Little Pink Slips by Sally Koslow Read Free Book Online Page A

underwear.
    "Love to," Magnolia said.
    "Bring a guy—that is, if you're dating someone."
    Her little imaginary boyfriend? They could drive in her pretend
    Porsche.
    "Bebe promised to come," Natalie added.
    "Your new best friend?"
    "Grow up, Magele. You're way too paranoid."
    The minute she said it, Magnolia knew that she wasn't. On the way
    back to her office, Magnolia decided to make a pit stop at the lobby
    newsstand. She paid for her lottery ticket and dashed into a closing
    elevator.
    "There she is," Jock said to a short, rumpled man next to him.
    "Our own steel Magnolia." Magnolia cursed the day the movie had ever been released. "Jock!"
    she said, and forced what she hoped was a smile.
    "Magnolia, meet Arthur Montgomery."
    Arthur Montgomery. The name sounded familiar but the face—
    long and hawkish—wasn't. "Mr. Montgomery, hello."
    "Miss Magnolia, what a lovely name," he drawled. If they ever had
    a real conversation, this gentleman was going to be disappointed to
    find out she was from North Dakota, not Carolina. Could she help it if
    her mother chose the name "Magnolia" on her honeymoon to New
    Orleans?
    "Magnolia, call me," Jock said as the elevator opened to her floor.
    His tone was neutral, but an order nonetheless.
    She stopped in the art department on the way to her office. "Can
    we work on the cover together in about an hour?" she asked Fredericka. For the 80 percent of Lady' s readers who were subscribers, you could put a can of pork and beans on the cover and they'd barely
    notice, but to attract elusive newsstand buyers, the image and words
    were life-and-death; developing covers stretched for weeks. As she
    hovered over Fredericka at her computer, her art director was end
    lessly patient while Magnolia suggested colors and type and tweaked
    coverlines. At the end of each session, Magnolia walked away with
    numerous versions, which she'd stare at for days, trying to choose the most arresting one. She'd stare so long the words— Free! Hidden! Sex! —began to look like a Slavic language. Her last step was to take the covers home, so her doorman could weigh in.
    "Ready when you are," Fredericka answered. "The film's scanned."
    "An hour then," Magnolia said. As she walked into her own office,
    Sasha gave her a new batch of messages. Harry had returned her
    thank-you call about the orchid and Cam had stopped by. Magnolia
    was sorry she missed him, since she'd decided to tell him about the
    Bebe situation—not that it was a talk she looked forward to having.
    "Almost forgot," Sasha said. "Darlene's assistant set up a breakfast
    for this Friday. You're supposed be at Michael's at eight-fifteen to
    meet you-know-who."
    Sasha looked at Magnolia, waiting for more, but Magnolia walked into her office and slammed the door. Seven manuscripts and one
    editor's letter later, she went to work with Fredericka. At 5:55 she
    called Jock. It was a brief conversation. Jock didn't think it would be
    necessary for him to join Magnolia, Darlene, and Bebe when they met
    for breakfast. He and Arthur Montgomery, her attorney, were seeing
    eye to eye on everything and he was sure she and Bebe would, too.

C h a p t e r 6

    A Legend in Her Own Mind

    "Good morning, Miss Gold," the perennially cheery young greeter announced. "Mrs. Knudson's already seated."
    In the evening, any visitor from Nome to nowhere could snag a
    prime spot at Michael's Restaurant, but at breakfast or lunch the room was unofficially reserved for le tout media, who came to check out one another. Only after Michael's crack team verified your name,
    rank, and serial number to make sure you were—or still were—who
    you claimed to be. The unspoken rule was that if the maître d' and his
    fembots didn't know who you were, they weren't interested in taking
    your $27 for eggs and toast. The seating chart was planned with the
    precision of a $500,000 wedding. Executives from advertising, fash
    ion, and beauty favored the back room, which won for appeal, given
    its