I Heart Paris. Lindsey Kelk

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СКАЧАТЬ Mary said again, this time through gritted teeth as he left the table.

      ‘How is he even wearing a jacket?’ I asked, turning in my seat to watch him walk out into the street. My head span as I turned back around. ‘It is so bloody hot.’

      ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t drink quite so fast, Angela,’ Mary said, pouring me a glass of water. ‘This isn’t a social lunch.’

      ‘Arses. I was really, really hoping that it was,’ I reluctantly swapped my, wow, more than half empty wine glass for a tumbler of water. ‘So what is it?’

      ‘It’s a pain in my ass, is what it is.’ Mary drained her wine glass and returned my raised eyebrow with a look of her own. ‘I can hold my liquor, don’t you worry. This, Angela, is a “Big Deal For You”. Apparently one of Bob’s granddaughters is your “biggest fan” and she seems to think you should be doing more, I don’t know, “legitimate journalism” for some of Spencer’s other magazines like Icon or Belle.’

      ‘Legitimate journalism?’ I didn’t enjoy the number of times she had made air quotes during her last sentence. ‘Belle? They want me to write on a fashion magazine?’

      ‘Apparently so. I don’t know what though, so don’t ask me.’ She poured herself more wine. ‘I’m only here because I heard about this through Cici and called Bob to find out what the hell was going on.’

      ‘Hang on a minute, how did Cici hear?’ Now I was really confused.

      ‘Cici Spencer. She’s one of Bob’s granddaughters.’

      I was sober in a heartbeat. ‘Of course she is.’

      ‘You don’t think I employ her for her charm, do you?’ Mary gave me an understanding grimace. ‘Bob and I are old friends.’

      It took everything I had not to raise an eyebrow. Old friends. That old chestnut.

      ‘But Cici hates me,’ I said, swapping my water for wine. Definitely time for wine. If I was going to stay in control of my facial expressions as well as my mouth though, I had to stay off the booze. ‘Why would she tell her grandfather to give me more work?’

      ‘Cici doesn’t hate you,’ Mary said, topping up my water again. ‘Cici is jealous of you. She knows she’s only my assistant because of who her grandfather is. She’s been trying to get on the writing staff since she finished college, but even Bob knows she can’t write for shit.’

      ‘Oh. Wow. That’s awful.’

      ‘Don’t start feeling sorry for her Angela, she’s a bitch. And she’d get rid of you without a second thought if she thought she could take your job.’

      ‘Fair enough,’ I said, packing away any blossoming Cici-sympathy. ‘But then why would she recommend me for more projects?’

      ‘I keep waiting for her to lose interest and embrace her trust fund like her sister, but that girl just will not give up,’ Mary nodded towards Bob as he strode back towards the table. ‘I’d be impressed at her tenacity if she were working for anyone else, but me. And don’t be a fool. She didn’t, it was her cousin.’

      Bob took his seat opposite me as our starters arrived. The food looked delicious, but I really wasn’t very hungry any more.

      ‘Apologies ladies, I’ve asked my secretary to stop my calls for the next couple of hours, so I’m all yours,’ he said with another beaming smile.

      ‘What a relief,’ Mary replied, spearing a scallop.

      I looked nervously from one to the other, Bob’s benevolent grin clashing with Mary’s openly pissed off expression, and reached for the wine. Sod it.

      ‘Let me,’ Mary said, snatching the bottle from my hand and splashing a mouthful of wine in the bottom of my glass.

      This wasn’t going to be awkward at all.

      ‘I don’t know if you’re aware, Angela, but you have a great fan in one of my granddaughters,’ Bob finally got around to business over coffee. After Mary had refused dessert on behalf of both of us. Bugger.

      I blew on my cappuccino and smiled nervously. It was still far too hot for coffee, but this really didn’t feel like a Diet Coke kind of situation. ‘Really? I didn’t know that,’ I lied, hopefully convincingly.

      ‘Oh yes. And Mary speaks very, very highly of your writing.’

      ‘She does?’ No need to fake surprise this time. ‘You do?’

      ‘I do,’ Mary replied, grudgingly. ‘Your blog is very good.’

      ‘And the piece you did for Icon, I read that one, Angela. Very good. You have a fun style, very personable.’ Bob set down his coffee cup. ‘I understand from Mary that you’re only with us on a part-time basis at the moment. On a freelance arrangement?’

      ‘Well, I don’t work in the office,’ I explained, trying to read Mary’s face,, which she was hiding behind her poker straight bob. ‘But my work permit is tied to my writing the blog for The Look, so…’

      ‘We own her ass, Bob, so just get to where you’re going,’ Mary interrupted. ‘You’re taking her off me, is that right?’

      ‘Not at all,’ he shook his head and covered one of her hands with his. ‘You know I’d never tread on your toes. Although I do think it would be in Angela’s interests to spread her wings a little. Get a broader experience of Spencer Media. Does that sound like something you’d be interested in, Angela?’

      I bit my lip and nodded. I was worried that if I actually made a noise, Mary might throw her espresso in my face. And there might not be a lot of coffee in that cup, but it looked really hot.

      ‘Fantastic, maybe you could come in and meet the Belle team next week,’ Bob suggested. ‘Maybe think of a couple of ideas to bring to the meeting. I know Emilia is very keen to meet you.’

      Mary and I choked on our coffees in tandem. Emilia Kitt, editor of Belle magazine, Spencer Media’s fashion monthly, was notoriously not keen on meeting anyone. As in anyone. I had been in for a meeting with Mary a few weeks ago and saw Angelina Jolie waiting in the lobby. And she was still waiting when I left. For Emilia.

      ‘This is probably a really stupid thing to say, but I’m actually going to be in Paris next week,’ I said, not sure whether or not I was making a huge mistake. ‘From Monday. For a week.’

      ‘You are? Since when?’ Mary asked.

      ‘I only found out yesterday.’ I turned to give her my best ‘help me out’ face. Bob’s expression really hadn’t changed all through lunch so I had no idea what he was thinking. ‘It’s my boyfriend’s thirtieth birthday.’

      No one looked particularly impressed.

      ‘He’s in a band and they’ve been asked to play a festival in Paris.’

      Still not impressed. And now Bob was looking at me as if I were a groupie.

      ‘And I thought it would be really good for the blog. СКАЧАТЬ