“What’s your problem?” Bella asked aggressively as soon as Miss Fontaine left the room. She was standing and looking directly at the brunette. The other girls stuck around for the show.
“I don’t have a problem, dear,” the brunette said condescendingly. “Why don’t you lower your voice and start walking so we can all get on with our afternoons?”
“Well, I’m sure!” Bella said.
“Well, I’m sure your name isn’t really Bella London,” the brunette said.
“And what’s your name, if I’m allowed to ask?” Bella asked.
“It’s a free country. And my name, my real name that is, is Rose Grant.”
“Can you believe her?” Bella said, turning to Charlotte.
Charlotte shrugged, not wanting to get involved. It wasn’t her thing, had never been, to be confrontational. But still, when Bella turned away, Charlotte looked straight at Rose Grant, dazzling Rose Grant, and smiled. Rose winked and made Charlotte feel like a million bucks.
A few girls left but most stayed. After introducing themselves to each other, they talked about how excited they were, about what they would say to Mr. Powers, about how they were chosen. Charlotte learned that Mr. Powers himself had invited Elizabeth Connor, the girl who had been seated to her left, to be a finalist (skipping the general entry selection process entirely). Apparently he was quite taken with her when she checked his hat and coat at the Stork Club. And Annabella Duarte, who had been directly across the table from Charlotte, had a cousin who worked in the mail room at John Robert Powers and he had entered her picture into the contest.
There was one Negro girl among the finalists: Angela Nelson. She was a classmate of Thelma Porter’s. Thelma had been the first Negro Miss Subways, and Charlotte was pleased to see that the Miss Subways contest honored the diversity of the city by including all ethnicities, especially since even the Miss America pageant didn’t have any Negros competing. At least, Charlotte thought, there had finally been a Jewish Miss America. Charlotte and all her friends had felt such pride when Bess Myerson won a few years ago. And Charlotte was quite aware that if she were to become a Miss Subways, she wouldn’t be the first Jewish girl to do so.
Charlotte found herself getting caught up in the lovely fuss. And she was pleasantly surprised by the other girls. They weren’t silly at all. They were students. And office workers. And nurses. Besides Rose, not one of the girls would’ve been mistaken for a high-fashion model. More than a few wouldn’t have even turned a fellow’s head if they’d just been ordering at the automat. Instead, as a whole, they could’ve been any group of coeds lolling on their sorority house porch, trading class notes, drinking limeade, and mulling over hemlines for that night’s social.
A small clutching took hold of Charlotte’s stomach, and she felt the heat of it radiate toward her fingers and toes. A tingling sensation that she could do this. That she would do this. That, in fact, she wanted to do this very much. Plus, Charlotte realized, she couldn’t think of one good reason not to.
“Let’s go, Charlotte,” Bella called imperiously as the girls eventually began to file out.
“I’ll see you later,” Charlotte said lightly, waving good-bye. Then she whirled around and headed straight toward Rose.
CHAPTER 6
OLIVIA
MONDAY, MARCH 5, 2018
“Is he ready for me?” Olivia asked Matt’s assistant, Layne, at eight on the dot.
“He told me to wait until you’re both here and then send you in together,” Layne said.
“Both? Who’s the other person?” Olivia asked.
“Well, top of the morning, ladies. You’re both looking radiant today. Olivia, did your girlfriend James choose that fetching blouse for you?” asked Thomas, Starbucks cup in hand.
“You’re deplorable,” Olivia said, scrunching her eyes at Thomas.
“He’s ready for you both,” Layne said.
Olivia purposefully pushed her way ahead of Thomas and walked into Matt’s office.
“We had an eight o’clock,” Olivia said to Matt, who had just stood up from his desk and was walking toward the couch and chairs on the opposite side of his enormous and sparsely decorated office.
“Good morning to you too, Olivia,” Matt said, amused.
“Matt,” Thomas said, nodding.
“Good morning,” Matt said to Thomas. “I hope you both had nice weekends.”
