Tish realizes then that she doesn’t know Charles. Maybe she never did.
But she does know herself.
Tish makes her way down the brightly lit hallway. Around her, phones ring. Printers chug. Men and women type away at their keyboards. She takes a left, weaving her way through the work stations. Tish finds her sitting in a corner, eyes glued to a screen.
She looks so young. Even younger than on TV.
“Eva,” Tish says.
Eva’s eyes bulge like a lizard’s, pure shock written across her face. She swallows and stares at Tish. Tish had assumed that catching her off guard would be satisfying. It isn’t. Tish had also hoped that Eva would be less attractive in person, but she’s not. She does look tired—there is a slight puffiness under her eyes, probably from staring at a computer all day. Gina is right: she does look like an older, less pretty version of Bobby’s ex. Eva’s shirt is a bit wrinkled and her hair is slightly oily, as though she’d skipped a shower. Perhaps she’s nervous about the board meeting. Perhaps she suffers from morning sickness. Either way, she could do with some sprucing up. So could her desk. Tish eyes an empty mug, a cereal bar wrapper, and papers scrambled about. Eva doesn’t seem to be a very neat person.
“I’m surprised you’re still working, to tell you the truth.”
Eva sits up. She seems to be composing herself. “I enjoy working.”
“Yes, I imagine it’s quite…” Tish pauses and looks around the generic workstations, the unglamorous lighting. Who in their right mind would choose to spend eight hours a day inside an office? “Rewarding,” she finishes.
Eva clears her throat. “Maybe we should go somewhere to—”
“Oh, there’s no need for that. What I have to say will only take a minute.” Half a beat. “You’re not the only one. You think you are, but you’re not. There have been many other women throughout the years. Charles is… well, he’s a man of a certain generation.”
Tish can feel the stares from Eva’s colleagues. A hushed silence seems to have taken over the previously busy space. Even the phones seem to be ringing less.
“I don’t think we should be discussing this here.”
“Funny. I thought you’d appreciate it. The public nature of it all.” Eva is about to say something, but Tish holds up a hand. “I’ve said what I came here to say. You probably think I’m being callous, but this is actually a kindness. I’m warning you. He won’t be faithful. He’s incapable of it. Some men are like that.”
Eva stands up. She’s tall, with a slim figure. “I can see you’re hurting and I’m sorry for that, but I don’t appreciate you coming here to talk about my partner.”
“Partner,” Tish repeats with a scoff. “How modern.” A grimace. “Partners are loyal, my dear.”
“Charlie is loyal,” Eva says, crossing her arms. “We were never involved while you were still together. And I trust him.”
Tish dips her fingers into her oversized bag and takes out an envelope. “Here.” She holds out the envelope to Eva, who hesitates before taking it. “I was once where you are. Young and in love. And I wish someone had warned me about him.”
And with that, Tish turns on her heels and walks away.
Sixty
Gina
Friday, January 24th
Is she coming?
It’s what everyone in town has been asking since word got out that Eva Stone was invited to the show. Gina had braced herself for Tish’s reaction, but her mother-in-law has been surprisingly quiet about the possibility of running into her husband’s girlfriend for the first time in months.
Gina hears her name as soon as she enters the auditorium. She looks up and spots Caroline in the front row, an arm up in the air. Gina weaves through the crowd, heading toward her friend. Caroline pulls her in for a tight hug.
“Have you heard anything?” Caroline whispers in Gina’s ear. “Is she coming?”
“Hello to you, too,” Gina says. “And I have no idea.”
Gina mouths hello to Doug, who’s on his phone. He shoots her a smile.
“Have you said hi to Malaika yet?” Gina asks Caroline.
“No, I was waiting for you.” Caroline grins. “Come on. Doug can save our seats.”
Backstage, a wild-eyed Malaika is running around with a measuring tape flung around her neck, barking orders like she’s invading Normandy. Calan is next to her holding a clipboard, running a pen down a list. Gina resists the urge to offer help—this is not an ASC event, after all. When Malaika spots them, her face breaks into a wide smile.
“So? What do you think?” Malaika saunters in their direction, clasping her hands together. Calan joins their huddle.
Gina scans the line-up, admiring the designs—they’re beautiful, original. A blend of historical feminist activists and popular superheroes. Gina hadn’t understood what Malaika was going for until she saw the 70s-inspired Gloria Steinem meets Catwoman outfit: dark wool miniskirt, tall, sexy suede boots, and a biker leather jacket. Turning Steinem’s vintage sunglasses into a catlike mask had been genius a move. The entire collection is stylish with a hint edgy. Gina says as much to Malaika now.
“It’s perfect,” Caroline agrees. “I want all these clothes.”
“I still can’t believe it’s real!” Malaika says, cheeks flushed. She looks deliriously happy. Even happier than she’d looked in the Vanity Fair article featuring her and Alice—a piece about women lifting each other on their way up. Gina can’t believe that only months ago she was working as an au pair.
Just then, Alice cranes her neck backstage. “Excuse me, I’m looking for the city’s hottest new designer.”
“Alice!” Malaika squeals. “You made it!” She throws her arms around Alice.
“Did you think I’d let a blizzard stop me?” Alice grins.
Alice is utterly unrecognizable: rosy cheeks, bright eyes, long, flowing hair. Being CEO agrees with her. That and living in the city. Months ago, when Alice moved, Gina had been despondent. The scandal, while horrible, had been instrumental to their friendship. And
