Fashionistas Read Online Free PDF Page B

comfortable aura of perpetuity. Her window ledge looks like it has always been a greenhouse.
    “Hello,” I say, sitting down. The plastic chair wobbles under my weight, and I grab on to the desk for stability. I notice then that she has several magazines opened to articles of mine. My one stab at journalism, fifteen hundred words on the care and presentation of teeth, is on top.
    Marguerite follows my gaze. “Yes, I was just reviewing some of your work. This one here is très magnifique. La Fashionista needs more informative pieces like this, don’t you think?”
    “More pieces like that one wouldn’t hurt,” I say cautiously. Jane only asks your opinion in order to pick it apart and I expect this behavior from all my employers.
    “Excellent,” she says, sprinkling water on the last plant, a thriving azalea, before taking a seat. “Why don’t you draw up for me a list of ideas of useful articles that you think might be right for Fashionista and I’ll see what I can do.”
    Although I relish the idea of writing practical, useful articles instead of celebrity fluff, I refuse to have my head turned. I know a campaign promise when I hear one. “All right.”
    She smiles. “You’ve been here how long?”
    “Five years.”
    “And you started as Jane’s assistant?”
    “Yes, for two years.”
    Marguerite raises her eyebrows. “Two years! How did you put up with that ha— I mean, two years, what a long time to be someone’s assistant. I know mine never stay above fourteen months. Onward and upward, you know.” She considers me for a moment. “You and Jane must be très compatible.”
    I shrug. Compatible is the wrong word to explain my and Jane’s relationship but there is no right word. With Jane, things can’t be described; they can only be experienced.
    “ Bien. I hope we’ll get along just as well. I plan to be here for quite a while.” She turns to her window for a moment. “I’ve been in Sydney for so many years that I’d forgotten how energizing this city is.”
    “How many years were you there?” I ask, to make small talk, to learn more about her, to enjoy the novelty of pleasant conversation with a superior.
    Her answers are long and I stay in her office for twenty more minutes. When I leave, she reminds me to type up a list of article ideas and I assure her that I haven’t forgotten.
    Marguerite is friendly and approachable, and although I can find no cracks in her sincerity, I’m not convinced. Her efforts to get to know the staff seem genuine, but there’s enough here to make me suspicious. Marguerite seems too much like a soldier gathering information behind enemy lines, and I realize that Jane’s behavior might actually be in keeping with the situation. Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not after you.

Jane Carolyn-Ann McNeill
    W e get the memo first thing on Wednesday morning. Marguerite has been in the building for less than forty-eight hours and already Jane is taking the offensive. Already she is cutting trips short and sending out directives.
    “What do you think this means?” I say, leaning against the thumbtack wall that separates me from Allison. It’s the first time I’ve ever stuck my head over the partition to make conversation, and she looks up in surprise.
    “What’s that?” she asks.
    “It’s a memo from Jane.”
    “I haven’t even glanced at it yet.” Curious now, she reaches into her overflowing in-box, removes the top layer and reads the memo aloud. “Please note herewith that Fashionista ’s editor in chief Jane McNeill will be using her full given name of Jane Carolyn-Ann McNeill on all official and unofficial Fashionista documents. Thank you for your compliance in this matter.”
    “She had Jackie send it out to every media outlet in the city.”
    Allison smiles. “Someone, although I won’t name names—and, yes, I do mean names —is feeling threatened.” Because she thinks that I’m wavering, she lowers her voice and