The Subway Girls

by Susie Orman Schnall

  “Is it too late? Can I ask now?”

  Her mother turned back to Charlotte and smiled. “Sure you can. I was training to be an opera singer.” She put her hand over her mouth and opened her eyes wide.

  Charlotte’s jaw dropped and her mother laughed.

  “Why do you look so surprised, Charlotte?”

  “I had no idea. That just seems so, I don’t know, incongruous with how I know you.”

  “You mean because I’m always so quiet and absorbed in my puzzles?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aha, but you don’t know what’s going on in my mind. Verdi. Puccini. Mozart. It may look like I’m solving puzzles, Charlotte, but I’m also singing arias.”

  “Why have you never sung out loud?”

  “I did. You don’t remember, but I would sing to Harry and you all the time when you were little.”

  Charlotte felt a pang and a sharp memory of hearing her mother sing.

  “Your father heard me one day and told me he never wanted to hear me sing again. He said it was a silly dream of mine and the sooner I gave it up, the sooner I would realize my place was in the home with the children.”

  “Anger and resentment.”

  “Still. And I don’t want you to feel this way. Don’t get me wrong; I loved raising you and Harry. But I know I could have pursued my singing as well. And that would have made my life even more joyful,” Mrs. Friedman said, smiling tightly at Charlotte. “I know Sam’s not the type of man who would ever hold you back from your dreams.”

  Charlotte thought about what her mother had said. Anger and resentment. Not high up on Charlotte’s wish list of things to feel as she got older. For now, all she could do was wait for July first, when her Miss Subways posters would be plastered across the five boroughs, and then wait for the Miss Subways admirers to swarm Friedman’s Paint and Wallpaper.

  CHAPTER 16

  OLIVIA

  MONDAY, MARCH 12, 2018

  Presenting first, Thomas was already seated at the head of the table, Pablo to his right. And Ty, his account executive, to his left. The three of them were in their best suits and conferring quietly. Behind them were two easels, both obscured by black cloth.

  Priya rushed in and joined Olivia in the back corner. Olivia was so curious about what Thomas had come up with. And, if she was honest with herself, Olivia felt strange seeing Pablo so tied into Thomas right now. She had perfected her presentation with Priya, but because this wasn’t an actual rehearsal of the presentation that would be given Friday, she hadn’t thought to get Pablo involved in the pitch. So she gave a point to Thomas for enlisting Pablo in his presentation, and she also wondered if Pablo felt slighted that Olivia hadn’t included him in hers. But she didn’t have time to entertain those concerns further, because Matt walked into the room.

  He sat at the opposite end of the table from Thomas, directly in front of Olivia and Priya. “Whenever you’re ready, Thomas,” Matt said, placing his phone facedown on the table.

  Thomas launched into a review of the stated needs of the MTA and the way his team had approached their method of achieving those goals. It was essentially a rehash of what was in the initial brief and also some of what had come out at the dinner with Ed Freck and the other MTA guys on Friday night. Olivia had a similar opening to her presentation, which she decided to condense into one sentence and start instead with the creative approach.

  “We ultimately decided,” Thomas continued, “to refocus the typical subway rider’s attitude toward his or her daily commute. We wanted to transcend the physical construct of the subway in their mind. To have them stop seeing their commute as going from point A to point B in a metal box, and rather have them reimagine and elevate the process.

  “In the past, through various other MTA programs, art has been brought into the subway. Our concept ‘Subway Star Cars’ makes the subway”—Thomas paused and looked directly at Olivia—“into art itself.

  “This concept, which I’ll explain in a moment with some gorgeous visuals imagined by Pablo, will create a tremendous amount of buzz in the city. It has the potential to be rolled out over the course of a month or the course of a year, in whatever time frame works for the MTA. Commuters will be flocking to actually ride on the subways to see the Subway Star Cars for themselves. There’s tremendous opportunity for collateral material and an app to bring in additional revenue for the MTA or a charity it designates. Finally, the project has legs, as the cars themselves can go on as an art installation at the Transit Museum, Vanderbilt Hall at Grand Central, or in some other venue.”