“Stellar weekend, actually,” Thomas said. “Julia and I took the kids to our house in East Hampton. It was cold, but we had a lot of fun just playing indoors, if you know what I mean.”
“Olivia?” Matt asked, turning to her.
“I was working on the MTA brief all weekend, which is what I thought we were meeting about, alone, this morning.”
Olivia and Thomas were sitting as far apart as they could on the sleek black leather couch. Matt sat across from them in a matching black leather chair.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Matt said. “Both of you.”
Olivia looked at him with a puzzled expression and sat up straighter toward the edge of the sofa. Thomas took a sip of his coffee and leaned back into the cushion.
“We’re going to have a little contest,” Matt said, clapping his hands together.
“What kind of contest?” Olivia asked, tilting her head to the side and squinting her eyes.
“I’d like you both to come up with a strategic and creative direction for the MTA. The person whose approach I like best will give the presentation at the pitch, and if we win the business, that person will head the account.” Matt sat back in his chair, a smirk on his face.
“No way, Matt. There’s no way,” Olivia stood up and stared directly down at Matt. “This is my pitch. I brought it in, and I’m going to bring it home.” She was furious.
“I can understand how you would feel that way,” Matt said, a bit of condescension in his voice. “But our ultimate goal, our shared goal, I’m sure you’ll both agree, is to win this business. And if I have to up the stakes with a little healthy competition, then I think it’s worth it.”
“It actually makes a lot of sense, Matt,” Thomas said, nodding.
“Shut up, Thomas!” Olivia shouted, and glared at him. “Actually, can you give Matt and me a minute?” She stared at Thomas, tapped her foot, and waited for him to get up.
“This is ridiculous and you know it,” Olivia said once Thomas had left. She sat on the edge of the coffee table right in front of Matt. “We wouldn’t even be in this pitch if it weren’t for me. I’m fine with Thomas contributing some creative ideas, but I’m doing the presentation. Do not take this away from me.”
“Liv, Liv, calm down,” he said, enclosing both of her hands in his and lowering his voice. “I hear what you’re saying, but you’re not hearing what I’m saying. I looked at the numbers. I spent all weekend looking at those damn numbers, and unless we win this business or some other miracle happens by the end of this month, we’re in big trouble. So I’m desperate here. And you’re angry.”
“You’re damn right I’m angry,” Olivia said, yanking her hands away and standing up.
“Good. Because when you’re angry, dear Liv, you deliver the goods.”
Olivia glared at Matt. “You’ve got to be kidding me. So this is some little psychological fuck fest? Nice, Matt.”
Matt stayed silent and raised his eyebrows.
Olivia sighed, realizing Matt wasn’t going to budge. “I get Priya.”
“Deal.”
Olivia stood tall and stared at Matt for a second. “You suck,” she said, and headed toward the door.
“I love you too,” Matt said.
Olivia walked out and slammed the door behind her. Thomas was standing next to Layne’s desk.
“Are you and your panties okay there, Olivia?” Thomas asked. “You look a little hot and bothered,” he said.
She gave him a look of disgust and headed straight to her office. On her way, she passed Priya’s cubicle. “Priya,
come with me.”
When they were in Olivia’s office, Olivia at her desk and Priya in one of the chairs across from her, Olivia gave her the download on the MTA business and Matt’s game plan.
“Shit,” Priya said, when Olivia had finished. “Now I get why you’re so pissed.”
“Are you in?”
“Unconditionally and wholeheartedly,” Priya said emphatically.
“Great,” Olivia said.
“So what now?”
“I’d like you to go to the New York Transit Museum in Brooklyn. I emailed one of their archivists yesterday and made an appointment to look through historic campaigns to see if anything sparks an idea. If you can do that for me, I’ll start developing the game plan back here. And, actually, I have one idea. Still a seed. But I’ve been tossing it around since Saturday.”
“Go ahead,” Priya said.
