Apple's Angst Page 10

  “Or maybe I’m good at giving advice,” Apple shot back, trying to act like Happy would if someone treated her the way Emme was treating Apple. “Maybe I’m good.”

  Apple couldn’t believe how she had stuck up for herself. Happy would be so proud of her! Apple was proud of herself! She couldn’t wait to tell Happy about this conversation.

  “Maybe. But did you have to go through five interviews like I did? Did they ask to see your report cards and what extracurricular activities you do? Because they did me,” Emme replied. “Did you have to write a five-page essay stating why you should be allowed to work here?”

  Apple didn’t know how to respond. Emme was right and knew it, and she knew Apple knew it too. Apple did get this job in large part simply by being her mother’s daughter. She hadn’t been asked for any résumé. She hadn’t been asked to show her report cards. She hadn’t had to write an essay.

  “Okay, you’re right,” Apple told Emme. “I didn’t have to go through all that, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to work my ass off here, just like you.”

  “We’ll see,” said Emme in an annoying tone. “We shall see.”

  Apple gulped. She had no comeback. She was out of her league. And the worst of it was that Emme wasn’t even wrong. She was simply stating a fact.

  Thank God, thought Apple when a tall man wearing a beautifully designed suit walked in, interrupting the uncomfortable silence between her and Emme. He rubbed his hands together and clapped them loudly twice.

  “Welcome to Angst,” he said. Emme jumped out of her seat. Apple followed suit, standing up as if she was greeting a member of the royal family. She had the urge to bend down and kiss his feet.

  “I’m Michael and I’ll be your boss, your guardian, and your god. Feel free to bow down to me whenever I walk into a room,” he said. Apple immediately liked him. She could tell he had a good sense of humor.

  “You’re Michael Manchester. You started at GQ twelve years ago and worked at the Times of London before moving here to be the editorial director of Angst,” Emme said, as if she were reciting lines from a play. “I saw your photograph and read your bio on the website.”

  “Very impressive,” Michael responded. “You are?”

  “I’m Emme,” responded Emme, standing up taller, looking proud. “Nice to meet you,” she added, sticking out her hand to shake Michael’s.

  Michael turned to Apple. “And you are?”

  “I’m Apple,” she answered, trying to sound professional, sticking her hand out for him to shake too.

  “Well, that’s certainly an unforgettable name, isn’t it? Apple pie. Applesauce. I’m sure you’ve heard them all before,” he said nonchalantly.

  “Yes, I have,” said Apple, laughing. She couldn’t help it. She had met this Michael only a second ago, but she already knew that he’d be a good guy to work for. Michael reminded her of Guy, and it made her feel instantly more comfortable.

  Emme shot her a sly, dirty look.

  “Well, I love the name. We love unique here,” Michael said. “And your name is unique. It’s perfect! Now that we’ve all met each other and you’ve gotten to see your wonderful office, I’m going to take you up to see Charlotte in styling. If you work at Angst, you must dress the part. Follow me, my little minions.”

  Apple had never felt so grateful to have such an unusual name. Emme knew Michael’s entire career history by memory, but all Apple had to do to be memorable was to have a unique name. Ever since she could remember, people had commented on her name. She was named Apple, because her mother had craved apples when she was pregnant and had thought it was a “delicious”-sounding name. Her mother had clearly not been thinking of Apple’s future. But today, her name had paid off.

  Apple and Emme raced behind Michael. Apple couldn’t help but notice that nobody at Angst seemed to ever walk. Everyone was always running as if a fire alarm had just been set off.

  “Can you feel the energy?” Michael called out ahead of them. “Can you just feel it? Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels great!”

  “Oh, God, yes. It’s unbelievable,” Emme said. “It’s a dream come true.”

  “That’s the right attitude, Emme. You’re going to do well here. I can tell you’re ambitious,” Michael called back. Apple felt a jab of envy. Though it was clear Emme was an overly ambitious suck-up, it seemed to work. Apple wished she had more of a suck-up gene. But never before had she really had to suck up to anyone.

