The Subway Girls

by Susie Orman Schnall

  “That will be all.”

  Suddenly, it was over. Charlotte smiled at Muky and thanked him, but he had already crossed the room and was deep in conversation with Mr. Powers. Charlotte’s shoulders slumped and she felt tears stinging her eyes. She would not cry. Not here.

  “Right this way, Miss Friedman,” Miss Fontaine said, leading her by the elbow out of the room.

  Charlotte looked over her shoulder one last time to try to make eye contact with Mr. Powers. She knew she should say thank you. That he would hear her, smile, and then she would feel better. But he was still talking to Muky, the small man gesturing wildly, angrily.

  “That will be all. Thank you for coming, dear. We’ll announce the winner next Friday the eighteenth at five thirty sharp. Please return then.”

  “I will. Thank you, Miss Fontaine.”

  Miss Fontaine turned back to the conference room to fetch the next girl.

  “Miss Fontaine,” Charlotte called after her. This undertaking was too important to leave it hanging so tenuously.

  “Yes?” She was already halfway down the corridor.

  Charlotte approached her and spoke with conviction. “I just wanted to say that I’m so honored to have been chosen as a finalist and, should Mr. Powers decide to choose me for July, I would take the designation quite seriously and live up to the ideals and responsibilities of Miss Subways. I do hope you can pass along that message to him.”

  Miss Fontaine smiled and told her she would.

  Charlotte couldn’t leave fast enough. Her cheeks were burning. She smiled politely at the receptionists as she approached their desk, but they were paying as much attention to her as a modeling scout would to a turnip.

  Outside on Park Avenue, Charlotte was thankful for the cold air. Yet it seemed to encourage the tears to start pouring from her eyes. Not one to cry easily, all of Charlotte’s fears rushed to the front of her mind. She couldn’t go home just yet. She needed time to collect herself. Seeing a coffee shop across the street, Charlotte crossed, practically oblivious to the honking horns.

  Charlotte was thankful the coffee shop was bustling and noisy; she figured no one would notice her distraught state. She sat in a window-side booth and ordered black coffee and a slice of chocolate cake. Charlotte had felt something as she slid into the booth, and now noticed a left-behind copy of that month’s Cosmopolitan magazine.

  As she started turning the pages, the smiles of the models taunting her, Charlotte chastised herself. How could she even begin to think she could be Miss Subways? How could she be so stupid?

  Charlotte was halfway through her cake and coffee when she heard a tap on the window. Startled, she turned and saw Rose making a funny face. Charlotte smiled and Rose laughed, and, not being one to wait for an invitation, Rose whooshed in on the jet stream and plopped right down in the booth.

  “Feel like some company?” Rose asked.

  “Sure. Yes. I’m almost done, but you’re welcome to join me.”

  “I was on my way to the subway but saw you sitting so forlornly, staring at that chocolate cake as if it were a lover. I figured you might prefer a live person to commiserate with rather than some pathetic concoction of flour and sugar.” Rose waved over the waitress and ordered an iced tea.

  “Flour, sugar, and chocolate,” Charlotte said. “You mustn’t leave out the chocolate.”

  “Of course, the chocolate. A panacea for all that troubles the modern woman.”

  “Indeed,” Charlotte said, placing another bite of cake into her mouth.

  “How’d your interview go?” Rose asked.

  “Mr. Powers couldn’t have been nicer. But I can’t say the same for the photographer. What’s with that Muky guy anyway?”

  “Oh, don’t mind him. He’s harmless.”

  “I sure hope you’re right. I couldn’t seem to get anything right in his eyes. I tore through his paper with my heel and looked away from the camera. It was stupid with headaches. And as soon as I finished, he stormed right over to Mr. Powers. I’m certain he was saying horrible things about me.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, mine didn’t go so well either.”

  “I can’t imagine that. Just look at you with those violet eyes and glossy hair. You could be Elizabeth Taylor’s sister.”

