Little Pink Slips (41 page)

way? I'm not supposed to even talk to either one of you." She ducked

into yet another handbag stall. "Later!" she yelled.

Magnolia and Cam reached the courthouse. She returned to her

seat, and Cameron joined her. Darlene was now on the stand, explaining her role as
Bebe'
s publisher. "I was in charge of the magazine's business department," she said. "Ad sales and marketing." Magnolia was tuning out Darlene, concentrating only on Cam's

closeness—until a document flashed on an overhead screen.

"Is this your pay stub?" the lawyer asked.

"Yes, it is," Darlene said, swelled with both pregnancy and pride.

Magnolia had always suspected Darlene made a lot more money than

she did, but with the evidence bigger than life, she sat there, her

shoulders hunched, and slumped.

"Could you cringe more quietly?" Cameron whispered. "I can hear

your teeth grinding."

"What galls me is she still has a job," Magnolia whispered. Dar

lene had been moved to Scary's business development unit, and insiders expected her to soon replace the current publisher of
Dazzle.
Darlene's paycheck made way for wearying charts of ad revenues,

which Darlene interpreted for the lawyer in anesthetizing detail.

"Want to duck out?" Magnolia whispered to Cameron. "Catch a

movie at the Angelika?"

"Let's wait a few minutes," he said. "It looks like Bebe's attorney's

going to cross-examine." Arthur Montgomery stepped forward.

"Is this your signature?" he asked Darlene.

   "Yes, it is," she said. On the screen was a statement from the auditing bureau which tracks magazines' circulations. "I see that
Bebe
sold 480,500 copies per issue during its year of publication. Is that true?"

Anyone in the courtroom who wasn't blind could see that.

"Yes," Darlene said.

"So, can you explain these figures for me, please?" On the screen, to

the right of the statement, a second document appeared, but this one stated that
Bebe
had sold, on average, only 278,935 copies per issue. Darlene's eyes darted to Jock, the screen, and then to her attorneys.

One of them sprung up from his chair and waved his hand like the

smartest kid in the class. "I object," he said. "Your honor, I object."

The judge peered down at him. "Would counsel approach the

bench, please," she said. All Magnolia could make of the conversa

tion—which lasted for a few minutes—were aggressive hand ges

tures on the attorney's part. "Counsel may continue," Judge Tannenbaum said to Bebe's lawyer.

"May I remind you, Mrs. Knudson, that you are under oath,"

Arthur Montgomery said. "Which of these two statements is cor

rect?"

Darlene mumbled softly.

"Could you speak up for everyone to hear, please?" the judge

directed.

Darlene returned to her normal speaking voice. "The one on the

right," she blared.

"Now let me understand," Arthur Montgomery said very slowly. "I

am reading from the joint-venture agreement." He quoted a jumble

of legalese. Magnolia leaned forward in her chair and listened care

fully, which wasn't hard, because the courtroom had become silent as

a cave.

She turned to Cameron. "Are we hearing what I think we're hear

ing?" she said, getting close enough to smell the clean sweetness of

his skin. "It sounds like Bebe was allowed to walk away from the mag

azine if it sold fewer than 350,000 copies per issue."

"That's exactly what it says," Cameron whispered back. His breath

in her ear made her tingle.

"And could you explain this?" the attorney asked. On the screen an

e-mail appeared to Darlene from Jock, who directed her to "manage

the financials."

Cameron and Magnolia looked at each other and just as she was

saying, "Scary goosed the numbers," he noted, "They've been caught

red-handed cooking the books." As everyone reached the same con

clusion, the courtroom came alive like an Italian soccer game. Felicity

dropped her knitting needles, stood up, and high-fived Bebe, who

whooped, "Hot damn. I knew it. Hot, fuckin' damn!"

"Order in the court," the judge said. "Order in the court." Magno

lia got to hear the crash of a gavel after all. "Court will convene

tomorrow at ten," Judge Tannenbaum said, finally, in disgust.

As they left Supreme Court, Magnolia and Cam stopped and lis

tened to Jock giving an ad hoc press conference. "It's common indus

try practice to estimate the sales of a magazine before final numbers are in, and occasionally the two figures differ," he said to a growing

audience of reporters. "Scarborough Magazines didn't do anything

that every other magazine company doesn't do all the time."

   As the statement leaped out of Jock's mouth, Magnolia knew it was destined to become the caption for tomorrow's picture in the
Post
— perhaps even the epitaph on his professional tombstone. So much for

damage control. Elizabeth would probably return to her office and fax

her résumé to every other publisher in the country.

"Don't you just love magazines?" Cam said to Magnolia.

"I do," she said. "In any other industry, if the president of a com

pany stood up and said, 'I cheat. We all cheat. We're an entire industry

of liars and cheaters,' he'd be found with two broken legs, groaning

and bleeding, in a New Jersey garbage dump."

Magnolia and Cam watched Bebe walk past Jock. She didn't say a

word but gave him her most high-voltage smile as she swirled her

boa, which almost tickled his face.

