Career Girls (11 page)

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more sons-of-bitches like Peter Kennedy tricking their way into my pants. And no more assholes like Geoffrey Stevens refusing to take my calls

‘Topaz? Anybody home?’ Jason Richman asked. ‘God, where are you at this morning? I called out to you three times on the street, but you just walked right past with your head in the clouds.’

She smiled at him apologetically as they both walked into the elevator. ‘Jase, I’m sorry. I had my mind on a story.’

‘Yeah? Whose? Did Rosen ask you to copy-edit thatJosie Simons thing on ticket scalpers?’

Topaz shook her head, grinning. ‘Not exactly. This is one of my own.’

‘Of yours?’ asked Jason, surprised[ Topaz was obviously very good, but Nate Rosen would surely never promote her so quickly. She’d only been at Westside a month. Even Elise had had to wait six months before she got a reporting gig.

She noddtd. ‘It’s kind of a … a test. He wanted to see what I could do.’

The heavy metal doors hissed smoothly open, and they stepped out together onto Westside’s floor. The offices were deserted at this time in the morning. Only Jason liked to get into work early; he left early too, to hit the cool, crowded little restaurants he reviewed before the rush started. Today, Topaz wanted time to think, to go over what she could get out of this hot little bombshell. If only she could keep a lid on her excitement long enough to think straight.

‘I’m intrigued, ‘Jason said. ‘Spill it, Topaz. What did he say? You want some coffee?’

‘Yes please,’ she said, already a shameless caffeine addict.

‘Black, no sugar. Can you keep a scret?’.

‘Sure,’ said Jason, curiously.

‘He asked me to get an interview with David Levine. Said that ill did, he would make me a reporter, and if I screwed it up, I was fired.’

‘No!’ said Jason, perching on the edge of his desk. He handed her the coffee. ‘That’s not like Nathan, to be hard on a junior like that. He’s normally so laid-back. You must

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really have pissed him off, Topaz. Would you like me to talk

to him? See if I can calm him down?’

Topaz grinned. ‘I got the story, Jason.’

‘Get out of here.’

‘I did, I did!’ she burst out, unable to control the huge grin spreading across her face. ‘I trailed him! In disguise! And I taped him! And it’s dynamite!’

Jason laughed at her affectionately. ‘Come on, babe, you’re not Lois Lane, and this isn’t the Daily Planet. What did you do, make something up? I’m not gonna report you. Nathan’ll probably let you offfor being inventive.’

Without another word, Topaz bent down and unclipped

her briefcase. Gingerly she extracted the double-spaced typescript of her story and handed it to her friend.

Jason read it in silence, occasionally raising an eyebrow or letting his lips move in surprise. It was extremely well written. And it was indeed dynamite.

At the end, he said simply, ‘Topaz, can you prove this?’ She nodded, eyes sparkling, and threw him the tape of their conversation. Richman slotted it into the cassette player by Elise DeLuca’s desk.

‘ … tell me all about it,’ said Topaz in a soft Southern drawl.

‘Well, Susie should have known better,’ David Levine’s unmistakable voice asserted loudly.

Jason sat bolt upright, staring down at the pages in his hand. He realized what he was hearing, but he still couldn’t quite believe it.

‘She was a teacher. Seemed like/had to teach hera lesson,’ Levine went on, his voice clipped and tight.

‘Coke?’ Jason asked, reaching for the off-switch. He didn’t want to hear any more. The stuffLevine admitted in this article made his stomach turn.

‘Yeah. And he was on something different when I first stopped him in the street,’ Topaz answered. She was swelling with pride. Jason’s reaction was exactly what she’d hoped for. ‘He told me he’d sue if I printed anything, because he didn’t see a tape recorder. So I swi.tched my

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Dictaphone on and.., and I hid it inside my bra,’ she explained.

Jason glanced involuntarily at her firm, full bust. Damn, the girl had no business looking like that. It was distracting when he was trying to concentrate on the scoop of the goddamn year.

He sighed. ‘Topaz, do you know what you’ve got here?’ ‘A story that’ll make me a reporter,’ she said confidently.

Richman marvelled. For a smart, independent kid, Rossi could sometimes be incredibly dumb.