  “That’s kind of you to say, Charlotte. But I had the opposite experience from you. My interview with Mr. Powers crashed like a falling stock market. I think he likes girls he can charm and control. I’m more used to taking control of situations myself. I might have come on a bit too strongly, appeared too confident, perhaps. I probably should have done my damsel-in-distress act. Men like John Powers tend to prefer girls like that.”

  Charlotte didn’t know whether to be offended that Rose was implying she was a damsel-in-distress type or elated that it might mean she had a chance at becoming Miss Subways.

  Rose continued, “What did you tell him you do?”

  “Exactly what I do do. Well, partly. I’m in my last year at Hunter, and then I’m going to work for my father. I really want to work for an advertising firm, but that’s still to be decided. What do you do?”

  “I work in a dress shop. This week, at least. I was a cigarette girl at the Stork Club, but that only lasted a month. I’ve also been a waitress and a babysitter. But I told Mr. Powers that I’m an international airline stewardess and my goal is to receive an Academy Award for Best Actress in a motion picture.”

  “You lied?” Charlotte’s eyes widened.

  “The second half is true. But everyone lies on their Miss Subways posters. You think that girl from last summer really wants to be an insurance broker? What girl in this day and age wants to be an insurance broker? What a bore snore. Or that one from a few years ago really thinks—what was it now?—oh right, that ‘being a housewife is the greatest career in the world’? Oh, brother, if that isn’t a load of patooey. You think all those girls from the Bronx and Brooklyn really love sailing and skiing? I bet they’ve never seen snow in their lives outside the five boroughs. No, honey, everyone just says what they think will make their lives sound better than they really are.”

  “I had no idea that’s what we were supposed to do,” Charlotte said, her voice rising gently in a panic. She unthinkingly wrapped her paper napkin around her fingers and looked down at her mostly eaten cake. Not that she had a choice to make her career sound glamorous—the whole point was to promote Friedman’s. But if Mr. Powers was looking for girls with interesting and glamorous jobs, her chances at winning were nil.

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’m sure John Powers was quite taken by you with that perfect doll face and sunny-side-up disposition. So advertising, huh?”

  “Yes, I hope to get a job in the typing pool. That is if…” Charlotte’s voice dropped and the tears, those damn tears, started to fill her eyes.

  Rose reached her hand across the table to Charlotte’s. “What is it, honey? Why are you crying?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Charlotte said, dabbing her eyes with her napkin and trying to regain her composure. She barely knew Rose. Wasn’t about to start dumping out her whole life right there on the table next to the pathetic-looking salt and pepper shakers.

  “I don’t mind. You can tell me. How about if I tell you a secret first?”

  “Well, I don’t really have a secret,” Charlotte said slowly.

  “That’s all right. I’ll still tell you mine. Now let’s see: Which one should I tell?”

  Charlotte giggled. She couldn’t believe this creature, this Rose, sitting across from her. This Rose, who was so many things that Charlotte was not. Supremely confident. Daringly expressive. Unimaginably gorgeous.

  “I’ve been engaged six times.”

  “Six times!” Charlotte blurted out, and immediately covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so shocked. It’s just that … How old are you?”

  “I’m twenty. How about you?”

  “I’m twenty-one.”

/>   “I’ll be twenty-one on New Year’s Eve. How’s that for a party? Yes, indeed, six times. I’m still engaged to moron number six, but I’m not sure it’ll be for long. He bores me to death and back.”

  “What’s he do?”

  “He’s an insurance salesman. Now you see?”

  Again, Charlotte laughed. She was enchanted.

  “So go ahead,” Rose said, nudging her chin. “What’s your secret?”

  Charlotte was feeling more comfortable, so she told Rose all about her father, the store, and that most likely she would be working there full-time.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Charlotte,” Rose said sincerely.

  “Enough about me. I’m tired of hearing myself talk. What about you, Rose? How does Miss Subways fit into your life?”

