‘Today?’ I glanced at the clock again, stifling a yawn. ‘Okay, I guess I can pop in midmorning before I head home.’
‘Ahhh, just a small problem, tiny really … Rae’s version of today means now.’ I could almost hear Liani wringing her hands down the phone line. ‘Now as in right now, not a second later. She wants to get the feature up before Billy caves and gives another magazine more detailed goss. I’m probably pushing my luck, but is there any way you can come into the office now?’
I hesitated. I had planned to meet up with Angel to mourn our lack of party invitations, not to mention a uni lecture that afternoon and the fact I wanted to catch up with Mum and Kat. But this was important. The way Liani spoke, it sounded like my future career depended on it. If I didn’t write this feature, I may as well give up on becoming a journalist and take up garbage collection instead. Or apply to clean toilets at Happy Burgertown.
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’ll be in as soon as possible.’
‘You’re a star. See you soon.’ Liani hung up.
I slouched on the couch, my mind racing over my unexpected to-do list. I had to bail on my lecture, find my way to the Sash office at this yawn-worthy time of morning and, most importantly, tell Mum I was going to be late home so she didn’t think I’d run away forever. But she wasn’t the only person I needed to sweet-talk: Angel would be annoyed that I’d ditched our plans.
‘Everything okay?’
Alarmed, I looked up to see James standing in the doorway in boxers and a singlet. I jolted upright and crossed my arms over my chest in a poor attempt to hide my T-shirt.
‘How long have you been standing there?’ I asked.
‘Long enough to see your top has rainbows on it. What’s that about?’
I blushed and ignored the question. ‘Sash just rang. They want me to go in again today. Right now. Do trains even run this early?’
‘Yeah, but I can take you in on my scooter, if you like? My work’s in that direction and I need to get on top of some stuff before I open the shop.’
‘Oh no, that’s okay.’
‘It’s fine. Just don’t tell your mum about the scooter, she’d probably kill me.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. I didn’t think Mum would care too much about the scooter; she’d just be excited to hear I was in the same breathing space as a cute guy like James.
‘Sweet,’ he said. ‘Just chuck on some clothes and we’ll —’
‘Oh no! Clothes! What am I meant to wear? I didn’t bring anything else nice with me.’
James paused, then grinned. ‘I’ve got an idea.’
I stared at my reflection, gobsmacked. Somehow James had transformed me to look … cool. My hair was slicked back into a high ponytail, showing off my neck and collarbones. I’d slipped James’s old leather jacket over another of my embarrassing T-shirts (this one had a teapot across the front) and it was slim-fitting and hugged my body in all the right places. Not to mention wearing it made me feel safe; somehow protected. On my bottom half, I sported a pair of Tim’s skinny jeans, which I’d found drying on the balcony. A quick sniff test (James had braved it, not me) had confirmed they were clean. To finish off the outfit, I slipped into Kat’s heels. The rock-chick Barbie look worked, at least enough to get me through another day at the office.
I couldn’t believe I was going into Sash again. I gave Mum a quick call to let her know, sent an email to my lecturer to ask for that afternoon’s notes and fired off a text to Angel to cancel and apologise (and promising to make it up to her).
After one last glance in the mirror, I knocked on James’s door. He opened it and his jaw dropped at the sight of me. I blushed, unsure what to say.
Luckily, he filled the silence before I ruined the moment. ‘You look great.’
‘Thanks, stylist.’
‘Those magazine girls won’t know what’s hit them.’ He picked up two helmets off his bedroom floor and passed me one. ‘Ready?’
Minutes later, I was perched behind James on his scooter, my arms wrapped around his waist, my hair whipping from beneath the helmet. The roar of the wind was deafening, so I swapped small talk for daydreaming and watching the scenery. We passed high-rise buildings, each taller than the next, power-walking elderly couples wearing matching sweatbands, too many homeless people walking barefoot to count, and police officers sipping coffee as they patrolled the streets. I caught a glimpse of myself and James as we shot past a building with glass walls: our bodies were pressed together — a perfect fit. We were straight out of a romantic Italian movie, two love interests enjoying a spin through the cobblestoned streets before tucking into a giant bowl of fettuccine. I was finally living a storyline that didn’t end with ‘pooed her pants in public’, ‘hasn’t been kissed for years’ or ‘was dumped on Valentine’s Day’. My heart raced, as though I’d overdosed on candy canes, fairy floss and soft drink.
