Part 36 (1/2)

”Miss Gold, given your distaste for Miss Blake's idea,” he articulated loudly, as if he were trying to communicate with a mute, ”is it not fair to say that you may have undermined Miss Blake in her best efforts to publish her magazine?” Montgomery p.r.o.nounced ”undermined” as if it were in boldface.

”No!” Magnolia said, more emotionally than she intended. ”I was always professional.”

”Did you resent that you had to take direction from Bebe Blake?”

he asked with forced casualness.

Do you resent that you are an ugly little man with hair sprouting from your ears, Magnolia wanted to ask back. Do you resent that ninety-nine women out of a hundred would rather clean a toilet than sleep with you?

”Miss Gold, answer Mr. Montgomery's question,” the judge demanded. ”Yes,” she said, a nasty bile rising in her throat.

”Thank you, Miss Gold,” he said. ”That will be all.”

Magnolia wanted to let out a primal scream. She turned to the judge with a pleading look.

”Miss Gold, you may return to your seat.”

She walked back, willing herself to stand straight and tall. How dare he? Without her sweat equity, Bebe never would have happened. Magnolia sat on the hard bench. Natalie took her hand and stroked it.

She wished the stroking were coming from Cameron, but she hadn't seen him anywhere in the courtroom.

”Relax, Cookie,” Natalie said. ”That ambulance-chasing jacka.s.s isn't worth getting worked up about. Anyway, you look gorgeous when you're p.i.s.sed. That's all anyone will remember.” From a black patent Gucci bag large enough to carry a c.o.c.ker spaniel, she pulled out a tis sue which she handed to Magnolia, who flicked away a tear.

”The court calls Bebe Blake,” Magnolia heard the words from a far-off place. Bebe marched to the witness stand for her swearing-in.

”Finally!” Bebe said, straightening her hat.

”May I remind you that you will speak only when called on,” the judge said.

”Sorry, Your Honor,” Bebe said. Scary's attorneys started in on her, and Bebe was thoroughly engaging-even when the gun cover was shown, bigger than life, like an advertis.e.m.e.nt for mental illness.

Magnolia wondered if the attorneys would try to nail her as a s.e.xual deviant, but it appeared that they were steering clear of that line of questioning.

”Before a business trip, did you have one of the Bebe a.s.sistants show you Polaroids of hotel suites so you would pick the best one?”

the attorney asked.

”Yes, doesn't everyone?” she answered. The courtroom laughed.

”At the Bebe sales conference in Palm Beach, is it true that you had a silver Corvette driven all the way from Atlanta and that when you didn't like it, you had the same automobile brought in from Sarasota in red?”

”I don't recall,” Bebe said with a big grin. At one o'clock, after Bebe had much of the courtroom chuckling along with her, the court officer announced a lunch break.

”Want to grab a bite?” Natalie said.

”I'm fried,” Magnolia said. ”Going to head uptown and work.” She hadn't written so much as a sentence of her Voyeur proposal in more than a week.

”Work?” Natalie said.

Natalie would be the last person she'd tell about her Fancy meeting.

”Oh, you know, letters, basic drudgery,” Magnolia said. ”Have to beat the bushes.”

She walked to the checkroom to retrieve her phone and put on her Chanel sample sale raincoat, which she was wearing for the first time that day. Outside, she caught her reflection in the gla.s.s front of a restaurant she pa.s.sed on the way to the subway. This coat makes me look like a heifer, she decided. Tomorrow, I'll s.h.i.+p it to Mom.

Magnolia played back her messages. There were two-the first from Wally; the second, Cameron. An empty cab pa.s.sed, its yellow light a taunting reminder not to splurge on a $25 fare.

She dialed Cam's number. He was back in California, his message had said, but all he shared was that negotiations on his book had got complicated. He didn't answer his telephone.

”It's the person who's probably just handed Bebe a two-hundred million-dollar victory,” she said in her message. ”Call if you want to make fun of me.”

She pressed the b.u.t.tons on her phone for Wally, who was now on speed dial. ”Mr. Fleigelman, please?” she said to his a.s.sistant. ”It's Magnolia Gold.”

Wally got on the line right away. ”Hi, gorgeous,” he said. ”In the mood for news?”

”Only if it's good,” she said.

”Well, in that case . . .” Wally said solemnly.

”Oh-h-h,” Magnolia groaned. ”No!”

”Just kidding,” he said and laughed loudly. ”Listen to this.” He paused for dramatic effect. ”Scary is offering two years' salary.”

”Wally!” Magnolia said. ”That's amazing. Beyond amazing! Tell me everything!” She was screaming so loudly, people were turning to stare.

”They came around yesterday,” he said. ”Turns out, you weren't the first woman to charge s.e.xual hara.s.sment. Your Mr. Flanagan had a history.” Wally switched to his serious lawyer voice. ”Employers are liable for s.e.xual hara.s.sment of employees by their managers and Scarborough had done nothing to reprimand Jock, despite numerous complaints.”

”d.i.c.kheads,” she said.

”You're right on that one. And the Scary d.i.c.kheads are not too pleased with their boy now that the world knows he cooks the books and, you'll pardon my French, he's basically accused the whole indus try of being a lying sack of s.h.i.+t,” he said. ”But back to you. At first Scary was only going to come through with one year of salary. Then I let them know you were planning to sue.”

”I was?”

”You were.”

”I am one b.a.l.l.sy chick, aren't I, Wally?”

”I'm afraid I'm not done yet, Mags,” Wally said. ”There's a bit more to it.”

It had sounded too good to be true, Magnolia thought.

”I let Jock's attorney know you were planning to sue Jock person ally, which-by the way-is perfectly legal. And, an hour ago, the d.a.m.nedest thing happened. The attorney found $200,000 for you.

Funny how that happens. Guess Mr. Flanagan sold a painting.”

Magnolia gasped.