  “I’m moving to Hollywood in the fall to be in pictures. My cousin has a friend who knows a fellow at Paramount who said he could get me a screen test. But I figured that if I could become Miss Subways or a Powers Girl, or both, it could open doors.”

  “My goodness, a real-life movie-star-in-the-making just a slice of cake away.”

  “I’ll invite you to my first premiere,” Rose said, flipping her hair and batting her long eyelashes.

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Charlotte looked at her watch and was shocked by how late it had gotten. She quickly grabbed some coins from her purse to leave for the bill, collected her coat, and stood to go.

  “I’m so sorry, but I have to get home. I have a lot of studying to do.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Bay Ridge.”

  “Me too. I’ll come with you.”

  Charlotte and Rose walked to Lexington to catch the subway home.

  On the ride back, Charlotte asked Rose how she had become a finalist for Miss Subways.

  “I submitted my picture, and then I got the letter.”

  “You submitted your own?”

  “Sure, if you want something in life, you have to go for it. But you know that, going for that advertising career and all.”

  “I guess.”

  “Do you have a boyfriend?” Rose asked.

  “Yes. Sam. He’s a dream.”

  “You might not know it, considering all my engagements, but I’m never going to get married. And there will be no kids, either.”

  “Why not?” Charlotte asked, surprised.

  “Maybe I’ll marry someone out in Hollywood, especially if it will help my career. Sure didn’t hurt Lauren Bacall or Vivien Leigh. But babies? Never. There’s too much I want to do with my life. I just can’t even imagine having kids.”

  “Why are you waiting until the fall to move to Hollywood?”

  “That’s when I’ll have saved enough to buy a bus ticket and have some money in my pocket to rent a place when I get there.”

  “How do your parents feel about all of this?” Charlotte asked.

  “Well, my father’s dead and my mother’s a part-time alcoholic, so neither of them really cares that much.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Charlotte said.

  “That’s okay. I’m used to it. No point getting sentimental about it. I still live at home so I can take care of my younger brothers and sisters when my mother’s, let’s just say, not at her best.”

  “What will they do when you leave?” Charlotte asked.

  Rose looked down at her hands.

  “Sorry,” Charlotte said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “That’s okay. Sore subject, I guess. Mother’s got a nice neighbor who said she’d help out, and the older ones can care for the younger ones. But I can’t hold my life back any longer. I’ve got to chase my dreams.”

  Rose nudged Charlotte and pointed up at the Miss Subways poster.

  “Hey, guess what?” Rose said to the strangers in the row across from them. “You see my friend here? She’s going to be the next Miss Subways!”

  The two of them erupted in laughter and made their way back to Bay Ridge.

  CHAPTER 12

  OLIVIA

  FRIDAY, MARCH 9, 2018

  Olivia was the first to the conference room for the weekly Friday morning meeting. Matt came in next.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” Matt said, tipping his coffee cup at her.

  “Good morning to you,” Olivia said.

  “Liam Taylor called me. He wanted to know the metrics on the last campaign. I have a follow-up call with him at three o’clock. Can you email me your thoughts so I’m prepared for the call?” Matt asked, looking at his phone.

  “Sure. No problem. Those ads did really well. I talked with Monica about it a few days ago and she was pleased, so Liam should be as well,” Olivia said, making a note to herself on her laptop.

  “Great,” Matt said, and put his phone down. He took a breath. “How are you, Liv?”

  Well, I’m insanely worried that if I don’t come up with something brilliant for this MTA pitch, I’ll not only lose your adorable little challenge to Thomas, but I’ll also lose my job. I’m worried that my friend will come home and want her apartment back, which will leave me without a place to live. And I’m madly in love with you.

  “Fine, Matt. Just fine.”

  “Hey, hey,” Thomas said, sweeping in, sunglasses and coat still on.

  “Hey, great,” Matt said. “Let’s get started. Olivia, what do you have?”

  The three of them discussed all the accounts, some personnel and office management issues, and then Matt turned to the MTA pitch.

