Chapter 3

After lunch, David called me in his office to have a look at the draft of next month's issue.

This was a really exciting part for me. The draft, or as they called it 'The Book' was a large sized version of the actual magazine. I ogled at the colourful glossy pages, while David made alterations here and there. Suddenly I realised that there was no picture of the cover girl on the cover. When I asked David about it, he said:

'Yeah, that's the problem. We were supposed to put popstar Alyson Walker on the cover, but she was unable to fit a cover-shoot in her schedule; she's busy with her tour, her kids and her husband is in rehab….' he trailed off.

'Oh, I see, but can I suggest something?' I asked politely.

'Sure, what do you have in mind?' he asked

'Well I was thinking that since this month it's Women's Day, we could put such a woman on our cover who has been flourishing in both her professional and family life; a type of woman, who can inspire both younger and older woman of our generation. Our issue would be different than the rest of the magazines' because they all would put a famous celebrity on cover,' I said.

'Hmm, but where can we find a woman like that? Plus Bella, you have to remember that this is a fashion magazine and one of the first things we consider before selecting cover-girl is that if she will look good enough on the cover to encourage people to buy our magazine,' he said.

'Yeah, you're right. Well forget I said anything then.'

'I'll definitely think about it, though. If you do find someone like that, let me know, is that okay?' he asked.

'Fine,' I said.

Soon it was almost six in the evening and most of the staff was leaving. I was sitting online searching for our cover girl. I looked up and found David standing next to my desk. I quickly stood up.

'Do you need something?' I asked pensively.

'Relax, your day is over and you can go home now.'

'Oh, okay.'

He walked away, while I gathered my things, and then suddenly turned and said:

'Oh, and Bella, you did a good job on your first day. Keep it up,' he added with a smile.

'Thanks, David.'

The bus ride back home didn't take very long. As soon as I entered my room I fell on my bed and drifted to sleep. I faintly heard mum coming into my room and putting a pillow under my head, while she asked how my first day was. I mumbled in my sleep, 'Great.'

Next day, recalling Eric's comments, I took a longer time in selecting my work clothes. This time, I chose a fuchsia pink pencil skirt with black tights and a grey sweater, with cream peep-toe pumps.

As I entered the lobby, I smiled at Gabriella, who was chatting with yet another male-model. She gave me an approving nod.

As soon as I settled at my desk, David came out of his office, looking a bit tense.

'Today, my mother is coming back from Italy. She was there for the Milan Fashion Week.'

'By your mother, you mean…'

'Yes, the Editor-in-Chief,' he said.

'Oh, and more thing, if she asks where I was last night, tell her I was at the office, making some changes in next month's issue's draft,' he added.

'Okay,' I replied, a bit confused, wondering why was he asking me to lie to his mum.

At exactly ten, something happened. All the staff members cluttered here and there returned to their respective desks. A hush fell over the entire place. The silence was broken by the sounds of a pair of feet walking in stilettos. Even before I could see her, I heard her asking:

'What the hell is that?' It was a powerful voice, full of authority.

As soon as Melanie Gordon came into our sight, we followed her view, to see what she was pointing at.

It turned out she was referring to the large vase of flowers, placed on the glass table at the lobby.

'Take it away; before I crack someone's head with it, and believe me, I'm really tempted to do so.'

Gabriella quickly rushed forward to remove it.

'You,' she pointed at Gabriella, 'It's Gabriella Munéz, right?'

'Yes, Melanie' she stammered.

'Well, next time, try putting on a longer skirt. It's an office, not a club, for heaven's sake.'

Gabriella walked backwards in a complete daze.

Just as I was dreading the moment she'd notice me, her sharp gaze shifted and rested on me. The look of her cold eyes made me shiver and a chill ran down my spine.

'And who are you?' she inquired.

I tried my best to stay calm and not to stutter.

'I-I'm David G-g-ordon's new assistant, Bella Swan, ma'am,' I finished in a breath.

And then I put my right hand forward for a handshake.

As soon as I did that, there was a sharp intake of breath and I knew I'd done something wrong. She stared at my outstretched hand, and then looked back at me, looking annoyed.

To cover-up for the awkward situation, I managed to say 'It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am,' taking my hand back.

She gave me another irritated look and walked away, as if I haven't even talked to her.

At lunch Eric stopped me on my way to the cafeteria.

'Are you out of your mind? Who told you to shake hands with Melanie Gordon? Handshakes or any other physical contact for that matter are simply out of question. She doesn't even hug her son when she sees him, like other mothers do.'

'Oh, how am I supposed to know that?'

'You're right though sweetie. I'm seeing you have a lot to learn in here.'

I was counting the number of times I'd heard that on my first two days.

'So it seems,' I said.

It was just then that I realised that David hasn't told me what he wants for lunch. Cursing myself for forgetting about it, I rushed to his office.

I pushed open the door saying, 'I'm terribly sorry, David. I'll get your lunch….' I trailed off.

Then I froze.

Melanie Gordon was standing next to David's desk, going through a previous issue of Haute Couture. She looked up to see who had caused such interruption, and then returned back to the magazine, while I stood there holding the door knob, unable to move.

Until then, I hadn't had a chance to look at Melanie Gordon properly, because, during our first encounter she was staring at me with those eagle eyes of hers. I concluded that she must have been in her 50s, but all that botox and liposuction made her look like she was in her 30s. Her hair was dark, a shade lighter than David's, and it was tied up in a tight bun. A pair of black-framed reading glasses was perched on her nose. She was wearing very trendy, but conservative clothes - a brown hip-hugging skirt and a formal blouse teaming up with Louboutin shoes and a Gucci handbag.

'David will have lunch with me today,' she said in a cool voice, without even bothering to look at me, while talking.

'Where was he last night?' she asked, still looking down at the magazine in her hands.

'Umm, ma'am, he was here at the office. He was making some adjustments on the draft for the next month's issue,' I said.

'Hmm,' she said, seeming preoccupied.

'I'm seeing that he's already taught his new assistant how to lie to the Editor-in-Chief.'

Now she was looking at me. She didn't say this in a loud or angry voice, but it had its own effect. It made me feel like melting to the ground.

'Mmm, ma'am I-I don't know what you're talking about, but David was here until six o'clock,' I said, deciding that telling half the truth is better than lying completely.

'That's better; the truth's coming out now. You know, I don't blame you; you're just doing what your boss has asked you to.'

'David needs to get back on track. He's lost, just like his father was.' It seemed as if she wasn't talking to me, rather she was talking to herself.

Suddenly she turned her attention back on me.

'If you're worried that David will find out about this, don't be. I won't tell him.'

'Thanks ma'am. I really appreciate your generosity,' I replied politely.

I was about to leave when she called me back.

'Oh, and there's one more thing.'

'Yes ma'am.'

'Don't call me ma'am. I'm not your grandmother.'