AUDREY
S OMETIMES IT FEELS LIKE I ’ M PHYSICALLY INCAPABLE OF KEEPING my hands still when I’m nervous. I’ve shredded a lot of napkins in my time, but this restaurant is too nice to have paper ones so instead I’ve pulled an unsuspecting flower to pieces. I didn’t even realise what I was doing until it was too late – the naked stem is back in the tiny vase, but I’m sweeping the scraps of petal into my coat pocket when—
‘Audrey?’
I leap to my feet on instinct. The legs of my chair squeak against the floor as I spring upwards, quickly brushing my clammy, floral-scented hands against my jeans.
‘Oh, that’s so not necessary!’ Miranda laughs. ‘Please, sit down. I’ll need a minute to find my way out of this jacket.’
And so I do as she says, watching as Miranda Browning unbuttons a beautiful shearling coat with her long, beringed fingers. She looks considerably younger than I know she must be, her auburn hair thick around her shoulders. She smells like leather and sandalwood, her eyes a stark, clear blue behind oversized tortoiseshell glasses.
‘It’s really starting to feel like winter, huh?’ she says, dropping into her chair. ‘Thanks for coming at such short notice.’
‘Uh – no problem,’ I stammer, abruptly realising that I haven’t actually spoken yet. ‘I mean – of course.’
She smiles, sits. I force myself to return that smile, feeling completely overwhelmed. Maybe it’s better that this all came about so quickly – I’m operating on pure adrenaline right now. I have been since Imogene called me less than an hour ago, sounding uncharacteristically frantic and demanding to know exactly where I was. The prescience of her call was almost as stressful as her opener, seeing as at that particular moment I’d been heading back to the apartment to pack my things and rehearse telling her that I was going back to England.
‘Um – near the park,’ I replied, not sure if it was true. ‘What’s up?’
‘What’s up is that I just got off the phone with Miranda Browning. Can you believe it?’
‘Oh,’ I said, immediately nauseous. ‘Like – her office?’
‘No! Miranda herself! And she wants to meet you for lunch!’
‘Me and Marika?’
‘Just you! If I send you the details of the restaurant then can you head straight there?’
I could. I did. And now I’m sitting opposite one of the most prestigious fashion designers in the world, which would be a dream come true for any model in the world except me.
Our waiter materialises – Miranda orders a black coffee and I do the same.
‘And do you still do that amazing salted caramel cake?’ she asks him brightly. ‘With the pecans?’
‘I’m happy to tell you that we do.’
‘One of those, please,’ Miranda says, then leans towards me. ‘You’ll love it. I know how hard you girls work, especially when you’re starting out. You definitely deserve a treat.’
‘Thank you,’ I murmur, discomfited. I still don’t know why I’m here, but Miranda seems like a genuinely nice person – kind and easy-going in spite of being mind-bogglingly important. It’s jarring. I’m torn between wanting to get the hell out of here and wanting her to like me.
‘Don’t even,’ she says, picking up her napkin and shaking it out. ‘Now – let’s get to why we’re here, because you’re probably kind of nervous, right?’
‘A little,’ I admit, and she grimaces.
‘I’m so sorry – I promise, not my intention at all,’ she says emphatically. ‘I just wanted to get to know you a little better. You’re a representative of the Miranda Browning brand now, and I don’t take that lightly. When we showcase fresh talent, we also want to nurture it.’
‘Thank you,’ I manage. ‘It’s – I totally understand how huge a deal this campaign is. I know I’m not that experienced, and you’ve put a lot of trust in me.’
‘You’re very sweet. But it’s a two-way street, Audrey. You’re a new face, and this industry loves new. Reinvention is crucial. And it’s something that I’ve been thinking about a lot, recently – how do you like the sound of MB Beauty?’
‘Oh,’ I say, surprised. ‘A make-up brand?’
‘Uh-huh.’ She smiles. ‘We’ll start small – glosses, gel shadows, liquid highlighters. Maybe cream blushes, some tints – youthful without being alienating. What do you think?’
‘That sounds amazing,’ I say, wondering why she thinks my opinion has any bearing.
‘Great, because you’re exactly the demographic we should be chasing! And I want the advertising to be personality-led. Real girls, real routines. Rollouts across socials as well as billboards. Have you done a beauty campaign before?’
