“We wanted to wait so we could hear all about your day,” Mum explained. She lowered her menu and looked at Kevin. “It was Chloe’s first day at the lesbian magazine.”
Kevin slumped in his chair. “I know, Mum.” It clearly wasn’t the first time it had been brought up, probably not even the seventh time.
Chloe hated being the centre of attention. Especially when her brother was in the room. They’d never gotten along, and he mocked everything she did and was interested in. The moment her parents shone a spotlight on her, she felt defensive. She knew it was only a matter of time before he said something, and she’d have to explain herself and her life choices.
“I’m going to get some drinks,” Dad announced. He stood up. “Beer, Kev?”
“Please.”
“Chloe? Wine?”
She shook her head. Alcohol would surely see her asleep before dinner was served.
“Can I have an orange juice?”
Dad frowned. “You mean a J2O?”
“No, I mean an orange juice.”
“Like, a Fanta?”
Chloe shook her head. “No. An orange juice. The… juice… of an orange.”
“You don’t usually drink that,” he told her.
“I… always drink that.” She’d been alive for twenty-nine years, and her own father had no idea of her favourite drink. She shouldn’t have been surprised, both her parents had an uncanny knack of tuning out anything they didn’t find interesting. Which was most things that didn’t directly involve them. They weren’t bad people, just self-centred.
He shrugged his shoulders in defeat and walked towards the bar.
“How was the journey to work? Was it horrible?” Mum asked. She’d never been one for optimism.
“It was… busy,” Chloe confessed.
“I’m having a burger, what are you having, Mum?” Kevin asked, trying to move the subject and the whole evening on a few steps.
For once, Chloe was in agreement with him. The sooner they ordered food, the sooner the whole dinner process would happen, and the sooner it would be over. But their parents were too cunning for that, they would delay ordering as long as possible to keep them as prisoners. It was a rich person’s interrogation. If you want dinner, you’ll answer all our questions.
“Salmon. Are there any nice girls at your office?” Mum asked, zeroing in on Chloe again.
“Um. Some. I… I’ve not really met everyone yet.”
“Is your boss nice?”
“She’s… okay.”
Mum frowned. “What’s wrong with her? She’s not one of those bitchy businesswomen, is she?”
Chloe chuckled. “No. She’s just a bit quiet. I think I’m her first employee, so we’re just settling in, you know?”
“Is she single?”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “I have no idea.”
Probably, she thought. She couldn’t imagine someone living with Natasha, unless that person also liked hours of stony silence.
“Does she have a name?” Mum asked.
“She does…”
“What is it?”
“Why do you want to know?” Chloe picked up the menu, trying to deflect her Mum’s laser vision.
“Because she’s your boss. You’ll talk about her, and I’ll think, ‘Oh, yes, that’s Chloe’s boss.’”
“You’ll think that if I say, ‘my boss.’ You don’t need to know her name,” Chloe pointed out.
“She wants to know so she can Google her,” Kevin interjected.
“I don’t Google people.” Mum sounded just scandalised enough to have been caught in her devious plan.
“You always Google people,” Dad said as he returned to the table with the drinks.
“Shush, you,” Mum said. She shook her head, convinced that Dad alone was the reason for her masterful plan’s failure. She picked up her menu.
“Wine, wine, beer… and orange juice,” Dad said as he placed drinks in front of the family. “How was the first day of work?”
Kevin sighed. “We’ve done that bit. It was fine, she’s not met everyone yet, she won’t tell Mum her boss’s name, and the commute was busy. Which is code for hell on earth, because that’s commuting into London. Are we ready to order?”
“What Kevin said,” Chloe agreed, anxious to move the topic on.
“Good, you’ve been angling to work there for years,” Dad said, as if she didn’t know. Her father had a strange habit of telling her things that she had previously told him, as if it were ground-breaking news.
“Yes, I’ll enjoy it while I can,” she said.
Mum’s radar pinged. She looked up at her again. “Is something wrong?”
“No, well… I don’t know. They said something about circulation figures being down. I don’t think the magazine is doing very well.”
It felt a relief to say the words out loud. Clearly no one in the office was too keen to talk about it with her. Natasha wasn’t that eager to speak full stop. But the moment the words were out of her mouth, she realised she’d picked the wrong audience.
“You should have taken a job in a steadier sector,” Kevin told her, always on hand to dish out life advice despite being a useless twit.
“She was offered a job at one of the big accountancy firms. Lots of letters. BEO? ED?” Mum started guessing various letter combinations.
“I didn’t want to work for an accountancy firm,” Chloe defended. “I wanted to work somewhere that makes a difference.”
“Won’t make much of a difference if it goes under,” Kevin muttered.
“PUD? BBD?” Mum continued.
“Well, you know what you have to do, don’t you?” Dad leaned back in his chair. He had a suggestion that he assumed would fix everything. But Chloe knew he was waiting for her to ask for his pearl of wisdom. Dad didn’t just say things, that was far too easy. He made cryptic statements that forced the other person to have to ask for clarification.
