Bryce: Ex-Business: An Ex-Club Romance

by Camilla Stevens

“How do you know who Simone de Beauvoir is?”

  He stops to give me an indignant frown. “Please, Edie. I’m a modern man.”

  “I guess that would explain the Annual Girl Next Door contest your magazine holds.”

  “An empowering step forward for women if ever there was one. Or have you forgotten the ten-thousand-dollar prize attached to it, which I’m certain every last winner has contributed toward her scholarship fund.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  “I’ve got it!” He says suddenly, snapping his finger. “‘Twenty Ways to Fluff her Mu—’”

  “Stop!” I say, holding up one hand. “And you call yourself a modern man,” I scold.

  He laughs. “I have a new appreciation for how hard your editors at Contempo Woman work.”

  “Thank you,” I say nodding with satisfaction. “Though I’m pretty sure articles like that will be one of the first things to go,” I say with a shudder.

  “And the fourteen-year-old girls of the world heave a collective sigh of disappointment,” he says in a forlorn tone.

  “They already have a warped idea about sex thanks to the internet. I don’t remember it being so salacious. When I was fourteen, my main internet obsession was adding glitter text to my MySpace page.”

  “Here’s to the good old days,” Bryce says, lifting his mug.

  “And to new beginnings,” I add, lifting my own.

  We both smile excitedly as we sip our coffee.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Bryce

  Edie and I parted ways on the first floor, as usual, going in separate directions to work. I smile as I walk, thinking about what it will be like if this idea of ours takes off and we do end up sharing office space.

  Will spending so much time together ruin what we’ve just started to have?

  I, for one, am willing to try it out and see.

  A whistle comes to my lips as I stroll down Madison Avenue and into the building where my offices are. This should be one of the more daunting Mondays that I’ve experienced. Instead, I feel that same surge of adrenaline pump through my veins that did when I first started Ideal Gentlemen. The excitement of beginning a new endeavor is almost enough to put sexual conquest to the test.

  I wonder if this is what it felt like for prior Wilmington men. You’d think Dad would at least have taken that into account in his judgment of me.

  I put him squarely out of my mind before he ruins a promising day and instead use it to get to work on this idea.

  Yesterday, Edie and I went through all of Conniver’s holdings making predictions as to which publications would be getting the axe. From there, we narrowed it down to those that had the potential for longevity, and then those that had editors and potential owners who might agree to join us. I go through the list again, noting the publications where I have connections. It’s a substantial list.

  The Bryce Wilmington charm pays off yet again.

  It’s no surprise when some of the senior staff arrive early. From my glass-encompassed office I can see worried faces cast furtive looks my way as they pass.

  I suppose the general meeting I’ve planned should happen earlier rather than later. Smith is the first to actually come barging in.

  “What’s this business about Conniver I’ve heard?”

  “Come in Smith, take a seat, have a drink why don’t you?”

  “Stop dicking around and tell me, Bryce,” he says, his British accent getting even more snippy.

  “Since, apparently, the confidential news has made the rounds, I should point out that they mentioned nothing more than a fiscal audit.

  “Which, in translation, means…”

  “Yes, they might be letting some or many of their publications go, and yes, we might be one of them.”

  Now, he does take me up on sinking into a chair. “I think I will take you up on that drink.”

  “Before you drown those sorrows, I should tell you I have a plan.”

  He removes his hand that has been pinching his forehead to give me a questioning look.

  “It’s actually one I think you’ll appreciate, being the entrepreneurial individual you are.”

  “Well, by all means, keep me in suspense.” He waves an impatient hand.

  I grin and lean in across my desk. But before I can say a word, I see Lucien making an appearance outside my office. He’s probably come to offer moral support about being right about all this Friday. I wave him in.

  “Before you sit, pour all of us a finger from that bourbon. I have good news,” I say, nodding toward the bar in the corner of my office.

  Lucien gives me a brief, quizzical look, no doubt wondering what there is to celebrate, but does it anyway. Once he comes back, placing all three tumblers on my desk, we all take one.

  “You two, as my most trusted confidants, ought to be the first to know,” I say, lifting my glass. “It’s in early stages, but I’m working with the editor of another magazine to…form our own media corporation should Conniver eventually let us go.”

  “Bloody hell,” Smith murmurs, taking this in with wide eyes.

  Lucien just offers a grin. “This editor of another magazine wouldn’t happen to be Edie Hartman at Contempo Woman would it?”

  “That part is still very hush-hush.”

  “Contempo Woman?” Smith says, sitting up. He tilts his head to consider that. “I suppose it could work. It’s well known, but it’s a bit…inane isn’t it?”

  “Perhaps. But without the current corporate oversight—again, if Conniver lets us go—I have it on good authority that it will be revamped. And keep in mind, we plan on eventually having even more publications under our umbrella.”

  “It seems you’ve had a productive weekend,” Lucien says with a suggestive smile.

  “And how,” I say, lifting my glass toward him.

  “At any rate, I’m well chuffed at the idea,” Smith says with a nod, obviously missing that particular piece of the puzzle but, just as obviously not caring. “Either way, I still have my own brand and Instagram, with a following that’s well over a hundred thousand now.”

