Which led to situations like this. Where he, Nathan, was going to sit on a panel choosing between two candidates. And he was dating one of them.
Topaz told him the simple answer was to just admit it. To see her publicly. To tell Matt Gowers that they were lovers, and see what the CEO said about it, which she insisted would be uothing at all.
Nathan wasn’t so sure.
And the fact was, he was totally embarrassed about becoming a living clich6-4-year-old mau with his 23-year-old girlfriend. What did they call them? Jennifers, yeah, that was it. It was the modern equivalent ofweariug a
T-shirt saying MIDL1FE CRISIS IN POGR.ESS! And he was not
having a goddamn midlife crisis! He was doing very well and he knew exactly where he was going - two doors down the hall, to Matt Gowers’ office. By the time he was fifty four, he thought his life’s ambition would be within his reach.
On the other hand, he couldn’t give Topaz up. She was no Jennifer, no dumb ditzy blonde. She was one hell of a
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strong, confident girl, and a natural print woman. Her intelligence and enthusiasm charmed the pants offhim. So to speak. Oh God, the sex.., he couldn’t help being pleased that she wanted him, when he knew for a fact that half the guys in the company would give a month’s wages to touch her breasts once. She had evolved sexually too: she would throw him down on a bed, mount him and walk out when she’d finished, just as often as she wanted him to dominate. Topaz needed variety and experimentation. Which was partly why he stayed so hot for her.
He was going to have to make a decision; she’d said to him last week that she either moved in or moved on. God Almighty! Rosen thought. To have Topaz around all the time.., that red hair, those creamy breasts, everything about her that drove him nuts, wandering around this place
all the time. And she’d need satisfying, all the time… The idea was breathtaking! The idea was terrifying!
He’d asked for grace, to be allowed to think about it after this selection process, but she refused flat out. ‘What you and I do out of hours has nothing to do with business,’ she ‘said. He could see her dearly right now, moving closer to him, her hand on his thigh, pushing that tricky, sexy, maddening tongue into his ear.
‘I can’t be patient. I want you. I love you,’ she whispered, and Nathan Rosen had felt the familiar silver tendrils of desire trawl across his body, sending little hooks and claws digging into his groin, and he’d had to get her out of the office.
He passed a hand through’ his” greying hair, unsure whether to be furious or elated. Man, he never thought he’d be going through this again. Checking into hotels at lunchtime because his need for a woman was so urgent he couldn’t wait.
The selection procedure, Rosen, Nate reminded himself, dragging his thoughts back to this dinner. Maybe that wouldenable him to prove to the board that there was no undue favouritism going on here, because, he w.as certain,
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he’d be voting for Joe Goldstein. A new title like Economic Monthly was designed to be run by somebody like Joe. Rosen didn’t think that Topaz, smart though she was, talented as she had proved herself to be, was yet ready for a serious, big-budget, male-orientated title like this one, and Nathan planned to vote impartially for the best candidate for the job.
And unless Joe really screwed his application up, that would not be Topaz Rossi.
She wouldn’t hold it against him. She was fair where business matters were concerned. His only worry was that she’d tease him in front of Joe, let something slip. If that happened, his relationship with Goldstein, which he valued, would be jeopardized.
The doorbell rang. Oh God, Nathan Rosen thought.
He let his guests in, Joe just before Topaz. They had arrived within seconds of each other.
‘Nate Rosen,’Joe greeted his old friend.
‘Hey, Joe, how are you finding Manhattan?’ Nathan welcomed his first discovery, grasping him in a bear hug.
Rosen had first noticed Goldstein at the Lampoon and hired him while he was still at Wharton, to work in the finance division of two titles. Goldstein had been another sensational success. Nathan smiled at his friend; what a great talent-spotter I am, he thought complacently. He had no doubt that Joe would be as brilliant a manager of the new title as he already was of American Scientist, Executive Officer and Week in Review.
‘Hi, Topaz,’ he added.
He wished she’d gone for something a little more formal; the best he could hope for was that she’d mke a useful friend and ally in Joe. She could learn a good deal from him, he had a grasp of formal business strategies that were outside Topaz’s experience. He doubted Goldstein would approve of this look for a businesswoman; it was too feminine, too distracting.
Well, it was distracting him, goddamnit.
