Blaze (14 page)

Ali would take over a large area where a partition had been ripped out to make an editor's suite, which included her private rooms, then another area with a custom-made round table where the staff could attend editorial meetings in comfort. The office belonging to former editor Dorothy Power had been refurbished for Larissa.

Nina dropped an arm lightly across the newly arrived deputy editor's shoulders. ‘Welcome, and how do you find Australia so far?'

Larissa laughed, glancing at her watch. ‘I've heard that's the classic question. Judging from the past few hours – not bad.'

‘Seriously, Larissa . . . I do hope you enjoy it here. I know you'll give creative leadership to the staff. You understand how Ali can be . . . well, prickly. Clever, but she doesn't have your people skills.' Nina glanced at her, trying to read behind Larissa's cheerful smile. ‘How did your nice guy take this, er, break?'

‘It wasn't easy. Why is it when anything positive comes along it's the female who has to make the hard choice?' Larissa looked out the window at the harbour and said softly, ‘At least he was happy with his fortieth birthday celebrations. Thank you so much, Nina, for understanding how important it was for me to organise that evening for him, even though it meant me not being here to help with the first edition of
Blaze.
'

Nina squeezed Larissa's hand. ‘As important as
Blaze
is to me, your happiness, and therefore Gerard's, is important to me too.'

Larissa sighed. ‘He'd love this. It would be such an inspiration. All his life he's wanted to paint. Here he'd have the chance to prove it to himself. Maybe he didn't have the guts. All that male ego about being a house husband, me supporting him, not knowing anyone . . . it was too hard. He let me go.'

‘Could he have stopped you?' asked Nina quietly. And when Larissa didn't answer, she continued, ‘It's always the women who take matters into their hands. But, Larissa, I promise this will be rewarding for you. The launch of a new magazine – one that is successful – will jump you up the ladder very quickly. This is an enormous responsibility and the fact I will be away for a couple of months means I can relax knowing you're here.' Nina gave her a pointed look and, without saying any more, both women understood the subliminal message – keep an eye on Ali. Nina squeezed Larissa's shoulders then broke away. ‘You have a lot of ability, and different skills from Ali's, which is why I wanted you both with me to set
Blaze
on the right road. You have the talent to go where you want, it's up to you to make your own choices in life. And whatever you choose, I'll support you and wish you well.'

Larissa turned her back on the magnificent Darling Harbour view and opened her arms to embrace the office space. ‘I've made my choice. I'm here, aren't I? Where do I start?'

Nina gave a
c'est la vie
shrug and became businesslike. ‘I decided to sit in for you for the first issue as Ali's deputy and I've been very impressed with her ideas and her achievements, as I knew I would be. I felt it best that I let her be on the front foot, seen to be making the decisions. I stepped in once or twice, quietly and privately, but she is certainly a quick learner. Now it's up to you to work with Ali. I'm leaving in two days. I know I'm handing you a double-edged sword. Guard my dreams and keep your cutlass sheathed.' Nina gave a slight humorous bow. ‘Larissa, I charge you with protecting my creation, keeping an eye on
Blaze
, on Miche when she arrives and, most of all . . . love what you're doing.'

Larissa returned Nina's embrace. ‘Nina, it's not going to be easy without you here, but I want you to enjoy this break. Don't worry, I'll be your backstop.'

Ali had quickly unearthed the hottest new hair and beauty salon in Sydney – the Yellow Brick Road
.
It still had the industrial high-tech trimmings, but the decor was technicolour
Wizard of Oz
– flamingo pink, tangerine and lime. It was run by Brian Standish from Revesby, except that he now called himself Dane. Sometimes he was known to fling on a large black satin cape studded with stars, ‘for wizardly inspiration'. Dane ruled his salon with imperial autocracy. He was over six feet, with a shaved shining head and a wispy four-inch goatee on the tip of his chin. His two stylists were also bald, though Miles sported a scalp tattoo while Rex wore earrings. Dane was the cutter, Miles the colour expert, Rex did make-up and manicures. Dane required them to work their lean muscular bodies at the gym with him before dawn and by 7 a.m. the coffee was brewing and they opened the doors to their elite clientele – businessmen and women like Ali.