“Long-term, the MTA wants to increase ridership on all its buses, subways, and trains; take share back from the app cabs; and better communicate its values of improving its environmental impact, rider experience, and safety. Short-term, however, they just want to increase ridership. So how do we do that? How do we get people on the subways?” Olivia continued. “Well, you give them something to look at. My idea is to create a promotion where we invite influential New York City tastemakers from the worlds of entertainment, art, fashion, and the media to essentially take over a subway car and imbue it with their personal style or brand.”
“I’m liking this,” Priya said, nodding.
“Like Anna Wintour. Anna Wintour would be given a car on, say, the E train because that stops at the station where the Condé Nast offices are. So, Anna gets together with her creative team and they come up with a concept for the car. Maybe they create subway ads on fake covers of Vogue and post those up in the car. Or they re-cover the seats in fur, faux of course. And they put a skin on the outside of the car with, I don’t know, Anna’s face on it. Whatever. She would have full creative control to make that car her own. And then people would flock to see it.”
“Or how about Beyoncé?”
“Exactly. Beyoncé could have her music piped into her car, videos of her concerts streaming on screens, lemons hanging from the ceiling,” Olivia said, laughing. “Really anything. We could do all the cars at once for a month or roll out one car each month for a year and then make reproductions of them and put them on display somewhere like a museum exhibit. We could do it in Vanderbilt Hall at Grand Central, for instance. And people could pay an entrance fee, which would be a donation that would go to the MTA’s charitable endeavors. Or there could be an app where we devise a voting system so people could vote for which car they like best and then we would award the designer of that car money for the charity of his or her choice. I don’t know exactly. I’m just thinking out loud here.”
“It’s a great idea, Liv. There’s so much potential, and the buzz would be off the charts. I could see the different celebrities doing launch parties for their subway cars. The PR and merchandising opportunities are enormous.”
“Anyway, it’s just one idea. We need more than that and then we’ll figure out the best approach.”
* * *
“Knock, knock.”
Olivia looked up to see that not only was it dark, but Matt was standing in her doorway.
“Oh, hey,” Olivia said, stretching her arms above her head.
“How’s it going?” Matt asked.
“Well, Priya’s out doing research and I’m finalizing strategic direction briefs and hashing out a creative idea.”
“What is it?” Matt asked, and sat down in one of Olivia’s chairs.
“Oh, no. It’s not yet ready for public consumption,” Olivia said, smiling and shaking her head.
“I’m not public,” Matt said, his arms spread out. He had a playful grin on his face. Olivia knew what was coming.
“Trust me, Matt. It needs a bit more time. And then I’ll fill you in.”
“Fine. Dinner?”
“What about it?”
“Would you like to eat some? At a restaurant? With me?” He sighed and tilted his head.
“Sure,” Olivia said matter-of-factly. “But I can’t. No dinners in restaurants with the boss until this pitch is over. Too much to do.”
“How about we pretend I’m not the boss?” Matt stood up and came around behind Olivia. He placed his hands on her shoulders and began to knead.
She wanted to let out a moan. She actually wanted to turn around and pull him onto her desk and make loud and passionate love to him.
“Matt,” she said with a warning tone in her voice.
“Yes, Liv.”
“Good night, Matt.”
He stopped massaging her shoulders and walked back around to the other side of the desk. “Would you like me to send you dinner from whatever restaurant I end up eating at all by my lonely self?”
“That would be nice, but I have some yogurt in the fridge, and I’m not really that hungry. Plus, don’t give me your pathetic line about having to eat all by yourself. What about Lily?”
“Lily and I are done,” he said with a tight smile.
“Oh, sorry,” Olivia said somewhat sincerely. “I didn’t know.”
“She decided that I was too old for her,” Matt said slowly, and started to quietly laugh.
“Ouch,” Olivia said, a pained expression on her face.
“I know, right?”
