by Lindsey Kelk
‘What happens after you streamline the sales team?’ I asked weakly.
‘Two things.’ He pushed up his sleeves, clearly ready to get down to business. ‘Firstly, I want to bring a video content specialist in to grow the Gloss website.’
I blinked in surprise. He was giving me more staff? It was literally the last thing I’d expected him to say.
‘Oh. Right, then.’
Underneath the table, my feet throbbed in my borrowed Louboutin pumps. How had they swollen to twice their original size already? And more importantly, why did my baby hate me? It was one thing to make me fat, it was another to make my shoes too small.
‘There is tremendous potential for digital growth at Spencer,’ Joe went on. I remembered what Erin had told me. He had run the digital publishing business at his last company, so this did make some kind of sense. ‘And Gloss could be the right root for that growth. Delia very much believes you are the right person to nurture it.’
The man loved his gardening metaphors.
‘I am quite the nurturer,’ I agreed, silently shushing my unborn baby who had eaten nothing but sour sugary sweets for the first ten weeks of its in utero existence. Hmm. No wonder it was punishing me through foot-swelling torture techniques.
‘The work you’ve done with Gloss has been fantastic,’ Joe said, grabbing at the air as he spoke. ‘It’s a bold brand. It’s fresh, it’s young, it’s in touch with what’s happening in the world. It’s social media, it’s selfies, it’s emojis and LOLs.’
‘Right …’ I kicked Jenny’s shoes off under the table. Gloss might be young and in touch but Joe had just made sure I knew he definitely wasn’t. ‘Thanks. Just to be clear, when we started Gloss, it wasn’t as a brand, it was as a magazine. We created it, just me and Delia in the beginning, we created it for real reasons—’
‘The magazine is great, but the brand has the potential to reach so much further,’ Joe interrupted. ‘A great mag can become an amazing brand, Angela. I want to see Gloss on the phones of every woman aged sixteen to thirty in the world.’
‘That would be amazing,’ I replied, thinking that he really shouldn’t be looking at sixteen-year-olds’ phones, no matter the reason. ‘My team have some great ideas to grow the website going forward—’
Joe held up a finger to cut me off and it was all I could do not to slap it out of the air.
‘Magazine, website, video content, skincare line, make-up line, slogan shirts, tote bags, designer collabs.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘The Gloss brand,’ he said, punching the air and almost taking out the waitress at the same time. ‘Brand extensions, brand growth. Maximizing our content, exploiting the product.’
‘I usually try to stay away from terms like product and exploit,’ I replied carefully. ‘So far, the deal has been that we put out a really good magazine, make some money, and then corporate more or less leaves us alone.’
‘Wasted potential,’ Joe announced. ‘You could be more.’
‘Me?’ I asked. ‘Or Gloss?’
‘Both,’ he replied. ‘Why aren’t you giving your audience all that you could, Angela Clark?’
‘We gave every reader a very nice lip gloss last week,’ I pointed out. ‘And there haven’t been any complaints so far.’
Well, there had been one, but if someone was offended by the sight of a shirtless Ryan Gosling, the problem was with them, not us.
‘To reach the audience, we’ve got to know that audience, we’ve got to be that audience,’ he said, holding up his other hand to silence me. ‘We have to know what women want.’
I pursed my lips and held my tongue, just for a second. Obviously, no one knew exactly what women wanted like he did.
‘I want to bring in someone who knows those women because they are those women.’ He was practically rabid. ‘I want someone raw and fresh and hungry.’
‘You already have those women, they already work at Gloss,’ I reminded him. Where was my bloody salad? The sooner the food arrived, the sooner he could shove it in his gob and stop talking. ‘And trust me, no one is hungrier than I am.’
At least that much was true. I hadn’t eaten all day.
‘Have you heard of evolution?’ Joe asked.
It was a strange question, but I’d got used to those since I started working in the media.
‘Yeah, they actually teach it in schools in the UK,’ I replied. ‘They do here as well, don’t they?’
‘No, I mean Eva-Lution, the YouTuber,’ he said, his smile flickering.
