Chapter 3

"I never want to see this type of story for my magazine again!" Sylvia slammed the paper down on her desk. "We don't print shit like this!" she said, standing up.

She stared at the girl in front of her. Sylvia enjoyed moments like this; someone cowering in front of her, waiting for her next command. She enjoyed the look of helplessness on the girl's face.

She sat down and in a slow and controlled tone said, "Now Maria, I expect much more from you." Maria frowned but didn't speak. Sylvia continued. "I've worked very hard to raise the quality and standards of this magazine. There had better not be a next time." She paused for a moment. Maria stood motionless. "You can go."

Maria nodded her head and quickly left the office. Sylvia then picked up her phone and dialed.

"Sharon, we need to talk. In my office…now!" She quickly hung up the phone. Moments later, Sharon Eckerson walked into the office.

"What is it, Sylvia?" She sounded annoyed.

"What the hell is this?" she said, handing Maria's article to Sharon.

Sharon took the article and quickly scanned it. "What's wrong with it?"

Sylvia shot Sharon a surprised look. "What's wrong with it? It's wrong for the magazine."

Sharon sighed. "I asked Maria to do a story on immigrant women being separated from their children at the border. It's a relevant and very important issue, Sylvia."

Sylvia stared at Sharon, "Not in my magazine. I did not approve this. I don't want this sort of thing in my magazine. Our readers do not want to read about these types of people. It's depressing. Minorities are depressing, Sharon." Sharon bit her lip. Sylvia continued. "You may be the editor, but I'm the owner."

Sharon felt herself getting angry. "What do you mean, these types of people?"

Sylvia looked at her. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Sharon. These stories on these illegal aliens are everywhere in the news. I'm supposed to feel sorry for them because they entered my country illegally? I don't think so. I don't want to read this, and neither do my readers."

Sharon started to speak, but Sylvia spoke first. "Fire Maria," she said dryly.

"Excuse me?" said Sharon.

"Fire her," Sylvia repeated. "She doesn't fit in, and I don't like her. She's always speaking that gibberish."

"You mean Spanish?" Sharon asked, still trying to comprehend what Sylvia had told her to do.

"Well, we speak English here, Sharon." Sylvia stood up. "Over the past 4 years, we haven't seen eye-to-eye on everything, Sharon, but you're a good editor. However, you were not my first choice. But here we are. You've done some good things, I will admit, but I'm the one who's pushed us to the top. Me. Not you. You work for me. Fire her." Sylvia sat down.

Sharon stood, not saying a word. She opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it. After a few moments, she spoke. "Sylvia, you're right, we haven't seen eye-to-eye on many things. I think adding diversity to the magazine would take it even farther. You're excluding millions of potential readers." Her voice was firm, but she kept her tone low. "I've put a lot of time and effort into growing this magazine. Don't you think your readers want to read more than trends, fluff, and gossip?"

Sylvia shot her a cold look. "I don't give a shit about diversity. That's what's wrong with this country; all this so-called diversity. Well, I for one am tired of hearing about it. If a woman is separated from her child because she enters a country illegally, that's her fault. If a Black man is arrested and beat up by the police, he was probably breaking the law; his fault. Now, if I see this shit again, Sharon, we'll have a problem. Now fire Maria. I want her gone. Her gibberish makes everyone uncomfortable." Sylvia watched as Sharon walked out of the office. "Unbelievable! Sylvia yelled.

Sylvia had been in charge of You & Me for the past 12 of the 15 years it had been in publication. She'd acquired it from her ex-husband, as part of the divorce settlement. The original name had been Chatter, but she changed it after the story on her mother was featured.

The magazine had always been profitable, which was all Sylvia cared about. She liked the idea of owning something and made it a point to tell everyone she was the new owner of Chatter. The magazine had made a name for itself by offering up stories of celebrity gossip, fashion trends, exotic travel destinations, makeup tips, and fluff.