  They were led to a room that looked like a mini Niemen Marcus department store. In fact, it was as large as a department store floor and full of just as many clothes.

  Happy would be in heaven here, thought Apple. Racks of designer clothing were everywhere. Hundreds and hundreds of pairs of shoes were organized on shelves. Apple couldn’t believe her eyes.

  “Hey, Charlotte! The new interns are here!” Michael called out. “You want to make sure they look Angst-worthy?”

  “One sec,” a voice called out. The woman was speaking with pins in her mouth. “Fucking actresses,” she muttered. “They get thinner and thinner. Even the size zeros don’t fit, and we have a shoot tomorrow for our cover.”

  Michael explained that Charlotte was the magazine’s head stylist, one of the most important and busy jobs at Angst.

  “Okay,” Charlotte finally said, standing in front of Emme and Apple. “What do we have here?”

  Emme stood up straight while Apple tried her very best not to feel like she was about to be picked last for a team. Standing next to Emme made her feel short, even though Apple’s height had always been average.

  “Your name?” she asked, looking at Emme.

  “Emme.”

  Apple felt relieved that she wasn’t picked first.

  “Perfect, Emme. You don’t need to be dressed at all. In fact, I love your belt. Where did you get that little gem?” Charlotte asked.

  “Paris,” Emme answered. “I was on a scholarship there last year for a semester and I saw it at a vintage store.”

  “Gorgeous. Now you,” she said, looking at Apple. “The shirt doesn’t fit you exactly right. See here?” Charlotte said, tugging at her shoulders. “The material is bunching up. I’m going to give you a blazer to throw over it. Do not get it dirty. Do not take the tag off. Just tuck it in. Nancy wants everyone—even the interns—to look like they should be in the magazine. And that means fashion-forward. You work at Angst and people should want to dress like you. Your shoes are cute, but a little scruffy. Make sure that you clean them before coming in. Here’s the blazer. Hurry! Hurry! I don’t have all day! You never know who you’re going to bump into in these hallways, so a little bit of advice? Always dress more up than down.”

  Apple silently repeated Charlotte’s advice to herself three times: Always dress more up than down. Always dress more up than down. Always dress more up than down.

  Apple put on the cute blazer and then Michael took them back to the dungeon of the intern office.

  “First things first,” Michael said, sitting on a desk. “Code of conduct. When you work at Angst you are to act professionally. But when you are outside the offices of Angst, including when you are not working—and I mean from the second you walk out of this office—you are to also act professionally. You are not to be seen doing any drugs, running the streets naked, acting in any other way that would embarrass anyone one of us here. Capiche? We don’t want a repeat of our last intern.”

  “What happened to her?” Apple asked. Because Michael reminded her so much of Guy, she forgot that she hadn’t in fact known him for more than twenty minutes. She hoped she hadn’t offended him by asking the question. But wasn’t Emme dying to know too?

  “Let’s just say two words, or maybe it’s one word. Whatever. Let’s just say ‘Rehab,’” Michael said, like he was letting them in on a big secret.

  “That’s not good,” Apple muttered.

  “Trust me, it wasn’t good. She had a brilliant résumé, amazing design ideas, and could make someone’s enti
re look change just by adding a brooch or a single gold bangle. She was too good at what she did. I think the stress got to her, though. Or her friends in the fashion world, if you know what I mean.”

  Apple didn’t know what he meant until he said, “Sniff! Sniff!” Oh, right, drugs.

  “She was brilliantly creative, and it was really too bad that one of the editors saw her snorting in the washroom. But that’s not going to happen to you guys, right? Neither of you is going to end up in rehab. I just can’t take another talented cokehead. I loved the girl. Everyone loved her, because she had the eye. Models, who are notoriously difficult, even loved her. But, alas, her time had to come to an end. We couldn’t have someone like that working here. We’re role models! Still, I miss her. It’s just so disappointing to me when someone has that much talent and blows it.”

  “I understand completely,” Emme said. “We’re not going to end up in rehab, or at least I’m not.” Was Apple being crazy, or was Emme trying to push her out of Angst already?