‘Actually, I have,’ I said as he took the iPad back and pulled up Eva’s YouTube channel. Her intro video popped up on autoplay and I automatically smiled back at her cheerful face. ‘I think she’s great. You want us to start doing her kind of thing?’
‘Not quite,’ Joe replied. ‘I want you to do exactly her thing. I’ve had some preliminary conversations with Eva and she’s prepared to put her channel on the backburner for a while and come work with me to develop our online presence.’
The video kept playing at our silent table.
‘At Gloss?’ I asked, eventually finding my voice.
‘At Spencer,’ Joe replied.
‘And you’ve already spoken to her about this?’
‘Clearly.’
‘That’s brilliant, obviously,’ I said, choosing my words carefully. ‘But I’m curious to how that fits in with the rest of the editorial team; we don’t have any digital-specific staff at Gloss.’
I looked around. Surely there should be bread by now? I couldn’t think this fast on an empty stomach and fancy places always had bread.
‘And that’s the second thing I want to talk to you about …’ Joe put away the iPad and leaned backwards in his chair with a very big, ever so slightly smug smile on his face. ‘Angela, you know we think you have a bright future at Spencer Media.’
‘That’s always nice to hear,’ I said, hoping he couldn’t hear the loud rumblings of my disagreeing stomach. ‘Thank you.’
‘As I mentioned when we met before, it’s my job to make sure the women’s brands at Spencer flourish and that likely means some pruning.’
‘You did mention that,’ I agreed, very hot, very hungry, and very, very nervous. Why couldn’t he have ended the conversation with the compliment?
‘Condé Nast has Vogue, Spencer Media has Belle,’ he said, laying his hands on the table. ‘Obviously, we’re not going to close our flagship fashion magazine any time soon.’
‘Well, that makes sense,’ I replied, flapping my arms very, very slightly. Sweat stains were not going to help this situation. ‘Belle’s a great publication, they’ve got a great team.’
‘Glad you agree. Keeping Belle leaves me with a clearer choice,’ Joe said, looking me straight in the eye. ‘In January, we’ll be closing Gloss or The Look.’
I stared across the table and felt my entire body seize up.
‘Spencer will have one weekly women’s lifestyle magazine with a supporting website alongside Belle’s high-end fashion content,’ he explained. ‘The market does not currently support both. Gloss’s brand is young and has a great online presence, but The Look puts out three times as many copies as you do.’
My breath caught in my throat and I couldn’t swallow. My nose began to tickle and I knew what was about to happen. Do not cry, I ordered myself. You will not cry in front of this man. You will wait and go back to the office to cry in the toilets like a normal Spencer employee.
‘That’s not to say we’re definitely going forward with The Look. Their sales are in decline and your online presence is skyrocketing. We’re conducting some market research before we make the decision,’ Joe said. ‘But you really are valued at Spencer, Angela, and I want you to know there is a position for you in the new structure.’
A position, he said. Not ‘you won’t lose your job’. Very big difference.
‘Right now the plan is that Eva will be in control of the editorial voic
e on the website and we’ll have an editor at the magazine.’
I breathed out slowly, paused for a second and took a slow, deep breath in. Someone’s magazine was going to close. Dozens of people were going to be out of a job. However you looked at this, there was no genuinely good news, only news that made you feel like a terrible person because you keeping your job meant someone else losing theirs. Why hadn’t I just stayed home with Jenny and spent the day researching photo booths and rentable doves?
‘One editor,’ I said, trying not to think about how much this felt like the first annual Spencer Media Hunger Games. ‘At one magazine?’
‘That’s right,’ he agreed as the waitress reappeared with two massive salads. Suddenly I wasn’t very hungry any more. ‘I understand this is a lot to take in. We really want to talk to everyone involved before we make any major decisions.’
‘Other than the decision to close an entire magazine?’ I replied as she placed them down on the table. ‘That decision has been made, hasn’t it?’
Dark stars began to sparkle around my field of vision and a red-hot flush rolled over my entire body. This wasn’t good.
