Career Girls (32 page)

There were plenty of role models in New York: Andr Harrell, ruling at Uptown; Richard Griffiths at Epic, another expat Brit and one whose roster made her sick with “

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envy - Spin Doctors, Brad, Screaming Trees, Rage Against the Machine, Eve’s Plum, etc, etc; Monica Lynch of Tommy Boy and countless others.

Obsession had a little success; the second act Rowena signed, Steamer, a thrash band, had more.

People started to fill offices, and Luther mixed the whine ofchainsaws with whirring computer printouts and stereos pumping out Ice Cube and Sugar. Rowena filled one floor with phones and faxes and started the promotion department right away; Roxana was being worked at urban radio

and Atomic Mass at Metal and CHR within a week.

In all her life, she’d never felt so alive.

She’d learnt her lesson and made sure they had good accountants and administrators as well as talented staff. By the end of the year Luther was a growing concern, and Josh Oberman finally thought that if they could just arrange to market more product, they could set up their own distribution.

Rowena was still obsessed with Michael, but slowly, painfully, from a lack of oxygen, hope was starting to die. Still, she just could not give him up, and Michael had no intention of letting her go. He liked her. He desired her. And though he would never admit it, Rowena was more to him than either a friend or a piece of ass.

Michael needed her admiration, he enjoyed her intelligence, and there was a part of him - the part whose parents had neglected him, whose first real girlfriend had cheated on him, whose wife was more interested in their children-that revelled in being the object of such blind, heedless, reckless love.

He wasn’t an intentionally cruel man. He told Rowena, and he believed it when he said it, that he wanted her to have other lovers. To be happy. To find an available guy. But he knew her intimately, and he knew that there was never any real competition for him from the occasional dates that Rowena forced herself to go on for a week or so, something she hated doing, something she forced herself to do to prove to herself that she wasn’t helpless.

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It was terrible.

‘I got some news for you,’ Mary Cash, her assistant, smiled at Topaz as she handed her her coffee. ‘Strictly gossip, though.’

‘That’s usually the most reliable source,’ Topaz said. She meant it; not only was Mary a brilliant office manager, she was plugged into the nerve centre of the secretarial mafia.

‘Well, word is that the boys upstairs are scouting to buy a sports property.’

‘Really?’ her boss asked. It made sense.

‘Yeah, and when they’ve found one, they’ll be picking some people to work on the buyout, monitoring the team …’

‘And promoting the best person to the board?’

‘You got it.’

Topaz felt a rush of pure adrenalin flood through her. She hadn’t been this excited since Nathan died.

‘And for what it’s worth,’ added Mary, pleased to see her interested again, ‘the same person who told me was talking privately with Linda this morning.’

Linda was Joe Goldstein’s secretary.

‘Aha,’ said Topaz, thoughtfully.

‘Aren’t you guys going to another Mets game tonight?’ asked Mary archly. ‘Will this get in the way?’

‘Yes we are, and maybe,’ said Topaz. ‘But you know what? If it does - tough!’

They laughed.

‘Are you sure?’Joe pressed Linda. ‘Mary Cash. I swear.’ ‘OK, thanks.’

He took his finger off the buzzer and stred out of the window. It was a spectacular view from the forty-third floor, the tops of the skyscrapers and the Hudson and the ‘

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long, straight roads with their glittering little cars. That was the prize: New York. Nothing less, as far as he was - concerned. New York was media city, and only two types of men really ruled here: media bigshots and the Wall Street crowd. It would have been television, if he had had his choice.

But even someone as driven as Joe couldn’t complain about the speed of this rise.

The American Magazines board, before he was thirtyofive!

It was a bright autumn day-in Manhattan, the sun streaming weakly into the chill air, nothing but dry, crisp brilliance outside his warm office.

He truly hoped Topaz would not take it personally, but he wouldn’t give this up. For anyone.

‘Seeing much of David?’ Rowena asked Barbara, cradling her phone with her shoulder as she studied the Bitter Spice sales figures.

‘Not really,’ Barbara said. David Hammond, head of A&R at Funhouse Records in the UK, had been dating her for years. ‘He took up with some Central European girl and carried on with me at the same time.’

Rowena winced. ‘That must’ve hurt.’

‘Yeah it hurt. And you know I slept with someone else

once, two years ago’, when David and I had just broken up?’ ‘But he wasn’t seeing you.’

