, his golden tan, his temples silvered to the perfect shade of grey and his youthful, lean, athletic body that he had fought so hard in the gymnasium to maintain. Perfect, it was simply perfect.
And it was all reflected in the total deference of the security guard’s voice: ‘May I be of some assistance, sir?’
‘You may,’ said Jason. ‘Inform Ms Catherine Temple that Mr Jason Crowder is here for a brief visit and that he has brought her daughter, Becky.’
‘Very good, sir.’ He picked up a phone and punched in some numbers. ‘Ms Temple, Mr Jason Crowder is in the lobby with your daughter Becky and … Ms Temple? Ms Temple, should I send someone?’ The security guard’s eyes grew round and white and his black face turned ashen.
Jason smiled. ‘Did she say today was inconvenient?’
‘No, sir. Not really.’
‘Then what did she say?’
‘She screamed. She’s still screaming.’ The guard’s hand holding the phone visibly trembled.
Jason said: ‘Perhaps I should talk …’
The guard held up one hand, palm out, gesturing for Jason to be quiet. He cut his eyes from Jason to Becky and back again. ‘Of course. I’ll be glad to. And if you need anything, just ring me here at the desk.’
The guard looked at Jason with severe disapproval. ‘Ms Temple will be prepared to receive in thirty minutes.’
‘Excellent,’ Jason said. ‘My favorite pub is just next door. I think a stiff drink’ll make this all the more pleasant.’
‘Whatever you say, Daddy.’
At the pub next door the bartender spoke to Jason before they ever sat down. ‘The usual, Mr Crowder?’
‘Yes,’ said Jason. ‘And a Virgin Mary for the young lady.’
‘One double Jack Black up, and a Virgin Mary for the young lady.’
‘Virgin Mary,’ said Becky. ‘That may be the best laugh of the day.’
‘I hardly think so,’ said Jason, knocking back his drink.
Back in the lobby of the Trump Towers, the security guard picked up the phone and started dialling as soon as he saw them. When they approached the desk, the guard put the phone back in the cradle and said: ‘Ms Temple is expecting you. She’s in 2701. The elevator is just behind you.’
‘Thanks for your help.’
‘That’s what they pay me for, to be helpful.’
As they walked away, Becky said: ‘He didn’t much care for you.’
‘I made one of his residents scream,’ Jason said, smiling. ‘Not liking me is only reasonable.’
‘I guess.’
In the elevator, which took the twenty-seven floors absolutely smoothly and so quietly they could hear themselves breathing, Becky said: ‘Jesus, can you believe it? I’m more nervous than I was when I turned my first trick.’
Jason smiled and gripped her elbow reassuringly. ‘You’ll do marvellously. Just remember that Catherine will be more nervous than you could possibly be. And shamed. She loved you, you know. She really did love you. But the other prize was so big that she …’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Who knows? Who knows anything about why people do what they do? If things had been the other way around, I probably would have done precisely what she did.’
‘I just wish I knew what to do. To say. I’m really flying blind here.’
‘Just follow your best instincts. And above all else, follow her. You don’t have to act. Just react. To her. This is Mommy. A mommy you’ve loved all your life, been told about but never seen. You’ve carried her in your heart. There is no bitterness in you, no ill feeling of any kind. You only love her. Really love her. Do you think you can fake love?’
Becky put her palm on Jason’s ass and smiled: ‘Daddy, on a good night, I sometimes do it as many as twenty times, and every John zips his trousers up believing it.’
‘God help us all,’ said Jason.
‘You take God and I’ll take the money and we’ll see who ends up feeling best.’
‘With that kind of cynicism, you’ll ruin Catherine in five minutes. And you remember, we take no prisoners here. Understood?’
‘Understood.’
There was a huge, brightly polished knocker shaped like a horse on the door of 2701.
‘Did I tell you your mother owns a horse farm in Kentucky, with a Derby winner standing at stud on it?’
‘No,’ said Becky, ‘but I like horses.’
‘A wedding gift from Mr Temple.’
‘Man, man,’ said Becky, ‘what’s a two-year-old bitch child compared to that?’
‘Apparently her thinking exactly,’ said Jason. ‘Shall you knock or shall I?’
‘I think I’d like to, Daddy.’
Jason stopped her hand as she was raising it to the knocker. ‘Prepare yourself for a very young and very beautiful woman. A miracle of medical science: nose, eye lids, face lift, tummy tuck, ass job, implanted calves, shaped, massaged and formed by the best from around the world.’