James pulled up around the corner from the Sash office to let me off. I dismounted and handed him the helmet. ‘Guess I better give this back, right? Doesn’t really match my outfit.’
‘I think it does,’ he said, stowing my helmet in the top box of his scooter. ‘The jacket, the jeans, the helmet. Pretty bad-ass.’
‘That was cool of you, swooping in all knight-in-shining-armour like that.’
‘I guess that makes this my noble steed,’ he said, patting his scooter. ‘You know, that leather jacket looks far better on you than it ever did on me.’
‘Oh, um, thanks.’
‘Yeah. So, I better head,’ he said. ‘I’ve got paperwork to do, stock to unpack and shelves to pretend to clean. See you later.’
A quick wave goodbye and he was gone, but his words continued to pound in my head like early-morning council workers drilling holes into cement. I knew he was just being polite and friendly, but a small part of me — a niggly, pushy part that believed in Prince Charming and happy endings — ached for his compliments to mean something; that he was laying the groundwork for something else. Something more.
My enchanted morning came to an abrupt end when a beady-eyed security guard at the building’s entry demanded to see my security pass. I showed it to him and babbled that I was an intern there to see Liani from Sash magazine.
‘This early, huh?’ he said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Wait there while I give her a call.’
He punched Liani’s extension into the phone, yawning as he waited for her to answer. ‘Morning. I’ve got a real eager beaver here to see you … Yeah, that’s her. You sure? Rightio then … Bye now.’
I swallowed. ‘All good?’
‘Off you go,’ he grunted, buzzing me through.
I hobbled to the lift, my feet already blistering in day two of Kat’s heels.
My fingers danced over the computer keyboard as I watched words, sentences and paragraphs arrange themselves on the screen. Rae wanted a tell-all feature story on Billy, packed with details about how the truth unfolded — and she was going to get one. I wrangled words like a master, positioned them in line like a pro. I was doing it, I was writing for a national publication, and I never wanted to stop.
But then I had to. Because a voice said in a tone that could only be described as fuming, ‘You’re in my seat.’
I spun around so fast I almost jarred my neck. Esmeralda, the features director, was standing behind me, hands on hips. I recognised her from the magazine’s ‘Meet the Team’ page: short, edgy platinum-blonde hair that framed her face, statement hot-pink lipstick, and steely blue eyes that made me shrink back into the chair. This woman was fierce, there was no denying it.
‘Um, I’m just writing a story —’ I started, but Esmeralda had marched off, calling ‘Liani’ before I could finish the sentence.
Eloise and the other features girls shot me sympathetic looks but turned back to their computers when they saw Esmeralda storming over, this time with Liani in tow. I was on my own, defenceless as a mouse being lowered into a python’s cage, waiting for Esmeralda to swallow me whole. That, or get me boot
ed from the office. But then a wonderful thing happened.
‘Es, please apologise to Josie, our extremely talented intern,’ said Liani, mistress of diplomacy and queen of ego-boosting.
Esmeralda sighed. ‘Oh, she knows I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d said she could sit there before I got in.’
I didn’t know Esmeralda was sorry. In fact, I was pretty sure she’d belt me with the dictionary the moment Liani returned to her office, but I accepted her attempt at an apology and stood up, gesturing to the empty seat.
Esmeralda sat down in a huff. ‘Oh, everything’s in the wrong place now. Where did you move my pen?’
I pointed to her pen, which was in exactly the same place she’d left it, in the pen holder.
‘Okay, well, what about my notebook? The one with the red cover?’
‘You mean the one next to the computer?’
‘And who left these pink lipstick marks on my coffee cup?’
‘What?’ I said. ‘I think they’re yours —’
‘Esmeralda, you’re wearing pink lippie, remember?’ Liani cut in. ‘Come with me, Josie. You can work in my office. It’s still early so I’ll edit on the communal table.’
