The Brutal Truth

by Lee Winter

  Elena opened her mouth, as though about to ask what for. She closed it again. And nodded.

  “Come Monday, this is all over.” Sadness washed over Maddie as she said the words. “I’m not your assistant anymore.”

  “Well, I doubt you’ll be short of work, somehow. And I still expect your second Véronique story by next Wednesday.”

  “Yes, Elena,” Maddie replied in her best assistant voice. She grinned. “Not bad for someone who’s not a journalist.”

  Elena studied her for a beat. “I stand by that. Madeleine, you are not a journalist.”

  “What? How can you still—”

  Elena lifted her hand. “Don’t be offended. I never meant it the way you took it. You are a storyteller. You translate and cut to the heart of what people are. You were born to write, but not news. These sort of insightful character pieces are what you were meant to do with your life. But the hunt of the journalist, uncovering the darkness, corruption, crime, kicking in heads to get to the truth, it’s not you. Your emotions would prevent you thriving in that arena.”

  “A storyteller?” She tasted the word and wasn’t sure what she thought of it. Being a news journalist was what she’d always wanted to do. There was no way she could throw away the dream. Not now, not when she was about to have so many opportunities. “I will adapt. I can adapt. They say journalists become more cynical the older they get. Right? I can too.” She tried to smile, but it faded.

  “Yes, they do. Is that what you want to be? A cynical hack?” Elena regarded her. “I suppose, if you work hard enough at it, you might stop connecting with people, feeling their pain, and you might even succeed at writing well the stories you don’t care about or even hate. Would that be success to you, Madeleine? Is that what you really want?”

  “I…” Maddie stopped. She hadn’t thought about it like that.

  “I know it’s hard,” Elena said not unkindly, “to give up a dream you’ve invested so much time and belief in. You probably had a fantasy of uncovering crime, bringing down a corrupt politician, and making a difference.”

  Shock coiled through Maddie at her accuracy.

  “Every young reporter does. But is it really you? What if your future is, instead, in writing magazine profiles, as you did with Véronique? Or penning biographies? Basic news journalism is a waste of your skills. It’s a mismatch. That’s all I meant.”

  Maddie’s heart sank. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Elena was supposed to be telling her she’d had it all wrong. That Maddie was a kick-ass journalist. She rubbed her eyes to hide her hurt.

  “See it as expanding your horizons, not retreating,” Elena continued, and this time, there was a softness in her tone. “Learn to pivot. Find the thing that you are best at, not the thing you trained for.”

  They studied each other in silence for a moment. “You’re talking about how you went from fashion to business,” Maddie said.

  “As I said, it’s hard.” Elena hesitated. “Giving up a dream is always hard.”

  “But you did. You became an entrepreneur. A really successful one.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And yet I’ve seen you at Style. You’re so brilliant at it. You have more talent and passion for producing fashion magazines in your pinkie than everyone in Bartell Corp combined. Hell, your staff all freely acknowledge it. And yet, your job is axing dying papers and building skyscrapers like Hudson Shard and calling it art.”

  Elena’s eyes narrowed, but Maddie pressed on. “So, from what I can see, you’ve pivoted away from where your heart is and what you’re best at. I think you know that too, somewhere, deep down. It’s why you can’t let it go. Because any other owner would have just parachuted in a new editor-in-chief for Style Sydney and moved on. Not you. Elena, you’re now unofficially editing this magazine, not overhauling it. Everyone knows it. You’re doing what you’ve always wanted, and that’s why you don’t want to let it go.”

  Elena eyes cooled. “You feel free to say all this because you no longer work for me?”

  “Someone has to say it,” Maddie said. “And I’m saying it as a friend.”

  “Is that how you see us? Friends?”

  Maddie’s heart thudded hard. She looked away, unable to meet the eyes watching her so closely. “I thought, maybe, we could have been that in New York. Or almost were? Well until you showed me I was wrong. You thought I was just an employee.”

  Elena said nothing for a few moments. “You weren’t wrong.”

  Maddie’s head snapped back. “What?”

