I Heart Forever

  ‘You want me to come and work for you?’ I asked, unable to hold in a little gasp of surprise.

  ‘Oh, my god no.’ A little flutter of laughter escaped her mouth and echoed over the quiet piano music. ‘I know you would never leave Spencer, you’re too much of a martyr. But some people will, right?’

  ‘So, let me check I’ve got this straight. You’re not trying to headhunt me but you expect me to point you in the direction of the people you should headhunt from the company I work for, including my own employees?’ I drew out a mental map of her ridiculous request on the bar with the tip of my finger, just so I could be sure.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, placing her drink back down on its plush napkin. ‘What?’

  ‘You can’t see why that’s weird?’ I questioned. She shook her head. ‘You don’t think there’s a conflict of interests here?’

  ‘No, not really,’ Cici said, offering the bartender a polite smile as he refilled our water glasses and placed a bowl of bar mix in between us. Without a word, she pushed it towards me. ‘Besson Media is going to be web-based. I know Spencer has websites, but only websites based on magazines. We’re going to be quick and modern and instant, everything you aren’t. Spencer is like the fat old housecat, we’re the panther that smashes down the front door and tears that housecat apart with our teeth.’

  ‘Beautiful visual,’ I said, choking on a dry roast peanut. ‘I’m still not going to give you a list of who you should nick. They’d sack me and they’d be right to. Also, not to be funny, but you didn’t get on with people that well. What makes you think people are going to come and work for you in the first place?’

  ‘Because I have tons of cash,’ she said, tilting her head to one side. ‘My business manager has already had so many people approach us. I thought it would be harder than this, to be honest.’

  ‘You have a business manager?’ I asked.

  ‘Yep,’ she nodded. ‘I have a COO, a CBO, a CMO and of course, I’m CEO.’

  ‘Wouldn’t have expected anything else,’ I said, feeling oddly proud. ‘This sounds so great, Cici.’

  ‘I know,’ she shrugged. ‘It’s going to be the perfect company. Flexible working hours, great healthcare, the offices are in Brooklyn, but, you know, sometimes you have to make sacrifices.’

  ‘Commuting to Brooklyn isn’t a sacrifice,’ I told her. She pulled a sour face and shivered dramatically. ‘You really did all this in two weeks?’

  ‘What can I say?’ Cici took another tiny sip of her drink. ‘I’m motivated.’

  ‘That I can see,’ I said, tapping my bitten-down nails against my water glass. ‘And it’s slightly terrifying.’

  And I’d thought an unexpected pregnancy was a lot to process. Cici was starting her own rival media company? It was a Ryan Murphy miniseries in the making.

  ‘Well, it’s been lovely to see you,’ I said, hopping down off my stool, scooping up a handful of bar mix and shoving it in my pocket. I needed train snacks. ‘And this all sounds fantastic, but I need to go home.’

  ‘For sure,’ she said, without blinking. ‘So, you’ll call me.’

  A statement, not a question.

  ‘Probably not, if I’m honest,’ I said, walking backwards out of the bar and into the ridiculous marble lobby, longing to be back out in the rain. I needed to clear my head. ‘Bye, Cici.’

  ‘Bye, Angela.’ She raised her hand in a wave. ‘And I know you said I shouldn’t try to headhunt you, but just so you know—’

  ‘Don’t say it,’ I warned, wrapping my glittery scarf around my neck.

  ‘Whatever,’ she said with a glittering smile on her face. No longer an underfed hyena but a housecat-eating panther. ‘Just think about it.’

  I had a horrible feeling I wouldn’t be able to do much else.

  ‘I know you weren’t raised Catholic, but can you remember exactly how it went when the devil tempted Jesus in the desert that time?’ I asked Alex, hurling my parka in the general direction of the coatrack and missing completely. ‘Because I’m pretty sure I am having my faith in something tested.’

  ‘Don’t know,’ he said, not looking up from his laptop. ‘Bad day?’

  ‘Bizarre day,’ I replied. I kicked off my ankle boots and collapsed on the sofa, pointing my feet in his general direction. It was definitely foot-rub time. ‘Where are Mum and Dad?’