Clutching my USB stick, which held my half-written story on Greed, I followed Liani to her office, leaving the clearly off-her-rocker Esmeralda to get into a paranoid panic over the beauty products and stationery littering her desk.
Liani set up her computer for me. ‘Okay, you’ve got about forty-five minutes before Rae gets in for a staff meeting. Better get to work.’
With one minute to spare, I handed Liani a printout of the feature.
‘Perfect timing,’ she said. ‘Can’t wait to read it.’
She wasn’t wrong: Rae had just walked into Sash HQ, coffee in one hand, an oversized designer handbag in the other.
‘So, how long have you worked here?’ I asked Liani, unable to keep quiet while she skimmed her eyes over my piece.’
‘Feels like a lifetime and then some,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Coming up to five years, including a year of maternity leave for Dylan.’
‘Wow.’ The other girls I asked had all been there for less than two years.
‘Rae and I are a rare breed these days,’ Liani went on. ‘Most girls race in with plans bigger than their credit card bills, and race out just as fast after their next career dream. Up, up, up, they go.’
‘You’re high up,’ I said shyly.
Liani smiled. ‘I’m doing okay.’
I remembered something Ava had said on our first day in the Sash office.
‘Liani?’
‘Yes, Josie?’
‘Ava mentioned that it was, um, different for you and Rae to be dealing with us directly. Is that true?’
Liani nodded. ‘Usually our ed coordinator would be managing you, but a special prize calls for special circumstances. If we’re giving away five thousand dollars we need to make sure it goes to the right girl.’
Rae poked her head into Liani’s office. ‘Meeting?’ she said, although it sounded more like a command than a question. We nodded and she disappeared again.
‘Better wrap this up,’ said Liani. ‘Come on, let’s find a spot out there. By the way, love your outfit.’
Within seconds, girls from each department had flocked into the central area, all sporting notebooks, pens and semi-terrified expressions. I buried myself at the back of the crowd, excited to see my first group meeting unfold.
Liani passed my story to Rae, who skimmed it and said, ‘Change that to “smouldered” and that to “desperation” and get it online, now.’
Liani rushed into her office to make the changes. A few seconds later she was on the phone, pleading with the online producer for it to go live immediately. She must have been successful because we all heard her cry, ‘Thank you, I owe you a banana cake,’ before she joined the rest of us for the meeting. I caught her eye and she gave me a thumbs-up.
The next thirty minutes were a blur. Rae talked, staff members butted in, Gen told the story of how she pelted a pizza slice at her girlfriend’s head due to chronic PMS, Rae vented, and Esmeralda argued with at least three people, one of them being Rae.
After Rae closed the meeting and everyone snaked back to their desks, Liani called me over. ‘Josie, I’m sorry for dragging you in again, but if it’s any consolation your story is going well. Really well. We’ve had advertisers demanding to be positioned near it for the next twelve hours.’
‘Wow, that’s good, right?’
‘It’s incredible, and we sure needed it …’ She paused. ‘The public’s enthralled with Billy, they want to know everything, but I can’t understand why. Okay, he’s attractive, but he’s a cheater, a liar … Sometimes the world boggles me, Josie.’
I had a thought. ‘I know he’s a cheater, which is awful, the worst — but he’s having a baby … I hope I haven’t, you know, ruined his life or anything.’
‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘You were just doing your job.’
‘I guess so.’
Just doing your job, I repeated to myself. You were just doing your job. But it didn’t feel right. I imagined a mean bank manager telling herself the same thing after denying a struggling family a loan. Or a hired assassin sinking a beer after a hit and telling himself, ‘I can sleep at night because I was just doing my job.’ On the scale of things, writing a tell-all tabloid piece wasn’t the worst, but I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d screwed Billy over.
9.
My unease must’ve been evident because Liani chose that moment to introduce me to Sia, Sash’s beauty editor, a curvy brunette with smiling red lips and a rockabilly vibe. ‘Now, Liani told me you can’t stay all day,’ said Sia, ‘but before you leave we have a special surprise for you.’
