A. Michael - The Last Word

‘Here we are, Princess.’ Harry led her into a large office where a tiny man sat behind a huge desk. David Crane didn’t exactly look like someone to be messed with, but he did have the misfortune of automatically looking like the granddad everyone wished they had. Even in his smart suit, with his chubby cheeks, white hair and bright blue eyes, he looked like he’d have a funny story to share. Which is why it was a shame he looked more nervous than Tabby felt.

‘Miss Riley, a pleasure,’ he said with a nervous twitch Tabby assumed was a smile.

‘Mr Crane,’ she shook his hand, disappointed to find he had a weak handshake. She sat in one of the chairs, and Harry sat next to her. She refrained from glaring.

‘It appears you’re not entirely sure you want to work for our paper, Miss Riley? Is there anything I can do to change your mind? We’re a new and exciting paper with an excellent reputation, ever since changing from our print version, which has been around for quite a while! We’d be an asset to any CV. Even by going on-line – ’ he sounded the word out like he rarely used it ‘ – we’re keeping up to date with how the world is working. Your writing would fit in here. I hear your Tweeters are well-received.’

Oh, he was a kind man. Even Harry’s exasperated expression appeared tinged with affection. Tabby took a second to wonder how on earth someone who didn’t know what online meant was the editor of an online newspaper, and she hoped it meant the content was so good that the medium didn’t matter. This could be a real job. But she’d have to work with Harry McSmarty Pants over there, who was grinning at her like a hungry hyena.

It suddenly made sense: He obviously didn’t want to hire her, it had been Crane all along. Harry was trying to get rid of her. She waited for the stubborn need to prove people wrong to kick in.

‘I don’t doubt the brilliance of your paper, Mr Crane. I read it often, and it truly is excellent. I just wasn’t convinced in my meeting with Mr Shulman yesterday that I’m exactly what you’re looking for. If my writing is too fluffy for you, that’s fine, but I don’t – ’

‘Fluffy?’ Crane frowned, looking to Harry for clarification.

‘Light-hearted. Miss Riley’s writing is a little different to what we have at the moment, which is why I think it will work. She’ll bring her followers over to us, writing about what she knows, and as she expands into other territories, we’ll increase our fan base.’

Harry had gone into full sales mode, but it seemed Crane was still unsure. But having someone around who was taking care of blogs, Twitter and the internet in general seemed to be a comfort to him. So it was Harry’s idea?

‘Yes, have her write Miss Twisted on Iraq, on expenses scandals, all manner of big issues, take out all the heavy stuff, reduce it. I think women readers would like that.’ Crane smiled at Tabby, and she just looked at Harry.

‘Both of you, huh?’ She sighed and prepared for battle. ‘Do you think my readers are stupid, Mr Crane?’

‘Now, Tabitha, we don’t think that.’ Harry focused all of his energy on her, and seeing as he wasn’t wearing those stupid glasses, she let herself listen. ‘We think your readers are intelligent young people who just forked out a ridiculous amount for an education that isn’t benefiting them, and after eight hours a day working at a job they hate for shitty pay, they want to read something that tells them the facts with minimal effort and optimum humour.’

Tabby almost blinked in the wake of the charm offensive. Right, so that’s what Harry was there for.

‘I know we didn’t get off to the best start yesterday, and that was largely my fault – ’ he smiled ‘ – but I think, we both think, you’d be excellent at this. It could be a perfect fit.’

Tabby counted to three and forced herself to break eye contact, and instead looked over to Crane, who seemed rather confused as to why he was being involved in this at all. She decided she’d go for it. Like she’d ever really doubted it. If the opportunity was there, irritating gorgeous editor or not, she was going to go for it. She needed to stop depending on her mother for handouts. Maybe she was OK again, maybe she could write proper stuff, for a proper paper again.

‘OK, well, let’s talk salary then.’ She shrugged. Her stomach dropped as she watched Harry and Crane make awkward eye contact with each other.

‘Well, you see Miss Riley, as you said this is an excellent opportunity, a chance to make your CV shine, so – ’

‘So you want me to work for nothing. Right.’ She did consider it for a moment, that same in-built intern inclination that every creative graduate has: I have to work for free until I am valued. But Tabby had been valued once, she’d been going places. ‘Gifted’ that’s what Richard used to call her. She was worth something, even now, she was sure. Even if it was only the love of a handful of Twitter followers. Love meant money, or something.

‘Thank you for your time, honestly.’ She smiled gently and stuck out her hand to Crane, who automatically shook it before frowning at her.

‘Now, Tabitha,’ Harry drawled. ‘Let’s not be hasty, I’m sure we could come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.’

She wondered if he worked hard to make every word that came out of his mouth sound like sexual innuendo, or if it was just an unfortunate habit. Luckily, it was not her problem.

Tabby raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sure that would be lovely, Mr Shulman, and I was really excited about this job opportunity. But I need a job, not an internship. I’m on the wrong side of twenty-five for those, I’m afraid.’ She shrugged. ‘Best of luck though.’ She smiled again at Crane, somehow so eager for him to know it wasn’t personal. And that she wasn’t really a mad bitch.

For the second time in two days, Tabby walked out of an interview for a job she had really wanted. Although this time, Harry followed her, his hand hovering at her back as she marched along, trying not to drown in disappointment. When they reached the lift, he spoke.

‘You know, we’re never going to get anywhere if you keep throwing hissy fits.’

Tabby met his eyes again, and immediately wished she hadn’t. ‘Look at my face. Smiling, see?’ She bared her teeth. ‘Not angry. I just don’t want to work for nothing. As I said, I can get by writing for women’s magazines and website content.’

‘But that doesn’t excite you.’ Harry seemed to tower over her, leaning into her personal space like he could draw her in if he kept her talking long enough. Which he probably could. The guy was a salesman: persuasive, convincing and completely without morals. And maybe if anything excited her, that did. She squared her shoulders.

‘Whether heated eyelash curlers work better than regular ones? Super exciting! The world is waiting for my response with baited breath!’ she said dramatically, and allowed a little shared grin with the man who was trying to con her out of her living.

‘Look, I’m not greedy, I’m a pragmatist.’ Why she felt she had to explain her choices to Harry Shulman of all people, she had no idea. Maybe it was so she didn’t notice how close he was standing and that whatever aftershave he was wearing smelled really good. Urgh. ‘People read my work and think I’m kooky and sweet and a pushover. But I think you know that I’m not a pushover, don’t you, Harry?’

She unleashed her smile on him, the one that made her feel in control as his eyes briefly wavered from hers, down to her lips, then back again. She walked into the lift, and he straightened.

‘Pushover is definitely not the word I’d use.’ Harry smirked as the lift door closed, and Tabby suddenly felt out of control again.