- Margot -
knew my rented room was small, but with every box I unpacked, it seemed to be shrinking exponentially, as if some sort of Alice in Wonderland special effect was at play.
“Are those your books from school?”
I glanced over my shoulder to see what Izzy was looking at as I reached for an empty hanger. “Yeah.”
“Why are you even keeping those?” she asked, eyeing the bottom shelf of my short bookcase, which was so small the large books protruded several inches from the shelf. “You’re never going to read them again.”
“Maybe not. But it’s too soon to make that call, and I’d rather be prepared if I need to look something up.”
“Fair enough.” She popped another green grape in her mouth and leaned back against the wall behind my bed. “Is that why you have so many clothes as well?”
“I can’t just wear black and white all the time like you.”
“Why not?” she asked. “If it’s good enough for Michael Kors…”
“While that’s a perfectly reasonable style philosophy, I need a bit more color in my life.”
She laughed. “I give it six months and half that stuff will be gone.”
“I don’t know. Waste not, want not.”
“You’ll see,” she said. “In New York City, space is the ultimate luxury. Not stuff.”
“My job sort of depends on that not being true.” I squeezed another scarf onto the hanger I was holding. “Besides, what’s wrong with being sentimental?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Except that sentimentality is for people who think their best is behind them, and I’m more of a future-centric kind of girl.”
I hung my loaded hanger and turned around. “Touché.”
“Thanks.”
“So how are things going at work?” she asked. “Have they noticed you yet?”
“Of course they’ve noticed me. I’m responsible for getting everyone’s coffees every day, and my copy machine skills are a vital—albeit invisible—part of every meeting that goes down in that place.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant.”
I pulled a sweater from the garbage bag at my feet and started folding it so it would fit on the narrow shelf at the top of my closet. “I’m listening.”
“I meant, have you made them take notice of the fact that you’re a rising star and that you’re above the menial jobs you’ve been tasked with?”
“I’m not sure how I would do that,” I said. “It’s not like I can do a better job getting coffee or making copies.”
Izzy shook her head. “Is that what you want? Ultimately? To be a great freaking intern and then get loads of well wishes and best of lucks when you leave?”
“If I do a great job, they’ll probably keep me on.”
“No. If you do a great job, you’ll be nothing more than their last great intern. You have to get noticed for something other than the skills that make you completely replaceable if you want them to ask you to stay.”
I rose onto my toes, stuffed my sweater in my closet, and grabbed another out of the bag. “I’m not sure what you’re suggesting.”
“Me neither,” she said. “All I’m saying is that this city is full of equally driven narcissists, and no one sticks their neck out for anyone unless there’s something in it for them.”
“That’s grim.”
“Maybe, but it’s true,” she said. “So if you want a job at the end of this thing, you better find a way to prove to your superiors that you have the skills for the job you actually want.”
“I get what you’re saying,” I said, adding a sweater to the shelf. “But—”
“Let me put it another way,” she said, leaning forward and crossing her legs. “When a person starts out in my business, they’re really lucky to get a supporting role. Like, that’s brilliant because it means your foot’s in the door.”
“Sure.”
“But from that moment, you have two options.” She began plucking the last bunch of grapes off their stem as she spoke. “You can either be the best damn support in the world, or you can give that little bit extra so you outshine everyone else in the chorus, proving you’re destined to take center stage.”
“And if you do the latter, you get to be Velma in Chicago?”
“Damn straight,” she said, smiling. “And all that jazz.”
I sighed and rolled up the empty garbage bag. “Well, you’ve succeeded in inspiring me, but I’m still not exactly sure how I can do what you’re suggesting.”
She twisted her mouth. “Unfortunately, neither am I. Advertising agencies aren’t exactly my area of expertise.”
I shoved the black sack in an empty box, sat on the edge of my bed, and reached for some grapes. “Are these frozen?”
“Delicious, right? Almost like ice cream.”
“I take it it’s been a while since you had ice cream?”
Her face fell. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
I popped another grape in my mouth. “You’ve really confused me now. I thought I was killing it, and now I feel like I’m not doing enough.”
“Then you’re probably not.”
“But how will I know if I am?”
She scooted the bowl of grapes towards me. “How about this? If they raise your pay and hire a new intern so someone’s on hand to bring you coffee, then you’ll know you’re killing it.”
“Ugh.” I dropped my head back and swallowed a half-thawed grape. “No one even asks my opinion on anything, though.”
“Haven’t you ever given someone your opinion before they asked for it? Or given it even when you knew they didn’t want it?”
“Of course.”
“Well, there you go.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s gotta be done. Seriously, Margot. You’ve already proven that you’re more than capable at the tasks they’ve given you, that you can hustle without a fuss, and that you’re pleasant to work with.”
“I certainly hope so.”
“But it’s been three weeks. It’s time to show them you’ve got tricks up your sleeves that they can’t afford to let another agency get their hands on.”
“I know you’re right.”
She checked her watch and scooted to the edge of the bed. “I suspected you were as smart as you looked.”
“What time will you be home?”
“Not too late,” she said. “I’m wrecked. Think I’ll just do the show and come straight home.”
“That’ll be a first.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I’m sorry.” I put a hand over my chest. “I meant, of course you’ll be able to say no to your castmates when they want to go for drinks to celebrate how much you smashed it tonight.”
“Better.” She stood up and walked to the door.
“Break a leg.”
She nodded once. “I’ll try.”
I fell sideways onto my pillow as soon as she left, but she popped her head back in the room a second later.
“Hey, Margot.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re welcome to eat the rest of those breakfast bars.”
I raised my brows. “The ones that taste like cardboard?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“The commercials for those made a sucker out of me,” she said. “I thought I’d be stuffed, energized, and glowing for hours on ninety calories. What a schmuck, huh?”
I smiled. “Don’t take it personally. That’s the power of advertising.”
“Well, I hope you’ll use your powers for good,” she said, ducking out again.
“I will,” I called after her. “As soon as I get my chance!”
“You mean as soon as you make your chance!” she said, closing herself in the bathroom.
“Right,” I said, rolling onto my back. “That’s my sleepless night sorted.”