“Yeah,” I mumble as she gets up, leaving me stranded at the table on my own.
I sit in a daze, too shocked to move. My stomach is in knots and I’m not sure if I might be sick. My surroundings a blur of noise, I force myself up onto my feet and then manage to dodge through the crowds, bursting through the exit of the buildingand gasping for air. The paparazzi surrounding the exit lift their cameras excitedly and then lower them again once they realize I’m no one important. I stumble and have to balance myself on the shoulder of one of the photographers.
“You all right?” he says as I clutch at my chest, which feels more and more constricted.
“F-fine,” I whisper, thanking him and then launching myself into one of the waiting black cabs, desperate to get home to bed where I can lie down and cry.
Because, even though it’s too early to say for sure, I think I already know what’s coming.
By the end of the week, I’ll be out of a job.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
On Thursday morning, we’re told that our jobs are at risk. Cosmo holds one-to-one meetings with us all day to talk through our rights, why redundancies are necessary, confirm that anyone in the team could be selected, and ask whether we want to take voluntary redundancy. I almost feel sorry for him—it’s a miserable discussion and having it with so many people, one after the other, can’t be fun. But then I remember it’s Cosmo and any sympathy fizzles away. He’s probably secretly delighted that he can make a few cuts.
The mood of the office has never been lower. It’s practically silent. And I can’t tell if it’s a good or a bad thing that Ryan isn’t there. He’s gone to Wales to interview a couple in their thirties who used to be risk-management specialists at a private bank in London but sacked it all in and left the city to become farmers, for a feature he’s writing on the trend of young people swapping urban lives for rural ones. He won’t be back until tomorrow.
He also hasn’t messaged me, and when I ask Cosmo if Ryan knows what’s going on, he says he does with a dismissive wave of his hand. I can’t help but notice that Cosmo is fidgeting endlessly while we are talking and can’t look me in the eye. He seems flustered and irritated at my questions, as though I’m accusing him of something. His behavior only confirms what I’ve already guessed.
“You don’t know who’s going,” Mimi says dismally when we’ve escaped the suffocatingly grim atmosphere of the office that afternoon for a stroll. “It could be anyone.”
“Cosmo has never understood my job.”
“Travel is hardly a necessity.”
“Mimi,youdon’t need to worry. Cosmo just expanded the luxury travel section because it brings in so much paid advertising. Not to mention how popular your pages are because you’re so brilliant.”
“Same goes for you!”
I give her a look. “You know how Cosmo feels about my role. And since our meeting, I’ve been analyzing recent events, and something is becoming a little clearer.”
She stops to face me. “What?”
“I thought it was strange how Cosmo kept trying to give my features to Ryan—I get that there can be crossover with our roles and sometimes the same topics are of interest to us both, but Cosmo kept trying to palm off what should be obvious celebrity features to him, too. I think he’s been testing the waters to see if Ryan can essentially do both our jobs.”
Mimi frowns as she considers my theory.
“Think about it. How many magazines have a celebrity editor nowadays? Maybe some of the big women’s glossy magazines or gossip blogs, but not publications likeNarrative.Roles like mine can easily be covered by someone else.”
“No one can do your job like you can,” she says fiercely, and I feel an overwhelming surge of love for her support.
“Thanks, Mimi, but it’s a miracle that I’ve held onto this job for as long as I have, really. I should be grateful for that, but—” I hesitate, staring at the ground, my voice breaking slightly as I try to hold it together “—I love it so much. I can’t imagine doing anything else. It’s all I have.”
Mimi hugs me and reminds me that we still don’t know anything yet. We just have to wait and see.
That night, lying in bed, I come to the conclusion that I can’t bear to wait and see much longer. Which is why on Fridayafternoon I request a meeting with Cosmo and ask him outright if my job is being made redundant.
“Harper,” he begins, startled by my abrupt line of questioning, “we will be announcing the redundancies next week. Everything is still being discussed and prepared, and—”
“But you already know,” I interrupt, standing behind the chair opposite his desk, my fingernails digging into the back cushion. “I know that you know. You’re just finalizing details at this point. If I’m being made redundant, I’d like to be notified now.”
Studying my determined expression, he presses his lips together and then inhales deeply.
“All right,” he says gruffly. “I’m sorry, Harper, but I’m afraid you are one of the casualties this round. Although we… value you and your hard work for this magazine, we are unable to justify keeping the position of celebrity editor.”
I knew it was coming, but it still feels like being punched in the stomach, standing in a glass box and learning that everything I’ve worked for is slipping from my grasp.
Cosmo clears his throat, making it obvious that he’d rather this conversation finishes sooner than later by checking his watch.