‘She’s still got a heart,’ said Becky. ‘Even I know nobody can fix that.’
‘Precisely what I’m counting on.’
On the second knock, the door swept open and a woman stood there who might have been only a year or two older than Becky. Her facial features were perfectly regular and the skin of her face was as tight as a drumhead and as golden in colour as the lighting fixtures that were tastefully placed throughout a living room that was enormous and utterly white, white, deep-pile carpet, white sofa that could have seated ten people easily. A glass, chrome and brass table sat between three deeply-cushioned chairs. The wall behind her was entirely glass, showing an enormous sweep of the New York skyline. Original art-work hung on the white walls. Jason immediately recognized a Chagall and a Miró and an early line drawing by Picasso.
‘Rebecca?’ said Catherine in a voice that choked and nearly broke.
‘Oh, Mommy,’ cried Becky and flung herself onto the slender elegant woman. ‘Oh, my God, Mommy, Mommy.’
‘So very good to see you, Catherine,’ said Jason, holding out his hand, ‘and to see you looking so well.’
But Catherine could not take Jason’s hand because Becky clung to her as though she meant to never let her go.
‘Please,’ said Catherine, ‘please.’ But she could say no more than that and tears were streaming down from her blue-mascara’d eyes over the high fine bones of her cheeks. A grey pallor had overtaken her golden tan and she looked as though she might faint.
Jason took Becky’s shoulders and gently pulled her away from Catherine. ‘Dearest Becky, give your mother time to gather herself. Come, sit.’ He led Becky to the huge sofa and set her down and then turned to take Catherine’s hand in his and simply held it while he spoke. ‘I knew this might be painful, Catherine, and I struggled with the decision for a very long time. But I finally thought you would want to see your daughter, today of all days.’
Catherine was pressing the tips of her fingers against her cheeks just below her eyes now that Jason had released her hand. ‘Oh, Jason. Today? I … What?’
‘Her birthday, Catherine. Your little Becky is eighteen today.’
Catherine completely broke down, her perfect mouth twisting, her eyes squinting, scalded with tears. Jason put an arm about her waist and supported her. ‘There, there,’ he said. ‘Everything will be fine. We’ll only stay a bit. I only thought it was time. Is it time, Catherine?’
Catherine raised her hands and took Jason’s face in them. ‘Yes. Oh, Lord, yes. I would have … I wanted … If I had just known how. Or been braver.’
‘Oh, Mommy, Daddy has told me everything about you. How wonderful and loving you are. What a dear, sweet heart you have.’
‘He has? Jason has told you that? My God, Jason, I owe you everything. If there’s a heaven …’
‘There is no bitterness, Catherine. What’s done is done. Your daughter loves you. I love you. Please try to believe me when I say everything is fine.’
She took both his hands and pressed them to her lips. ‘Thank you, oh, thank you, my dearest Jason. I only wish Peter were here, but he’s in Paris on business and …’
‘Perhaps another time,’ said Jason. ‘If you wish it, only if you wish it. We do not mean to intrude into your life.’
Catherine said: ‘You have given me the most perfect gift I have ever had.’
‘Becky will be leaving for Swarthmore at the end of the summer and …’
‘The child is going to Swarthmore, Jason? How utterly …’
‘I thought you’d be pleased to know that your daughter is a member of the National Honour Society, graduating at the top of her class.’
Catherine went to sit beside Becky and took her face in her hands and kissed her eyes, her mouth, her cheeks, her brow. Then she embraced her and held her to her breast and Becky said: ‘My dearest Mommy, I thought you’d smell just the way you do, so warm, so lovely, I’ve dreamed of this very moment for such a long time.’
‘Catherine, do you think you could get one of the albums and show Becky some of the pictures of herself as a child, maybe even one or two of them with the three of us in them?’
‘I’ll have them out here quicker than it takes the time to say it. God, the nights I’ve spent looking at them.’ She waved toward the far end of the living room. ‘There’s-a bar over there. An exquisite bottle of champagne on the second shelf. Open it, while I fix my face a bit and bring the albums.’
‘I’ll have orange juice, if I may,’ said Becky.
Catherine stopped and turned to look at her a long moment. ‘Swarthmore and orange juice. I didn’t think such things existed any more.’ Then she turned and hurried from the room.
