get it.’
‘What did he say?’ Jason gnawed on his thumbnail as he spoke. ‘Are there going to be cuts?’
‘Um,’ I squeaked. ‘Everything’s fine?’
‘Then why were you jumping out of your seat and shouting?’
Trust Megan to expect truthful answers. Why couldn’t she accept my sugar-coated lies like everyone else?
‘He said he could get me tickets to a secret Taylor Swift show,’ I told her, not quite managing to meet her eyes as I spoke. ‘Everything’s fine. There’s no news, which, I’m reliably informed, is good news.’
Jason pouted. ‘My friend Stevens who works in sales says they’re going to close five titles by the end of the year.’
‘Your friend added an “s” to the end of a perfectly good name just to look more interesting on Grindr,’ I replied, concerned that an assistant in the sales team had better insider knowledge than I did. ‘So, let’s not give him more credit than is due. I’ll fill you all in properly at the team meeting in the morning,’ I promised. Another lie, I’d clearly be dodging the facts for as long as humanly possible. ‘But there’s nothing for any of you to worry about. He actually said a lot of nice things about Gloss. So, the best thing we can do is keep everything as it is. We’re doing such a good job, let’s keep that up.’
I watched as they filed out of the office, all relieved giggles and sighs. At least it wasn’t a complete lie; there wasn’t anything for them to worry about at that exact moment. There was at least a good week before they needed to start shitting themselves.
Until then, the only person who needed to worry was me.
The St Regis was a great choice for an emergency after-work drink. It was a fancy hotel with a classy bar that made you feel like you were either a very important person or a very expensive call girl, depending on which boots you might be wearing at the time. Nothing terrible could happen at the St Regis, it was altogether too swanky for that, they simply wouldn’t allow it. There was something about necking a twenty-five-dollar cocktail that made the rest of the world disappear, leaving just you, your booze, and an extortionate credit card bill to take your mind off whatever troubles you’d trotted in with.
‘It’s six ten,’ Jenny greeted me, pushing a French martini down the bar and tapping her wrist where a watch was not. Jenny never wore a watch. She claimed to have an innate ability to tell the time, but I suspected it had far more to do with the fact that she never went more than fifteen seconds without looking at her phone.
I hopped onto the bar stool next to her, wondering for the first time how appropriate my outfit was for the venue. A corduroy dress with a stripy T-shirt underneath was great for a fashion mag, but not all that wonderful for the King Cole bar of the St Regis. The two older gentlemen in three-piece suits certainly didn’t seem to share my appreciation for Free People’s finest work.
‘I had to finish proofreading an article about the psychology of nail shapes,’ I said, smiling to myself before turning back to my friend. ‘Did you know that almond-shaped nails mean you’re more likely to be faithful?’
‘What do these say about me?’ she asked, flashing ten Chanel Rouge Noir stiletto-shaped nails in my face.
‘That you’re a sweet homebody who is good with animals and children,’ I replied, ferreting around in my handbag for my phone. Alex hadn’t been in touch all day and I didn’t want to miss him if he called.
‘Not that I’m complaining about a two-night back-to-back Angelathon,’ Jenny said, admiring her nails before she wrapped them around the stem of her cocktail glass. ‘But what was so bad about today that called for emergency drinks? Did you get busted photo- copying your ass again?’
‘That was one time,’ I said defensively. ‘I was just curious. And I still had my tights on, so it barely counts.’
She raised an eyebrow and supped.
‘I met my new boss today,’ I explained, gripping the base of my martini glass and twisting it around in shiny circles.
‘And it was amazing and he loves you and he’s already given you a promotion and a raise and every other Friday off?’
‘Exactly that,’ I agreed. ‘Except the opposite.’
She gave me a quizzical look. ‘So, you have to work every other Friday?’
‘Keep your fingers crossed I keep working at all,’ I said, pressing my fingers into my temples. ‘We had a really fun, confidential meeting where he basically told me he’s going to sack about half the staff, just before Christmas. Delia has hired the Grinch and given him complete authority over my magazine. A mean, tall, super-handsome, impeccably dressed Grinch.’
‘He’s hot?’ Jenny asked.
‘Not the point,’ I replied. ‘But yes. And it doesn’t help.’
‘Shit, doll, I’m sorry.’ She reached over the bar and swiped a little glass bowl of snacks. Truly, she knew the way to my heart. ‘That sucks. I just figured you wanted to lecture me about my decision without Erin here to back me up.’
‘Well, since you mention it …’ I slipped my phone into the pocket of my skirt so I wouldn’t be tempted to spend the entire night looking at it. Just like Jenny was at that exact second. Just like Jenny always was. ‘You know I love you and I am Team Jenny all the way, but are you really, really sure this is the best idea you’ve ever had?’
‘Best ever,’ she nodded, taking the olive out of her drink and pulling it off the toothpick with her teeth. ‘Like, even better than that time I invented that keychain with a phone charger attachment.’
‘You didn’t invent a keychain with a phone charger attachment,’ I reminded her. ‘You superglued your keyring to a phone charger and then you loaned it to someone in a bar, forgot about it and had to call a locksmith at 3 a.m. to get your locks changed.’
A flicker of remembrance crossed her face before she went on chewing her olive. I turned green as a wave of nausea washed over me. I hated olives, all briny and green and evil. I liked my martinis the same way I liked my bread and my cheese, so French they should be wearing a beret.
‘Did I?’ she replied, knowing full well that she did. ‘Whatever. I was worried about it but now I’ve made my mind up and I know it’s the right thing to do. Lisa Vanderpump says if you’ve told a guy what you want and he won’t give it to you, it’s time to move on.’
Puffing out my cheeks, I counted to five before I opened my mouth to speak. I wanted to count to ten but there was just no way.
‘If Lisa Vanderpump told you to jump off a bridge, would you do it?’ I asked. Jenny paused for a moment while she considered the question.
Her phone sparked into life on the bar before she could answer me and she pounced on the illuminated screen.
‘Expecting a call?’ I asked.
‘No
