Read Online Little Pink Slips by Sally Koslow - Free Book Online
Authors: Sally Koslow
Tags: Fiction, General, Humorous, Humorous fiction, New York (N.Y.), Contemporary Women, Fashion Editors, Women's Periodicals, Women Periodical Editors
Ads: Link
notch," Magnolia said. "What you
don't know is that this week a gentleman sent me flowers."
Abbey and Lily swiveled their creaky vinyl chairs to face Magnolia. "The designer I worked with on the Lady r edo sent me a magnificent orchid in a tasteful white china pot."
"He's looking for more work," Lily said. "Doesn't count."
Magnolia hated that Lily might be right.
"Is he interested in Magnolia the delightful divorcée, or Magnolia
the on-the-rise editor?" Abbey asked.
"I'm trying to decide whether I should find out. When we finally
spoke last night, he suggested meeting for a drink."
"You accepted?" Abbey asked.
"Gave him the 'I'm on deadline.' "
"Technically, he's not your employee," she pointed out. "You
should have said yes."
"Okay, I'll ask him to join me at Natalie's party. It's a business thing,
so I can't embarrass myself that badly." In fact, bringing along Harry, who'd only recently moved here from London, might even elevate her
stock. He was a hot design consultant, and Americans always thought
anyone who sounded like Ralph Fiennes was profoundly intelligent.
Lily gave Magnolia's fingertips a final coat. Abbey's nails were now
a shiny crimson, as they sat at the dryers at the far end of the shop. Magnolia noticed the latest Lady, along with any number of tattered Peoples . "Good, we've escaped Lily," Magnolia whispered, as she began thumbing through her own magazine. As soon as Lady was printed, she always found at least two dozen things she wished she'd
done differently. "I've hit a little, ah, speed bump at work." She filled
her in on the Michael's breakfast.
"She brought a cat to a midtown restaurant?" Abbey asked.
"That was the highlight. This whole Bebe thing is spiraling out of
control. Very soon it's going to be the cheese stands alone, and I will be a
piece of very stinky Limburger." Magnolia tried for breezy, but she
knew Abbey would see straight through to the hollow spot inside of her
that exposed her worst-case scenario. Humiliation! Loneliness! Finan
cial ruin! That's what she saw for herself if Jock pulled the plug on her
magazine. Working didn't just pay the bills—it made her whole.
"You've got to talk to Jock," Abbey insisted. "Get him to see reason."
"Natalie thinks that's a vile idea."
"Natalie? The only good advice she ever gave you was never to
incriminate yourself in e-mail. If your magazine turns into Bebe
Blake's Christmas letter, Natalie has nothing to lose. Fight!"
"Jock's totally dollar-happy," Magnolia said. "I'm afraid his mind
is made up. He thinks going with Bebe is a blue-chip deal."
"How can you be sure?" Abbey asked.
Magnolia didn't know whom to believe. Her friend's love was never
in dispute, but she thought like an artist, not a corporate strategist,
while Natalie had stayed at the top of her game for close to twenty-five
years, when some colleagues as young as forty were already roadkill.
"I say, 'Feed me,' " Magnolia said. "Omelets at Nice Matin?"
"Bye, Lily," they shouted. "See you next Saturday."
"Don't forget your newspaper," Lily called out.
Magnolia had almost left her Post behind. "Hold up, guys. Let's see what Miss Universe has in store for me today."
Can you trust other people's advice? Today's stars warn that not even close colleagues and confidants can be relied upon to share good information. They may not be trying to deceive you, but how do you know that they themselves have not been deceived?
Always with the questions, that witch. This mess, she could see,
she'd have to figure out on her own.
C h a p t e r 8
Cleavage Never Hurts
Magnolia had forgotten how much effort a woman needed to look good, really good.