  ‘Your dad said he met a man called Miranda in the park and tonight they were going to see him sing.’ Alex continued to stare at the computer, his pale skin glowing with the light from the incandescent screen. ‘So no, I have no idea.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ I remembered. They were at Hamilton. The bastards. ‘So, long story short, Cici is setting up her own media company and wants me to be the editor of the first website.’

  Alex didn’t move.

  ‘Or at least I think she does,’ I said, trying to recall exactly what she’d said. ‘It was very confusing, but then, it was Cici.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s funny,’ he said, looking up at me with tired, dry eyes. ‘Did you eat?’

  ‘I’m not sure funny’s the right word.’ I shuffled down the sofa until I was properly laid down and my feet were closer to foot-rub distance. He was not taking the hint this evening. ‘I know it sounds ridiculous, but if you took the Cici part out of the equation, the whole thing sounds kind of like a dream. Seriously, if it was anyone but her—’

  ‘You’d still be ignoring it because you’re almost four months pregnant and need health insurance and a steady job and you don’t throw away a career to go dick around at an internet startup,’ Alex replied, closing up his laptop with a loud clap. ‘What is this, 1999? Are you trying to get in on the dotcom boom?’

  ‘Why are you so angry?’ I asked, tearing up the second I opened my mouth. ‘I’m only telling you what happened. Of course I’m not going to take a job working with Cici, I know I have to stay at Spencer.’

  ‘Thanks, I feel so much better knowing you’re passing up an amazing opportunity because you have to,’ he said. He anchored one hand on the back of his neck and swung the other around in the air, chucking an invisible tennis ball into the kitchen. ‘Did she offer you a pony as well?’

  ‘You know full well if she’d offered me a pony I’d have taken it,’ I said, sitting upright. ‘Alex, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ he said, picking up the tiny Baby-gro he’d bought in Bloomingdale’s. ‘I sat down and looked at our budget today. It’s going to be tighter than I realized if we want to do this properly.’

  ‘People have babies on far less than what we have, every day,’ I said, refusing to let myself cry. This was the problem with hormones, I told myself, the first sign of a disagreement and the waterworks started. It wasn’t my fault. ‘What’s got you so freaked out?’

  ‘People who don’t live in New York City,’ he said, standing before beginning to stride up and down the room. ‘People who don’t have huge New York City mortgages to pay and New York City childcare to worry about.’

  ‘Non-New York City mortgages and non-New York City childcare aren’t cheap either,’ I reminded him. ‘Louisa and Tim had to tighten their belts when they had Grace.’

  ‘So tight they can’t breathe?’ he muttered. ‘Because that’s what’s going to happen to us.’

  ‘Yeah, so we’ll have to make a few sacrifices,’ I told him, trying to sound as soothing as possible, but it was hard when he wouldn’t bloody well stand still. ‘It won’t be that bad.’

  He turned and looked right at me.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, looking at my shocking nails. ‘I’ll stop getting manicures and I won’t buy coffee on the way into work any more.’

  He took a deep breath and pushed all his hair back from his face with both hands.

  ‘And I suppose I’ll take myself off the waiting list for a Chanel Jumbo Flap Bag,’ I muttered into my chest.

  ‘We are not ready for this.’ Alex swiped at a cushion and knocked it across
the room. ‘We are not ready at all.’

  You will not cry, I told myself, you will not cry. Did Hillary Clinton cry when she didn’t win the election? No, she didn’t, and so I wasn’t going to cry just because my husband was being a massive dick.

  ‘Chanel bags are bit obvious, anyway,’ I said quietly, puffing out my cheeks to stop my eyes from prickling. ‘Not really me.’

  ‘I’m going downstairs,’ he said, grabbing his laptop as he crossed the room.

  ‘Do you want anything to eat?’ I called as he went, holding my breath as he slammed the door.

  ‘No,’ he answered abruptly from the other side. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, breathing out and patting the bump gently, just in case it had heard. ‘At least that makes one of us.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  By the time Friday morning rolled around, I felt as though I’d been alive for a thousand years. Alex woke up the morning after his hissy fit, acting as though nothing had happened, Cici had stayed silent, my parents were relatively well behaved, and the rest of the week passed in a whirl of last-minute wedding preparations and work.