  At first, while Olivia was listening to Thomas’s pitch, she thought how uncanny it was that his idea was similar to her original one. But clearly, as he continued and her blood pressure began to rise, Olivia realized it wasn’t just similar—it was her original idea.

  Priya and Olivia were looking at each other in disbelief.

  Olivia couldn’t believe it. Could Pablo have given her idea to Thomas? The only other person was Priya. There was the possibility that Thomas could have somehow spied on their conversations or stolen papers out of Olivia’s office, but she had a hard time believing that, either.

  It was taking all of Olivia’s dwindling willpower to not stand up and say something, but she decided to let Thomas finish, see if he had completely stolen her idea, and deal with the issue from there.

  “So, the creative,” Thomas said. “Pablo?”

  Pablo stood next to the first easel and held the corner of the black cloth.

  “As Thomas mentioned, our idea is to have the subway cars themselves reimagined as art. The plan is to invite influential New York City tastemakers, like artists, actors, sports figures, models, and members of the media elite, to design an individual subway car in his or her own creative way.”

  “You stole my idea!” Olivia shouted. She was standing up. She had tried to keep her cool, tried to wait until the presentation was over, but this was just too egregious and she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  “Olivia, please,” Matt said. “Remember our agreement that the waiting team wouldn’t say anything during the presenting team’s pitch?”

  Olivia looked at Thomas. He was glaring at her, the corners of his mouth turned up in such a way that he looked like a cross between Jack Nicholson’s Joker and a smirk emoji.

  Pablo looked incredibly uncomfortable and even took his jacket off, draping it across the chair in front of him. The sweat circles under his armpits were spreading like batter pouring into a brownie pan.

  “I do remember, Matt,” Olivia said with a sting in her voice. “But that was before I knew that they were going to steal my idea and present it as their own. This is unacceptable.”

  “I’m sure they didn’t steal your idea, Olivia. Let’s just be courteous and let them finish,” Matt said, his voice edging on condescension.

  Olivia stayed standing and made a sarcastic gesture with her hand to Thomas to continue. She was incensed.

  “For instance,” Pablo continued, and pulled the black cloth off the easel with a flourish. “We would offer Anna Wintour, the editor in chief of Vogue—”

  “This is ridiculous,” Olivia said, shaking her head.

  Pablo continued with the idea of Anna Wintour taking over a car on the E line. And then he discussed Beyoncé taking over a car. He essentially repeated verbatim the initial concept description Olivia had presented to him a week earlier. Olivia was astonished by the flagrant audacity of Thomas and Pablo. It was unthinkable to her that they could be so brazen. And she realized that not only did they not care, but clearly they didn’t think Matt would care either. Or even worse, that he wouldn’t believe Olivia’s side of the story.

  Priya gently tugged on Olivia’s arm and encouraged her to sit down. “Let them finish this sham and then we’ll get our turn. You can speak to Matt in private and clear the whole thing up,” Priya whispered.

  Olivia sat down and listened to Thomas and Pablo wrap up their presentation. Matt, clearly impress
ed, asked questions and gave small suggestions, but held back from commenting fully. Olivia assumed he wanted to hear her presentation and would then give them both his full appraisal once he’d decided whose idea to move forward with. Though, Olivia realized, whether he picked Thomas or Olivia, he would be moving forward with her idea.

  Olivia tried to take deep breaths. She didn’t want to let that mockery she had just witnessed affect her. She and Priya took their positions at the head of the table to begin their presentation. They had settled on the original “Takes You Places” campaign after they were unable to locate any Miss Subways alumnae besides Mrs. Glasser. Olivia had been disappointed at first, but she was happy with how their creative had come out.