Most of the time that led to him either mansplaining something, or worse, telling her something that she’d previously told him. But on rare occasion he had something worthwhile hearing. And so, Chloe always asked. Just in case.
“What?” she asked.
“You need to save the company. If they are going under, you need to stop it from happening. You work in marketing—”
“I work in digital,” she corrected.
“So, you can market the magazine and bring in a load of new money. Within the year, you’ll run the place.”
“I don’t work in marketing,” Chloe clarified.
“Well, you can still save the business.” Dad picked up the menu. He wasn’t going to quibble over the details of his plan. As far as he was concerned, Chloe would save the company with her marketing prowess. Despite not having anything to do with marketing.
How he still had no idea what she did, she didn’t know. But then he didn’t know her go-to drink was always orange juice.
“JBO?” Mum asked, still on the letter conundrum.
“Jesus…” Kevin mumbled under his breath.
Chapter Twelve
Chloe picked up her notepad and pen. She stood up and brushed any creases out of her dress. She took a deep breath and prepared to psych herself up for what was coming.
It was her first meeting at Honey. Which meant it was her first opportunity to shine. Expectations were high. With the company in trouble, and digital seen as a lifeline, all eyes were on her and Natasha.
She followed Natasha into the meeting room and took a seat at the table, watching as everyone else entered and started to take their places.
Dad’s words from the previous night were ringing in her ears. Of course, he felt she was able to do anything, he was her father. It was in the job description. She was surprised he hadn’t sent her to the Middle East to “sort it out.” His endless faith in her was heart-warming.
It was also completely misplaced.
The problem was, Chloe had two modes: blurting out stupid statements, and enormous at
tacks of shyness that prompted total muteness.
These two modes increased in intensity and likelihood in stressful situations. Such as sitting next to Pippa Wilson, who had yet to utter a full word to her, and opposite Helen Featherstone, her boss’s boss. The editor-in-chief of her favourite magazine ever. And someone who Chloe could very much find herself with a crush on.
So far, Chloe had only interacted with Helen once. It was a short hello and welcome to the company. A handshake which had left Chloe trembling. It had been one of Chloe’s mute moments, so she nodded and giggled, presumably making herself appear an absolute idiot. Something she hoped to rectify at this meeting.
She’d seen Helen around the office just a handful of times and already she was hooked. Helen was a powerhouse of energy. She was short, wearing heels to compensate. She dressed in suits that demanded respect and attention, and Chloe gave both willingly.
Having only recently gotten over her previous relationship, Chloe suspected that she was simply crushing over an unreachable goal. Helen was older than her, more accomplished than her, and would unlikely see Chloe as anything other than the new digital assistant. It was a safe crush. One she could enjoy from the comfort of her own desk without any chance of anything happening.
She’d convinced herself that it was her swirling emotions looking for an outlet. Her relationship had been all-consuming. Coming out of that had been hard, she’d felt like half a person for the longest time. All the love she had put in was now homeless and in need of a direction. A harmless crush wouldn’t hurt anyone.
Chloe felt like she had definitely drawn the short straw, as she sat between Natasha and Pippa. Lucy, Rose, and Darcy all sat in a row to her right, the latter two offering her a smile of support. Fiona, Tess, and Kim sat to her left. Helen sat dead opposite Chloe, a whole side of the table to herself. Anyone else of her stature might have looked dwarfed, but Helen commanded the space she was in.
“Good morning, everyone,” Helen said. She shuffled some papers in front of her. “We have a lot to get through, so let’s get started. Features?”
Tess leant forward. “We’ve got some great pieces coming up. My favourite is coming in from Zahara this afternoon, on queer-baiting vs. searching for subtext that isn’t there. We’re finishing up on the article about gender-neutral clothing that we spoke about last week. I’m tempted to move that to next issue though?”
“To pair it with the casual weddings piece?” Helen asked. She removed her glasses, popping the end of the frame into her mouth as she looked at the ceiling, deep in thought. “Yes, I like that. Move it up to next issue. Any ideas on what to replace it with?”
Tess gestured towards Pippa. “Pippa is able to stretch out her interview with the top five business women, pad it with some of the photos that Nicola took.”
“Whoever voted them the top five women in business and why is quite beyond me,” Pippa finally spoke. Her tone was deep, and her accent was from the posher parts of the south of England. She reminded Chloe of a stern headmistress she had once had.
“Are you happy to take up the page space?” Helen asked, ignoring the comment.
“Yes, I’m sure I can pick through the carcass of the interviews and find something that relates, however vaguely, to business. I can’t tell you how many of them immediately dove into talking about clothing, hair, makeup. As if the cover is more important than the mind.” She tapped her head with her index finger.
“It’s presumably what they’re primarily asked by mainstream media,” Fiona pointed out.
“I don’t care. Until we start acting and speaking like the professionals we are, we are going to be reduced to talking about what shade of lipstick we’re pairing with our handbag.” Pippa snorted a derisive laugh. “Just because we’re women doesn’t mean we have to be done up like Christmas presents, primped and perfect. Style over substance.”
