They still had very wonderful sex. It was sex unlike McMahon had ever had anywhere else and, for this reason, he would never leave her. He would probably have her shot if she tried to leave him.
He gave her a necklace with a single round pearl as a pendant. The pearl looked like the moon through a peephole.
? ? ?
ROSE WASN’T WORRIED ABOUT the children. She knew they were doing fine without her. In fact, they were probably doing much better. With her, it was as though they were at a birthday party every day of their lives. But she missed them.
Rose chose presents for McMahon to bring home to the children. The children believed they were seeing another secret and charming side of their father in these gifts. He knew them better than they thought. Perhaps he, not their mother, was the more loving parent. He brought the girl a globe of the moon, with all the names of its major craters written on it, which was phosphorescent and glowed in the dark. He brought the boy a golden toy poodle whose body was shaved, but it still had heaps of curls on its head so that it looked like a lion.
? ? ?
HE WOULD GO REGULARLY ON Thursday night for dinner at the Roxy. This was the event of the week, to which all the members of the underworld showed up with their mistresses.
McMahon was worried about Rose’s performance at this dinner. They were not like events where you showed up with your wife. You had an excuse for your wife. You were contractually, legally bound to wives. They often changed their personality and physical appearance after having children. You never quite knew who you were marrying when you got married. Sometimes your wife turned out to be a dud, and there wasn’t really anything you could do about it. She might have looked from the outside like somebody attractive and easygoing but then became ugly.
But a girlfriend was a different matter because she was someone you could update and change. She reflected the type of girl you could get on that day, at that hour. Everyone always knew that mistresses were only interested in your wealth and status, so they were your price tag, so to speak. They were like flashy cars, or incredibly expensive suits.
Rose was in the lobby of the hotel, waiting for him, on Thursday night. She wore a purple beret with a pom-pom on it. She had a matching purple jacket. She had on a black skirt. She had a pair of peach high heels with three buckles that went right up her ankles. She had her arms spread, and she was waltzing around the room with an imaginary partner. When he called her name, she stopped. She released her invisible beau. She made a tiny bow as though to dismiss her partner.
“Who were you dancing with?” he asked.
“Who do you think? You know. My friend the bear.”
He didn’t say anything but led her to the car. He warned her not to tell his friends about having been found under a tree. Most of the mistresses had completely invented their pasts. It was the polite thing to do. Nobody in the world wanted to know your sob story. What were they supposed to do once you told them? Go ahead and react to it? Nobody wanted to be reminded of poverty on a Thursday night. Thursday night was all about spending money.
They arrived at the restaurant, and the men and their women were already there. The women were supposed to say superficial things that did not cause you to reflect on what they had just said. They were just supposed to defer to being attractive. His accountant Desmond’s new girl was a perfect mistress. She was some sort of showgirl, apparently from Louisiana. She had enormous breasts and laughed at everything that everyone said, and her hair was in perfect finger waves that ended just at her chin. She only asked questions that allowed people to warble on about themselves. She only talked about things that were easy to talk about.
Rose and McMahon were a strange-looking couple to begin with, just on a physical level. They were such an odd couple that they were almost charming. It seemed impossible that he could make love to her without crushing her and yet here she was, alive and well. You couldn’t help but imagine mismatched couples having sex. Everybody at the table stopped talking to look at them.
“Hello, everybody!” Rose said, determined to fit in. “Pleased to meet you all in this splendid environment. We just saw some showgirls walking in, and they were fabulous.”
She was introduced to everyone at the table. She gave each person a fantastic and gracious hello and managed to say something that delighted each person she spoke to.
“Oh, I love your nose! It’s wonderful.”
“I hear you own horses. I can see that somehow. You look like a man who owns a hundred horses.”
“Are you the one who’s trying to get into movies? I knew that right away just by looking at you.”
“Oh no, don’t worry, I’m coming over to you. You don’t have to walk over to me. I heard that you gave a huge donation to the children’s hospital. How do you even walk around? Your heart must be so enormous. It must weigh about a hundred pounds.”
“The funny one!”