  “We’re a week out,” Matt said. “Each of you will give me your presentation this Monday, and I’ll decide from there which one to go with. We’ll spend next week working on the pitch and finalizing the creative. Friday will be here before we know it. You two ready?”

  “Ready as a virgin on her wedding night,” Thomas said, smiling at Olivia.

  “Really, Matt. Is this who you want representing your agency?” Olivia asked.

  “He’s just trying to psych you out, Olivia. Don’t let him think it’s working.”

  Just then Thomas’s assistant, Christina, walked in.

  “Thomas, your wife is on the line. She says it’s urgent,” Christina said. “Oh, and, Matt, I know Thomas said the dinner tonight at Sparks is at seven, but they had to push it to seven thirty.”

  Olivia saw Thomas look at her quickly and then at Matt, who was staring at his phone and nodding. Something about that moment struck Olivia as strange, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.

  “Go ahead, Thomas. We’re done here,” Matt said.

  Thomas collected his things and walked out of the conference room.

  Matt stood and started to walk out as well.

  “You know, Matt,” Olivia said. “Ninety-nine percent of Thomas’s behavior is completely unacceptable. If we were still at Y&R, I’d report him to HR.”

  “Liv, you know he’s an idiot. He’s just a really creative idiot who has a way with clients. Please let it slide off you. Don’t pay attention to his nonsense.”

  “That makes you just as bad,” Olivia said, shutting the lid on her laptop.

  “Everyone is on edge right now. Let’s just get through this MTA pitch and then we can talk about everything.”

  “That’s convenient,” Olivia said, nodding. “One of us will probably be fired after the MTA pitch, so essentially you’re just delaying this conversation because you know you won’t really ever need to have it.”

  “That’s not true,” Matt said, smiling at her and giving her the look that always made her feel like there was some chance for them.

  “I’ve got work to do,” Olivia said, and walked out of the conference room. As she did, she saw Thomas leaving the office. So she went to Christina’s desk.

  “Hi, Christina,” Olivia said.

  “Oh, hi, Olivia.”

  “I know Thomas had to rush out, so he probably didn’t have a chance to tell you to add me to the Sparks reservation for tonight.”

  “Oh, sure,
no problem. Did he fill you in on who’s all coming?”

  “He gave me a top line but told me to ask you for the full download.”

  “Sure. So, it’s with Edward Freck from the MTA and a couple of men from his office. I guess since you all are late to this pitch, he’s agreed to meet in person to review what he discussed with the other agencies at the beginning of the process, but you probably know that already. Sparks Steak House is on Forty-Sixth between Second and Third, and the reservation is at seven thirty. I have a car coming here at seven o’clock to take Thomas and Matt. So I’ll let Thomas know to come by your office and grab you before he goes downstairs.”

  “Oh no, that’s okay. I have to do something anyway before the dinner, so I’ll just meet them there, but thanks so much.”

  “My pleasure, Olivia.”

  Olivia walked to her desk, fuming, and slammed her door behind her. How dare Thomas arrange a dinner like this and not include her. And how dare Matt not tell her about this. There was no way, she decided, that this could be an honest mistake. Olivia would do what had to be done. Take matters into her own hands, control the narrative, and take it from there.

  But first, she and Priya needed to decide which angle they were going to take and start crafting their presentation, which they’d have to work on throughout the weekend. Olivia was determined to prevail. If she won the MTA account, this would cement her career not only at The Osborne Agency but also in the industry. This account was huge, and she’d already seen articles about the pitch process and the contenders in Ad Age and on advertising blogs. Having her name associated with this win could mean something. Would mean something. For years to come.

  * * *

  The conference room was strewn with the detritus from their lunch delivery: burger wrappers, shake cups, greasy napkins trailing ketchup. Olivia and Priya had been meeting with Pablo, trying to decide which of the three ideas they should go with.

  The first idea was having tastemakers decorate subway cars. The second idea was some sort of revamp of or look back at Miss Subways. And the third idea, another that Olivia had come up with, was based on the concept of “The New York Subway Takes You Places.”