In the beginning, she didn't care what the magazine published. She was too busy and let her staff handle things. All she cared about was making the money and bragging to her fake friends. Two years after her divorce, her mother died from a drug overdose. She had a deadly mixture of heroin and cocaine in her system, and she was found nude, with a syringe in her arm, at a seedy hotel on the outskirts of the city.

Sylvia was devastated, not because her mom had died, but because of the circumstances of her death. She would be the talk of her social circle, and she couldn't have that, so she paid several hundred thousand dollars to keep the details out of the news; however, someone on her staff at Chatter had received the toxicology report, police report, and pictures of the scene, and the editor of the magazine, Samantha Taller, had decided to go with the story. It was an exclusive, and they were going to be the ones to break the story. She didn't bother to let Sylvia know. She said it just slipped her mind. She'd always thought Sylvia was a snobby bitch, and she was about to get her karma.

Sylvia, who had been out of the country since her mother's death, had recently returned to the states. She really didn't mourn her mother's death but thought it would look good if people thought she was mourning. Upon her return to the states, she immediately booked a private cabana at her country club. It was the first time she'd been out in public since the funeral. She'd received several condolences and well wishes. The media coverage had been minimal, and there was no mention of the circumstances surrounding her mother's death.

Finally, Sylvia decided 2 weeks of not being seen was long enough. She had to let people know she was back, so she decided to go to the country club to be seen.

She was sunning herself on the upper deck in her private cabana when she was suddenly annoyed upon spotting Monica Dancy walking towards her. Monica had been her rival since college, and she was everything Sylvia wasn't: Kind; caring, and pretty. She'd dated a boy in college whom Sylvia had eyes for. She hated Monica, and she decided she'd get revenge on her one day.

That day came just days before Monica's wedding when Sylvia slept with Monica's fiancé and made sure she'd find them together in bed. When Monica did, Sylvia didn't care; instead, she laughed and told Monica she was a stupid bitch.

"Why would he want someone like you, Monica?" she said. "I mean, look at you, then look at me. Stupid bitch."

Monica married him anyway, and Sylvia hated her and enjoyed degrading her whenever she saw her. She took pleasure in Monica's misery.

As she watched Monica walk towards her, she thought she was fat and very plain looking. Monica was carrying a magazine. "Fat bitch," Sylvia whispered under her breath and then rolled over onto her stomach so she didn't have to see her.

"Knock, knock," Monica said. Her voice was high and shrill. "Why, Sylvia Blass, you snuck in here without saying hello to me. I'm so sorry for your loss. You're in everyone's thoughts and prayers."

Sylvia rolled her eyes in disgust. "Monica. I didn't even know you were here. I thought since your divorce you wouldn't want to show your face around here. I mean, it's one thing for your husband to leave you for another woman – I mean, we both knew he had an appetite you just couldn't satisfy – but it's entirely different when that woman is Black. You are so brave," Sylvia said as she turned over; she had to see the look on Monica's face.

Monica didn't speak for a few moments. Her lips were tightly pierced together, and she squinted her eyes.

She finally spoke. "Well, it can't be any more humiliating than what your magazine has published. I had no idea your mother was a drug whore!" She threw the magazine at Sylvia. "I wonder if the apple falls far from the tree." Monica hissed the words, then turned and left the cabana.

Sylvia looked at the magazine. On the cover was a picture of her mother. She was holding a champagne bottle and smoking a cigarette. The cover read: "Rich socialist dies from a self-induced heroin-cocaine overdose. Found nude in a seedy motel."

Sylvia quickly turned the pages until she came to the cover story. There, in color, was her mother, spread out on the pages of her magazine. She'd been humiliated by own her magazine. She'd paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to keep this information a secret, and now someone at her magazine had gotten ahold of the information.

Sylvia continued to read in horror. How could she face her friends? Someone was going to pay for this.

She fired the entire staff that day. Everyone. She then became involved in every aspect of the magazine, and from then on it was what she wanted. Anyone who didn't agree, she fired. She changed the name to You & Me. She even graced the cover of the magazine whenever she felt like it.