"Smile all you want, Bebe," Jock snarled at her. "It's never over till

the fat lady sings."

C h a p t e r 4 1

The Curse of the Perfect Memory

"I'd sooner miss the Oscars
than this," Natalie said airily as she took the seat next to Magnolia. The trial had become a

spectator sport for every key Scary employee. As always, Natalie

looked camera-ready. Velvet peep-toe pumps showed off her elegant

feet and dark red pedicure. Magnolia was fairly sure, however, that if

Natalie were photographed in the plaid coat she was wearing today,

she'd wind up captioned in one of the Fashion Police columns with

"Woof! I liked this better on my basset hound's bed."

Judge Margaret Ruth Tannenbaum had turned out to be a no-non

sense jurist. She was moving along the trial at a whirlwind clip, whack

ing lawyers' statements in midsentence. Yesterday, to the amusement

of another full house, Felicity got her turn as a witness, and today

Magnolia expected that Big Mama herself would take the stand. She

could imagine no other reason for Bebe to sport a Miss Marple fedora.

The court officer stepped forward. "The plaintiffs call Magnolia

Gold," he said. Magnolia froze. "The plaintiffs call Magnolia Gold,"

he shouted out again.

Natalie nudged her. Magnolia knew her name was on the list of

witnesses who would be required to testify. By now, however, well into

the trial's second week, she'd convinced herself that neither side must feel she could fuel their arguments and maybe she'd be granted a pass.

She got up out of her chair and sleepwalked to the front. From a remote

brain cell the thought occurred to her that at least she was wearing a

sober black suit, not a ruffled cancan dress. On her way to the bench,

from the corner of her eye, Magnolia saw Bebe offer a thumbs-up.

Magnolia lifted her right hand and swore her oath.

"What is your relationship to Scarborough Magazines?" asked

their lead attorney.

   Magnolia doubted
adversarial
was the answer they wanted. "Could you clarify the question, please?" she asked.

"I believe Counsel wants to know your work history and current

association with the company," the judge said.

   "Currently, I am no longer employed at the company, but before it was turned into
Bebe
I was the editor in chief of
Lady
magazine," Magnolia began.

"Solid magazine," Judge Tannenbaum interrupted. "My mother

always subscribed, and so did I."

"We had four million readers," Magnolia said.

"I liked those little paper dolls."

"That was
McCall's,
" Magnolia pointed out but continued to beam. "I get them all mixed up."

"Everyone does."

As this homey banter continued, the Scarborough attorney glow

ered. Judge Tannenbaum eventually gestured for him to continue.

   "Can you, please, explain why
Lady
was turned into a magazine for Bebe Blake?" he asked.

"No," Magnolia answered.

   "Shall I clarify? Can you explain why the failing financials of
Lady
paved the way for
Bebe
?"

   "I can't," Magnolia said. She looked at the judge to see if she was

allowed to continue. Judge Tannenbaum nodded. "You see, the maga

zine wasn't failing. Our newsstand sales were reasonably strong, and

according to the business meetings I was invited to, we were prof

itable."

"Then can you explain this?" the attorney asked. A document appeared on the overhead screen showing that
Lady,
in the last year of her life, clearly belonged in a financial hospice.

"No," she said. "I can't."

"Shall we call an expert witness to interpret these figures?"

   Magnolia was quite certain no one missed his tone of condescension. "I
understand
them," she said. "I can't
explain
them."

"Why not?" the attorney asked petulantly.

"Because they conflict with these," she said. From her Tod's tote,

Magnolia pulled out her own white rabbit, Darlene's update from the final
Lady
business review. It was Wally who insisted she open and sort the tower of boxes sent from Scary that had been collecting dust

in her foyer. With Sasha's help, she spent the better part of the previ

ous weekend digging through them.

"According to this memo," Magnolia said, handing it to the attor

ney, "the magazine wasn't losing money."

Scary's lawyer put on his reading glasses and examined the memo.

As he huddled with Jock, Darlene, and the other Scarborough law

yers, Magnolia strained, unsuccessfully, to hear their conversation.

There were several minutes of animated discussion after which Mag

nolia's memo was labeled and entered as evidence. Then the lawyer

looked at the judge and said, "We are finished with this witness."

Magnolia's hands were trembling so obviously, she grabbed both

sides of the chair. Under her jacket, her starched white shirt felt

damp.

"Mr. Montgomery, do you care to cross-examine?" the judge asked.

"Thank you," he said in his courtliest Southern accent. "I do."

Arthur Montgomery stood in front of Magnolia and clasped his hands

behind his back. His genial smile revealed his large teeth. "Miss Gold, did you support the concept of turning
Lady
into
Bebe
?"

Magnolia thought back to the previous June's original meeting, the

lunacy of which she could recall as if it had happened the day before.

"No," she replied, "I did not." As she spoke the words, she could feel

the blitzkrieg of Bebe's menace roll toward her like World War III.

"When Scarborough Magazines presented the idea to you, what,

exactly, did you say?" Magnolia hesitated. She reminded herself she was obligated to tell

the truth.