  “But business came first,” Elena said, looking uncomfortable. “The things I did were necessary. But it does not also follow that I enjoyed what needed to be done. It does not necessarily follow, either, that I wasn’t appreciating your…company.” She faded out.

  “Is that why you asked me to be your assistant? You…missed me?” It sounded insane. And yet…

  “That’s…” Maddie could see the lie forming, but just then, Elena’s intense gaze was back. “One reason. A major one. It will be odd, tomorrow, being at work without seeing you every day.” Her tone became flat.

  Maddie smiled.

  “Stop that.”

  “What?” Maddie smiled harder.

  “You know very well.” Elena’s eyebrow lifted. “It’s that thing you do.” She stood. “It’s late. Feel free to use the guest room again. You’ve earned a decent sleep after the hours you put in today.” Her voice was back to all business. She’d clearly used up her quota of sharing.

  “Thanks, Elena. I appreciate that. Can’t face the thought of the train right now, to be honest.” She hesitated. It was now or never. “Um—by the way, you never said what you thought of my story. I mean the actual content, not the scoop itself.”

  Elena paused. “Oh. Well.” She stopped again. “Don’t let it go to your head, but it was…acceptable.”

  “Acceptable?” Maddie swallowed her disappointment. “Oh, okay. Great. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll try and make the next one better.” She uncurled from the sofa, intent on hauling her weary bones to bed.

  “Madeleine?”

  “Yes?” She reluctantly looked up.

  “It was remarkable.” Elena sighed and looked as though this was not something she ever wanted to discuss. “You are…quite remarkable. I’ve thought so ever since I read that blog of yours. To capture the loneliness of a soul in such a way? Well. I knew the moment you got the Duchamp interview that you would craft an exquisite story.”

  Maddie was stunned. “You read my blog? Maddie as Hell? You read that?”

  “Without fail. I found it intriguing. I always looked forward to it. Your replacement is useless, by the way. That single father? No. He doesn’t capture the beauty and sadness of the world the way you do. He is not an observer.”

  “Oh… uh…Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “And risk Maddie as Hell getting suddenly self-conscious? Or worse, quitting the blog altogether? I did not wish to risk that. Although you quit it anyway.”

  Maddie stared at her. “How long have you known? Wait, did you know the day we met in the elevator?”

  “Of course not. Be grateful I discovered your identity shortly afterwards, however, as it did prevent your being fired for insulting me that day.” Her eyes suddenly took on an amused spark.

  “But I didn’t! I mean, I didn’t mean to insult you. You misunderstood. Come on, you know that, now!”

  “You do have a habit of this, don’t you?” Elena ignored her protestations. “Accidentally insulting me? That stunted shrub offering of yours comes to mind.” Her smile was as wide and warm as it was unexpected.

  “Oh. That was…awful.” Maddie gave her a sheepish grin. Elena was actually teasing her. How much more surreal could this day get?

  “The point is, you do have talent. It’s all about directing it well.” Elena reached out and softly slid her fingers across Maddie’s cheek, leaving a scorching trail of heat where her fingers touched. She met Maddie’s eyes with
a dark look. “Don’t waste your talent.” She studied her, hand stilled on her skin.

  Maddie held her breath, shocked into silence by the touch.

  Elena’s hand slowly fell back to her side. “I think that’s more than enough truth for one night.” She frowned, as though it was Maddie’s fault she’d shared so much. Then, in a swirl of silk and intoxicating perfume, she gave her a tight nod and disappeared out of the room.

  Staring after her, Maddie was unable to think of a single thing to say. Her fingers lifted to her cheek. That look. Even seconds after it had happened, her memory of the moment seemed faulty.

  The idea Elena might like women the way Maddie did was wishful thinking. Obviously. She was straight. She’d had two husbands. And even if she touched and looked at a woman with lingering, appreciative gazes, as if she wished Maddie were hers, it didn’t mean anything.

  It didn’t, she warned her hopeful, quivering heart.