Sylvia was a slender woman, with long, vulcanic blonde hair. Her long legs were toned, and her body, although not offering many curves, could rival that of a 30-year-old. Her skin was milky white, with just a hint of crow's feet around her eyes. Her cheekbones were high and round, with a hint of color. Her lips were thin. Her teeth were straight and copy paperwhite. She'd thought about plastic surgery but dreaded the idea of someone cutting into her face. So, she'd decided if she couldn't have beauty, her money would make up for it.

Sylvia was a no-nonsense type of woman. She didn't like indecision or those who can't focus or take charge. She didn't like foreigners, minorities, or those she thought were on a lower social class. She was raised in the south, and you could slightly hear the southern accent in certain words.

Although she hadn't lived in the south for several decades, she still held on to her southern beliefs. You didn't mix social classes or races. That had been her mother's way of life, and Sylvia followed suit. Her mother showed her that money could get you whatever you wanted.

Her mother wanted drugs, and she used most of her money to buy cocaine and heroin.

The poor were meant to be poor and serve the rich. She would never publicly admit to this statement, but those close to her knew all too well this was how she truly felt. Her attitude was that there's no shame in being poor, as long as you stay in your lane and do the things poor people do.

After she fired her staff, Sylvia decided to rebuild and rebrand Chatter, now called You & Me. After going through several interviews for an editor, she wanted to hire Monique Bastille, who was highly sought after and was young and smart. Sylvia liked her style and thought she'd be perfect for You & Me.

When Sylvia met Monique at her downtown offices, she thought it was merely to talk about money and close the deal. Sylvia had extended what she thought was a generous offer. But Monique sat quietly as she listened to Sylvia's vision for the magazine and what role she'd play, then after several minutes of Sylvia's banter, Monique held up her hand.

"Mrs. Blass, I don't mean to be rude, but I only agreed to meet with you in person so I could make sure we understand one another. Your magazine – if that's what you want to call it – is a disgrace to real journalism. You've printed lies, furthered rumors, and you even put your own mother on the front cover and sold her tragedy. I have no desire to be a part of your magazine, now or anytime." Monique stood up. "Thank you for seeing me." She turned and walked out of the office.

Sylvia was dumbfounded. She wasn't sure what had just happened. "Disgrace?" she said out loud. She called her assistant on the intercom.

"Yes, Ms. Blass?"

"Get me, Sandra Grace, over at Travel Now!" she yelled into the phone.

When Sharon met Sylvia, she'd heard all the stories about the magazine and how Sylvia fired everyone after they ran the story on her mother. She knew it was known for tabloid journalism. Chatter had a reputation for printing stories based on half-truths, innuendo, and speculation. Sharon had heard when Sylvia showed up at the magazine's office, she had her editor thrown out into the street. So, when Sandra had told her about the opportunity, Sharon had no intention of meeting with Sylvia.

Sharon was sitting in Sandra's office when Sandra brought it up. "So, I just had an interesting call from Sylvia Blass," Sandra said. "You know she fired her entire staff, right?"

Sharon nodded. "I think everyone knows. The story they printed on her mother was tragic. How could she allow them to print those photos? Her own mother."

Sandra stood up, walked over to her office door, and closed it. "What I'm about to tell you is between me and you, OK?" Sharon turned around in her chair and saw Sandra staring at her. Sandra then lowered her voice. "She's shopping for a new editor." Sharon's eyes followed Sandra as she walked back to her desk. "I recommended you," Sandra finished.

Sharon's eyes widened. "Me? Sandra, you know I don't do tabloid journalism. Too messy for me," she said, holding up both hands.

"I know, I know," Sandra replied, "but she's rebranding and revamping the whole magazine. It's called You & Me. I thought it might be a good opportunity for you."

Sharon smiled. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, Sandra, but I've heard horror stories about working for Sylvia Blass. I heard she eats small children and tortures puppies."

Sandra chuckled. "Well, that maybe, but it pays double what you make now, and you'd be the editor. I told her you were good. Maybe you can help her turn it around. Think of it as a challenge."

Sharon stood up. "Look Sandra, I really appreciate you recommending me, but…"

Sandra interrupted, "She wants to meet with you. Dinner tomorrow at 6 pm. She's taking you to The Dome."