In their black ballet tights and soft ballet slippers, each wearing a big black artist smock with a distinguishing coloured bow at the throat, the men moved silently between the clients. In contrast was the young girl trainee, who did the shampooing and carried the breakfast orders. They called her Tottie – after Dorothy's dog, Toto, in
The Wizard of Oz
.

Ali and Dane had hit it off straight away. As part of her contract, Ali had access to a car to travel to and from
Blaze
and to appointments. Her personal assistant, Belinda, had set up an account for her with Sydney's main taxi company, which Ali instantly changed to a limousine service. Tom, the chauffeur, collected her at seven each morning and took her to the Yellow Brick Road for hair and make-up. Despite a full early clientele, Dane had quietly discouraged one of his lesser clients and moved Ali in, smelling publicity for himself in
Blaze.
He would also trade subtly on the fact they ‘did' the new editor. Not that he would ever dream of passing on this news publicly. He had his own pet news leaks who would spread the word.

Ali had instructed Dane to keep her informed of the latest looks. He had executed a perfect pirouette and dropped his hands on her shoulders as she sat in a lemon suede chair before the silver and gold mirror.

‘Mademoiselle Ali . . . it's not just about having the latest, but much more about how it comes together,' he ventured politely but firmly.

‘Then put me together,' growled Ali, opening the
Financial Review
.

‘Grouchy, grouchy. Where's our little ray of sunshine? Tottie, bring Missy Ali her morning coffee. Very strong. Very black. Very thick. Like we like our men!' He roared and signalled to Rex to start her make-up.

Rex tilted her head onto the headrest. ‘So who's starring on the first cover?'

‘I haven't actually decided yet,' Ali lied. Rex was not to know that the cover of the magazine, which was already being printed, had been a major decision discussed by all members of the editorial board. It was a decision that could have taken days. Instead, including Nina, they had unanimously applauded Ali's idea for the first cover of
Blaze Australia
, and Ali had received a personally written note from the Baron in New York complimenting her choice.

Ali hoped Rex wasn't going to keep questioning her, or she'd have to speak to Dane about it, or choose another salon. She had never agreed with Nina's policy that one never knew where the next good idea was coming from. Ali's policy was to rely on herself, with a strong staff back-up, and to always give the impression everything was her own idea. Nina had always listened to what others had to say. If a copygirl or secretary had an idea, they were encouraged to present it to their immediate superior. That was the
Blaze
way, Nina would say.

A young journalist had once ventured a suggestion while working for Ali, who'd been a senior editorial assistant in New York at the time. Ali had seized the idea, put it up to Lorraine Bannister and earned brownie points all round. The cadet had made one stab at telling the features editor it had been her idea, and had been quickly warned off.

‘Too late, kiddo. Even if it was your idea, don't take on Alisson Gruber and make her look bad. She'll have you transferred to the midnight shift on the Sunday rag in this organisation before you can say hello. Then it's goodbye. A tip – the first lesson in magazine publishing is to try to figure out who's the most dangerous and who's the least. Deciding you can't trust anyone is the safest. If you want to move up the ladder, be as treacherous as they are.'

The girl had resigned and gone to university to do her MA in gender studies – ‘Male and female strategies for survival in the workplace'.

Ali never asked why she'd left. If she'd even noticed. Ali had learned to keep moving forward and not become sidetracked by other people. They were in your path to help or hinder and you dealt with them accordingly.

‘I have an idea,' said Rex bringing her back from her reverie as he plucked a stray hair from the thin arc of her brows.

‘Umm. What's that?'

‘You! Put yourself on the cover. You'd look outstanding in that new Hugo gear.'

Ali was only momentarily entranced with the idea, then put him down. ‘It's not
Lear
magazine.' Even Nina had never gone on the cover of
Blaze.

‘People love reading about the people who set the trends and move with the jet set. And what's
Lear
anyway?'

‘Mag from the dark ages,' said Ali. ‘Came out in the eighties. A leader for its genre, but it was too early. A woman called Francis Lear started it in New York “for the woman who wasn't born yesterday”. The forty-, fifty-plus set. Good idea for a while. Copied in other countries, but disappeared. Hard to keep it going when it identified so much with one woman. And one who was growing older all the time.'