  “Something we here at Ideal Gentlemen greatly appreciate, considering how many plugs you’ve given us.”

  “Cheers,” he says lifting his glass toward me. “Not many magazines would have allowed it, especially without trying to censor or muzzle me. At any rate, working here has substantially increased both my quality of living and my appeal to the opposite sex. So, again, cheers.”

  “Cheers,” I echo, raising my glass toward him.

  “And I will always have National Geographic,” Lucien says, then adds in a droll voice, “And New York Fashion Week.”

  “All hail the patron saints of independent contractors,” I say lifting my glass toward him. “Especially ones who pretend they don’t fully take advantage of their photogenic physique and face.”

  Lucien laughs and takes a sip. “You know I’m down for whatever next adventure you begin, Bryce.”

  This is exactly why I felt comfortable telling these two. Neither of them has anything to lose, and more importantly, no reason to betray me.

  I take a sip of my drink and then set it down before leaning in to give them both a serious look. “This is absolutely confidential for now. For one, according to Conniver, no one is even supposed to know about the message sent out Friday.”

  We all, in one way or another, scoff at that bit of crap. You don’t need to have gone to business school to see how Conniver expected this to play out. I wouldn’t be surprised to find a bump to their stock price this morning. If I wasn’t afraid of insider trading, I would have thought to buy.

  “It will take a while to get the ball going, but, this time next year, hopefully, we’ll be in a better place, or at the very least, have more of a free rein over what we’re doing.”

  “Cheers to that alone,” Smith says. Being the creative mind that he is, I’m not surprised to see the excitement in his eyes at that prospect.

  “Here’s to the
next adventure,” I say raising my glass, as we all toast.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Edie

  The general meeting at Contempo Woman is set for ten o’clock, late enough to capture any stragglers coming into work, but early enough to keep the game of office telephone from getting too crazy. Best to nip this in the bud first thing, since absolutely no work will be getting done until the dirty laundry is aired.

  I know I have to tread a fine line. Conniver has me hogtied with that “confidential” tag on their email. No need to add a lawsuit to the eventual axe my magazine will be getting.

  Looking around the room—the largest in the office, big enough to accommodate all the employees—I can see that this was a good idea. I’m sure I’m not the only Conniver editor-in-chief holding such a meeting this morning. I also know that the panic will spread even more like wildfire by noon when all the other magazines have finished “reassuring” their staff.

  There’s no better way to get a frenzy of panic going than by holding an official meeting just to tell everyone that everything is okay.

  So I decide not to sugarcoat it.

  “I’m guessing most of you may have heard rumors about an email sent Friday evening from Conniver Media, the parent corporation that owns Contempo Woman. I can neither confirm nor deny such an email was sent.” This gets the first stirring of voices going. I pause to let it settle before continuing. “I know rumors like these can cause concern for any employee, and I am sympathetic to that. The magazine business is notoriously fickle, but there are several things I can say to hopefully reassure you.”

  Once again I pause, making sure that my expression exudes an air of competence, sympathy, and reassurance.

  “One, Contempo Woman is a strong brand.” I smile before adding, “In fact, I’d say most of you in this room, myself included, weren’t even alive when it first started.” I’m relieved to see a few smiles and hear a few chuckles at that. “The magazine has had its ups and downs and I have no doubt whatsoever it will survive whatever is coming down the pipeline.”

  I slowly look around the room, trying to meet each eye so they know I’m being earnest.

  “Two, even if the worst happens and we do have to close up shop.” I hear stirrings again, so I quickly continue on. “We have enough money in our reserves to pay salary and benefits to all of you for at least three months. Not that I plan on ever letting it get to that point,” I add firmly, making sure to sound emphatic about it. That seems to only somewhat soften the blow of reality that the magazine may in fact eventually be dissolved.

  I’m willing to endure an environment of uncertainty even with the plan Bryce and I are hatching in the background. It’s still a risky endeavor and most of the people in this room don’t have the resources and cushion to take chances with their only means of income. Later on, I’ll quietly make it clear to each department head that, while they shouldn’t say anything to actively encourage a flood of resignation letters, they also shouldn’t try to talk anyone out of it if they have more secure opportunities elsewhere, complete with a promise of a fair and just letter of reference.

  For me, the worst-case scenario is, I move in with Dad—or heaven forbid, Mom—and be pampered for a while. That idea alone is enough motivation to make it a success.

  For Bryce, the thought of going to work for his dad probably holds the same kind of incentive.

  “To conclude, right now there is nothing more than rumor and speculation, and we all know how blown out of proportion these things can get, especially second- and third-hand. I’m here to tell you that right now, it’s just noise, not even smoke. So don’t start grabbing your firehoses quite yet. There is no fire.”

  I answer questions from both senior staff and those underlings bold enough to raise their hands. Just enough for them to realize that they’ll get nothing more from me than I’m allowed to say, but not so few that they think I have something to hide.

  As they slowly make their way back to their offices and desks, I surreptitiously study them to gauge their reactions. It doesn’t look hopeful, but I didn’t expect much. In fact, it looks slightly more optimistic than I had wished for.

