Greg shook his head, baffled.
‘Ever been in the middle of a shoot-out?’
Greg shook his head again; this was an interview for photography and not the Marines, yes?
‘I only ask,’ Billy got up and perched on the edge of his desk, ‘because if I call you and say, there's a riot downtown and the cops are using tear gas, you gotta go, right?’
‘Sure.’ Greg nodded, gulping a little.
‘I mean, you can't be afraid to jump in there, and you may get hurt. You would get a press badge, of course, but when things get rough, no one's going to be looking at it, you know?’
Greg nodded again. ‘I understand,’ he said out loud. ‘I can do it, I'm not scared.’
‘Good, because I can reimburse you for broken equipment, but you'd be contract, so if you break your teeth, you’re on your own.’
Greg felt his shoulders relax and smiled a little. ‘Fine by me.’
Billy stuck his hand out. ‘OK great, consider yourself officially on trial.’
‘Seriously?’ Greg grabbed and shook it hard. ‘That's it?’
‘Oh no, that's not it; there's lots of legal now … papers for you to fill out and all that stuff. Mostly ’bout how you won't sue us if you break your teeth.’ He tapped on Greg's portfolio as he handed it back to him, ‘and how any shots you take on assignment belong to theNYT.’ He flashed Greg a big smile. ‘Legal and HR will call you to come in and fill that crap out. Now, let me think about what I want to do with you.’ He leaned against the desk, and squeezed his eyed shut. ‘There's Christmas coming up and one of my regular guys has been bitching about vacation, so you can take the assignment.’ Billy’s eyes remained closed and Greg wondered if he had everything in a file in his head. ‘Colour, of course – shots of all the traditional New York places New Yorkers go during the holiday season, so Rockefeller Center, Bryant Park, you figure it out OK? The writer’s name is Suzanne Lee, she's in our directory, which you need.’
At this he whipped open a drawer in his desk and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers stapled together. ‘Copy it, I want it back. Call, introduce yourself asherphotographer – it always goes better that way –and ask her what she wants. But you get that list.’
Greg nodded, suddenly overwhelmed.
Billy put his hand on his back and steered him to the door. ‘At least no chance of broken teeth on this assignment, huh? Although, knowing Suzanne … ’
Next thing Greg knew, he was standing outside a senior editor’s door with an assignment and aNew York Timesstaff directory in his hands. OK, so it was just a trial assignment but …
He grinned, suddenly understanding how those football players felt when they dumped Gatorade on each other, it all made sense now.
This was what getting your dream felt like.
17
Holly gazed absently out of the window at work, still thinking about everything she had learned (or not) about the charm bracelet over the weekend. She was so deep in thought that it took her a moment to register a woman on the other side motioning like a mime.
Oh no …After lunch she had been so distracted she’d forgotten to switch the sign on the door to Open. Thank goodness Carole was away with her family for Hannukah today; she’d kill her …
Holly raced to the door and let the woman in. ‘I am so sorry … ’
‘It's OK,’ the customer laughed.. ‘’Tis the season to make you insane!’
She was dressed beautifully and her long brown hair streaked with blonde was perfectly cut and framed her face well.
Holly felt her hand self-consciously creeping up to the nape of her own neck. She had cut her own usually longer hair much shorter earlier this year because she could not afford the upkeep of it.No problem guessing which one of us works here and who shops here,she thought wryly.
‘Can I help you with anything?’ She gave the woman a huge smile and got straight into salesgirl mode.
‘Yes, my mother-in-law adores Gucci. I was wondering if you had anything in good condition – a bag or something? I want to really blow her away on Christmas morning.’ She gave Holly a knowing look. ‘My turn to be the favourite daughter-in-law, you know?’
Holly nodded as if she did know, which of course she didn't. She tried not to feel envious as she went about pulling bags off the shelves, and giving a little back-story to each. She could count her relatives on one hand (and she included Kate in this, who was like a sister). That was the hardest part about the holidays really. The people she had in her life were special, of course, but she had always yearned to go to one of those big family dinners, where everyone sat around the table, joking and laughing over big piles of food. What was it like, she wondered wistfully, looking at her customer as she inspected a gorgeous Gucci satchel from the eighties.
‘What’s what like?’ the woman asked, peering at Holly, who realised to her horror that she must have spoken out loud.
‘Well, this bag is like the one that Mia Farrow took to her in-laws for Christmas one time … ’ she blurted, winging it.
