Guilty Pleasures

‘Perhaps you could use Georgia for your April cover,’ said Cassandra, unable to resist the barb. She knew Glenda would rather stab herself in the eye with her Blahnik heel than run the same cover as the UK edition a month later. But Glenda had already put the phone down on her.

Forty minutes later Cassandra checked her emails. There was a message red-flagged from Glenda.

We need to talk. My PA has arranged for you to be on the 8 a.m. tomorrow morning to JFK. A car will pick you up to take you to Isaac’s. Town not Country.

This time, Cassandra knew she had to obey.

The limousine met her at JFK to take her to Isaac Grey’s Upper East Side home. As she sat back in the leather seats she ran through the inevitable showdown in her head, predicting how Glenda would scream and bawl and threaten, resolving that she would stand her ground and then when Glenda had blown herself out, make Isaac increase the clothing allowance she received with her salary. It was the least he could do to make up for the dreadful inconvenience.

Isaac’s home was one of the most spectacular on Fifth Avenue, a stunning triplex in one of the most prestigious condos in the city with direct views over Central Park. During their affair several years earlier, Cassandra had been there many times. His Anglophile tastes were reflected in the décor; it was done out to resemble Chatsworth in miniature.

A maid in a grey uniform answered the door and Cassandra was irritated to see Glenda had arrived first. She could hear her laughing in the drawing room with Isaac. The head of the company was in his off-duty clothes; a pair of navy blue trousers, white shirt and a shapeless brown cardigan. He looked like a retired metro worker from Brooklyn, not a media tycoon worth over two billion dollars, a man who had recently sent his private jet from New York to London to pick up a briefcase he’d left in Claridges. Although he was over sixty, he walked across the room like a tiger, his shoulders rolling.

‘Come in, Cassandra. Sit down. Miki has fixed some lunch.’

A walnut table by the window looked out over the park, the noise and energy of New York a whisper on the street below.

‘You don’t need me to tell you what a good job we all think you’re doing at UK Rive.’ He glanced at Glenda as if to include her in the reference.

‘And we’re amazed yet again at your resourcefulness in getting Georgia Kennedy At Home. I don’t know how you got it.’ He held up a hand. ‘I won’t ask. However you know the US has to run first with exclusives of this magnitude.’

He paused to let Miki serve them razor-cut beef carpaccio as Cassandra silently fumed. She thought that Isaac was her ally.

‘The US edition has been after Georgia for a long time,’ said Glenda. ‘I have even had lunch with the ambassador. When they acquiesced to your cover request we feel sure that Ms Kennedy’s office was under the impression she was doing the cover for us.’

‘I can assure you that’s not true,’ snapped Cassandra. ‘And where is the written rule that says the US has to run first with exclusives? We generate our own covers practically every month and I don’t see you clamouring to pick those up.’

‘They weren’t Georgia Kennedy,’ said Glenda flatly.

Isaac turned deliberately in his chair to face her. His head was slightly cocked as he spoke to her as if he was directing his speech to a small child.

‘US Rive is the flagship magazine of this company. We have to send a message out to the industry. The best writers, the hottest exclusives. Where US Rive leads, other editions follow.’ His sharp, dark eyes seemed to penetrate hers.

‘Great, thank you,’ said Cassandra sarcastically. ‘Thanks for supporting our efforts.’

‘You should also be aware, Cassandra,’ said Glenda, leaning forward in her Biedermeier chair, ‘that Style magazine has launched and to be frank, it’s faring a little better than we expected. US Rive needs to be head and shoulders above the competition if we are to ring-fence our position with advertisers. I feel you have stolen our thunder on this one a little, Cassandra.’

Miki came to fill Cassandra’s cup with Lapsang Souchong.

She put the cup on the saucer, touching her finger against the Sèvres porcelain to stop it from rattling.

‘Given the circumstances,’ said Isaac, coughing lightly, ‘perhaps you could run the cover simultaneously. Why don’t you both have Georgia on the March cover?’

Both Glenda and Cassandra glared at him.

‘That’s simply not acceptable,’ said Cassandra coolly. ‘Georgia Kennedy’s people won’t allow it.’

‘Actually I spent all last night on the phone to her private secretary,’ said Glenda. ‘The Royal Palace are happy with the arrangement.’

Cassandra bit her lip trying to keep her cool. She knew she had pushed her luck as it was and that Isaac could fire her on the spot if he chose. Anyway, she thought, if her plan came to fruition, this entire meeting would be irrelevant. It wouldn’t do any harm to step back gracefully.

‘So you will pick up half of the cost of the shoot?’ said Cassandra eventually.

Glenda nodded. ‘I’ll arrange for that straightaway.’

‘See, I knew you ladies could come to an agreement,’ smiled Isaac.

They finished their lunch making stilted small talk and said their goodbyes.