‘What you’ve got here,’ he explained patiently, ‘is a front-page lead item on the six-o’clock-news-type story. An exclusive that could sell millions of papers. That will ruin a major film star’s career, embarrass his studio, and make you personally into a celebrity, at least for a few days. Now you could hand in a story like that to your boss and get made into a reporter, on twenty-five thousand dollars a year. That’g a big step up from where you are now, of course. ‘

He gathered up his stuff, wanting to get over to the Gotham Car6 in SoHo for breakfast. ‘Or you could figure out what a story like that is worth. To Nathan Rosen or anyone else. Don’t be a putz, Topaz. You’re not in Kansas any more.’

And with that he winked at her and strolled out the door.

Nathan Rosen stepped into his kitchen, wondering what to fix for breakfast. French vinilla coffee and a toasted bagel with lox, perhaps. Nothing too heavy. It was too warm a morning to want to eat heavy food.

A few .years ago he’d have just grabbed some ice cream from the fridge, or made himself a chicken sandwich. Or more likely skipped breakfast altogether and picked up a doughnut at the office. Things were simpler then. After the divorce, eating what he liked where he liked had taken on a delicious sense of luxury.

But Rosen was a born New Yorker, and a high achiever at that. He liked to be the best at everything, and he liked the

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attentions of women. And somewhere in the mid-eighties, how you looked became as important as what you were.

As usual, Nathan refused to be left behind. He joined a gym and worked offhis soft belly and spreading thighs, and cut excess fat from his diet. He still ate like a horse, but he ate high-protein, high-carbohydrate foods. The one thing he couldn’t give up was ice cream, but then again, he was only human.

It had been a struggle. But it was worth it, Rosen thought with a touch of vanity, checking himself out in the wall mirror. His large frame was now solid muscle. He had a clean, strong jawline with no hint of fat around the chin. There was nothing he could do about his thinning hair and the flecks of grey at the side of his skull, but basically Rosen looked good. And he knew it. Hell, how could he fail to

I notice? He was getting laid so much more. Women came on to him at the gym. After the workout class. While he was out jogging. At parties. At baseball games. Yeah, Nate Rosen was a big fan of the exercise revolution.

He’d dated a few of the women he met socially, but not for long; no relationship since his marriage had lasted more than five months. But that didn’t bother him. He was in no rush to get another thin gold band. After years of fidelity to a sexually selfish woman, Rosen was enjoying his freedom too much to give it up. If the right person came along, fair enough. But it was a case of proceed with caution. He’d been wrong the first time.

Rosen switched on the percolator, waiting for the pleasantly bitter coffee smell to fill the airy kitchen. He loved this time in the morning that he had for himself swinging into his stride, psyching himself up for another day in the office. Westside was a fun magazine to edit; not only cutting-edge, but, since he’d taken over the editor’s job, highly profitable.

In fact, the rumour was that he was about to be promoted. Henry Birnbaum, the director of American’s East Coast operations, was due to step down in the fall. Nathan had been told by the President, Matthew. Gowers,

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that he was first in line for the job.

Director. It would be a good way to turn forty, Nathan thought, grinning. He looked out of his window towards Central Park, enjoying the clear blue skies, the sunlight, his own feelings of success.

Maybe he’d been a little hard on Topaz Rossi.

Now where the hell did that come from? Rosen wondered, angry with himself. What was this thing he had about some new kid? Some talented, pushy new kid who’d only been in the office a month? He could not stop thinking about her. Getting enchanted by her enthusiasm, fascinated by her intelligence, enraged by her arrogance. He’d never had so much chutzpah at her age. At least, he thought not. And she had been way out of line the other night, no question. But would he have reacted in that way if she’d been a guy? Wouldn’t he just have laughed at her, told her to calm down? What was with this stupid do-or-die mission he’d sent her or? David Levine? Right. Like some kid could manage to swing an interview with him. She was probably over there this morning, cleaning out her desk. And she had talent, Topaz Rossi; Nathan reckoned she’d make a good writer some day. It wasn’t his job as her boss to be taking out his feelings on her.

Because, Rosen admitted to himself, spreading lox on his bagel, I do have feelings for that girl. I like her. And I want

her.

But that was natural. She was beautiful, with those delicate blue eyes and that mass of curly red hair. It was impossible not to think about the hair elsewhere on her smooth, young body. And she was stacked, with a waist he could encircle with his two hafids swelling out to an invitingly curvy ass. Rossi would grace the cover of Sports Illustrated’s swimsuit issue, so it was only to be expected that he imagined her the way he did. On a beach, in a tiny bikini. Naked on top of him. Being made love to, slowly, in his jacuzzi upstairs.