‘Who wants to read about old ladies? You should put more music people and friends of Dorothy's in your magazine.'

‘Pretty boys, and wild music, eh?' mused Ali.

The cloaked wizard stepped in quickly. ‘Rex, it's not your job to criticise, sweetie.'

‘Just trying to be helpful.' He began packing away his make-up box.

‘Don't be sulky, sexy Rexy.' Dane leaned closer and inspected Ali's make-up. ‘Russet. Super choice for the lippie.'

Rex held up Ali's hand. ‘Nice on the nails too.'

Once Rex had moved away, Dane set to work with lots of flourishes and twirling of scissors. Ali's short hair was swiftly styled into a smooth, sharply angled crop.

‘Maybe a change of colour next week, Ms Ali? A bit of plum in this would make it so much richer, darling heart.'

He cocked his head and studied her. Despite his flamboyance, Dane was a shrewd character who analysed his clients carefully. While this style wasn't what a lot of his lady customers wanted, the look suited Ali – slick, contemporary, androgynous. The opposite to Nina Jansous, whose look he'd been following for years. As he continued to look at Ali's reflection in the mirror, he decided that Nina would look as stylish as hell with such a hairdo. But then Nina was one of those chameleon women who would look fabulous no matter how she was styled. The inner woman always shone through. But this Ali was harder to read. She was a collection of mirrored surfaces. She gave nothing away. She was strong. And tough. Armour-plated. Dane wondered what secrets were buried beneath her steely exterior.

Dane knew about temperament – his tantrums were legendary – but they were always over swiftly. His staff went with the flow. He doubted the
Blaze
staff would flow along with the same nonchalance when Ali was in full flood. She was not a woman to be crossed. He gave a professional smile. ‘So, until tomorrow, eh? Tottie, bring the little red shoes. Good luck with your day.' He waved an imaginary wand over her.

Ali signed the red book – the account would be sent to the office. She didn't feel the need for luck. She put down the pen, picked up her Prada bag and strode out of the Yellow Brick Road to her car, which was pulling into the kerb. She never left tips. She'd arrange for copies of
Blaze
to be sent to the salon to entertain its clientele, which included more than one potential advertiser.

Walking into the
Blaze
offices that morning, her first day as editor since Nina had left, Ali wondered whether she'd keep Belinda, the personal assistant to former editor Dorothy Power. Belinda had looked after Nina until Ali took over and wasn't looking forward to working for Ali after the gracious and competent editor-in-chief. Belinda had instantly recognised the hunger in Ali. An appetite for power, success and recognition.

Neither was Ali thrilled with the idea of inheriting Belinda. She wanted someone more stylish to arrange her personal affairs, to be answerable just to her. Someone she could rely on, yet hold in check. And unlike Belinda, it would have to be someone who understood punctuality.

In Ali's opinion, Nina had been too accommodating and easygoing with the staff as they'd made the transition into
Blaze.
It was all right for Nina, as she had been there only a short time before making her quiet exit on extended leave to Europe. Ali believed it was now up to her as editor to mould the staff into a slick machine that operated under her instructions. Everything was in place from an administrative point of view. Nina had handed over the business and creative reins to Ali. And Ali intended to exercise this power.

Ali nodded at the front office receptionist and walked down the hallway to her suite, remembering the morning not so long ago when she'd arrived at work for the first time as editor of her own magazine. Nina had taken Ali on a tour of the
Blaze
offices and introduced her to the staff at an informal gathering in the boardroom the evening before Ali had started work as editor of
Blaze Australia
.

On that first day as editor, Ali had sent herself a huge bouquet of flowers and two smaller ones with cards from corporate high-flyers she figured would never know the difference. Ali had always been an assiduous reader of the business section of the New York newspapers. Now she looked forward to Australia's
Financial Review
and
Business Review Weekly
so she could tap into the manoeuvres of the corporate leaders and top entrepreneurs. She knew Belinda would read the cards on the flowers and word would filter out to the staff.