  I was hoping to catch Veronica so she can be first to be informed of the plan Bryce and I have hatched, she certainly deserves that much, but Nicole is the first to approach me.

  “Edie, can I have a quick word with you? It’s pretty urgent.”

  That sounds foreboding enough for me to give her my full attention. “Of course, let’s head back to my office.”

  Once there, she falls into the seat across the desk from me. I take mine a little more gingerly. When she sits up straighter, I note the way she sucks her lips in, as though hesitant to reveal something.

  “You’re leaving,” I guess.

  “No,” she says quickly. When my brow lowers in confusion, she quickly continues. “It’s just, I’ve been offered a spot in Elle UK. It’s a lateral move, and I’d rather not leave New York but…”

  “But you’re wondering whether you have a future here,” I finish for her. I sit back and exhale. “Well, Elle is certainly nothing to sniff at, Nicole, and they aren’t part of Conniver so you don’t have that concern.”

  “But I’m loyal to you, Edie. It’s been great working here. I grew up on Contempo, so this was a dream job. And I know you took a chance making me an editor. But I also need to pay the rent.”

  I scrutinize her for a moment. Even though she’s a few years younger than me, she’s become a trusted ally here. Kind of like what Veronica probably was for my mom back in the day.

  Before I can continue, I see Veronica passing by. I catch her attention through the glass walls of my office and she gives me one quick nod before coming in to join us.

  “I’m glad you’re both here for this because you’re probably the two people I trust with it, this early on at any rate.”

  Both of them lean in, their curiosity piqued.

  “It’s still in early stages now. In fact, you couldn’t even call it prenatal, for lack of a better word, but—”

  “You’re pregnant?” Nicole asks in surprise, her face beaming with joy.

  Veronica coughs in surprise.

  I’m so thrown by the suggestion, I stare at her in shock, completely forgetting what I was about to reveal. For some stupid reason Reggie and his happy little surprise pop into my head. Maybe because, despite everything that has happened since Friday morning, the wound is still fresh. Not that Nicole, or Veronica for that matter, know anything about my past with him.

  “No,” I say in a slightly irritable tone. “Prenatal was perhaps a poor choice of words. I’m not pregnant.”

  “Oh,” she says, disappointed.

  What is it with women and pregnancy? Despite the fact that I’m not married, or even dating anyone as far as she knows, she was still thrilled at the prospect that I might have been? Surely we have more to offer than what our reproductive organs are capable of? We have brains and talents that contribute something to the world as well. I run a major magazine for heaven’s sake!

  I’m feeling irrationally defensive, and I know it. There’s no reason to take this out on Nicole, even if only mentally. Not when I have to focus on something much bigger.

  I exhale slowly and force a smile to my face. “Actually, it’s funny that you should ask because I am hatching something major. Before I tell either of you, I have to insist on strict confidentiality. And I don’t mean of the kind Conniver has obviously made a farce out of, no doubt deliberately.”

  “Of course.”

  “You have my word.”

  I smile and give each of them one firm nod before continuing. “I’m looking into starting a new media corporation, with multiple publications under its umbrella, obviously including Contempo Woman.”

  “Oh my God! Really?” Nicole gushes with excitement.

  “That’s…bold,” Veronica says more judiciously, her face thoughtful as she considers it.

  Their reactions are expected
. Nicole is still young and wet enough behind the ears to think it’s an exciting possibility.

  Veronica has been in the business long enough to know how likely this is to fail. Still, she looks impressed so she obviously thinks I can pull it off.

  “What other publications are you looking at?” Veronica asks.

  I don’t want to bring Bryce into the picture this early on—for a number of reasons. Mostly it’s Nicole’s little assumption, which has me feeling self-conscious. No need to entangle my personal life.

  “I’m obviously looking at other Conniver holdings. There’s one in particular that I know is on board, though I can’t say which publication. That brings me to the point I made back at the meeting, everything is still very much speculation at this point. For all we know, they may be considering adding publications to the fold, and we have nothing to worry about whatsoever. In which case, this meeting is moot.”

  We all look at each other and, in one way or another—I give a sardonic smile, Nicole coughs out a laugh, Veronica just cynically raises one eyebrow—admit to each other what a lie that is.

  At least they haven’t run for the hills.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Bryce

  I don’t get home until late, but it’s no surprise when I hear Edie opening the door to her apartment even later than me. I’m already in my standard uniform of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt when I open the door to catch her before she closes hers.

  “And here I thought we had a date tonight,” I say with an exaggerated frown.

  Edie gives me a weary smile. “Can a girl get comfortable first? And before you come back with some quick, witty response, trust me, you want me comfortable.”

  “In which case, I shall save my quick, witty responses until after you’re comfortable.”

  I head back to my place and pour a finger of bourbon while I wait. I sip slowly, waiting for her while I ponder this new arrangement of ours. The convenience factor certainly can’t be overlooked. A smile comes to my face as I consider Edie’s denial that she didn’t deliberately take the apartment across from me. An obvious lie, but one which I’ll continue to allow her to think.