I blink at her, startled. Is she implying that she wants me to be a part of it? I mean – the idea alone is enough to stir up that same giddy jubilation that I felt when Marika and I booked the first campaign. But if Julian is involved – my stomach sinks just as quickly.
‘No,’ I say. ‘Not at all.’
The waiter reappears, setting down two coffees and an adorable little pudding with a dollop of cream. I’m not hungry but Miranda is looking at me expectantly, so I dig out a small spoonful, take a bite.
‘It’s really good,’ I say honestly and she smiles, taking a sip of her coffee.
‘You looked like you could do with a sugar rush. This city treating you okay?’
‘Oh, it’s great,’ I say automatically. ‘It’s a lot, but it’s great.’
‘I was scared of everything when I first moved here. It was a full six months before I even stepped foot on the subway – I just walked everywhere. Put holes in every pair of shoes I owned.’
‘At least you got your steps in,’ I joke feebly, but Miranda laughs anyway.
‘One of my friends showed me the ropes eventually. Have you made many here?’
‘Oh, friends? Uh – I’m close with Marika – she’s my roommate.’
I don’t know if either of those things are still true, I realise with a pang. But Miranda’s eyes alight with recognition.
‘The other girl on the campaign, right? That’s wonderful. This city can be very lonely. And – can I be candid?’
I nod.
‘You’re very young,’ she says, her voice soft and conspiratorial. ‘I’ve been in your shoes, so I know that it isn’t always easy to figure out your own best interests. It’s why the people that you surround yourself with are so important. There are a lot of opportunists out there.’
‘Sure,’ I say, at a slight loss.
Miranda tilts her head, a frown tracing her features. ‘I haven’t offended you, have I? I don’t want to sound patronising.’
‘No,’ I say quickly. ‘No, I think you’re right. That’s why I’m so lucky to have Imogene.’
‘Oh, Imogene’s great . I’m glad you have her guidance.’
‘Me too.’
There’s a pause then. It feels weighty, and I’m trying to think of something else to say when Miranda sighs softly, resting her elbows against the table.
‘Are you okay?’ I venture. She smiles, but it’s wan.
‘Fine,’ she says. ‘It’s been a long, long week, is all.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry.’
‘No, no, it’s okay. Just – I’ve gotten word about an upcoming smear piece from an ex-employee with a grudge and some quote-unquote journalist she’s friends with. Total fiction, of course, but it’s upsetting. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been losing sleep over it.’
I stare at her, abruptly feeling like I might throw up all over the perfectly starched tablecloth.
‘It’s not so much the brand I’m worried about,’ she continues, looking down into her cup. ‘Just that it’s going to hurt a lot of people on our team if it ever sees the light of day.’
‘What’s the publication?’ I hear myself ask, having somehow managed to keep my expression blank.
‘Just some tawdry website looking for clicks. The whole thing is totally unscrupulous.’
‘Oh. Well … maybe no one will see it.’
‘Maybe,’ she says. Then, ‘No one has reached out to you about it, have they?’
‘No,’ I say – too quickly. ‘I mean – I don’t think so.’
‘Well, that’s something.’ She smiles. ‘I’d hate to see you get dragged into something so unpleasant. And as Imogene will tell you, it’s always a bad idea to engage with these kinds of people. I’d hate to see you accidentally hurt your prospects.’
She meets my eye as she says that. And while we’re looking at each other, I really look. I see the tightness of her smile. The determined set of her jaw. The coolness of her gaze. And acid rises in my throat.
She knows , I realise. She knows who Julian is, and she knows what he’s done. It’s why I’m here and Marika isn’t – why she’s plied me with kind words and sweet things and dangled an even bigger campaign in front of me. It was all in the hope of shutting me up before I could say anything they’d regret.
‘Thank you for the advice,’ I say stiltedly. ‘I wouldn’t want to do anything that might hurt my career.’
Miranda visibly relaxes, at that.
‘That’s admirable,’ she replies. ‘Ambition. Focus.’
And I nod, but all I can think is, How long have you known? How long have you protected him?
All of the fear inside of me is hardening now. I can feel it, settling into the shape of something new.