  Delia knew I was leaving at lunchtime. Jenny’s rehearsal dinner was taking place at Prune at seven and we were both going. I only knew Delia had RSVP’d yes because Jenny had told me. I hadn’t seen her once since our chat in her office over two weeks ago but finally, I had been summoned. Not to Delia’s office but to Joe’s. It didn’t seem like a great sign, but it still felt better than being ordered in to HR, like half the sales team had been the week before. Erin had not been wrong, Delia was slashing staff left, right and centre. I’d even heard some of the girls at Belle refer to her as The Butcher in the Starbucks on 7th Avenue on my way in.

  The almost unbelievably shiny young man who sat outside Joe’s office smiled his animatronic smile as I paced up and down in front of his desk. I couldn’t stop moving for fear of actually falling over. I’d worn heels, which I now realized was a mistake, but since I couldn’t button up any of my clothes that morning, I needed something to dress up my Topshop maternity jeans. And to think Jenny had said it was early for maternity wear. Now I’d tried these on, I doubted I would ever take them off.

  ‘He had a meeting in HR at eight thirty,’ the assistant blustered when I pointedly looked at the clock again. ‘He said he’d be back here by nine.’

  ‘Brillbags,’ I said, clicking my tongue at him and walking the length of the room once again.

  ‘Angela, there you are.’ Joe marched towards me with an all-business look on his face. ‘Shall we get started?’

  ‘Here I am,’ I agreed, wondering where else I might have been given that our meeting was supposed to start ten minutes ago. My baby-related emotional meltdowns had given way to the world’s shortest temper and I couldn’t say I was too upset about it.

  ‘How are things going with Eva?’ he asked, closing his office door behind us and automatically handing me a tiny bottle of water from his mini fridge. Joe’s office was the opposite of mine: sleek and neat and devoid of personality. No sign of his British girlfriend, I noticed. Or evidence that he wasn’t actually an android. I’d watched Westworld, I knew these things were possible. I hadn’t entirely understood the show, but I got the general gist.

  ‘If I’m being brutally honest, I wouldn’t choose to share an office,’ I said, a sentiment he was already aware of thanks to a somewhat emotional email I’d sent upon finding out about his plan. ‘I think she’d do better in with everyone else, not stuck in my office, listening to me all day.’

  ‘But that’s exactly what we want,’ Joe corrected. ‘It’s the best method of immersion. You and Eva are something of a pilot programme for us, Angela, you’re her mentor. It’s really a huge honour when you think about it – we could have done this anywhere in the company but we did it with you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I must have bumped my head and missed about seventeen meetings where all this would have been discussed,’ I replied with a painfully pleasant laugh. ‘But she’s there now, isn’t she?’

  ‘She is,’ he agreed.

  ‘And she’s not going anywhere?’

  ‘She isn’t.’

  ‘Right.’ I sat down on the black and chrome chair opposite his desk and crossed my legs. Why did I already need a wee?

  ‘I’ve got a lot of these meetings to get through today, so let’s get to it,’ Joe said. ‘There’s a reason I wanted to see you first thing.’

  ‘Did my name come out the hat first?’ I asked.

  He leaned forward across his desk, pointing at me with both fingers.

  ‘You, Angela Clark, have potential.’

  ‘No, I definitely tested negative for that on my last smear,’ I replied. Joe looked confused. ‘Sorry, I make jokes when I’m anxious. I get it from my dad.’

  ‘No need to be anxious,’ he insisted, tapping the desk with both index fingers.

  ‘Really?’ I asked. ‘Because I’m fairly sure you’re about to tell me whether or not you’re closing my magazine and sacking twenty people I’m responsible for.’

  ‘You’re looking at this all wrong,’ Joe replied. ‘This is the day, this is your day. We’re pulling you out and lifting you up.’

  ‘Pulling me out of where?’ I looked around as though there would be actual people with actual forklift trucks. ‘Where am I going?’

  ‘We’re closing Gloss,’ Joe said with a shrug, cutting me off when I opened my mouth to scream. ‘It’s done, it’s agreed. We’re shutting the print edition next week.’

  ‘I’m going to be sick,’ I said very quietly. I could see my feet. I couldn’t feel my feet. I couldn’t feel anything.