"I said that Bebe didn't stand for anything bigger than herself, that

she was a collection of interests that didn't add up to a clear vision for

a magazine." The courtroom had become quiet except for Felicity's

saying, "That little ferret."

"Was there anything else you said about my client, Miss Blake?"

the attorney asked.

There are times in life when a perfect memory is a curse. "That

she could be a player," Magnolia said. She was certain she'd used that

word instead of nympho, slut, or child molester. "And difficult to

work with." Magnolia began to hear laughter, which started lightly

and multiplied with such volume that Judge Tannenbaum got

another chance to exercise her gavel. "Order," the judge demanded as

she crashed it on the bench. "Order."

The room complied.

"Did you become an editor on the magazine?"

"Yes," Magnolia said.

"Mr. Montgomery, is there a point here?" the judge asked.

"Yes, your honor." A smile broadened on his sharp, lupine face.

"Miss Gold, given your distaste for Miss Blake's idea," he articulated

loudly, as if he were trying to communicate with a mute, "is it not fair

to say that you may have undermined Miss Blake in her best efforts to

publish her magazine?" Montgomery pronounced "undermined" as

if it were in boldface.

"No!" Magnolia said, more emotionally than she intended. "I was

always professional."

"Did you resent that you had to take direction from Bebe Blake?"

he asked with forced casualness.

Do you resent that you are an ugly little man with hair sprouting

from your ears, Magnolia wanted to ask back. Do you resent that

ninety-nine women out of a hundred would rather clean a toilet than

sleep with you?

"Miss Gold, answer Mr. Montgomery's question," the judge

demanded. "Yes," she said, a nasty bile rising in her throat.

"Thank you, Miss Gold," he said. "That will be all."

Magnolia wanted to let out a primal scream. She turned to the

judge with a pleading look.

"Miss Gold, you may return to your seat."

   She walked back, willing herself to stand straight and tall. How dare he? Without her sweat equity,
Bebe
never would have happened. Magnolia sat on the hard bench. Natalie took her hand and stroked it.

She wished the stroking were coming from Cameron, but she hadn't

seen him anywhere in the courtroom.

"Relax, Cookie," Natalie said. "That ambulance-chasing jackass

isn't worth getting worked up about. Anyway, you look gorgeous when

you're pissed. That's all anyone will remember." From a black patent

Gucci bag large enough to carry a cocker spaniel, she pulled out a tis

sue which she handed to Magnolia, who flicked away a tear.

"The court calls Bebe Blake," Magnolia heard the words from a

far-off place. Bebe marched to the witness stand for her swearing-in.

"Finally!" Bebe said, straightening her hat.

"May I remind you that you will speak only when called on," the

judge said.

"Sorry, Your Honor," Bebe said. Scary's attorneys started in on her,

and Bebe was thoroughly engaging—even when the gun cover was

shown, bigger than life, like an advertisement for mental illness.

Magnolia wondered if the attorneys would try to nail her as a sexual

deviant, but it appeared that they were steering clear of that line of

questioning.

   "Before a business trip, did you have one of the
Bebe
assistants show you Polaroids of hotel suites so you would pick the best one?"

the attorney asked.

   "Yes, doesn't everyone?" she answered. The courtroom laughed.

   "At the
Bebe
sales conference in Palm Beach, is it true that you had a silver Corvette driven all the way from Atlanta and that when you

didn't like it, you had the same automobile brought in from Sarasota

in red?"

"I don't recall," Bebe said with a big grin. At one o'clock, after Bebe had much of the courtroom chuckling

along with her, the court officer announced a lunch break.

"Want to grab a bite?" Natalie said.

   "I'm fried," Magnolia said. "Going to head uptown and work." She hadn't written so much as a sentence of her
Voyeur
proposal in more than a week.

"Work?" Natalie said.

Natalie would be the last person she'd tell about her Fancy meeting.

"Oh, you know, letters, basic drudgery," Magnolia said. "Have to

beat the bushes."

She walked to the checkroom to retrieve her phone and put on her

Chanel sample sale raincoat, which she was wearing for the first time

that day. Outside, she caught her reflection in the glass front of a

restaurant she passed on the way to the subway. This coat makes me

look like a heifer, she decided. Tomorrow, I'll ship it to Mom.

Magnolia played back her messages. There were two—the first

from Wally; the second, Cameron. An empty cab passed, its yellow

light a taunting reminder not to splurge on a $25 fare.

She dialed Cam's number. He was back in California, his message

had said, but all he shared was that negotiations on his book had got

complicated. He didn't answer his telephone.

"It's the person who's probably just handed Bebe a two-hundred

million-dollar victory," she said in her message. "Call if you want to

make fun of me."

She pressed the buttons on her phone for Wally, who was now on

speed dial. "Mr. Fleigelman, please?" she said to his assistant. "It's

Magnolia Gold."

Wally got on the line right away. "Hi, gorgeous," he said. "In the

mood for news?"

"Only if it's good," she said.

"Well, in that case . . ." Wally said solemnly.

"Oh-h-h," Magnolia groaned. "No!"