I nodded, intrigued. Home would have to wait. Moments later I discovered the ‘special surprise’ was to sort through the day’s beauty couriers. Translation: help Sia go through all the cool free stuff she’d been sent since the day before. And there was a lot of it. Sia’s area was reminiscent of a department store cosmetics floor during sales time. Bright, colourful bottles lined the shelves above her computer, while her desk was cluttered with plastic containers, glass jars and woven baskets holding lipsticks, bronzers, lip balms, eye shadows and foundations. There were even false eyelashes and hair extensions strewn over her keyboard.
Sia didn’t seem concerned about the mess. ‘Coconut lip gloss?’ she offered, passing over an unopened tube. ‘Take it. I was sent three.’
‘Three?’
‘And about four others last week.’
‘Wow,’ I said, opening it. A gorgeous coconut smell wafted into my nostrils. ‘Is your day always like this? Playing with make-up?’
‘Sure is,’ Sia said. ‘When I’m not organising photo shoots, going to launches, interviewing beauticians, arguing with advertising and being dragged into ten meetings a day with Rae, Liani and Esmeralda.’
‘Oh, right … sorry.’
Note to self: remove foot from oversized mouth before talking.
‘No worries,’ she said, then lowered her voice. ‘Between you and me, there is a lot of playing with make-up. Hey, has anyone told you about the beauty sale yet? It’s coming up soon and, sweetie, it’s going to rock your world.’
‘Beauty sale?’ I had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Do you mean at the shops? Or online?’
‘Neither, it’s here! We sell all our leftover beauty goodies — you know, the stuff the PRs have inundated us with — to ourselves. At amazing prices, I may add. I haven’t had to buy shampoo from a salon or supermarket in years. Most of the money raised goes to charity, so it’s pretty cool.’
‘Are you serious?’ Only in magazines, I thought. A beauty sale in an office? Now I’d heard everything.
‘Oh yeah,’ she said. ‘We do keep a small amount of cashola to throw a party or two for the office, though. Who knows, if you’re lucky, Liani might let you come along to the sale.’
We’d
only just met, but Sia seemed different to the rest of the staff. The others flitted around the office like nervous butterflies, ready to fly away at any sudden noise — such as Rae throwing a tantrum about a late story or an overpriced cover image. But not Sia. She was loud and proud.
‘And don’t get me started on the eating!’ She laughed. ‘Oh, the eating.’
‘What do you mean?’
So far I’d only seen people nibbling on salads and slurping green smoothies that looked too much like slime for my liking.
‘The beauty PR girls are always sending me food with their products,’ she explained. ‘Every day, the bags arrive — lollipops, yoghurts, chocolates, biscuits. Their current favourite is cupcakes. Adorable cupcakes with five centimetres of icing that blow my mind, and my waistline, every time. And I wonder why I’ve stacked on six kilos since starting here. Oh well! A girl’s gotta eat, right?’ She held up a pretty blue perfume bottle and spritzed the air with it. I smelled the fresh scents swimming around me and relaxed for a moment.
When I finally left the office that afternoon, I was laden with two bags brimming over with beauty products from Sia — it had been a ‘special surprise’ indeed. I couldn’t wait to see Mum’s, Kat’s and Angel’s reactions when I shared the swag.
I climbed the steps to Tim’s flat, put down my bags and fumbled for the key. When I finally found it and jiggled it into the hole, the door wouldn’t open. It was jammed.
I needed to pack my suitcase and get to the station in time for the next train home. I’d already stayed longer in the city than I’d promised Mum. I jiggled the key again. Nothing.
I banged on the door. ‘Hello! Can someone please open the door? Tim? James? Anyone?’
Moments later, the door swung open, revealing a grinning James wearing a ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron. ‘I’m here, I’m here. Come in.’
I don’t know whether it was his cheeky expression or the ridiculous apron, but I suddenly forgot I was in a rush. My stomach did a backflip. Or maybe it was a somersault. Who was I kidding? My poor guts were performing bruise-inducing bellyflops on repeat at the sight of him. Luckily James seemed oblivious to my nerves. He rattled on about another dull day at work while I beamed like an idiot, silently wondering whether he liked kayaking, tenpin bowling and eating Caramello Koalas from the bottom up or top down.
The Intern Page 7
