Fairy Tale Interrupted Read Online Free PDF

you.”

    “Shut up, Rosie.”

    No one called me Rosie except my family. But somehow, I didn’t mind John saying it; he was already starting to feel like the older brother I never had.

    Our jokes had become a routine, a ritual we both enjoyed, like coffee from the cart or starting with Page Six when reading the papers. John could take it as well as he could give it, which was totally unexpected. And his jokes never felt personal. In fact, they were corny. I loved that our banter had stemmed from John standing up to me after I iced him out. He was as straightforward as I was and had no problem calling people out when necessary. His giving me the finger was just the first of many times I would see him challenge someone.

    We were direct with everything, not just humor. When John first came into PR/NY after his mother, who by all accounts had been his emotional rock, passed away in May of that year, I didn’t know what to say. I wondered if I should say anything atall. It’s hard to know how to respond to the tragedy of an office mate. But he looked so somber, I couldn’t pretend nothing had happened.

    “Hi,” I said.

    “Hi,” John replied.

    “Sorry about your mom.”

    “Thank you, Rosie,” he said, then gave me a hug, which I wasn’t expecting.

    “They say you don’t really become an adult until both your parents are gone,” he told me later.

    John always seemed like an adult to me. We often talked about current events, and I’d ask what he thought had really happened behind the biggest story of the day. I liked his even take on the world and his way of putting any story into a balanced perspective. When President Richard Nixon died, I rolled my eyes while telling him that Nixon was my dad’s man (Reagan was his other).

    “Nixon was a brilliant man,” John said.

    I was shocked he didn’t jump on the bandwagon and shit all over the disgraced president. Intelligent people see both sides of an issue, and John saw value in even the most flawed people, accepting that everyone makes mistakes.

    It wasn’t long after the “dreamboat adrift” cover line that Michael called me into his office again. I racked my brain for mistakes I’d made. There hadn’t been much work to mess up; maybe that was the problem. When I got inside, Will was also in Michael’s office, perched on a windowsill.

    “Sit down,” Michael said from behind his desk.

    Oh, Jesus, I’m getting fired .

    “We’re selling PR/NY. Will’s going to find something else,and I’m—” Michael broke off for a second. “I’m going into business with John.”

    I knew it. I fucking knew it. Michael was jumping ship.

    “Can’t you take me with you?”

    “It’s not a PR thing, Rose. And everything is still up in the air. But don’t worry. I’ve found you a new job.”

    “I don’t want a new job. I want to stay here.”

    Michael had made me feel as though I was indispensable. He even said in one of my reviews, “You are the prize of my pen.” I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t want to take me with him.

    “There is no ‘here’ anymore,” he said. “I sold the business to another PR firm; all the accounts and you are part of the deal. You’re going to work for them.”

    “What if I don’t like it there?”

    “Give the new firm a chance. Just go meet them.” He handed me a slip of paper with a midtown address, and I arranged to be interviewed that afternoon. But as I made my way uptown to my potential new employer’s office, I was furious at Michael for springing this on me at the last minute and still not telling me the whole truth. What was his business with John, and why couldn’t he take me with him? In the elevator on my way up to the impromptu interview, I tried to tell myself that perhaps this was for the best. My new job might be even cooler than PR/NY. I had to keep an open mind.

    But as soon as the doors opened, I knew there was nothing cool about the place. The reception area was set up like