Helltown - Jeremy Bates Page 0,25

so helpless made her think about her mother on her deathbed, frail, feverish, a breathing tube taped to her nose. This had been eight months after she was diagnosed with inoperable ovarian cancer. Initially doctors gave her one year to live without chemotherapy, five with the treatment. She chose the latter option, but the cancer spread faster than anticipated and metastasized through her body. Each time Mandy visited her at the hospital the prognosis became worse and worse. One week her mother’s doctor said she had six months, the next week he said three. During the final days Mandy, sitting by her mother’s side, broke down and cried hysterically. Her mother, momentarily lucid, asked, “What’s the matter, honey?” and Mandy said, “Don’t leave me.” Her mother took her hands and promised she’d always be with her. She died later that night.

After the funeral Mandy’s world seemed darker, grittier. She became angry at everybody and everything and began hanging out with other angry kids. She dropped out of high school in grade eleven, became a compulsive shoplifter, and was in and out of juvie until she was eighteen. That’s when her parole officer sat her down and painted a grim picture of her future if she didn’t clean up her act. At the same time her father told her she was an adult now and kicked her out of the house. She got a job at Burger King and worked forty-hour weeks just to pay her rent and bills and feed herself. The job sucked, but on the plus side it kept her busy and out of trouble. It was also a wake-up call. Realizing she was going to be working behind a cash register for the rest of her life if she didn’t learn an employable skill, she saved enough money to enroll in a three-month fashion makeup artistry program. Once degreed, she found work with a bridal company where she remained until moving on to the Broadway theater scene. By twenty-two she had become the go-to stylist for a number of top stage performers and had a healthy list of private clients.

One evening in late summer of 1984 she and her roommate Lisa Archer were in the small upstairs area of a Midtown bar when the waitress—a tall brunette with a Russian or Polish accent—brought a bottle of Dom Pérignon to their table and told them it was from the two gentlemen at the bar. Jeff and another young trader, both wearing Miami Vice suits, waved and smiled at them.

“Invite them over,” Lisa whispered.

“Seriously?” Mandy said.

“They’re hot!”

“They’re sleazy!”

“You know how much that champagne costs?”

Mandy pushed out a spare chair with her foot. Jeff and his pal came over. She took an immediate disliking to Jeff. He was too smooth, too confident, too good-looking. But the longer they spoke, the more he grew on her, and she realized he wasn’t putting on airs; he really was the complete package. She ended up going back to his place that night, and soon they were spending all their free time together. Although he’d just been starting out at the investment management firm then, he was already a big deal, attracting the notice of important people. Consequently, he was constantly being invited to fashionable dinners and events. Mandy felt like Cinderella, living the rags to riches dream.

At the same time, however, she was uneasily aware that the clock was going to strike midnight at some point. She was just some messed up kid from Queens, the daughter of an accountant, pretty, successful in her own right, but nobody special. She had no business mingling with the Establishment. She knew Jeff was disappointed she had not become the socialite he wanted, knew he was losing interest in her, but what could she do about that? He had successful, intelligent women of high breeding fawning over him whenever he went out. How could she compete with them? The knowledge that she would inevitably lose him gutted her, but she was too proud to let it show. Instead she became snarky, poking fun at him when she could, as she had done in the car earlier. This wasn’t winning her any points, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to hurt him as much as she could before he hurt her.

Mandy forced herself to look at Jeff now, and she was flooded with guilt at her petty behavior. His face, yellow in the light from the fire and slick with blood, looked like someone had taken