The Subway Girls

by Susie Orman Schnall

  “Are you sure? Don’t you want to be alone with him?”

  “We can be alone tomorrow night. I insist.”

  “In that case, sure. I’d love to.”

  “Do you want to call your fiancé and invite him?” Charlotte asked.

  “Oh no. We’re over. I couldn’t stand one more minute with him.”

  Sam was already in the handsome dining room when they arrived, and a look of confusion crossed his face when he noticed Charlotte wasn’t alone.

  “Sam, this is Rose, the divine creature I was telling you about. She’s going to join us.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Rose. Let me get another chair.”

  Looking searchingly in Charlotte’s face to see whether he would be celebrating or consoling with the champagne, Sam asked, “Well?”

  Charlotte smiled tightly and shook her head.

  “Oh, Charlotte, I’m so sorry,” Sam said.

  “But Rose won, so we’ll celebrate her,” Charlotte said, feeling an ounce more supportive and gracious.

  “Congratulations, Rose. Whaddaya say we still get that bottle of champagne? Okay with you, Charlotte?” Sam asked kindly.

  “That sounds great, though I have to admit, we’re one glass ahead of you,” Charlotte said as she and Rose exchanged knowing glances.

  “Then I better catch up quickly.”

  While Sam ordered the champagne, Charlotte remembered she needed to phone JoJo.

  “Please excuse me,” she said, standing. “I promised JoJo I’d tell her what happened with Miss Subways.” Sam pulled out Charlotte’s chair, and she walked toward the back of the restaurant to inquire about a pay telephone.

  “Are you gonna be okay?” JoJo asked once she heard the news.

  “Eventually, I guess. But for the time being, I’m not so sure.”

  “How are things coming with your inquiries at the other agencies?”

  “I’ve heard from all but one. They said their typing pools are filled to capacity. I think it’s time for me to accept that I tried my best and sometimes things just don’t work out.”

  “There’s gotta be a way,” JoJo said wistfully.

  “For now, I’m going to return to the table with composure, drink copious amounts of champagne to dull this obscene ache, and we can shred this apple to its core tomorrow.”

  Charlotte couldn’t believe in just two weeks she’d gone from a girl with a bright future ahead of her: an impending graduation from Hunter, a strong likelihood of getting a job offer from J. Walter Thompson, and access to a one-way star-spangled ticket out of Brooklyn. A fresh start on the path to the next phase of her life. But now, facing the reality of giving that all up only to extol the virtues of daffodil-yellow paint versus canary-yellow paint and return to her parents’ home in Bay Ridge every night sent a wave of anger through Charlotte. And on top of that, to lose Miss Subways as well. It was too much to process.

  Charlotte returned to the table to find Rose gesturing wildly and Sam laughing hysterically. “Sounds like I missed the punch line,” Charlotte said when she sat down, taking a sip of freshly poured champagne from the elegantly etched coupe.

  “I was just telling your Sam here about how they made the announcement this afternoon, about Mr. Powers, Miss Fontaine, Bella…”

  Charlotte felt a wave of disappointment that Sam wouldn’t hear all that directly from her.

  “Sam was laughing because I was imitating Miss Fontaine. Miss Diana Fontaine,” she said with a flourish and a regal wrist. “What a phony.”

  Sam and Rose both started laughing again.

  “What do you mean?” Charlotte asked Rose.

  “What do you mean, what do I mean? There’s never been a phonier phony. The way she sashays around and acts all important.” Rose moved her hands and shoulders around theatrically, eliciting another wave of laughter from Sam.

  “She does have a pretty important job. I actually thought she was nice,” Charlotte said, looking at Rose quite seriously and shifting in her chair.

  “Well, it’s no secret how she keeps that pretty important job,” Rose said, winking at Sam and taking a sip of her champagne as the waiter handed them menus encased in black leather.

  Charlotte turned to Rose, a puzzled look on her face.

  “Oh, Charlotte, dear, you’re not that naive, are you?”

  Charlotte looked at Sam, who was smiling at Rose.

  “Perhaps I am,” Charlotte said, agitation creeping into her voice. “Enlighten me, Rose.”