The week had been too busy for a fake-and-bake at Brazilian
Bronze, so the night before Natalie's party on Saturday, starting at
midnight, she anointed herself with self-tanner, which dried while
she fell asleep right before Ingrid Bergman discovers Cary Grant was actually single in Indiscreet.
don't know is that this week a gentleman sent me flowers."
Abbey and Lily swiveled their creaky vinyl chairs to face Magnolia. "The designer I worked with on the Lady r edo sent me a magnificent orchid in a tasteful white china pot."
"He's looking for more work," Lily said. "Doesn't count."
Magnolia hated that Lily might be right.
"Is he interested in Magnolia the delightful divorcée, or Magnolia
the on-the-rise editor?" Abbey asked.
"I'm trying to decide whether I should find out. When we finally
spoke last night, he suggested meeting for a drink."
"You accepted?" Abbey asked.
"Gave him the 'I'm on deadline.' "
"Technically, he's not your employee," she pointed out. "You
should have said yes."
"Okay, I'll ask him to join me at Natalie's party. It's a business thing,
so I can't embarrass myself that badly." In fact, bringing along Harry, who'd only recently moved here from London, might even elevate her
stock. He was a hot design consultant, and Americans always thought
anyone who sounded like Ralph Fiennes was profoundly intelligent.
Lily gave Magnolia's fingertips a final coat. Abbey's nails were now
a shiny crimson, as they sat at the dryers at the far end of the shop. Magnolia noticed the latest Lady, along with any number of tattered Peoples . "Good, we've escaped Lily," Magnolia whispered, as she began thumbing through her own magazine. As soon as Lady was printed, she always found at least two dozen things she wished she'd
done differently. "I've hit a little, ah, speed bump at work." She filled
her in on the Michael's breakfast.
"She brought a cat to a midtown restaurant?" Abbey asked.
"That was the highlight. This whole Bebe thing is spiraling out of
control. Very soon it's going to be the cheese stands alone, and I will be a
piece of very stinky Limburger." Magnolia tried for breezy, but she
knew Abbey would see straight through to the hollow spot inside of her
that exposed her worst-case scenario. Humiliation! Loneliness! Finan
cial ruin! That's what she saw for herself if Jock pulled the plug on her
magazine. Working didn't just pay the bills—it made her whole.
"You've got to talk to Jock," Abbey insisted. "Get him to see reason."
"Natalie thinks that's a vile idea."
"Natalie? The only good advice she ever gave you was never to
incriminate yourself in e-mail. If your magazine turns into Bebe
Blake's Christmas letter, Natalie has nothing to lose. Fight!"
"Jock's totally dollar-happy," Magnolia said. "I'm afraid his mind
is made up. He thinks going with Bebe is a blue-chip deal."
"How can you be sure?" Abbey asked.
Magnolia didn't know whom to believe. Her friend's love was never
in dispute, but she thought like an artist, not a corporate strategist,
while Natalie had stayed at the top of her game for close to twenty-five
years, when some colleagues as young as forty were already roadkill.
"I say, 'Feed me,' " Magnolia said. "Omelets at Nice Matin?"
"Bye, Lily," they shouted. "See you next Saturday."
"Don't forget your newspaper," Lily called out.
Magnolia had almost left her Post behind. "Hold up, guys. Let's see what Miss Universe has in store for me today."
Can you trust other people's advice? Today's stars warn that not even close colleagues and confidants can be relied upon to share good information. They may not be trying to deceive you, but how do you know that they themselves have not been deceived?
Always with the questions, that witch. This mess, she could see,
she'd have to figure out on her own.
C h a p t e r 8
Cleavage Never Hurts
Magnolia had forgotten how much effort a woman needed to look good, really good.
The week had been too busy for a fake-and-bake at Brazilian
Bronze, so the night before Natalie's party on Saturday, starting at
midnight, she anointed herself with self-tanner, which dried while
she fell asleep right before Ingrid Bergman discovers Cary Grant was actually single in Indiscreet.
Similar Books