"The Dome? Too rich for my blood," Sharon said, then started walking toward the door.

"Sharon," Sandra called after her, "meet with her. Hear her out. You don't have to say yes."

Sharon stood at the door for a moment, then turned around. "It sounds like you already set this up," she said, sounding annoyed.

"Well, Sylvia doesn't really take no for an answer," Sandra replied.

Sharon bit her lip. "Well Sandra, she may need to get used to hearing it. I'll go, but I'm not working for her."

As she opened the door, Sandra said, "One more thing: Don't take Keith."

Sharon spun around. "Why not?"

"Just trust me on this one. Meet her alone. Close the door behind you."

Sharon walked out of the office and closed the door.

* * *

When Sharon arrived at the Dome the following evening, she had no idea of what to expect. She'd never been there before, but she'd heard it was overpriced and very exclusive. She arrived 30 minutes early; her journalist instinct had taught her always to be early. She told the hostess she was meeting Sylvia Blass and was immediately led to a table in the rear of the restaurant. The hostess told her it was Sylvia's private table. Sharon sat down. A waiter appeared, and she ordered a glass of house red wine. She sipped the wine slowly as she tried to blend into the room.

She looked at the table setting. It was formal, more than just a plate, cup, and flatware. She counted 23 pieces in front of her. Three forks were to the left of the plate, each one a little smaller. She decided the biggest fork was the salad fork. To the left of the plate were 3 knives, 2 spoons, and another fork. She was busy deciding which knife she'd use to cut the bread when she spotted Sylvia Blass. She was tall and thin, and her lips were a deep red, which matched the color of her high cheekbones. She was dressed in a lime green dress and black hat, and she held a small black clutch purse. When their eyes connected, Sylvia smiled; Sharon thought it was a sort of sinister-looking smile.

Sylvia waved and continued to walk towards her. Sharon took another sip of wine and stood up.

Sylvia spoke first. "Sharon!" she said. "Thank you for meeting me."

Sylvia stretched out her hand but allowed Sharon to grab only her fingers. She then leaned over and kissed Sharon on both cheeks.

"Please sit," Sylvia said. She snapped her fingers, and the waiter quickly presented himself. "Yes, I'll have a glass of red wine, not that awful house red." She paused for a moment. "As a matter of fact, bring a bottle of Chateau La Mission Haut Brion Pessac, 2010." The waiter's eyes widened.

"Very good!" he said and turned to retrieve the wine.

"This is an excellent wine," Sylvia said, turning toward Sharon, "full-bodied, with an amazing palate of firm tannins. You'll love it!" She smiled and lightly touched Sharon's hand.

Sharon had no clue about wine. She smiled at Sylvia and shifted in her chair, hoping Sylvia wouldn't ask her opinion.

Sylvia smiled. "So Sharon, I'll get right to the point. I'm looking for a new editor. I've let my staff go, and I'm starting from scratch."

The waiter arrived with the wine, and Sharon watched as he carefully corked the bottle, poured a little into Sylvia's glass, and allowed her to taste it. Sylvia took her time, picking up the glass and holding it up in the light. She gently swirled the wine in the glass and slowly put the rim of the glass up to her nose. She took in a deep breath, taking in the aroma of the wine. She then put the glass to her lips and sipped.

After a moment of silence, she said, "Oh, it's simply amazing!" She motioned to the waiter to pour. He moved Sharon's house wine away from her and poured her a new glass of wine. She took a sip. "See," Sylvia said, "isn't it just wonderful?" Sharon nodded her head. Sylvia took another sip. "I want to move away from what the magazine has been doing. I'll be honest, I didn't even read it. I acquired it as part of my divorce settlement." She lowered her tone. "It wasn't until the unfortunate incident with my mother that I became…more vested in the content of You & Me."

Sylvia took a sip of her wine and waited for Sharon to speak.

After a few moments, Sharon cleared her throat. "Well, I'm flattered that you're considering me."