‘Joe Goldstein, meet Topaz Rossi, our managing editor at
Girlfriend,’ Rosen introduced them. ‘I know you’ve seen Joe’s r6sum6, Topaz.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ said Topaz, offering Joe her hand to shake. Why hadn’t he been sent her r6sum6? She sized him up. Handsome, muscular, pleased with himself. She disliked him on sight.
Goldstein shook hands with her briskly, suppressing his annoyance. He was being asked to compete with this? The girl was barely out of diapers, and just look at that skirt. No need to ask how she’d got this far this young. He’d never
seen so much T&A in all his life.
‘How do you do,’ he said.
Nathan handed them both a glass of champagne. ‘Let’s eat,’ he suggested.
They sat down to a starter of Jerusalem artichokes with asparagus butter.
‘So, Ms Rossi,’ Joe said. ‘Do you know much about economics?’
Rosen shrank in his chair. Oh no. Oh no. Please, no …
‘Why wouldn’t I know about economics, Mr Goldstein?’ asked Topaz, angered by his tone. ‘Because I’m a woman?’
Not only a bimbo, thought Joe, a militant feminist bimbo. Wonderful! OK, you want the gloves off, cutie? Fine.
‘It was an innocent question, Ms Rossi. Perhaps you’d prefer it if I were more specific. What nation do you see as having the greatest potential for growth in the next five years?’ he enquired, waiting indifferently for the inevitable reply: ‘Japan’.
Topaz considered for a few seconds. ‘Korea,’ she replied. ‘Although the question’s way too general. How can anyone accurately predict where we’ll be in two years, let alone five?’
Joe was surprised, but caught himself. So she’d read a few back issues of The Economist. So what?
He decided to play hardball. ‘Korea is yesterday’s news,’
he said. ‘You should be looking to China. Gro.wth rates
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indicate-‘
‘Yesterday’s news!’ Topaz interrupted. I’ll tell you what’s yesterday’s news: looking at the provinces which border Hong Kong and assuming that the rest of China can get just as rich just as quick, without the whole economy totally overheating.-‘
‘There’s nothing to stop it from doing so,’ Joe snapped. ‘But doubtless fashion shoots in Beijing have made you an expert.’
Topaz flushed. She knew all Goldstein’s existing titles were aimed at the exact same market as Economic Monthly, totally unlike her own. ‘I’m an expert at selling magazines,’ she retorted.
Unnoticed to either of them, Nathan had sunk his head in his hands.
He’d known this damn dinner was a stupid idea.
‘Well, Rosefl, how did they get along?’ Gowers asked.
‘I - I think it’s safe to say that there will be a healthy spirit of competition for this title, sir,’ said his director.
The chairman chuckled. ‘Fireworks, were there?’
‘It was the Fourth of July, sir,’ said Nathan.
Over the next two months, the battle for Economic Monthly became the American Magazines spectator sport of choice. Joe and Topaz were scrupulously polite to each other at management meetings, but that was the extent of their cooperation. People were fascinated by the open rivalry, and betting on the board’s decision became a minor cottage industry, although after the first we.ek nobody would accept a bet on Goldstein, even at 15 to I on.. Only the staff of Girlfriend, US Woman and a few Westside reporters, who’d watched their former colleague pull off wildly improbable promotions twice already, would risk putting money on Topaz. Joe Goldstein, after all, was five years older, had his MBA, and ran three books to Topaz’s one - all of them pitched at the educated, affluent male.
The more Joe saw of Topaz Rossi, the less he liked her. At
the second editors’ meeting they attended together, she chewed him out for opening the door for her. Goldstein hardened his resolve. So be it. As far as he was concerned, she had now renounced all special consideration to which a lady was entitled.
Topaz took her seat, laughing inwardly at Goldstein’s face when she’d flown at him. She did it on purpose to annoy him. Goldstein was the worst type of jerk; he put women on pedestals and gave them no real respect at all. And on top of her dislike for his fittitude problem, she was well aware that the whole building thought that Economic Monthly was as good as assigned to Joe already. They dismissed her chances, and she blamed him for that.
Early in the meeting, Jason Richman, who’d replaced Rosen as Westside’s editor, discussed his forthcoming series on leading women clergy.
Joe laughed. ‘As Dr Johnson remarked,’ he said, ‘“a woman’s preaching is like a dog’s walking on his hinder legs. It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all. ”’
There was a hush around the table as the execs waited to
‘see if Topaz Rossi would come back. She didn’t disappoint them.