‘I know. But he keeps referring to it, every time. As if my seeing this guy once is the same thing as him taking Elvira to every bloody industry event…’

‘And he’s still sleeping with you?’

‘I know.’ Barbara sighed. ‘It’s pitiful. But I’m sexually addicted, and I love him, however much of a bastard he is. What women will do, how low women will sink when they’re in love.’

‘I know,’ said Rowena, thinking about Michael.

‘Your head can be fully aware that the guy’s no good. It’s all very well, magazines saying that if you can see what a jerk he is you’ll be cured. That’s bullshit.’

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‘Your heart rules.’

‘Every time.’

‘It’s an occupational hazard of being female,’ Rowena said.

‘How’s business? Apart from us.’

‘Apart from you, pretty good; including you, sensational. I’ve been consolidating, building, nothing flashy. Oberman’s looking to set up a soundtrack deal, a label/ studio-type deal-an exclusive arrangement.’

‘You’d do all the soundtracks for one movie studio?’ ‘Exactlyl And they’d own a piece of the label.’

‘Sounds interesting. It could kick you up the corporate ladder, too.’

‘No one ever said you were dumb, honey.’

‘Nice change-up,’ said Topaz appreciatively. ‘Maybe we have a chance in this one.’

‘I wouldn, t bet on it,’ said Joe, demolishing the first third of his hotdog. He swallowed and added, ‘Pitching’s OK, just. Hitting sucks. Us and the Padres have the lowest hitting average in the league, remember.’

‘Thanks for the recap,’ said Topaz, glaring at him. She

hated defeatists. ‘I love sports,’ she added. Joe stared fixedly at the field. ‘And I love magazines,’ she added.

Joe turned to her, dragging his gaze away from the game. ‘Look, Rossi,’ he said, ‘if this is your attempt at subtlety, it’s

not working. I take it you heard about the sports title.’ ‘Right.’

‘And… will you be requesting an assignment to the takeover team?’

‘You mean am I pitching for the board’?’ ‘That’s what I mean,’ said Goldstein. ‘Are you?’

They looked at each other for a long moment, regretfully.

‘Let’s make it a clean fight.’

‘OK.’

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‘No resentment;’ Topaz insisted. ‘Either side.’

‘Fine by me.’

‘Let’s make it a rule never to talk about business after hours. ‘

‘Let’s watch the damn game, Topaz.’

Gary Sheffield strode on to the field, pinch hitting for Pat Rapp.

‘Oh no,’ said Joe.

‘That’s never in the pitch zone! Oh, no!’ said Topaz, jumping up in her seat. ‘No!’

Sheffield swung and hit a low outside fastball in a soaring curve towards the leftfield stands.

‘It’s history,’ moaned Goldstein, a man in pain. ‘Oh God.

I can’t bear it.’ Topaz covered her eyes with her hands to avoid the gruesome sight of another enemy home run.

‘I want you to know that I’m not gonna back offor ease

up in any way on this, ‘Joe said. ‘No business.’ ‘OK.’

Topaz drove them to Ren Pujol’s on West 5ISt Street for dinner. ‘They have a melting chocolate cake that’s the

closest thing to heaven this side of a cemetery,’ she said. ‘French food. Makes a change,’Joe remarked. ‘What do you normally eat?’ ‘Italian.’

She smiled at him.

They talked a lot at dinner, about politics, religion, music. Topaz discovered that Goldstein had been pretty lonely since transferring to the East Coast; he hadn’t done as badly as her, but he still missed his friends.

‘I gotta get back,’ said Joe eventually, checking his watch.

‘I got a girl waiting.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Topaz said. ‘I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.’

Joe laughed. ‘She’s not my girlfriend, she’s just some girl.

I told the porter to let her in at ten so I’d better not be much longer.’

‘Some girl?’ repeated Topaz.

‘Yeah. Joanna orJoanie or something. I met her at a bar,

arranged to see her tonight.’

‘Just to get laid?’ ‘Right,’ said Joe pleasantly.

‘Does this woman realize you call her “some girl” and don’t even know her name?’

‘Don’t preach at me, Topaz,’ said Joe less pleasantly. ‘She’s going to get what she wants out of it. Girls who hang around that kind of pick-up joint aren’t looking for a “meaningful relationship”.’ He put quotes around the phrase.

