Chapter 30 #2
Barbara looked at me quizzically as she straightened the front of her black leather tee.
The thought that this woman was single-handedly contributing to climate change with her leather obsession distracted me for a second, until she said, “You seem to be feeling pretty successful today, Nikki.” I couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement.
“I didn’t mean … I wouldn’t say all that,” I responded, immediately wishing that I hadn’t started off so cheerily.
“Tell me, why do you think your first six months at NuVoices have been successful?” This was a question, and Barbara waited expectantly for an answer.
“Um, well, Sugar looks much better overall. We’ve increased our style coverage, improved the journalism, added new writers…” I petered out because I could see the plumes of resentment spreading underneath Barbara’s innocent expression.
“Don’t stop,” she said in a syrupy tone. “You’re on a roll.”
“Barbara, I…”
“No, no.” She wagged a finger. “I really do want to hear this. Go on.”
My incisor nipped my lower lip as I worked out what to say next.
“Okay, um … Sugar broke the story on DJ Cassius and Latika’s pregnancy in the June issue; we saved the Sinclaire profile in July; we gave Tyisha her first-ever cover in September; and our November Bobbie Washington tribute is selling out everywhere.
” I left off Betty’s August issue and our bestselling October issue with Sliq Bishopp on the cover.
Barbara stared at the wall behind my head, not saying anything.
Since I was already tickling my tonsils with my toes, I was afraid to break the uncomfortably long silence.
Finally, she slid her eyes in my direction and motioned for me to sit in the chair in front of her desk.
“I’d like to offer you an alternative perspective, newbie. ”
Barbara swiveled in her chair to grab a stack of Sugar issues from the shelf next to her desk.
She spread my first six issues on the desk in chronological order.
“Producing some nice-looking magazines with ‘more style coverage’ and ‘better journalism’ is not success to me. Have you not noticed that I’m a Black woman in a man’s world trying to grow a tough business?
This shit is not easy.” She picked up the August issue and shook it at me.
“I don’t care about Betty’s single climbing the charts.
What did that do for us? Your dicey past with Alonzo fucked this issue.
” Barbara tossed the magazine toward the desk where it skittered off onto the floor.
“You know what success is to me? It’s my bottom line, pure and simple. ”
“Sugar’s newsstand sales are up so much,” I interrupted, but she wagged her finger again, this time to shut me up.
“The increase in newsstand sales was offset by the ad dollars you cost us when we lost Reine after you decided to go all hip hop feminist on Serge.” Barbara snorted begrudgingly like she did every time she was forced to address me.
“I still let you do basically what you wanted because newsstand sales and subscriptions are getting better. But now I have to deal with Sliq Bishopp suing us?”
My heart sank. “Oh, wow. I guess I was hoping he’d change his mind.”
“Nikki, you knew about this?” She crossed her arms. “You could have given me a heads-up before Bishopp’s lawyer called yesterday.”
“I guess I thought it would go away—which was stupid,” I admitted. “But the legal department vetted my profile and the interview with Bishopp’s accuser before we went to print. They said it was only nominally risky.”
“Only nominally…” Barbara covered her eyes with both hands.
“Legal really should have flagged it so I could sign off. I knew I’d hear from his people once the issue came out.
But getting sued is on another level.” Barbara rose to pace the room, her black leather–clad legs squeaking with every stride.
She stopped in front of her bookcase and ran a finger along her collection of Walter Mosley’s novels.
“I’m sure you can imagine that hiring you gave me some pause.
Yes, Alonzo is a pimp, but he said a lot about you, Miss Nicole Rose.
” I did not mistake Barbara’s low-pitched tone for kindness.
She picked up a copy of Devil in a Blue Dress and flipped through it as she continued talking.
“Obviously, I decided that you were worth the risk. But I didn’t just give you a six-month probation because the company was in trouble; I also wanted to have enough time to see how you’d handle major temptation and tough decisions.
” Barbara put the book back and sat on the edge of her desk in front of me.
“If you think I’ve been testing you … it’s because I’ve been fucking testing you. And you’ve failed every single test.”
Barbara was too close for me to dab my eyes, so I had to let them well up. “I’ve been working so hard,” I whined stupidly.
“Oh my god, pull it together. So have we all. But you’re too caught up in your own little world to see it.
” Barbara’s gaze was steely, so I suppressed a sniffle.
“And let’s not forget that your very first questionable decision was letting JJ run game on you.
” Barbara’s voice had been rising and she paused to inhale deeply through her nose.
When she continued, her voice was low and even again.
“I cut you some slack when your past with Alonzo cost us covers, when you ignored my advice and tanked our August issue, when you told Serge to kick rocks, and when you went behind my back to get that picture of Bobbie.” She was counting off my offenses on her fingers.
Then she dramatically hit her forehead. “And let’s not forget when you wrote about me in your editor’s letter and made me out to be a money-grubbing asshole. ”
“I’m really sorry, Barbara.” I had no choice but to wipe the tears crisscrossing my cheeks.
She returned to her chair and pushed a box of tissues across the desk. “But I have to admit that your little Nikki’s Notes is gaining some kind of cult following. Which is why I hope you’ll do the right thing so you can still be successful here.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Apologize!” Barbara exploded. “Print a retraction of the Sliq Bishopp profile. Say you got some facts and quotes wrong.”
I pressed a tissue into the inner corners of my eyes. “Please don’t make me do that. Bishopp is rotten to the core. And it would be terrible for Sugar anyway. If we don’t stand up for our readers, what’s the point?”
Barbara shook her head. “Nikki, you’re at the end of your six-month probation. You want to stay? You want to win? This is how.”
I weighed it. I wish I hadn’t, but I sat there and thought about whether there was a way I could craft an apology to Bishopp that wouldn’t feel like selling my soul—or selling out my readers. “I just … can’t do that,” I finally croaked.
“And I can’t let you take the company down.” Barbara sighed. “You probably cost us half a million dollars of advertising from Serge. If Bishopp sues, it could be millions more.”
My hackles rose. “Take the company down? I put Sugar on the map. Everyone in the industry is talking about the November issue. Random women are coming up to me in stores to thank me for my editor’s letters.”
“And you have now confirmed that this is the perfect time for us to have this conversation, because it’s obvious that you have the misguided impression that you are Sugar.
” Barbara gave me a calculating look. “Frankly, if you’re not here, I can pin both the Serge and Bishopp situations on you, and I can try to recoup the relationships and the money.
I’m afraid that this is your last day at NuVoices. ”
“Wait, you’re seriously firing me—”
“—in the middle of your November tribute issue victory lap,” she interrupted.
“Yes, I am. I don’t want to do this, but you can’t keep going rogue because you think you know better than everyone else.
And if I can get the Reine ad dollars back and avoid Bishopp’s lawsuit, the improved newsstand sales over the last few months will buy me enough time to find a new EIC.
” Barbara picked up her phone and said simply, “It’s time. ”
Our regular security guard came in, mouthing an apology to me behind Barbara’s head.
He escorted me to my office, where, like my undignified departure from StyleList, I had exactly ten minutes to pack everything up.
Von looked like he was going to cry as he flew around my office, throwing my books, magazines, and knickknacks into the bags and boxes he sourced from bewildered onlookers.
I sat, stunned, on the sofa, looking around the room from the yellow bookcase I’d found at Ikea, to the matching sunny rug, to the wall I’d repainted and covered with framed pictures of my favorite female heroes.
I’d stuck to my guns with Barbara and refused to compromise my integrity, but I still felt as if I’d managed to let that entire wall down.
And now I would have to leave this place that felt like my home.