  “I’ve heard from trusted sources that she and John Powers work quite—let me choose the precise word—closely. And have worked quite ‘closely’ since Miss Diana Fontaine got off a sweaty bus in New York City from Waco, Texas, dropped her miserable suitcase in her low-floor single at the Barbizon, and headed straight to 247 Park Avenue to do anything, and I mean anything, she needed to do to become a Powers Girl. I know an Eileen Ford model who made her acquaintance at the Barbizon. This model friend gave up all of Miss Diana Fontaine’s secrets, including how she used to be named Annie May Froggat.”

  “My goodness, I’m just so surprised,” Charlotte said.

  “Don’t be, Charlotte,” Rose said. “There are girls like that all over this island, who have everything to lose and would kill their little sisters for the right opportunities.”

  Charlotte felt taken aback. She looked at Sam, who raised his eyebrows at her and winked. And then the waiter was standing above her, asking her how she took her steak.

  Dinner continued, and they all seemed to relax after their champagne glasses were refilled. Sam ordered a second bottle and they devoured their steaks, baked potatoes, and creamed spinach. Rose had them in hysterics with the sagas about each of her fiancés.

  As the waiter cleared their plates, Rose said, “So you two seem like a couple of lovebirds.”

  “She’s my girl. The one I’m going to marry,” Sam said, reaching for Charlotte’s hand.

  “Let’s drink to that,” Rose said, and they all lifted their glasses (were they on their fourth? Their fifth?) to toast. “To your future filled with happiness. And babies! Lots and lots of babies!”

  Charlotte and Sam looked at each other, and Charlotte gave Sam a pinched smile.

  “I’m a lucky guy,” Sam said, leaning over to give Charlotte a kiss.

  “Say, when are you two gonna get married?” Rose asked, still holding up her glass.

  “As soon as she says yes,” Sam said.

  “I can’t say yes when you haven’t officially asked me, now, can I, Sam?” Charlotte asked. Coy as a kitten.

  “Well, go on. Ask her,” Rose said.

  “Maybe I will,” Sam said confidently. “Can I borrow that ring you have on there, Rose?”

  “I guess I don’t really need this anymore,” Rose said, sliding off the engagement ring she was still wearing.

  Charlotte had had a lot to drink and was watching this theater in slow motion.

  “Charlotte Friedman, will you marry me?” Sam asked, pulling Charlotte’s left hand toward him and placing Rose’s ring on her finger.

  “Can we get some quiet, please?” Rose said loudly, turning to the diners around her. “We’ve got a proposal going on here.”

  Charlotte was suddenly aware that the whole restaurant had gone church-silent and dozens of sets of attentive eyes were glued to her face. She knew that something was going wrong. Horribly wrong.

  “Whaddaya say, doll?” a male voice hurled from the table next to theirs.

  “Say yes, honey!” came a female voice from across the room.

  “Get on your knee, mac!”

  Sam laughed and dropped to one knee before Charlotte. She wanted to bolt. To escape all the laughter and staring and the fact that she was being proposed to with some other woman’s rejected engagement ring.

  But she didn’t. That would have caused a scene.

  “Sam, what are you doing?” Charlotte whispered. Patrons started to lose interest and turned back to their steaks and chops. />
  “He’s asking you to marry him,” Rose said.

  “I’m asking you to marry me,” Sam said. “Say yes, sweetheart. I’ll make you the happiest girl in New York.”

  “Say yes!” Rose said. “If he were asking me, I’d sure say yes. What are you waiting for?”

  But Charlotte, tired-of-not-making-scenes Charlotte, stood up and ran out. She heard the tittering at her back. Felt her face on fire. The next thing Charlotte knew, she was outside the restaurant and Sam was at her side.

  “Charlotte, honey, what is it? What did I do?”

  “What did you do?” Charlotte yelled.

  “Yeah, what did I do?”

  Passersby on the street slowed and stared. The air was frigid, and Charlotte’s coat was still inside at the coat check.

  “You proposed to me after a hundred glasses of champagne, on a dare, no less, with another woman’s tainted ring. Do you not see anything wrong with that?”

  “I guess now that you put it that way, I do,” Sam said, looking down at the sidewalk.