‘As Topaz Rossi remarked,’ she mimicked him. ‘Dr Johnson was a stupid asshole who probably couldn’t get it up.’
There was laughter.
‘Why don’t you just back off, and save us both some time?’Joe murmured to Topaz.when they left the room.
‘Go fuck yourself,’ she hissed. ‘I could do the job just as well as you.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, honey,’ said Joe. ‘There’s a place for you at Economic Monthly - I’ve always got room for an assistant with a cute tush.’
He patted her on the backside and walked out, leaving Topaz speechless with fury.
The next morning, Executive Officer began running the first in a series of in-depth profiles of leading .economic
34
igures;Joe Goldstein, the managing editor, was personally interviewing Alan Greenspan of the Federal Reserve. The article received wide acclaim, and was discussed on WHRT’s Good Morning Manhattan.
Topaz Rossi and Joe Goldstein would present to the board in six weeks’ time.
f
‘Let’s look at the situation,’ Joshu Oberman said.
He pointed to the bright graphics on the presentation stand, showing the board of Musica Records what they wanted to see. Profits were up. Costs were down. And for the first time in years, Musica had some promising new acts.
‘We call be happy with the results we have now,’ he told them. ‘Sam Nell and Rowena Gordon have each signed three good acts. Sam prefers to concentrate on mainstream pop, and Rowena has managed to find us talent from various’ - he groped for the formal marketing term - ‘niche sectors. Her soul singer, Roxana Perdita, had a debut album that went silver, and a rave act, Bitter Spice, has the number eight single this week.’
Blank faces greeted this summary around the table. Oberman sighed inwardly. Why did he bother? The bottom line was the only music to their ears.
‘And Sam’s bands have done equally well,’ he concluded. ‘But 1 feel that we are losing market share by limiting our search for talent to England and Europe.’
‘But we have no base in America,’ objected Maurice LeBec, Presidcnt, of Musica France.
‘Which is what I propose to set up,’ Joshua replied. ‘It’s true that we’ve always been a European compauy. But being the only major label in the world not to have a base in the States is beconfiug a liability.’
Hans Bauer, Presidcnt of Musica Holland, sniffed sccptically.
Josh took his meaning at once. You Woldd say tit.at. You’re
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an American. Bauer was his main rival for the job of chairman of Musica Worldwide, when John Watson retired next year.
‘Gentlemen,’ the old man went on, ‘I need hardly remind you that only the English company has successfully found any new acts that sold albums last year. Now I have an executive with a particular gift for developing offbeat talent. Just the sort of talent that’s crowding New York. And for her to operate properly she needs a company base there. I don’t want to lease her out to Warners or PolyGram and have them poach her.’ ‘How much will this cost?’ the chairman asked. Oberman named a figure.
‘That’s a lot of money,’ Hans said disapprovingly.
‘We could make it back offthree big records.’
‘Just how talented is this girl, Joshua?’ the chairman asked.
Oberman smiled at his boss. ‘John,’ he said, ‘Michael Krebs is producing her act for free.’
‘Do it again, Joe,’ Krebs insisted.
Rowena sat on a spare chair behind the production console, watching them work. Joe Hunter, the singer, was laying down vocals for ‘Karla’, the album’s big ballad.
‘Rowena, make him stop,’Joe said into the mike, so she could hear. ‘This has to be against the bloody Geneva Convention!’
‘Michael’s in charge,’ she shrugged helplessly, grinning at him. ‘Far be it from Musica to interfere in the creative process. ‘
‘This is the fourteenth time we’ve done this take, Michael,’ the singer complained. ‘And it’s one bloody line of the song …’
‘Come on, Joe, you’ll get it,’ Krebs ordered him implacably. ‘We don’t settle for second best, right? Not for Atomic Mass. Go again.’
‘Slavedriving bastard,’ said the singer, but he did it again. Rowena hugged herself for pure pleasure. It was so good ‘
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to be involved like this, exactly what she’d wanted. Joe and the rest of the boys were all friends of hers now, and Barbara Lincoln had quit her job at the record company to manage them. So Rowena had got to be involved at every stage of their career - finding a live agent, getting them a good accountant and planning the tour, as well as the normal A&R stuff like supervising marketing. She cared like hell about all her acts, but Atomic were the only band that kept her up at night.