  ‘We’re also shutting The Look,’ he added. ‘And in January, we will be launching a new hybrid print-and-media-content platform, The Gloss.’

  He clapped his hands together and held them out, waiting for a reaction.

  Without a word, I grabbed the brushed chrome wastepaper basket under his desk and threw up. Giving Joe a quiet thumbs up, I reached out and took a tissue from the box on his desk and wiped my mouth.

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ I said. ‘Please continue.’

  ‘You just vomited,’ he said, staring at me in abject horror. ‘In my trash can.’

  ‘I did,’ I agreed. ‘But I’m quite all right. Let’s say it’s lactose intolerance. You’re closing both magazines and opening one new one?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, visibly disturbed. ‘In January.’

  ‘What will happen to the staff?’ I asked, clutching my tissue.

  ‘The editor-in-chief will select which staff move to The Gloss and which staff are surplus,’ he replied. ‘It won’t be down to me.’

  ‘And who is going to be the editor?’

  My heart was racing so fast, I could see little sparkles appearing at the edge of my vision. There was only one answer, one reason I was brought in first and staring at this gurning goon. But did I want this? Could I even deal with this right now?

  ‘Caroline,’ Joe said, resting backwards in his chair. ‘Caroline is going to be the editor.’

  ‘I think I’m going to throw up again,’ I said, lurching forwards and grabbing the bin.

  ‘Should I call someone?’ he asked, not making any effort to move. ‘Do you need a doctor?’

  ‘No, it’s just all that pesky lactose,’ I said, blinking into the bottom. How could one man eat so many protein bars? ‘Carry on.’

  ‘I’m going to offer Caroline the editor-in-chief position,’ Joe said as I slowly sat up, keeping the bin in my lap. ‘And I’d like to offer you the position of Junior Global Brand Director for Women’s Lifestyle Brands.’

  I gripped the sides of the bin very, very tightly.

  ‘You’d like to what?’

  ‘I’d like to offer you the position of Junior Global Brand Director for Women’s Lifestyle Brands,’ he repeated, pushing a piece of paper across the desk. It was a job description. ‘It’s a new role, working with me to oversee the expa
nsion of The Gloss into all our territories. All the editors would be reporting in to you on a global scale. It’s a very exciting role for someone with your passion, Angela.’

  Someone so passionate she’d just thrown up twice.

  ‘Say the title again?’ I whispered.

  ‘Junior Global Brand Director for Women’s Lifestyle Brands.’

  ‘It’s got the word brand in it twice,’ I said. ‘Can a title have the word brand in it twice?’

  ‘We can work on the title if you don’t like it,’ Joe offered. ‘But this is such an opportunity. You know how hard it is for someone to come out of the editorial melee and move into a bigger role. This puts you on the fast track to VP.’

  ‘VP of what, though?’ I asked, lightly resting two fingers against the inside of my wrist and attempting to take my pulse. Oh good, it was going so fast I couldn’t even count.

  ‘That’s a hypothetical point, much further in the future,’ he said, furrowing his manly brow. ‘Right now, I need you to think about this role. Moulding The Gloss brand, hiring the global teams, managing the brand expansions. It’s travel, it’s people management, it’s making the most of your creativity and your passion for this brand that you created.’

  ‘Is it, though?’ I was asking myself more than him. ‘There would be no editorial at all, right? I wouldn’t have anything to do with the actual magazines themselves?’

  ‘You’d have everything to do with the magazines!’ he cheered. Pointed to various framed titles behind him, Belle, Gloss, The Look, HQ, The Spencer Report. All safely behind glass where he couldn’t possibly be expected to read a single word. ‘I know it’s going to be a strange shift, but this is such an exciting challenge.’

  ‘And if Caroline takes over the magazine and the website, she could just sack everyone from Gloss and keep everyone from The Look?’ I said. ‘My entire team could be out on their arses?’

  ‘I get that perhaps this looks a little like a, uh,’ Joe flapped a hand around in the air, looking to pull the right word from the ether, ‘forgive my terminology, a shit sandwich right now, but we’re elevating you, Angela, we’re making you a focal point in the company. If this works out, you could be in my job two years from now.’