Good for You: A Novel (3)

Two were from her best friend, Harry. Ground control to Major Bomb, he’d written in the last one. Send proof of life so I know you haven’t fallen in a sinkhole. P.S. Chicago > New York. Wish you were here xo

As much as the Second City remains second best, I wish I were there, too, she wrote back. P.S. Alive and well—will call tonight or tomorrow x

She had a message from Seth, telling her that he was heading to the gym after work and that she should get dinner without him. She hearted his message, even though she didn’t feel loving about eating alone.

Unfortunately, the other five texts were from Aly’s mother. She skimmed them and vowed to write her back at some unspecified date in the far-off future.

She’d just looked up from her phone when Meagan’s voice came floating through the air. She glanced around the man standing in front of her, who was built like a football player, and saw Meagan a few spots ahead with Ashleigh, the senior health and beauty editor. She was about to call to them when Aly heard her name. And although it took her a few seconds to fully process what she was hearing, she must have somehow known Ashleigh was not speaking to her, but rather about her, because she immediately stepped out of sight, behind the linebacker again.

“I mean, ugh.” Ashleigh was using a stage whisper. “You know she’s not taking a salary cut.”

Aly waited for Meagan to defend her, or at least change the subject. Instead, Meagan said, “Totally.”

“You have to give her credit—dating Seth is a serious strategic decision, and it looks like it’s paying off. Literally!” said Ashleigh, who was no longer pretending to keep her voice down.

Nearly all of Aly’s decisions were strategic, but Seth was that rare exception; not only was he almost everything she wanted in a partner, she actually liked him. And James himself had introduced them! But that fact didn’t keep blood from rushing to her cheeks. They were right—it did look bad. She might as well have handed extra ammunition to her own firing squad.

“For now,” said Meagan. “They won’t last. Then what?”

What other people think about you is none of your business: that’s what Luke always said, and although she was pretty sure he stole that line from someone famous, the advice had served her well. Get out of here, she commanded herself. Slip out the door before you overhear something worse.

But her feet refused to move. And that’s when she really began to panic.

“Then the gig goes to someone who can actually handle it.”

Meagan didn’t respond this time, and Aly wanted to believe she was frowning at Ashleigh to encourage her to stop while she was ahead. But for some reason she could only picture Meagan smugly flipping her honey-highlighted hair away from her face.

Ashleigh kept going. “Did you see how she smiled like a crazy person when she said that she’d figure something out?”

Okay, maybe Aly had been smiling like a crazy person. She’d be the first to admit that she might’ve taken the whole cheerleader routine a smidge too far. If she had, though, Meagan was the one person on staff who knew why she sometimes became blindingly sunny.

It was either that or give in to the dark side.

Except Meagan didn’t tell Ashleigh to cut Aly some slack or hint that she’d been through an awful lot recently. “She never should have gotten that job,” Meagan muttered. “Not with the funk she’s in. It won’t be long before she destroys what’s left of the magazine and takes us all down with it. What a beach.”

Aly flinched. Her father used to call her a beach all the time. Of course, he’d used a stronger word than that, and so had Meagan. But Luke claimed that cursing was the lazy man’s thesaurus. Though Aly wasn’t sure she agreed with him, she had taken his claim to heart because he always was the smartest person in the room.

Or at least he had been.

It occurred to Aly that her real mistake was not thinking through what would happen after the editorial meeting. Because for all that’s been said about the best-laid plans, the real danger was having none at all. While Aly was busy bargaining and budgeting with James, she’d forgotten to decide what she’d do if someone got upset about the news . . . or agreed with her secret fear that maybe she didn’t actually deserve the one job she’d been obsessed with since she’d learned it existed.

Aly’s hands and feet were tingling. And then, though her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her throat, she suddenly rushed at Meagan and Ashleigh. “Yeah, hi,” she said, glancing back and forth between them with bulging eyes. “I was right behind you. I heard everything.”

“Al—” began Meagan, but Aly interjected before she could continue.

“I kept you from getting canned!” she squawked. If she seemed unhinged, it’s because, well—she was. Like a grizzly bear after a very long winter, something primal and ferocious had just emerged from deep within her, and it was becoming readily apparent that she was powerless to stop it. “I won’t even say that’s what friends do, because clearly we’re not. But I’m a great editor and I care about our magazine more than almost anything. You, on the other hand—” She pointed an index finger at Meagan, jabbing the air for emphasis. “You’re the beach.”

Except instead of saying beach, she’d pulled out the poor man’s thesaurus—which made her think of Luke, and how disappointed he’d be if he could hear her.