Topaz found herself getting angry. ‘You were hanging around that kind of pick-up joint too, Joe. What does that make you? A gigolo?’

Goldstein flushed. ‘It’s different for men, and you know it.’

‘Damn right it’s different for men. Men don’t get labelled as whores for having sexual desires.’

Joe flinched. ‘I don’t like hearing a lady talk dirty.’

Topaz paused, then reached for her wallet and threw two hundred-dollar bills on the table.

‘Fuck you, Joe Goldstein. And fuck the double standard,’ she said calmly, and walked out.

The team working on the buyout of Athletic World was announced internally. Only two people of the requisite seniority had applied: Joe. Goldstein and Topaz Rossi. Employees graffitied notices with ‘Round Two’ and ‘The Rematch’.

Topaz sent Joe a copy of Backlash: The Undeclared War Against :;merican Women by Susan Faludi

In return, he sent her a copy of The Way Things Ought to Be by Rush Limbaugh.

Athletic World proved a complicated deal. The magazine was still family-run, one of the only major sports magazines not part of a publishing conglomerate - ‘yet,’ as Matthew Gowers said. The trouble was that it didn’t stand alone..

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Athletic World was part of a small group of sports companies - the middle-aged man who’d founded it had also acquired a gym and a company that made personalized shoelaces for trainers, in addition to a medium-sized operation selling Athletic World merchandise.

Joe suggested the board look for an easier target.

They turned him down, unanimously. American Magazines was tired of risky start-up ventures. American Magazines was shopping for a little goodwill, for a brandname.

Topaz played to her strengths and requested that she be assigned to profile the magazine, circulation and advertising, how it could be improved. Joe set to worl with due diligence, finding an investment bank, finding buyers for the other parts of the group.

Both of them were in their element completely. The chairman and the board kept close tabs, and were extremely impressed.

‘Let me get this straight,’ Kirk said. Kirk was Joe’s closest friend; they jogged together before work. He swallowed a mouthful of doughnut.

‘She’s smart, she’s funny, she has a great body - ‘ ‘Knockout. Absolutely knockout.’ ‘And she likes baseball?’ ‘Yup.’

‘And you let her go? You really screwed up,’ commented Kirk.

‘Yeah, well,’ said Joe. He pummelled the punchbag. ‘That’s the problem. She’s too masculine.’

‘Tomboys are usually great in bed,’ said Kirk.

‘I didn’t fuck her, OK. I’m talking about losing a friend here. ‘

‘But you guys were inseparable for the past six months!

You couldn’t pull her in all that time?’ Kirk teased.

‘Jesus, Kirk. I said it wasn’t like that. We just talked,

about politics, art, you know.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Oh, please,’ snapped Joe, exasperated. ‘The goddamn

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bitch is fighting me for the board. For the board. She refuses to budge an inch. I mean I’ve had it with her. She’s too young and totally inexperienced and I am going to cream her. Fuck her. I’m out.’

He savagely laid into the punchbag.

Kirk chuckled. ‘Joe, my friend,’ he said, ‘you’ve got it bad.’

It was 7 p.m. and the Girlfriend offices were emptying out. Topaz wrapped up her discussion with Sue Chynow, the editor-in-chief, and went to fix herselfa fresh pot of coffee.

It was going to be a long night.

‘I got takeout,’ Joe said as she appeared in his office five minutes later. ‘Chinese, is that good for you?

‘It’s fine,’ Topaz said coldly, drawing up a chair and briskly opening a file. ‘Coffee?’

‘Yes, thaak you. Black,’ said Joe, equally briskly.

They both began to study cashflow charts in aggressive silence.

An hour later, they were having what politicians term ‘a free and frank discussion’.

‘But women working out are totally different to women sports fans!’ roared Topaz. ‘Just like men, you stupid asshole! Working out is not a sport! It’s exercise!’

‘No. You’re wrong,’ Joe said, through clenched teeth. ‘They’re into Flo-Jo because she wears make-up, not because of her speed.’

‘No. Men are into Flo-Jo because she wears make-up.’ ‘Take women out of the goddamn reader profile!’ yelled

Joe.

‘I will not. It alters the finance - ‘

‘Don’t tell me about financing, Rossi! What do you think I’ve been doing for the last month - ?’

‘Looking in the mirror and jerking off, probably,’ said Topaz rudely.

Joe went white with anger. ‘What did you say?’

‘You heard.’

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