  As she was talking, Olivia knew that while the concept she was suggesting was strategically more in line with the MTA’s vision and was significantly cheaper and easier to implement, it wasn’t nearly as sexy, in advertising speak, as the idea Thomas had presented. Olivia could see it in Matt’s eyes, could imagine what he was thinking: Yes, Liv, good execution. Smart idea, but a little boring, no? A little predictable?

  Olivia finished her presentation and tried not to look at Thomas. The one time during her presentation that she had, he was actually laughing. She had looked away quickly, but he had successfully distracted her and she fumbled her words.

  Once she had finished, Matt asked the requisite questions and gave a small amount of input, clearly trying to be consistent and show parity in his approach to both her and Thomas.

  “Thank you to everyone in this room,” Matt said, standing, “for what is clearly an enormous amount of hard work and creative thinking. I’m incredibly impressed. It’s almost eleven o’clock. Let’s meet back here in an hour, and I’ll let you know which direction I’ve chosen.” Matt quickly walked out of the conference room.

  “I don’t get it,” Olivia said, directing her anger at Thomas and Pablo, who were on the other side of the room from her. “How could you just blatantly steal my idea and pass it off as your own?” Her face was starting to turn red no matter how much she was trying to keep her cool.

  “Liv, come on. Let’s not do this,” Priya said quietly to her.

  “Answer me,” Olivia said, ignoring Priya.

  Thomas and Pablo were silent. Thomas had a smug and unyielding expression on his face. Pablo’s face, on the other hand, was difficult to read.

  “You’re not going to get away with it,” Olivia eventually said, storming out of the conference room. She slammed the door behind her and walked purposefully to Matt’s office. His door was shut.

  “I need to speak with him, Layne,” Olivia said firmly.

  “He’s on the phone,” Layne said kindly.

  “Business or pleasure? This is really urgent.”

  “Um, Olivia, I really shouldn’t say,” Layne said.

  Olivia took that to mean it was a personal call and opened Matt’s door. Layne jumped up and walked in behind her to let Matt know Olivia had stormed the castle.

  Matt was reclining in his chair, his feet up on the table, but gathered himself when he saw what was going on.

  Olivia heard the person, the woman, on speakerphone say, “So tonight, Matt?”

  “Lily, I have to go. Sorry. I’ll call you back,” Matt said, clearly shaken by the sight of an enraged Olivia in his office.

  “But, Matt—” Olivia heard before Matt hung up the phone.

  “Great.” Olivia sad-laughed to herself. Lily.

  “Sorry, Matt, she just walked in,” Layne explained.

  “It’s okay, Layne, not a problem,” Matt said.

  Matt stood and walked Layne to the door and shut it behind her. Olivia was pacing, but Matt took a seat on his couch.

  “Liv?” he asked. She was annoyed at how amused he seemed to be.

  “Thomas completely stole my idea. I have notes, Matt. I can show you I’d been working on that idea since the beginning. Priya can vouch for me. And, well, Pablo could have also, except he’s the one who took the idea to Thomas, so of course he’ll deny it,” Olivia said, speaking quickly and angrily.

  “How do you know he didn’t also come up with the idea?” Matt said, speaking calmly.

  “Oh, please, Matt. Don’t be so fucking naive.”

  “It was a good idea,” he said, nodding.

  “I know it’s a good idea,” Olivia said, softening a little. In that split second, though, she remembered Matt had been in what was clearly a flirty conversation with Lily and that her idea had been stolen, and her outrage doubled. “But it’s too expensive to pitch to the MTA and you know that. And, wait a minute, are you really going to let them get away with this? This is a cardinal sin in our industry, Matt.”

  Matt was silent, clearly contemplating his next move.

  “I’ll tell you what…,” he began. “Let me have till noon as I initially requested, and I’ll let my thoughts be known then. But I need to get some things done, so if you’ll please excuse me.”

  Olivia stood there, shocked. Shocked that he wasn’t outraged, at least discernibly, at what Pablo and Thomas had done. Shocked that he was speaking to her as if she were five. Shocked that he had just dismissed her so rudely. She knew that she shouldn’t get, and she didn’t want, special treatment just because she and Matt had spent the last three nights together. But it was hard to reconcile this Matt with the one in her bedroom.