‘Of course, I’m very excited to see the Generation Gloss event first-hand – something like that is really going to raise your profile and the brand’s stock, so to speak. I’d also like you to pull together a presentation detailing your three-year strategy for Gloss,’ he said, picking up his knife and fork and digging in to his lunch while I sat there stunned, ‘taking into account Eva’s involvement with the online component and the potential global expansion.’
He smiled at me as though we were both in on some sort of secret.
‘Oh, OK then,’ I said, secretly wanting to punch him in the throat. ‘And when were you wanting that by?’
‘Next Tuesday,’ he replied. ‘At 9 a.m.’
‘Next Tuesday? Seven days from now?’ I asked. What was happening on Tuesday? Oh shit, I realized, I had my twelve-week scan appointment with Dr Laura but of course, I couldn’t tell him that.
‘Next Tuesday doesn’t give me a lot of time, Joe. We have Generation Gloss this weekend.’
‘Yeah, I can’t wait for the party,’ he said, completely ignoring my concern. ‘Delia says it’s a lot of fun.’
‘Delia says a lot, doesn’t she?’ I frowned.
If the presentation was at nine and my appointment with Dr Laura was at ten thirty, I could probably make it. Still, a 9 a.m. meeting was perfectly timed for me to puke all over him.
‘This is a positive development, Angela,’ Joe insisted, clearly not even slightly bothered by the fact he was about to make dozens of people unemployed. This was just business to him, we were numbers on a spreadsheet. ‘I am very excited for us to work together.’
‘Giddy as a kipper,’ I said under my breath, staring at my food.
‘Think of it as the beginning of a new season,’ he said through a mouthful of salad. ‘I am excited to see what we’re going to bring in with the harvest.’
Sweating, shoeless, and starving, I picked up my fork and forced a piece of chicken into my mouth, leaving my knife on the table. Just in case my brain came up with a better use for it than cutting up lettuce.
‘How was your meeting?’ Cici asked as I sailed back through the office, doggy bag in one hand, Jenny’s shoes in the other.
‘Wasn’t great,’ I replied, looking at all the staff, beavering away in blissful ignorance. ‘Any messages?’
‘Alex called,’ Cici said and my heart almost leapt out of my chest. ‘He said he couldn’t get through to your cell? I said he should call you back but blah blah no reception blah blah, he’ll be home soon but he’ll talk to you before then.’
‘Soon? Did he say exactly when?’ I pulled out my phone to see it was still in airplane mode. Damn me for being so professional during lunch. ‘Did he say which day?’
‘No,’ she replied, pushing her glasses up her nose. Worryingly, I was starting to get used to them. ‘What did you eat for lunch? You look weird, like, more than usual. Are you going to puke again?’
‘I’m fine,’ I insisted even though it was clearly not true. ‘Can you cancel my stuff for this afternoon. I’ve got something I need to work on.’
‘I need to talk to you about the Generation Gloss party,’ she said, following me into my office. ‘I can get both Gigi and Bella if we drop the costumes. They won’t dress up.’
‘Whatever you need to do.’ I swiped around at the papers on my desk, looking for my mouse. Maybe Alex had emailed. ‘Thanks.’
‘My mom knows their mom,’ she shrugged, dropping into a chair. The bottom of her cropped sweater rolled up to reveal an altogether too toned tummy. ‘I’ll figure it out and let you know. Everything went good with Joe?’
I looked up as I fumbled around for a hair tie, yanking my hair back in a ponytail. Could I tell her? Should I tell her?
‘He wants me to pull together a presentation, that’s all,’ I said. There was no point worrying her and I still wasn’t entirely certain I could trust her. ‘For next week.’
‘Gross,’ she replied.
‘Yup,’ I agreed.
‘Did you talk about finding me a new role?’ she asked.
‘Didn’t come up,’ I said. ‘Sorry, I’ll sort it, but I really need to think about this presentation right now.’
‘Famous last words,’ she said, standing to leave as Jenny’s name appeared on the screen of my mobile.
‘Be careful,’ I called as she walked away. ‘That sounds like something I would say.’
‘Super gross,’ Cici muttered, looking disgusted with herself.
‘What’s up?’ I asked, answering the phone.