Rosen, feeling the first stirrings in his groin, dragged his thoughts away from those images. Topaz was way too

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young. He despised middle-aged men who chased students. And he had enough girls without screwing around on his doorstep. In the nineties, the office romance was totally taboo. It had always been bad news, but these days you didn’t even think about things like that. The office compliment was taboo, for Christ’s sake. If Topaz was a little older, she’d understand these things. She wouldn’t come on to him so damn obviously, with those smiles and little breathless glances and tight Tshirts. She was a nice kid. He had to be a responsible adult.

This morning, Rosen decided, I’ll call the kid in and let her off with a warning. A stern warning.

David Levine and Topaz Rossi? he thought, grinning. It would be Christians and Lions all over again.

‘What’s up with Topaz?’ Elise asked Josie. ‘She’s been locked on the phone all day.’

‘And circling property ads in the Village Voice,’ the music writer agreed. ‘I don’t know. I guess she’s moving house.’

‘On what we’re paying?’ Elise shrugged.

Topaz felt her heartbeat speeding up. Adrenalin coursed through her. Thank God for Jason Richman! Thank God she’d even got to talk to him! How could she have been so blind?

She was holding for Geoffrey Stevens. Amazing how good this felt. It had come to her like a blinding flash of inspiration, after Jason left this morning. So the article was worth $5o,ooo and she hadn’t spotted it? Fine. Well, now she was going to make it $oo,0oo. And get herself a little revenge into the bargain.

She had to move secretly. And she had to move fast.

‘Miss Rossi.’

There it was, at last. That clipped English accent she thought she’d never hear again, not once Charles Gordon had killed her student articles with one phone call. Oh, she remembered all that. ‘Mr Stevens is unavailable:’ ‘Mr Stevens is not in the office.’ ‘Mr Stevens has asked me to tell

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you we can’t use your material, Miss Rossi. Sorry if there was any misunderstandiug.’

Topaz felt her Italian blood pump through her, thrilled at the prospect of revenge.

‘I got your fax,’ Stcvcns said. ‘A very iuteresting snippet.’ Yeah, )ou’re itterested it this material, ri,ht, you limey prich?

‘There’s more where that came from, Mr Steveus. A lot more. And a tape to go with it.’

There was a pause. Topaz could almost see the greedy asshole lickiug his lips.

‘We would be very iuterested in publishing this story, Miss Rossi. You would have a byline, of course. And a picture.’

She almost laughed out loud. He must think she was still at college. ‘Of course,’ she agreed. ‘That’s standard. Now we must discuss the small matter of my fee.’

‘My budget is limited, Miss Rossi,’ Stevens said coldly, as

if to imply’his coutempt for such a mercenary attitude. Topaz grinned. ‘My options aren’t,’ she observed.

Sileuce. He could feel it slippiug away. ‘What do you want?’

‘Seventy thousaud pounds,’ said Topaz coolly. The office fax wasn’t numbered, and she wauted him to think she was still in Eugland. That was au important part of the plan. ‘Today. Paid directly iuto nay bauk accouut. You get a European exclusive, and it has to run in the Smtda} Times next week. I’ll fax you the first half of the story today, with a tape to match, Fed ex’d to the office. If I get nay mouey, you’ll get the second half of the story tomorrow.’

‘How do I kuow it isn’t a comp!ete fabrication?’

Topaz held her Dictaphone up to the receiver and pressed play, letting the tape run for tweuty seconds.

‘That should be enough, Mr Stevens. If you can’t trust me,

just say so, I’ll sell it to the Mail o StoMa y. 1)o we have a deal ?’ ‘Yes, damn it!’ the mau spat. Topaz heard the line click dead. Smiling, she called her bank.

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Nathan arrived at Westside about eleven fifteen and went straight into his office, refusing all calls and his mail, and worked solidly through the proposed budget for a new colour supplement the board wanted to see installed. Nobody disturbed him; it had been Rosen’s habit for years to concentrate completely on the most immediate problem they had, and sort other things out later. If Elise wanted a new features layout or Josie wanted to run a rock concert promotion, they got to see Nathan Rosen - but only after lunch. If you got summoned to the office before 2 p.m., everybody knew something was up.