  “Absolutely,” added Apple. “I don’t do drugs.”

  “Good. Now, as for your jobs, Apple, we need your column by Monday. And we need you to start practicing your lines for your Angst TV spot next week.”

  “This Monday?” Apple asked.

  “Yes, this isn’t a monthly high school rag, dear. We’re weekly! Are you sure you’re up for it?” Michael asked, not unkindly. Why did everyone here keep asking her if she was “up for it”? Apple wondered if she looked like a person who just wasn’t “up for it.” She’d have to get Brooklyn to read her aura later. She’d ask Brooklyn if her aura said, “I’m not up for it.”

  “Yes, yes. Of course. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page,” Apple answered.

  “Here are the letters for you to answer. We’ve picked them for you. You answer three of the five. Of course, after you write your answers, they will be looked at by about three editors to make sure we’re all on track. And we’ll pick one for you to read on television, and you’ll have to answer looking into the camera, kind of off the cuff, but I’m sure you’re good at speaking from the heart. Or so we saw on that episode. And Nancy said you feel very comfortable in front of the camera,” Michael continued. “Is that right?”

  “Yup. I mean, yes. I do,” Apple said. She felt like she should salute him. And, God, when were people going to forget her appearance on her mother’s show? Her mother had told her that people had short memories, but it didn’t seem that way to Apple. It seemed that everyone still remembered.

  “Today, though, we need you to clean this dungeon. All these clothes in piles have to be organized by color, size, and designer. It shouldn’t take more than five or six hours,” Michael said.

  Apple gulped. Five or six hours? When did they expect her to write the answers for her advice column? And practice for television? And, more important, would Lyon still want to pick her up in six hours?

  “Have fun, guys. Welcome to Angst. We have to let you know that you have to work your way up, and what better way to work your way up than from down here?” said Michael, laughing. Obviously it wasn’t the first time he had used the joke. Apple at least liked Michael. Now she just had to work on liking Emme, if that was even possible.

  “Did he just say five or six hours?” Apple whispered to Emme, trying for a bonding moment. She wasn’t sure if Michael was still outside the door, and she certainly didn’t want him to hear her complaining.

  “What did you expect? This is a job. Did you think it would be fun?” Emme asked, looking at Apple like she was not the brightest penny in the till. Obviously Apple’s attempt at bonding had backfired.

  “Well, sometimes, yes!” Apple said. “It sounded like that girl who ended up in rehab actually did some pretty amazing and interesting things here.”

  Emme shook her head, looking at Apple as if she lived under a rock.

  “You know how many people out there would kill to fold clothes at Angst?” Emme asked. “That girl may have been talented, but she royally screwed up. That’s not something to be impressed about.”

  “I guess,” Apple muttered.

  “Well, it’s true. So let’s start folding,” Emme said.

  “I just don’t know how I’m going to spend the next five or six hours folding clothes, do this advice column by Monday, and do my schoolwork,” Apple said. She regretted it immediately.

  “Oh, poor you. It’s hard to work, isn’t it?” Emme said. “Not that you probably have had to work a day in your life. And now you’ll be a columnist here, which is what I really want to do, and you’ll be on television. God knows, because my mother isn’t famous, if that will ever happen for me. But I’m going to do everything in my power to prove that I’m an Angst-worthy employee and can do more than just fold clothes. I’m going to work my ass off.”

  Apple wanted to punch her. Instead, she breathed in, counted to ten, like Brooklyn always told her to do, and started folding clothes. She doubted any celebrities even knew this room existed. Nope, there was no way she was going meet anyone famous today. She was stuck folding clothes with Emme.

  After two hours of Emme not saying one word, Apple actually did wonder if she would have more fun at rehab. She wondered if Emme would drive her to doing drugs. It was possible.

  “It’s ten o’clock,” Lyon moaned, but he didn’t sound unfriendly.

