Lindsey Kelk - I Heart Forever

‘Well, I’ve enjoyed our talk.’ I stood up behind my desk while Cici picked up the giant neon Troll doll on top of my filing cabinet and turned it over in her hands before setting it right back down and wiping her hands off on her wine-coloured midi skirt. It was Prada. I knew because she had told me. ‘And I’ll think about it. Like I said, I don’t think there will be any roles opening up soon and we don’t have the budget to create anything. Do you think you’d want to work at any of the other magazines?’

The audacity of hope.

She looked back at me as though I was mad.

‘I feel like Gloss is my baby,’ she said with a shrug as she walked towards the door. ‘I wouldn’t feel right anywhere else. I’m sure you, me and Jo will figure it out.’

I stared after her as she closed the door gently and tried my hardest to work out why everything she said always sounded like a threat.

‘ Gloss is my baby,’ I muttered, opening a drawer and pulling out an emergency bag of Monster Munch. ‘Why don’t you go and tell Jo that?’

That was me, Angela Clark, super-mature, adult-extraordinaire, and absolutely, 100 per cent, winning at life.

‘Never have I needed this more than I do today,’ I said, chucking back half my cocktail-in-a-teacup in one go. ‘Honestly, the day I’ve had.’

‘Um, OK?’ the waitress raised an eyebrow, clearly out of fucks to give and it was only ten past seven in the evening. ‘Can I get you anything else?’

‘Three more of these, please.’ I pointed at my half-empty cup. ‘For my friends. Who are on their way. Not for me.’

‘Girl, no judgement,’ she replied. ‘You do you.’

‘Still not entirely sure what that means,’ I admitted quietly as she disappeared down the dark narrow bar. ‘But I’ll try.’

Even though I was twenty minutes late to The Dead Rabbit, I was still the first to arrive. It was a while since we’d been there and it was nice to sink into a comfy corner seat in the dimly lit upstairs bar. In days gone by, Jenny had been a big fan due to its proximity to Wall Street, Wall Street bankers and Wall Street bankers’ wallets, but since she had settled down with Mason we hardly ever ventured this far south in Manhattan. Even though they didn’t live together officially, she spent almost every night at his Gramercy apartment, and her room in our old Murray Hill two-bedroom was little more than a glorified wardrobe.

Sipping the rest of my cocktail at a more dignified pace, I thought back to my Mason conversation that morning. Even though I was so excited for him to propose to my bestie, I knew keeping the secret was going to kill me. In general, people didn’t tell me things they didn’t want other people to know – case in point, Delia’s taking over Spencer Media and reorganizing the entire business on the sly. I had a hard time keeping schtum: whether it was due to excitement, extreme tiredness or straight-up idiocy, I was not a safe space for secrets. But this time, I was 100 per cent going to hold my water. For two months. Two long months. Emptying the rest of my drink, I pushed the teacup away and stared off into the distance.

He probably shouldn’t have told me.

‘Hey, sorry we’re late.’

Jenny and Erin blew into the bar in a cloud of perfect hair and expensive perfume. I surreptitiously stuck my nose into my own armpit to make sure my Dove was keeping up its twenty-four-hour freshness claim before Jenny hurled herself at me for a hug.

I pasted a bright smile on my face and clamped my lips together.

Don’t tell Jenny about the proposal, don’t tell Jenny about the proposal, don’t tell Jenny about the proposal .

‘Are you OK?’ Jenny asked.

Don’t tell Jenny about the proposal .

‘Maso— mais oui ,’ I replied with a flourish to back up my sweet French save. ‘Yes. Absolutely. Why wouldn’t I be?’

She didn’t look entirely convinced but she didn’t ask any follow-up questions either. That went down as a win in my book.

‘We had a meeting across town and I thought it would never end,’ Erin said, explaining away their lateness and almost taking my eye out with her razor-sharp blonde bob. ‘Traffic is a bitch tonight.’

‘You could have taken the subway,’ I suggested. ‘No traffic down there.’

Erin and Jenny looked at each other and exploded into laughter.

‘And that’s why you’re the funny one,’ Erin smiled, shrugging off her oversized Burberry pea coat and dumping her Hermès Birkin on top of my MJ satchel on the spare chair. My bag slid to the floor sadly, ashamed to be in the presence of something so superior. Jenny grabbed it from the ground and passed the offending article back with a disapproving frown.

‘You’re still using this?’ she asked, pulling a lip gloss out of her own studded leather Alexander Wang duffel. ‘Angie, you must have like a thousand bags now, you have to let that thing go.’

‘You’re confusing my bag collection with yours,’ I told her, stroking the soft, supple brown leather. ‘Anyway, I love this bag. I think it gets better with age.’

‘It doesn’t, you should ditch it,’ Erin assured me. ‘Nothing does really. Red wine and George Clooney are literally the only exceptions to that rule.’

‘We’ll end up burying you with that thing,’ Jenny sighed as I cradled my bag in my arms to shield it from Erin’s cruel but worryingly accurate statements. ‘Sometimes I think all my work with you was for nothing.’

‘Give me a break,’ I begged as the waitress reappeared with our cocktails, ‘I’ve had a shitty day and my brain isn’t up to it.’

‘Same here,’ Erin said, clinking her teacup against mine. ‘I’ve been up since three – TJ has some kind of bug and I spent half the night stripping beds and cleaning up baby puke. And you know if he has it, Arianna’ll have it by tomorrow.’

‘To the glamour of motherhood,’ I said, clinking her back. ‘Cici announced she’s been my assistant for long enough and wants a “bigger role” at Gloss . Also, they’re completely restructuring the company and everyone is on the chopping block, which I probably should have mentioned first, so ha-ha, I win. Worst day in forever.’

Jenny peeled off her tight black sweater to reveal a low-cut black T-shirt and every man in the bar turned and looked.

‘Mason emailed me about the restructure,’ she said as she crossed her toned legs. If you got up and went running every morning like Jenny did, you could have legs like that, said the little voice in my head. I drowned it with another sip of my cocktail. ‘You’re overreacting. They haven’t announced any closures yet.’

‘The fact you added a “yet” on the end doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence,’ I told her. ‘It’s just unsettling.’

‘Not as unsettling as that demon spawn twin, Cici,’ Jenny corrected. ‘Surely you’ve put up with her for long enough? It’s time for her to disappear.’

‘The worst part is, she’s not actually wrong,’ I admitted, washing away the words with a mouthful of gin. ‘Most assistants move up after a couple of years and she’s been with me for three. As much as it pains me to admit it, she’s good at her job, even if her people skills are still, you know, a bit rough.’

Never had there been such an understatement.

‘I only wish she wanted to move to another magazine, I know the rest of the team would like to see the back of her.’

Erin stretched her arms above her head until her shoulders clicked. ‘I don’t know how you sit in an office with that woman every day. I’d rather have an underfed hyena outside my office. Do you keep a loaded gun in your desk?’