  Perry had even said it. Elena’s first love was beauty. Right now that meant admiring the person who had gifted her a beautiful exclusive. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  Maddie climbed the stairs to the guest room and tried not to think of all the ways that hurt.

  * * *

  The next morning, Maddie was by the front door, trying to figure out how to say goodbye to a woman who’d changed her life. She wasn’t ready. Not by a long shot. This was so unfair, saying goodbye when all she really wanted to do was stay right here and see if she’d touch Maddie again the way she had last night. Her night had been tortured by dreams of those fingers brushing her skin.

  Elena was half turned on the bottom of the stairs, her elegant fingers frozen on the sleek satin scarf she’d just slid around her neck.

  Maddie’s mouth was refusing to form words, not quite sure what to say.

  Elena didn’t berate her for being a door bollard or order her to move aside. They simply regarded each other.

  “Well,” Elena finally said, lowering her hands from her scarf. “Do you require a car?”

  Maddie shook her head.

  “Services of a mute translator, then?”

  “Hilarious. But no. My tongue’s not entirely useless.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Elena’s eyes twinkled, and she turned to pick up her house keys and shoulder her glossy, black handbag.

  Maddie drank her in, knowing it would be her last look at Elena for some time. It was insane to be missing her so much already.

  “The Weekend Mirror’s buyout paperwork was supposed to be ready yesterday,” Elena said, tone brusque. “It hasn’t arrived. I need you to…” She ground to a halt, glancing up at Maddie, surprise on her face that was quickly masked.

  Had Elena actually forgotten she was no longer her PA? “I could make a few calls, if you’d like,” Maddie said, brightening. “Get that paperwork moving? I’d be happy to.” Not quite willing to let her go. Not yet.

  Cool eyes appraised her. “No, Madeleine. It’s time you left,” Elena said with a softness that Maddie had never heard from her.

  “I… Okay.” Maddie tugged at the sleeve on her shirt. Her own, rewashed clothes had magically appeared on the guest bed when she’d come out of the shower that morning, and she’d donned them. “Thanks,” she added. “For everything.”

  “I don’t know why you’re thanking me. I just made you unemployed. Yet again.” Elena gave her an amused look.

  “True,” Maddie countered with a grin, “but not unemployable. Big difference.”

  “Indeed.”

  They looked at each other one last time, and then Elena strode past her and opened the front door. She held it open for Maddie. The first time she’d ever done such a thing. “Well?” Elena asked archly.

  Maddie stepped forward, and they both headed out into the chill air.

  * * *

  The lightness faded from Elena the moment her car pulled away, leaving Madeleine behind. She had thought this would be easier than it was. What were they now? Former associates? Almost friends?

  Elena didn’t have many friends. Perry, yes. He was one. But trust didn’t come easily to her. And Madeleine had dared her to trust her. She could see the look in Madeleine’s eyes, even now. It was a look that said Maddie wanted more. She wanted to be let in. How much more, Elena couldn’t be sure.

  At times, like the day before the truth bet, she thought she knew. She thought she’d seen longing. It had been too tempting to find out if she’d been right. Too tempting to find out what Madeleine was thinking, given the young woman no longer shared her thoughts with her.

  But that had all gone to hell. Everything since then had robbed her clarity of thought. Thanks to the Richard mess, it would likely be gone for some time. She tightened her coat around her, surprised Sydney could get this frigid. The ache in her chest this morning had to be just the cold.

  “Is your assistant not coming with us?” her regular Sydney driver asked, glancing at Madeleine as they drove past her.

  Elena tried to come up with a cool, sarcastic reply, but her head still hurt from the stress and adrenaline of the previous day. This driver had seen her with Madeleine every day for months. It was a reasonable question at any other time. But not today.

  “Madeleine is no longer in my employ,” she said testily. “She has moved on.”

  Elena turned to stare out the window, his question vexing her far more than it should. Madeleine was, indeed, no longer in her world at all. A handful of events ahead of them, and that would be that. No more.

  The ache intensified. Elena briefly wondered whether she should check in with her doctor. This couldn’t possibly be a normal reaction to losing one’s assistant.