Chloe shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She’d put on another summer dress and cardigan combination. She wondered if Pippa was about to round on her and point her out as an example of a woman in business consumed with her looks.
Pippa wore a casual linen shirt and khakis, clearly valuing comfort over style. Chloe wished she were brave enough to say that she didn’t dress up for anyone, she did it for herself. She enjoyed wearing dresses, just as Pippa seemingly enjoyed wearing khakis. Why did someone have to be right and someone wrong?
“I can do both,” Helen said. “And, sometimes, I have to dress a part to be taken seriously. I’m not saying it’s right. But it’s a fact of life for many women in the workplace, especially in a city like London.”
Pippa’s face flared red. Chloe instinctively slid a little closer to Natasha, fearing an eruption.
Helen held her hand up. “But that’s a topic of discussion for another day. We’ll move gender-neutral clothing to next issue and you’ll take up the two pages with the top five women in business article. Sorted. Where are we on the cover photo?”
“Nicola’s coming in with a few options for you to look at,” Tess said. “We have some nice shots of the top five women, we think it’s probably best to use that.”
“Sounds good. I look forward to seeing the options. How is everything else coming together content-wise?”
Tess nodded and looked at the paperwork in front of her. “We have all the reviews in: book, television, movie, and theatre. We’re waiting for a couple of images for upcoming media. Culture and events are done and in final checks.”
“I’ll have them done by the end of the week,” Pippa added.
“Great, anything else from editorial?” Helen asked.
Tess shook her head. “Nothing that can’t wait until layout.”
“Good, good.” Helen turned to Fiona. “Marketing?”
“We’re working on increasing ad revenue this month. Lucy is spearheading a new campaign. That will obviously take a while to filter through, so we’re hoping to see results from that within the next two to three issues.” Fiona read from her notepad as if reporting on a military campaign. “Rose is going to be liaising with a few people to create a new engagement strategy for our social media channels.”
Pippa laughed sarcastically.
Helen cast her a withering look.
Fiona ignored the interruption and continued on. “We’re looking to increase our presence across the board. Because, as we all know, visibility leads to interest, leads to sales.”
“Fantastic work, Rose, I look forward to hearing more. When do you hope to get some results?” Helen put her glasses back on.
“It’s hard to say,” Rose admitted. “I need to get the campaign and the assets together and then launch. Hopefully that won’t take too long, I’d expect to start next week and see results within a week.”
“Or two,” Fiona added.
“Fabulous. I look forward to my Twitter followers increasing,” Helen said with a grin. “If only I knew what to do with them once I got them.”
“Delete your account,” Pippa murmured.
“But then I wouldn’t be a cool cat,” Helen said with mock seriousness.
Pippa’s lips curled up in the first genuine smile Chloe had seen from her. She was impressed at how Helen managed to handle Pippa. There was obviously mutual respect there.
“In other news,” Fiona continued, “Darcy and I are working on the email rebrand for the digital edition. I’ll be speaking with Natasha and Chloe on that over the coming weeks.”
Helen turned from Fiona to Chloe. “Wonderful. I’m sure everyone has already met Chloe, if not… here is Chloe. Welcome to the Honey team, we’re thrilled to have you on board.”
Her heart rate spiked at the sudden attention. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Speaking of digital,” Helen said. “Natasha? Do you have an update?”
Natasha started to speak, but it sounded like she was in another room. Chloe had become so panicked when Helen had looked at her that all of her senses numbed. She did her best to look like she was listening to
Natasha’s report. But in truth, she was cursing herself for already being so paralysed with fear that she could hardly speak.
She was lucky that it was her first meeting, and she didn’t have any update to give. She was just decoration today. Pippa would have loved to hear her describe herself as that. But the next few days had to change. She had to find her confidence, had to show that she had something to contribute.
As her dad had said, she had to save the company. Then everyone would see her as the essential part of the Honey team that she desperately desired to be. And maybe Helen would smile at her again, sending her weak at the knees. Because harmless crushes were safe.
An hour later, the meeting was finally over. Chloe strolled back to her desk, berating herself at having contributed so little. She’d basically said five words the entire meeting. She knew it was her first week and she’d be forgiven, but she still had dreams of saying something masterful and impressing everyone, except Pippa, with her amazing knowledge.
She reminded herself that her time would come. She needed to settle in. Once she knew more about the business, she’d make her move and do something great.
She dumped her notepad and pen on her desk. The hot desk beside hers held a motorcycle helmet and a MacBook. A leather jacket was draped over the back of the chair. She looked around the office, but there was no sign of the owner.
“Nicola,” Natasha said, sitting down at her own desk.
“I’m sorry?” Chloe asked.
“Nicola Martin is in.” Natasha nodded her head towards the hot desk. “She’s our primary freelance photographer.”
“Oh, cool.” Chloe sat down. She looked at Natasha expectantly. Natasha logged onto her computer and started to work. The conversation was clearly over. Still, Chloe felt pleased that they had come on in leaps and bounds.
She smiled to herself at Natasha’s behaviour and unlocked her own computer.
“Chloe. Digital girl, right?”
Climbing the Ladder Page 6