  “Well, it was mean, Sam. And Rose is mean. I thought she was so wonderful. But it turns out, she’s just mean. And there you are, laughing with her. At me. And that’s just mean.” Charlotte was aware she was yelling, aware she was escalating the situation perhaps a little unnecessarily, but she didn’t care. This felt marvelous. To say what she meant and not care a lick about what would happen next.

  “I was laughing with her because I thought you would want me to. I knew how much you liked her, and I wanted to like her too. And she’s funny,” Sam said, his hands outstretched, pleading.

  “Hmph!” Charlotte huffed, and turned her shoulder to Sam. “You would think she’s funny. Like all of the men she’s roped into falling in love with her.”

  “Who said I was falling in love with her?” Sam asked, suddenly seeming angry.

  “I’m just saying,” Charlotte said.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying—” Charlotte tried to figure out what she was saying. Suddenly the alcohol was making that difficult. “I’m saying that I don’t appreciate that you made a joke out of proposing to me tonight. I’m saying that I don’t appreciate that the very first time you placed a ring on my finger, it had just come off of a woman who has been engaged six times. Six times, Sam! I’m saying that the whole spectacle was just plain revolting.”

  “And I’m saying I’m sorry,” Sam said contritely. “But to tell you the honest truth, Charlotte, I think you’re overreacting a bit.”

  “I’d like to go home,” Charlotte said, throwing the ring down on the sidewalk and turning to go back into the restaurant to claim her coat.

  There was an unfortunate line for the coat check. When Rose saw Charlotte reenter the restaurant, she walked right up.

  “I’m sorry, Charlotte, honey. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I’m not mad at you, Rose,” Charlotte lied. “I’m mad at Sam.” But Charlotte was mad at Rose. Though she couldn’t figure out precisely why. Because she had won Miss Subways and Charlotte had lost? Because she was such a good conversationalist? Because she made Sam laugh like Charlotte had never been able to? Because she charmed Sam and every other person—the men and the women—in that restaurant? Because of her perfect eyes and perfect hair? Because she brought up the topic of babies and could probably have them even though she didn’t want any? Because she made Charlotte feel so unworldly with her comments about Miss Fontaine? It seemed Charlotte was upset for all of those reasons. But was that anger? Or envy?

  “Don’t be mad at him. It was my fault. I egged him on. We’ve all had too much to drink. I think he was trying to make you laugh.”

  “I didn’t think it was funny.”

  “He knows that now,” Rose said as she and Charlotte looked toward the main dining room where Sam was paying the bill. “It’s been a long day. What do you say we go home and sleep it off and everything will be better in the morning? Here’s Sam now,” Rose said as he approached the coat check.

  “I’m so sorry, Charlotte. I didn’t mean to upset you. That’s the last thing I meant to do,” Sam said, his eyes pleading.

  “I just want to go home.”

  They started to walk out of the restaurant.

  “Well, aren’t you going to offer Rose a ride too?” Charlotte asked Sam. Challenged Sam. “She lives right near us.”

  Sam looked at Charlotte. She knew he was searching her eyes for what she wanted him to say. What the right answer would be. What wouldn’t get him in more trouble with her. She wasn’t going to give him anything.

  “Of course I was,” Sam said tentatively. Then to Rose: “Rose, please, let us give you a ride.”

  Sam. Always the gentleman.

  He hailed a taxi, and the three of them slumped into the backseat, Charlotte listing in the middle. They traveled the Brooklyn Bridge in edgy silence, the impenetrable tension a colorless, odorless gas that permeated their orifices with its virulence.

  Based upon where they all lived, Charlotte was dropped off first. Rose was asleep when they pulled up in front of Charlotte’s. The cabby waited while Sam walked Charlotte to her door.

  “I’m so sorry, Charlotte. Please forgive me. Let me make it up to you tomorrow night. We’ll go out, just the two of us.”

  Charlotte looked Sam in the eye and turned to enter her house without another word.

  CHAPTER 14

  OLIVIA

  SATURDAY, MARCH 10, 2018

  “I have bagels and cream cheese, muffins, a couple of egg-and-cheese sandwiches, and lattes,” Olivia said, entering the conference room on Saturday morning. Priya and Pablo were already seated, both typing on their laptops.