‘How am I doing, Daddy?’ said Becky.
‘You could not have done better if I had written the script myself. But it gets better. It gets better very soon. We’ll be out of here shortly now.’
‘She seems like such a good person. Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?’
‘I’m doing what I’ve waited to do for sixteen years. I want my pound of flesh and I mean to have it.’
‘My poor Daddy. And you look so kind and sweet too.’
‘But then so does she,’ he said. ‘Kind and sweet.’
‘Yes, she does.’
‘Even a whore with a heart of gold can be wrong.’
‘Leave my trade out of this.’
We can’t entirely. But it’ll be over so quickly, you’ll hardly know it happened.’
‘It’s your money. Until midnight I belong to you.’
‘So you do, my child. So you do.’
Catherine came back into the room wearing fresh make-up, her eyes dry and bright, carrying two leather photo albums, one on top of the other. She sat beside Becky on the couch and took her hand. ‘If you only knew, Rebecca … Becky, I keep forgetting you’re called Becky now … if you only knew how many nights I’ve gone through these, how I’ve wondered where you were, and how I’ve wanted to share them with you.’
‘But I’m here now, Mommy. I’m here and I love you and I’ll love you forever.’
‘You have a wonderful and forgiving heart, child. I wish with all my heart I could explain how everything worked out the way it did. I know I must appear cruel and cold to you because of … because of how things worked out in the past, but I have missed you every night of my life, thought about you and wondered how you were. I’d explain but I can’t. I can’t even explain it to myself. It happened. It just happened.’
‘Believe me, Catherine,’ said Jason. ‘We’ve brought no ill-will here, only love. All of us are flawed and failed human beings. Try not to punish yourself with needless guilt. All is forgiven. It is past and forgotten. We’re together now to share these few precious moments.’
‘But there’ll be many more in the future,’ said Catherine. ‘Promise me, Jason, that there’ll be more and that I’ll never be permanently separated from my daughter, whom I love more than my life. There’s so much I can do for her and …’
‘Love me,’ said Becky. ‘Love me and be my mother, and that’ll be as much as I could wish for.’
The two women embraced, pressing their cheeks together again, tears starting to course down Catherine’s face.
‘Please be happy, dearest Catherine. No more tears. No more separation. Show Becky the pictures.’
‘Yes,’ said Catherine, ‘oh, yes.’ She opened the first album. ‘Here is the very first, a snap taken through the window at the maternity ward. Who would have thought that wrinkled little bundle of baby could grow into such gracious and marvellous womanhood?’
Becky kissed Catherine full on the mouth and said: ‘I’ve waited for this moment for so very long.’
Jaon beamed and sipped his champagne. ‘As have I, God knows. I’ve waited and longed for it.’
For the next half hour the two women laughed and cried together, Catherine explaining the circumstances and situations of each picture, the three of them at the beach in Florida—Becky digging with her little shovel, her tiny pail sitting between her chubby legs—Becky on a lawn with a tiny puppy, Catherine sitting beside her on the grass. And on and on, Jason occasionally looking at his Rolex. Finally, he yawned behind his fist and said: ‘That was superb champagne, Catherine. Give my congratulations to Peter.’
Catherine looked up from the album in her lap and said, ‘I’m afraid I’ve been a bad hostess. I was so caught up in all of this. Perhaps it’s time to open another bottle.’
‘No,’ said Jason. ‘I’m afraid it’s time for the truth, sweet Catherine.’
‘The truth?’
‘Yes, after all, that’s what I really came to bring you, the truth.’
‘Whatever can you be talking about, Jason?’
‘This is not your daughter at all,’ Jason said, the slightest smile playing over his lips.
Becky, who had had her arm about the shoulder of Catherine, took it away, and pushed herself farther away on the couch.
‘Whatever are you saying?’
‘Catherine, you could not believe how much blood there is in an eight-year-old child.’
‘Blood!’ The albums slid to the floor and Catherine raised both her hands to her hair. Her eyes moved frantically from Jason to Becky—growing wilder as they moved. When she spoke, her voice was already on the edge of hysteria. ‘What do you mean, blood!’
Jason lifted a hand to Becky’s breast, and Catherine watched, horror-struck, as he squeezed it. ‘This is not your daughter, Catherine. Becky, tell her what you are.’
‘I’m a whore,’ said Becky. ‘I work the street.’
‘Are you a good whore, Becky? Do you suck cock and swallow come?’