  Olivia walked purposefully out of Matt’s office and back to her own. She slammed the door behind her and plopped down into her chair. Staring into space, she rewound what had happened. It wasn’t any easier to comprehend the second time around. She looked at her bulletin board, where she’d pinned her original notes so she could start collecting evidence against Thomas. Her eyes landed on a small poster. She read her favorite quote aloud: “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.”

  At that moment, Olivia realized that working at an agency where Thomas’s brand of unethical behavior could be tolerated was not the life she had imagined. And the direction of her dreams? Olivia asked herself that as she plotted her next move.

  CHAPTER 17

  CHARLOTTE

  FRIDAY, JULY 1, 1949

  “Meet Miss Subways Charlotte Friedman. Ambitious Charlotte is in her final year at Hunter College and targets a career in advertising. When she’s not spending time with her lawyer-on-the-rise boyfriend, Charlotte’s an art enthusiast and enjoys visiting museums with her parents.”

  Charlotte’s posters had just gone up on the subways that morning, so it was during her trip into Manhattan that day for the launch event at the Times Square subway station that she saw her poster for the first time.

  Charlotte almost burst into tears when she saw that the poster didn’t mention her father’s store. She had heard that the copywriters took liberty with the descriptions, but this was over the line. An art enthusiast! Museums with her parents! Charlotte couldn’t recall ever having gone to a museum with her parents. She knew it sounded more refined than a mention of a paint and wallpaper store, but still. Charlotte stared at her feet, thinking about her future and the disastrous turn of events.

  When she looked back up to read the poster again, just to confirm what she already knew, Charlotte looked more closely at the photograph. She almost didn’t recognize herself. The girl in the photo looked like her, Charlotte thought, but a softer, more angelic version. She knew the photographers had a way of retouching the photos to eliminate blemishes and the sort. But it was an entirely different thing altogether to see that practice applied to one’s own face.

  “Is that you up there, honey?” asked the man sitting across from Charlotte, pointing at another of the placards, this one directly above Charlotte’s head.

  “It is,” Charlotte said timidly. At first she considered telling the man no, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself. But what the heck? Charlotte decided to suck all the sugary juice out of this experience as long as it lasted. Perhaps that was the reason why she
decided to sit directly under her poster in the first place.

  Charlotte wore a light blue sleeveless satin dress with a jeweled belt cinching her waist and a matching brooch at her right shoulder. She had gone with Miss Fontaine two weeks ago to Lord & Taylor to pick it out. As soon as they had walked into the dress department, a saleswoman named Rosalie had come to greet them. Apparently, Miss Fontaine was not only well known to Rosalie, as evidenced from the double-cheeked kisses they exchanged, but had made an appointment, because as soon as Rosalie looked at Charlotte, she said, “And this must be Charlotte, Miss Subways for July.” Then Charlotte received her first double-cheeked kiss.

  The shopping expedition surpassed every one of Charlotte’s expectations. Rosalie deposited Charlotte and Miss Fontaine in what must have been the bridal dressing room. It was massive, with two white silk-covered benches for guests and a two-step platform in front of a gleaming three-way mirror. Another girl brought them champagne. And then Rosalie began appearing with the most dazzling array of colorful dress confections. There was the rose-colored one that Charlotte dismissed simply because of the name of the color itself. The emerald green with the pale green embroidery overlay went onto the maybe rack. The red with the black bow on the back was, they all agreed, a bit overwrought. The black polka-dotted suit, though elegant in its fit, seemed too businesslike. As soon as Charlotte tried on the light blue satin, well, they all agreed, that was the one. It was formal yet appropriate, sophisticated yet demure, special but not too precious. Charlotte had never worn something so exquisite. She twirled around and peacocked in the mirror, much to the delight of Rosalie and Miss Fontaine.