“You’ll have no problem finding the next Lily,” Olivia said, and then whispered, “and the next, and the next.” She paused and suddenly became lost in her thoughts. “Anyway,” she said, “have a good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Liv,” Matt said, and walked toward the door. “I know you’re gonna hit the ball out of the park with this one.”
* * *
“Olivia. Hi,” Ben said.
Olivia was waiting for the elevator, flipping through her mail.
“Oh, hey, Ben. How are you?” Olivia asked, changing places with him as she entered the elevator and he exited.
“Good. Great, actually. Long night at work?” he asked, still holding the door open.
“Yeah, working on some new business.”
“Great. Exciting,” Ben said, pushing the hair out of his eyes.
“Long night at your grandma’s?” Olivia smiled.
“Yes,” Ben said, his face lighting up. “After a delicious and filling dinner,” Ben said with a flourish, “Grandma and I debated the vagaries, at great length I might add, of the women on The View. She’s quite knowledgeable, my grandma, on The View ladies’ political leanings and relationship dramas. And don’t get her started on the inter-host relationships.”
Olivia laughed. “Yeah, whenever I see her, she’s like, ‘Olivia, did you see Ellen today?’ And I always have to remind her that I was at work. She tells me to tape it, which in and of itself is so cute, because who’s taped anything in years?”
“My grandma,” Ben said, laughing.
“It’s so sweet that you two have such a great relationship.”
“We’re all we have left from our family,” Ben said as the elevator began to make a dinging sound.
Olivia stepped out, back into the lobby, so the doors would close and the elevator would stop ringing. She really just wanted to go upstairs and go to bed, but after a statement like that from Ben, she knew that would be too rude.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, we lost my parents in a car accident back in ninety-five. I was ten.”
“My God, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks,” Ben said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “My grandma raised me. She moved into the house I had lived in with my parents. So, yeah, we’re really close.”
“I don’t know her that well. We pass each other in the hall sometimes or share an elevator ride, but we’ve never had more than a cursory conversation.”
“That’s exactly what she said.”
/> “You guys talked about me?” Olivia asked with a teasing lilt in her voice.
“Maybe a little. But she’s the one who brought you up,” Ben said, smiling, his palms in the air.
“Okay,” Olivia said, nodding. “Don’t worry. I’m not accusing you of anything.” She laughed.
“No, I know. I mean, not that I wouldn’t bring you up. It’s just that … Well, whatever. I don’t even know what I’m saying,” Ben said, laughing and shaking his head.
“Yeah, I know. It’s late,” Olivia said, pushing the elevator call button. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around.” The elevator door opened and Olivia stepped in, turned around, and pressed eleven.
“Okay, I’ll see you,” Ben said, and stood there, still smiling, as the doors closed.
* * *
Olivia’s phone pinged and she looked down to a text from Matt.
Matt
I’m at Thai Paradise. Got caught up with something at work, so just eating now. I know you love it here. Reconsider my invitation?
Olivia sighed loudly and thought for a moment. Why did she pine after men like Matt? Men who were as averse to availability, emotional intimacy, and commitment as they were to their annual grab-and-cough appointments. Why, Olivia thought, riding up in the elevator, when there were men who she might actually have a shot with? Mature men who didn’t require the instant gratification, the novelty, the shiny newness that their lesser brothers sought in their women and their iPhone games. But the truth was she did pine after Matt. And she was starving.
Olivia’s fingers danced over her phone, deciding how to answer. She could say yes and sit across the dinner table from Matt. She’d clearly be substituting for Lily. He’d act interested in what she’d tell him about Jenna and her MTA pitch. He’d order her a second glass of wine without asking. He’d walk her home, even, Olivia’s mind exploring the idea of what could come after. She could also say no, retaining her dignity, not having to see herself reflected in Matt’s eyes as an older, heavier, less seductive substitute for Lily. She could heat up leftovers from the weekend, put on her coziest sweats, and avoid the emotional acrobatics that dinner with Matt would incite. She weighed both options and began to type.
The Subway Girls_A Novel Page 5
