To the Bone by Neil McMahon

Author:Neil McMahon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

Julia D’Anton awoke in the late afternoon. The window shades were drawn in her bedroom, to shield her from the westering sun. She was disoriented, groggy from a long nap, and from the Vicodin she had taken. She got up, put on a robe, and went to a window to see if anyone else was home.

The only other car in the drive was Gwen Bricknell’s red Mercedes convertible. Gwen usually stayed at her own apartment in San Francisco, but tomorrow they were entertaining here, and there was a lot of preparing to do.

Julia walked outside, thinking that Gwen might be swimming. The house was in a secluded little valley in Marin, near the coast, an old family place that she and Welles had expanded into a luxury getaway. The swimming pool, filled from a spring that flowed from the mountainside above, had been crafted to look like a natural rocky grotto.

But there was no one in it. Julia turned back and went into the house, through the living room, and up the stairs to Gwen’s pied-à-terre here. Julia knocked, and waited, hearing the rhythmic thump of music inside. This was Gwen’s private place, securely locked when she was not here. Only cleaning maids and occasional lovers were allowed in, both under her strict supervision.

Gwen opened the door, flushed and sweating, drying her face with a towel. She was wearing a spandex outfit. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. A large-screen TV showed several shapely women, also spandex-clad, dancing in swift precise unison. Like Gwen’s apartment in San Francisco, like every place she had lived, this one was fitted out with an exercise studio—Nautilus weight-lifting equipment, a NordicTrack, videos of aerobics and Mari Winsor workouts and bun busters. Most mornings she was up at five A.M., putting in a fierce hour-long regimen before dressing to go to the clinic, with extra stints when she had time. She was just as careful with other aspects of her health. There were cabinets filled with vitamins, the finest skin-care products, estrogen and collagen cremes. She had tried them all, in all combinations, even getting ingredients directly from the clinic and mixing them herself.

Then there was the medicine that fueled her fierce energy—a plate with several lines of cocaine, waiting on a dresser.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Julia said.

“It’s fine. I was just getting ready to shower.”

“I was wondering about tomorrow night. Whether Welles is coming.” D’Anton usually came to the parties here, dispensing Botox injections to his female guests.

But now, nothing was as usual.

“He’ll make an appearance,” Gwen said. “He knows he can’t let his adoring fans down.” She waited for further questions, her face politely inquiring—the same look she used on women at the clinic, to put them in their place.

Julia felt her anger stir but resisted the urge to rise to the bait. She turned to go, then asked, as if by afterthought, “Did that Dr. Monks stop by?”

“Yes. I showed him Eden’s records. He seemed satisfied that everything was all right.

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