  “Don’t you look pretty this morning?” Priya said to Olivia, handing out copies of the strategic brief she had written with execution details for the pitch idea.

  “Oh,” Olivia murmured. “Bedhead.”

  They all read quietly while eating breakfast.

  “Nice work, Priya,” Olivia said, taking a sip of her latte. “This is a great start. Let’s take it section by section and hash this thing out. We’ve got a lot of work to do today.”

  During one of their breaks, Olivia checked her phone, hoping for a text from Matt. Last night had been magical. She had felt so connected to him emotionally and physically. Their lovemaking had been slow and perfect. It was exactly what she’d needed.

  Olivia couldn’t help but think this could be the beginning of an opening for them. Especially now that Lily was out of the picture. She knew it was the worst idea to have a relationship with someone in her office, let alone her boss, but she also felt that when you’d found what you were looking for, you couldn’t always be too choosy about where you’d found it.

  Olivia decided to just let it play out and see what happened. It wasn’t like she had already started pinning Jenny Packhams and Carolina Herreras onto an “Olivia + Matt” page.

  There wasn’t a text from Matt, but there was one from a number she didn’t recognize:

  917.555.8309

  Hi, Olivia, it’s Ben. I got your number from my grandma. (That sounded so smooth.) Wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight? Hate to ask over text, but I know you’re working on your pitch, and I didn’t want to call and interrupt your work.

  Olivia smiled and shook her head in silence. Poor Ben, she thought, he should not get involved with me. Olivia wrote back:

  Olivia

  Hi, Ben. Thanks so much for the invitation. I’m going to be working late tonight, so I’m sorry I can’t. Maybe after this presentation is over? See you around the building. :-)

  Olivia entered Ben into her contacts. She didn’t want to lead him on, but she also didn’t want to turn him down completely. There was something charming about the guy. Even though he was absolutely nothing like Matt, and right now everything she wanted in a man could be found in Matthew Osborne.

  Ben

  No problem. See you around.

  The mai
n problem that Olivia and Priya were having was locating the former Miss Subways. And the concept wouldn’t work unless they found, in their estimation, at least ten to fifteen of them. They were losing faith that they would be able to pull the Miss Subways idea off within the short time frame they had.

  While they waited to hear back from the women, they worked in earnest on the “Take You Places” idea. Pablo was pulling stock photos to use for the different profiles. And Olivia and Priya were drafting copy. They could have had a copywriter work on the creative with them, but they figured it would be faster if they came up with a few ideas themselves, rather than call in a copywriter on a Saturday.

  “Who’s Thomas working with from creative, Pablo?” Priya asked. It was getting close to five o’clock, and they were all starting to feel exhausted.

  “Craig and Chantal. But I’m coming in tomorrow to meet with them and help them finalize their creative.”

  “Do they have something good?” Priya asked conspiratorially.

  Pablo tilted his head. “Priya, you know I’m not going to tell you their idea, just like I’m not going to tell them yours,” Pablo said seriously. “But if I’m going to be honest, I’d love for you two to win.”

  “I bet you say that to all your teams,” Olivia said.

  Matt

  Hey, Liv. Free tonight? I have to go out for my brother’s birthday dinner but can stop by after.

  Olivia

  Sure. But you can’t keep me up late. I have a mean boss and have to work all day tomorrow.

  Matt

  I’ll have you asleep by midnight. And I’ll have a word with this mean boss of yours.

  Olivia

  See you later.

  “Hi!” Olivia said in surprise when Ben opened the door to Mrs. Glasser’s apartment.

  “Olivia,” Ben said, smiling. “You got out of work early.”

  “Yeah, much earlier than I thought. But,” she said, suddenly feeling awkward, “I didn’t want to text you because I figured you’d already made other plans.” She thought she’d covered that up nicely.

  “No big deal,” Ben said, flicking his hand in an it’s-no-problem gesture. “And you were right. About making other plans,” he said, laughing and opening the door widely, inviting her in. “My grandma and I are having a game night. We’re starting with Scrabble, moving on to Rummikub, and if we haven’t exhausted ourselves with all that excitement, we might just bust out the Twister mat.”