“Mom!” I gasped in shock.
She shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a whole new me. You’ll just have to get used to it.”
Chapter Five
We celebrated the release of our first print issue with a party at Vandal. The hip venue on Bowery wasn’t exactly local to our Brooklyn office, but Deja had insisted that it would be the perfect treat for our staff. Looking around the space, with its boldly patterned walls, jewel-toned velvet armchairs and banquettes, and a bar overflowing with booze, I had to agree. Vandal was more than fit to host a magazine’s launch party.
“This is the coolest,” Holli said, leaning against the bar. She looked amazing in her chunky red patent leather ankle boots and sleek magenta Valentino dress. The long, satiny sleeves and unique double-scoop neckline accentuated the length of her arms and neck. Holli was born with the physique of a model and the brain of that stoner kid from Clueless.
“Neil didn’t come?” she asked, motioning to the bartender. He sprinted past other people waiting to be served, drawn by Holli’s tractor beam sexuality.
“No, he couldn’t make it.” My gaze flickered to all the bottles on the shelves, and she was astute enough to follow my gaze.
“Gotcha.” She nodded to the bartender. “Three whisky sours. And she’s paying.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s an open bar. I’m already picking up the tab.”
Holli shrugged. “I know. I just like saying it.”
She looked over my shoulder, and I turned to spot Deja chatting with one of our advertising guys. She laughed loudly at something and threw her head back. She looked more like a rock star than an editor. With a breathy sigh, Holli mused, “Isn’t she hot?”
“She is,” I agreed. One, because it was true, two, because Holli expected me to, and three, because that was the friendship we had. Holli knew I would never try to swoop in and steal her wife. Friends didn’t do that stuff.
Not that it would have worked to try in the first place. Holli and Deja were so ridiculously in love with each other, they were basically fused at the soul.
“Hey…is everything okay with you two?” Holli asked.
“With who two?” It took me a blink to realize she meant Deja. “Oh. Oh, yeah. I think. Why?”
“No reason. Just…I don’t know.” Holli looked suddenly very interested in the chunky teal Lucite bracelet around her wrist. “Maybe she’s kind of tense because of this whole print issue thing. It’s a pretty big responsibility to have.”
Okay, record scratch “Yeah, it is,” I agreed.
“Right, but like…” Holli’s smile faltered then came back as a careful reproduction of a real one. “It’s not the same for you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked cautiously.
“It’s just stressful, you know?” Holli shrugged. “There’s a lot riding on this.”
My stomach soured. “You think I wasn’t stressed about this?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m just saying that maybe, due to your level of involvement…” She sighed and pressed her palm to her forehead. “I’m not saying this right.”
“You’re saying it just fine.” Did I sound defensive? Why would I be? I had no right. “I don’t do as much work at the magazine as she does. I know that.”
Then, why did I feel so hollow, hearing my best friend say it?
“Your feelings are hurt,” she said flatly, so I couldn’t deny it.
“You didn’t hurt my feelings. I hurt them.” I looked down, embarrassed. “It’s just that—”
“Three whisky sours,” the bartender interrupted, sliding the glasses toward us.
Holli intercepted the one that glided my way. “Ah-ah. These are mine.”
I rolled my eyes. “Can I get a seltzer water, please?”
“Sure thing,” he said, and moved away. But not far enough that I felt comfortable resuming my conversation with Holli. He’d be back too fast. I waited awkwardly until he handed me my drink, then I turned back to Holli.
“You didn’t hurt my feelings,” I tried, again. “I’m disappointed in myself. I could be doing more. I should be doing more.”
“Then…do more?” Holli asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “I know it’s hard because you’re all the way out in the Hamptons, but you’re the one who moved out of the city and started a magazine in Brooklyn.”
“I know,” I agreed.
“And I get that you’re busy with family stuff, but maybe Deja and I might be busy with family stuff, too?” she went on gently.
“Right.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek.
“Maybe the two of you need to have a sit down soon,” Holli suggested. “Just to talk about expectations versus reality. I think if she had some kind of idea of what she can count on—”
“Hey! There’s my co-editor in chief!” Deja approached from behind, and I turned, hoping my smile would catch up with me. “Did I not tell you this place would be perfect?”
“You were right.” I raised my glass as though I were toasting her. “Who put it all together? We should kick a free ad their way. Or was that what you were talking to Jonathan about?”