Original Sin

‘With such an adoring crowd around you?’

They both looked around and smiled. It was incredible how many people had come. Madonna. Demi Moore, Olivia Palermo. She was glad the younger crowd had come too. And of course, they had the full complement of editors and beauty directors from all the publications that mattered. Knowing that an up–market beauty range from a company like Asgill’s might not be taken seriously, Liz had sent the important journalists’ invitations to the Skin Plus launch in a Globe–Trotter vanity case stuffed with products, together with a VIP black card allowing them a free treatment every month. And all the heavy–hitter management from Condé Nast, Time Inc., and Hearst publishing companies were here too. Good. Thought Liz. It was the least they could do, considering the hundreds of thousands of dollars in advertising she had given them: ten double–page spread Skin Plus adverts in Vogue, Harper’s, and Town and Country alone. Liz’s marketing director had doubted the wisdom of this advertising blitz, especially as the stand–alone Skin Plus boutique would not open until September. That meant that Skin Plus products could only be bought through the spa, which could only accommodate a few dozen clients a day, but Liz understood the value and power of exclusivity. People wanted nothing more than something they couldn’t have.

Liz stepped away from her mother and towards a podium at the end of the room. She took a sip of lemon water to steady herself. Liz was not gregarious by nature, but knowing the value of salesmanship she had taken acting classes at the Lee Strasberg Institute to make her both more outgoing in social situations and a better public speaker.

The noise of the room hushed as Liz pinged a spoon against a glass and began to speak into a microphone.

‘I’d like to welcome everyone to the Skin Plus Day Spa,’ she said in a steady voice. ‘We have the greatest team of beauty professionals working with us and tonight I’d like to welcome another important member to the Skin Plus team. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Enrique Gelati.’

Gasps and murmurs of approval went around the room as the hairstylist graciously stepped forward and took a bow.

‘We have spent many years getting to this point,’ she continued, ‘creating a comprehensive skin health system that will have you looking better, longer. We offer personalized treatments and skin diagnoses and nonsurgical procedures. When our store opens later in the year, we will be selling salon–quality products for you to take home … ’

She kept the speech short. She understood what parties were like in New York – people came and people left to hop on to the next one, no matter how good you were. No one came to hear an executive read out a press release. Even so, when Liz finished, three hundred pairs of hands burst into loud applause. Her heart was beating wildly. If only she could bottle this feeling and sell it through the spa she’d be a billionaire for sure.

Descending the podium she was swamped with well–wishers; important and influential people clamouring to tell her that her baby was beautiful. It was almost overwhelming. Needing a little space, she walked up the steps to the mezzanine area where the spa’s treatment rooms were located. It was officially out of bounds, although a few people had wandered past the velvet ropes. Liz sat on an elegant chair, took a sip of her cocktail, and tried to relax. She had spent the last few nights running on nervous energy and had barely had any sleep. Still, when she looked down at the spa, the sum total of eight years of hard work, she knew every minute had been worth it. The collapse of her marriage, the stress, even the erosion of her position within the company – she knew her single–mindedness on this risky project had won her few supporters on an already jumpy board; but they were all sacrifices she had been prepared to make and, given the enormous success of tonight’s launch, they had clearly been sacrifices worth making. Skin Plus was a hit, and already her mind was whirling with expansion plans. She wanted a Skin Plus Spa in every major capital of the world, plus a diffusion line in every big city from Pittsburgh to Prague. More importantly, her standing in the company would be unassailable. With Vital Radiance failing, and Skin Plus the talk of the town, she was sure her mother would finally be forced to acknowledge William’s repeated failings and make her CEO. And then Liz could really get to work. Watch out Estée Lauder, she smiled to herself. She envied their rival’s breadth in the market; from the most premium products like Crème de la Mer, to the lower–end made–for–TV beauty brands they quietly owned; the Lauder family name was synonymous with the entire cosmetics industry. It was the way she wanted to take Asgill Cosmetics. So lost was she in her thoughts and plans, it was a few moments before Liz realized there was someone standing next to her.

‘Hello Lisa.’

For a split second she did not recognize him, but as she saw past the smart one–buttoned suit and the clean–shaven face, she remembered with rising panic that it was the guy from the Red Legs bar. She couldn’t remember his name; was he an actor, perhaps? She certainly remembered that dark bathroom, however. Urgent hands, teasing fingers, hot kisses. His thick cock inside her.

‘Lisa?’ she said casually, summoning up everything she had learnt at the Lee Strasberg Institute. ‘My name is Liz.’

He lifted his finger to her face. ‘That cleft in your chin. It’s a Mendelian trait.’

Her heart was beating so hard she was sure he could hear it.

‘I’m sorry, but this area is private,’ she said as evenly as she could. ‘I think you’d better go back downstairs.’

‘You can’t turn me away,’ he whispered. ‘Not after the effort it took to get me in here tonight. I owe my agent a big favour.’

She began to walk away, but he caught her arm and spun her round, pulling her so close his mouth was by her ear.

‘How about another fuck?’ he whispered. She angrily jerked away and she saw he was smiling, only this time the sexy curve of his lips, the dangerous twinkle in his eyes, was menacing, not seductive.

‘You know I couldn’t believe it when I found out my lovely Lisa was really Liz Asgill, multimillionaire director of Asgill Cosmetics. I saw you in some paper, the business pages, actually; quite a pleasant surprise, I have to say.’

‘I’m calling security,’ said Liz, but he just chuckled.

‘I think they’re just down there,’ he pointed down the stairs. ‘Next to the journalist from Page Six who I think might be interested in talking to me. I can give them a new spin on their coverage, spice up another boring product launch. I’m sure they’d love to hear how the president of this smart, chic new cosmetics company likes to fuck strange men in basements.’

Liz looked at him sharply. She could see he wasn’t bluffing. After all, what did he have to lose? Russ, that was his name, she thought randomly. Russ Ford. Not that knowing anything about him would do her any good now. He held all the cards, and he knew it.

‘Okay, so we had sex,’ she said carefully. ‘Once. It’s no big deal.’ Her voice was low and controlled although her stomach was churning. Of course, Liz had considered the consequences of getting caught doing what she did, but like a compulsive gambler with a house riding on each hand, she couldn’t resist the risk. And the more times she had met men in bars for sex and then never seen or heard from them again, the more her actions felt detached from real life.

‘Once, you say?’ asked Russ, a note of triumph in his voice. ‘That’s funny, because after I saw you in the paper, I saw you at the sports bar on Tenth Avenue. It was as if me and you have some sort of destiny.’

Liz was now starting to feeling physically sick.

‘You were with some blond guy, kind of a rugged, redneck type. You left with him after about ten minutes.’

‘I’m sorry if this is about a broken heart,’ she hissed.

Russ shook his head, laughing slowly. ‘Seriously honey, I don’t think so.’ He took the martini glass from her hand and took a slow sip of her cocktail. Liz caught her breath. She hated this man, feared him and what he could do to her. She wanted to kill him, erase him from existence. Yet she was surprised to find how much that one, haughty, arrogant action of snatching her drink had affected her. It had turned her on.

‘So I went back to the sports bar the next day, spoke to Blondy,’ continued Russ, draining Liz’s drink. ‘We swapped notes about what a great fuck you are. Except he knew you as Julie. And that’s when I knew for sure.’

She turned on him. ‘You knew what?’ she spat.