‘Do you have the number for Annie Leibovitz?’ she asked.
‘No?’ I replied. ‘But I could probably get Cici to find it? Actually, Cici might have it – she probably took her passport photo. You need it for a project?’
‘Did you know she shot Kim and Kanye’s wedding?’ Jenny said. ‘I know it sounds crazy, but I figured I’d call and see how much she charges. The photos are basically the biggest investment you can make in your wedding – they’re the only part of it that lasts forever.’
‘Other than your actual marriage,’ I replied flatly.
‘Oh, yeah, for sure,’ she said. ‘That too.’
‘I can’t talk right now,’ I said, scanning my inbox for an email from Alex. Nothing. Maybe he’d just called for a random chat. Stupid bloody Joe and his stupid bloody lunch. Now I had another reason to dislike him. ‘See you tonight?’
‘I might be late,’ she said, sounding distracted. ‘I’ve got an appointment with a cake designer.’
‘You haven’t even got a wedding date yet,’ I reminded her. ‘Shouldn’t you know when you’re getting married before you start looking at cakes?’
‘You have to book them a year in advance,’ Jenny replied. ‘People plan their weddings around these cakes, Angela. Ivanka Trump used them.’
‘Even more reason for you not to bother,’ I said. ‘Let’s talk about it tonight.’
‘Yeah, sure.’ I could tell she was already thinking about something else. ‘If you could get Cici to shoot me Annie’s details, that would be awesome. And maybe Patrick Demarchelier. So I have a backup.’
‘Bye, Jenny,’ I said, ending the call and sweeping my hands over my face. ‘Blood pressure, Angela, blood pressure.’
It had been the shittiest day in recent memory and it was still only one forty-five in the afternoon. Joe wanted to close my magazine, Jenny wanted Annie Leibovitz to take photos at her wedding, and all I wanted was a quiet sit down and a chat with the man I had married. So why did it feel like I was the one with the most ridiculous request?
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘Are you sure I don’t look pregnant?’ I asked, turning to review my costume from every angle. The flowing ice-blue dress skimmed over my changing curves, moving as I moved. ‘I feel as though I look massive.’
‘Look up,’ Jenny instruct
ed as I stood still so she could apply my mascara. ‘Don’t sweat it, doll face, no one is going to be looking at your stomach.’
‘Fair point,’ I replied, blinking.
My costume had been chosen with clear objectives. It had to be practical since I was technically working, it had to look good in photographs, it had to cover up my stomach and, most importantly, according to Jenny, it had to draw all attention elsewhere, just in case. Dr Laura had said I wouldn’t really start to show until around eighteen weeks but the bump had missed that memo, as had my boobs.
‘They’re insane,’ Jenny confirmed. She screwed the lid back on the mascara and threw it on her bed along with the rest of her entire make-up collection. ‘And they’re spectacular. After you push it out, you should totally consider a boob job.’
‘Thanks.’ I cupped myself and bounced up and down slightly, just to make sure I wouldn’t fall out. The dress was gorgeous. Ice-blue silk with badass metal detailing around the waist and narrow shoulder straps, but despite its origins it really wasn’t suitable for a skirmish of any kind. ‘I couldn’t have done this without you.’
‘Of course not, babe,’ she replied as though that was obvious, tugging lightly at the elaborately braided wig she had talked me into. ‘Have you ever thought about going platinum blonde?’
I’d been concerned when Cici offered to oversee the Generation Gloss opening gala, but as far as I could tell, not a single person had died during the planning of the party. Having spent the entire week up to my eyeballs in PowerPoint slides, trying to edit the magazine, and save it at the same time, all while not letting on to the team that anything was wrong, the last thing I wanted to do was spend Saturday night pretending I wasn’t pregnant. Who knew that was going to be more exhausting than actually being pregnant? It had been the most exhausting four days of my life and I badly wanted to spend my evening face first in a pizza and Real Housewives marathon. But the party was important, Joe had made that very clear. The Look didn’t have an events side, they didn’t have this kind of connection with their readers. I needed this party to go so well he had no choice but to choose us.