  “I know. I’m so sorry. That’s how long it took to fold three hundred sweaters. I totally understand if you don’t want to pick me up. I can call Aunt Hazel. It’s not a problem,” Apple said. Apple was trying not to sound annoyed. Yes, it was ten o’clock, but Lyon hadn’t had to fold sweaters for the last few hours in complete and uncomfortable silence in a tiny-sized room below ground level with a new “colleague” who refused to talk. If anyone had the right to be in a bad mood, it was Apple.

  “No, no. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” said Lyon. “It’s no problem.”

  “Really?” Apple asked.

  “Really.”

  “Okay, I should get off. I’m not sure if talking is allowed here.”

  Emme shot her a look as Apple hung up. She grabbed her bag and took off the blazer, hanging it neatly on a rack.

  “Well, I guess I’ll see you Thursday,” Apple said.

  “Guess so,” Emme said.

  “Aren’t you leaving soon?” Apple asked.

  “I’m just going to stick around awhile longer,” Emme said.

  Of course she is, thought Apple. She’s such a kiss-ass. Apple could see no redeeming qualities in Emme, though she had tried for the last few hours. Aside from her being gorgeous, Apple could not think of anything else complimentary about Emme, except, clearly, that she was so ambitious.

  Apple waited outside the offices for Lyon’s car to pull up. Her hands were sore and her back was killing her from being hunched over a table. She raised her arms in a stretch, yawning at the same time.

  “How was your first day?” a voice called out, walking past her toward the entrance of the building. It was Fancy Nancy, looking like she had just come back from a week at a spa. Apple hoped that Fancy Nancy hadn’t seen her yawn. That would look bad.

  “It was great,” Apple said, trying to sound excited. “Just waiting to get picked up. Are you leaving now too?”

  “Oh, God, no. It’s only ten. I’ll be lucky to get out of here by midnight. I had a dinner meeting and I’m just getting back. Is Emme still here? Did she have a good day?”

  Apple couldn’t lie. She wasn’t cruel.

  “Actually, she’s still downstairs working,” Apple admitted.

  “Hmm, good for her,” Nancy said. “I’m impressed. See you later, Apple. And say hi to your mother for me. We can’t wait to do that feature. Full interview with your family and a lot of photos. It’s all set up for next week. Next week is going to be busy for us, isn’t it?”

  “I know. I’m ready,” said Apple, again trying to sound upbeat. “By the way, you look stunning.”

  The compliment sound
ed strange coming from Apple. Fancy Nancy did look stunning, but Apple wondered if she came across as sucking up. Maybe Emme had already started to rub off on her, as if sucking up were contagious.

  “Ta-ta,” Fancy Nancy said as she walked into the building, seeming not to hear Apple’s compliment. Apple wondered if she was going up to work or to work out. She figured working out was part of Nancy’s job. She had to look good when meeting celebrities, to look like one herself. Apple decided that Fancy Nancy was going to work out and then work, and probably wouldn’t be home till long after Apple had fallen asleep.

  One minute later, Lyon’s car pulled up.

  “I want to quit,” Apple said as soon as she got in.

  “What? No kiss first?” he asked flirtatiously.

  Apple gave him a peck on the cheek.

  “That’s all I get?” he said, smiling. “I want a better one.”

  Though she didn’t feel like kissing Lyon—she was too annoyed and tired—Apple leaned over and kissed him again.

  “I want to quit,” she repeated.

  “It couldn’t have been that bad,” Lyon said.

  “Yes, it could. And it was. I was two minutes late, and that, apparently, is akin to murdering someone. And Emme? Oh my God. She hates me. She thinks that just because Dr. Bee Bee Berg is my mother, I don’t deserve to be there. And she knew everybody’s background. She studied them! And the stylist thought she was dressed perfectly, but I wasn’t. Then I spent hours folding and organizing clothes next to Emme, who didn’t say one word except to tell me when something wasn’t folded perfectly. And she’s still there! She’s making me look bad already. Not to mention all the homework I have to do, plus getting my advice column in by Monday. And it has to be good! This was a huge mistake. It’s too much,” Apple said, feeling both self-pity and self-loathing.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ll be fine. You’ll get it all done. It takes a while to fit in somewhere new,” Lyon said supportively. “It was just your first day. It’s going to get easier.”