afternoon meeting. This is an unprecedented event, and Anna, like everyone else in the room, is thoroughly unprepared. Shehas a short list of celebs whose publicists have pitched her their homes but they’re not quite A-list, and at the mention of an All My Children star, Jane’s lip curls in disgust. We do not cover soap opera actresses.
“What else?” asks Jane, checking to see if it’s four o’clock yet. She’s not the only one whose eyes are repeatedly drawn to her watch. Half the room had expected to leave by three to get to their summer shares in time for pre-dinner cocktails on the deck.
Anna glances down at her notes, and although she is now nervous, she looks as impeccable as ever. She’s wearing an overcoat so tattered and torn that even the Hasidim threw it away but she still looks perfect. On her, frayed cuffs are an accent. “That’s all for now. I’ll know more on Tuesday,” she says, a subtle reminder to our intrepid editor in chief that this meeting is impromptu and unplanned. “I expect the publicists to get back to me after the weekend.”
Jane is the sort of person to leave publicists and editors hanging over long weekends, but she doesn’t accept that type of behavior from others. She huffs angrily now, looking very much like she wants to vent her spleen on Anna, but she holds herself back. Marguerite is in the room. She’s sitting across from her with a friendly smile on her face and Jane seeks to mimic her behavior. For a nanosecond Jane wants to be liked. It’s for all the wrong reasons, but it saves Anna a reaming.
She turns her attention to a summer intern. “You there, with the pimple, what are you working on?”
The mortified college junior mutters and sputters for a few seconds before mumbling something about high-top sneakers. The other intern in the room, who has a carbuncle the size of the Liberty Bell on her nose, tilts her head down, trying to hide her face. She is wishing desperately that she could disappear.
Jane called this meeting after discovering that Marguerite planned to catch the last flight to Bangor, Maine, whichleaves Kennedy at four. A multimillionaire land developer has invited her to his private island for a weekend party, and Jane is determined to put a damper on the festivities. Marguerite was free to miss the emergency meeting, of course, but she chose to stay for political reasons. She knows that her position at Fashionista is still precarious. Jane herself planned on being on the express train to Montauk, but thwarting Marguerite’s weekend plans is more important than her own. Now she’ll have to take the jitney and suffer the traffic on the L.I.E. or take one of the later trains, which stops at Forrest Hills and Baldwin and Seaford and Copiague and Bridgehampton and all the stops in between. Jane is the first person to cut off her nose to spite her face.
By the time Jane finishes tormenting spot-riddled teenagers, she has only fifteen minutes left to kill. She will not allow this meeting to end a second before four. Leaving nothing to chance, Jane wants to make sure that even if Marguerite hops on a magic carpet, she still won’t catch that plane. Her assistant, Jackie, who has been on the phone with the airline since two o’clock, is under strict orders to report any delays the moment they happen. Jane will keep us here as long as long as it takes, even if she has to read names from the telephone book until midnight.
“What about article ideas?” Jane asks, looking around the table. “I believe I sent out a memo asking for three fresh article ideas from each of you by this afternoon’s meeting.”
This is a complete fabrication—since this meeting was not conceived of more than ten minutes before it was called, no memo went around—but nobody points this out. We all sit in our chairs averting our gazes and hoping someone else raises her hand. The atmosphere is very much like freshman English, with none of us quite sure of the symbolic
“What else?” asks Jane, checking to see if it’s four o’clock yet. She’s not the only one whose eyes are repeatedly drawn to her watch. Half the room had expected to leave by three to get to their summer shares in time for pre-dinner cocktails on the deck.
Anna glances down at her notes, and although she is now nervous, she looks as impeccable as ever. She’s wearing an overcoat so tattered and torn that even the Hasidim threw it away but she still looks perfect. On her, frayed cuffs are an accent. “That’s all for now. I’ll know more on Tuesday,” she says, a subtle reminder to our intrepid editor in chief that this meeting is impromptu and unplanned. “I expect the publicists to get back to me after the weekend.”
Jane is the sort of person to leave publicists and editors hanging over long weekends, but she doesn’t accept that type of behavior from others. She huffs angrily now, looking very much like she wants to vent her spleen on Anna, but she holds herself back. Marguerite is in the room. She’s sitting across from her with a friendly smile on her face and Jane seeks to mimic her behavior. For a nanosecond Jane wants to be liked. It’s for all the wrong reasons, but it saves Anna a reaming.
She turns her attention to a summer intern. “You there, with the pimple, what are you working on?”
The mortified college junior mutters and sputters for a few seconds before mumbling something about high-top sneakers. The other intern in the room, who has a carbuncle the size of the Liberty Bell on her nose, tilts her head down, trying to hide her face. She is wishing desperately that she could disappear.
Jane called this meeting after discovering that Marguerite planned to catch the last flight to Bangor, Maine, whichleaves Kennedy at four. A multimillionaire land developer has invited her to his private island for a weekend party, and Jane is determined to put a damper on the festivities. Marguerite was free to miss the emergency meeting, of course, but she chose to stay for political reasons. She knows that her position at Fashionista is still precarious. Jane herself planned on being on the express train to Montauk, but thwarting Marguerite’s weekend plans is more important than her own. Now she’ll have to take the jitney and suffer the traffic on the L.I.E. or take one of the later trains, which stops at Forrest Hills and Baldwin and Seaford and Copiague and Bridgehampton and all the stops in between. Jane is the first person to cut off her nose to spite her face.
By the time Jane finishes tormenting spot-riddled teenagers, she has only fifteen minutes left to kill. She will not allow this meeting to end a second before four. Leaving nothing to chance, Jane wants to make sure that even if Marguerite hops on a magic carpet, she still won’t catch that plane. Her assistant, Jackie, who has been on the phone with the airline since two o’clock, is under strict orders to report any delays the moment they happen. Jane will keep us here as long as long as it takes, even if she has to read names from the telephone book until midnight.
“What about article ideas?” Jane asks, looking around the table. “I believe I sent out a memo asking for three fresh article ideas from each of you by this afternoon’s meeting.”
This is a complete fabrication—since this meeting was not conceived of more than ten minutes before it was called, no memo went around—but nobody points this out. We all sit in our chairs averting our gazes and hoping someone else raises her hand. The atmosphere is very much like freshman English, with none of us quite sure of the symbolic
Similar Books