"Well, I've known Sandra for years. You come highly recommended. Shall we order?"

Sharon picked up the menu, and her eyes widened when she saw the prices.

"The chef is wonderful," Sylvia said. "I recommend the duck or veal porterhouse," she said, closing her menu.

The waiter quickly appeared, then took their order and left the table.

"Well, Sharon," Sylvia said, "are you ready to come on board? I'm fully involved in the magazine, but I know nothing about editing, layouts, or any of that. That's why I need a strong editor. I need to hire a writing staff and whatever else is needed. I have vision. You have the know-how."

Sharon shifted in her chair, then looked at Sylvia. "So, what's your vision?" she asked.

Sylvia smiled. "Fashion. High fashion. I want to target a certain type of woman."

"Fashion?" Sharon asked, sounding surprised. "Fashion. Make-up, trends, etc."

Sharon took a sip of her wine. She was stalling for time as she chose her words. "Well Sylvia, it sounds very exciting starting…"

Sylvia held up her hand. "Sharon, one thing you don't know about me is that I do not like bullshit. I am very blunt. I speak my mind. I always have; no need to stop now. I'm making you an offer. Probably the quickest offer you'll ever receive. I'll double your salary. You can start in a week or two; I don't want to leave Sandra in a bind." She finished her wine, then reached into her clutch purse, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Sharon. "Here's my offer. I'm sure you'll find it more than generous."

Sharon hesitantly took the envelope, waited a few moments, then opened it. She tried to hide her facial expression. This was more money than she'd ever make as a writer. She'd be able to do many different things with this type of money.

She could feel Sylvia staring at her as she continued to read, then lay down the paper. "This is very generous, Sylvia. I'll need to speak with my husband before making any decisions."

Sylvia looked surprised. "Really? You mean, you need to ask your husband before you can take the opportunity of a lifetime?"

"We make all big decisions together," Sharon replied.

Sylvia cocked her head to one side. "I do exactly how I please. It's the only way to live. Family and marriage are definitely overrated. Do you have children, too?"

Before Sharon could answer, the waiter arrived with their food. Sharon watched as he carefully served. When he was finished, she replied, "We don't have any children. We're both focused on our careers."

Sylvia smiled. "I never had children. No time. And now with my magazine, I'm going to be busy, busy, busy. I do hope you'll join me, Sharon."

* * *

As Sharon sat in her office, the memories of her first meeting with Sylvia filled her head. She leaned back into the large leather chair, sat for a moment, then quickly picked up her office phone and called her husband, Keith.

"Hi, it's me," she said, her tone low.

"Hey, you. I was just thinking about you," he replied.

Sharon smiled; just hearing his voice would do that to her. "Remind me again why I took this job?"

"Sylvia issues?" he said.

"What else?!" she replied. "I don't think I can take much more, Keith. I've worked for this woman for 5 years, and –"

Keith interrupted him. "Quit."

Sharon paused. "I just might. Today may be the day," she said, sounding defiant.

Keith chuckled. "Okay, what happened?"

"She wants me to fire Maria."

"Why?" he asked.

"Well, she says it's because of a story she wrote. I told her to write it! But I think it's because she's Mexican. She called Spanish 'gibberish'. Can you believe that? This woman is unbelievable."

Keith was silent. He could hear the frustration in Sharon's voice. "I was serious when I said quit," he said.

She paused. "Remember that time we were in Costa Rica…the beach..." She smiled.

"I had sand everywhere." Keith laughed.

"I wish we were there now," Sharon said sadly.

"Hey, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do," he said. "I know. It's just; I thought this job would be different. I thought I'd be able to create something good. Not this bullshit we print."

"Your eyes were open, Sharon. You knew what kind of stuff the dragon lady wanted to do. Look, whatever you decide, I'll support you. I got you."

Sharon took a deep breath. "I know. One day…" She trailed off.

"Not today?" Keith asked.

"No, not today," she replied. "I gotta go, babe. I'll see you tonight." Sharon hung up the phone, and then quickly dialed her assistant. "Patty, please tell Maria I need to see her."