  She’s not just an assistant, though, is she?

  Friend, then. Like it or not, fight it all she might, Madeleine had been a friend to her at times.

  A friend?

  Elena pushed away her irritating inner voice. She was one of the most formidable media moguls in the world. She did not have time for derailing thoughts like this.

  “Can we go any faster?” she growled at the driver.

  “Not without breaking a few traffic laws, ma’am.”

  “Then break them. I want to be far from here as soon as possible.”

  Far from the memory of Madeleine walking away.

  “Sure thing. Oh and it’s a shame about losing your assistant. She was about the nicest person you could ever meet. Don’t think she contained an ounce of bullshit, if you’ll pardon my French.”

  “Just drive.” Elena closed her eyes.

  CHAPTER 23

  Fifteen Minutes of Fame

  Maddie had always assumed the day she’d dreamt of as a little girl would dawn resplendent with sunshine, fluffy clouds, and an awesome inner soundtrack of angelic harp music. Instead, the moment after waking to the knowledge her world exclusive would be on the newsstands today, her thudding head made itself known.

  She leaned over to check the time on her phone and discovered a missed call from Natalii. It had been left at five in the morning. Her stomach lurched.

  Who calls at five unless they hate something?

  Maddie sat up and called voicemail to hear the message Natalii had left.

  “Madeleine! Maman is delighted by your story. And I also. But especially her. She says ‘Vous nous avez fait justice. Un triomphe’. Now then, today it is her big parade. At the Australian Fashion Week? You will join us, oui? Come backstage. She insists. You must not refuse! Oui? Oui! She has it all arranged. I have emailed all that you need to find us. Au revoir!”

  Maddie grinned. Well, it sounded as if Véronique thought she’d “done her justice”. And calling her story a triumph was an awesome start to the day. Her knotted stomach loosened a little, and she gave it a consoling pat. She rose, began her morning routine, and made breakfast.

  When she returned to her bedroom an hour later, she found her phone now full of missed calls and texts. Maddie listened to them in astonishment. Fashion Police wanted to interview her about Australi
an Fashion Week. What did Maddie know about fashion? What a joke. E! Online left a breathless message as well, overusing the words incredible, awesome, and “Oh. My. God”. The editor of Elle wanted to “seriously discuss” her future. Vogue, CQ, and Vanity Fair wanted her to call back at her earliest convenience. CNN wanted to talk about Véronique outside the designer’s show in a live cross.

  Um, live cross? Over Maddie’s dead body. She’d probably stutter, blush, and forget her own name. How had any of the media even obtained her phone number? Was Felicity wreaking some divine revenge by handing it out to everyone? At that thought, she punched in the chief of staff’s number.

  “Ugh. You!” Maddie heard, by way of greeting.

  “Hello, Felicity.”

  “What do you want? My life is utter, eyeball-bleeding chaos thanks to you! Again! That article appears, and now every two-bit blogger with a fashion bent thinks I can be buttered up to give them your details!”

  “Uh, about that—I have a whole bunch of people who got my number. I was wondering if maybe…”

  “What?” came the waspish reply.

  “Um, maybe it’s revenge for having to walk Oscar for an hour in a gale or whatever…”

  An irate hiss sounded in her ear.

  “You don’t honestly think I walked that ridiculous excuse of a dog for an hour? That would be cruel and unusual punishment. For us both! I found a nice, warm cafe with a covered area for dogs and gave him a doggucino and caught up on my emails over a coffee. Are you completely deranged?”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Besides, if I wanted revenge, there are other, far more diabolical ways. Like, if you think the media having your phone number is terrible, imagine them camped out at your front door.”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “Try me!”

  “Felicity!” The panic leaked out of her voice.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Felicity said with a long-suffering sigh, “you’re apparently a protected species. Elena has threatened to fire anyone who imparts your personal details to the media.”

  “She what? Why?”

  “Of course I asked her at once. ‘Please Elena, explain in detail your mysterious inner workings so that we may all understand’. Honestly.”