Maame(28)

“They’re just sleeping together,” Cam explains.

Jo nods and it’s a very nonchalant, you-get-it nod. But I don’t.

“Is he not boyfriend material?” I ask.

Jo gets a faraway look in her eye. “Don’t get me wrong—he’s gorgeous. Tall, dark, and handsome.”

“Literally,” Cam adds. “He’s six two, Black, and very good-looking.”

“He’s also an artist,” Jo continues. “We’re part of this big group of friends from uni so we’ve always hung out and one night about … two months ago? It just happened. Sometimes he comes by the flat, so you’ll meet him eventually.” Jo clasps her hands under her chin and smiles to herself. “He’s great, but we both don’t want anything serious, you know? I’m not ready to be accountable for someone else. And I’ve started messaging this guy from work—Conrad.”

“Sam is better,” Cam says and Jo rolls her eyes. “I’ve only met him twice to be fair, but he gives great energy.”

“I’m young,” Jo says, waving her hand. “Gotta keep my options open before it’s too late. Seriously, one day you’ll think, okay, let’s just be boyfriend and girlfriend for a bit, it won’t last, then it does because you’re so used to each other, and dating is a hassle, and you don’t want to have to go out when it’s cold. Then suddenly you’re married with two kids, a dog, and a house outside London. So I’m keeping things casual for now.”

Casual sex. Friends with benefits? Is that still a thing? No feelings allowed or some feelings allowed? Is detached sex possible? Well, I’d need to have sex first to find out.

“What about you, Maddie?” Jo asks. “Cam is a traditionalist from the fifties and I’m very much not. Where do you fit when it comes to dating?”

I think. “Maybe somewhere in between? I don’t date much—it was a hard thing to do when living at home.” And the thought alone is anxiety-inducing.

“But you’ll start dating soon?”

“I am talking to someone, Ben, who I met at the theater.”

“That’s how you meet someone new,” Cam says.

“We’re just texting, though. He hasn’t asked me out or anything.”

“Why not ask him out?” Jo says.

“Or,” Cam offers, “she could drag her vagina across a bed of nails.”

“Such a Leo,” Jo says. “Drama queen. It’s the twenty-first century! It’s all about equality between the sexes.”

“Then why aren’t tampons free yet?” Cam turns to me. “No, wait for him to ask you.”





Chapter Eleven


I was offered the job at OTP the next day, and started the following Monday.

My first few days are nothing but admin. Now I know why they needed someone so soon. My predecessor left months ago and the work’s been piling up since. Meetings need organizing rather than the grab-and-go system they’ve been temporarily operating under. Minutes need taking, Penny’s emails need sorting, titles set up, and royalties need inputting (if you thought you could escape maths by pursuing a career in books, think a-fucking-gain). I did wonder when I’d be able to attend meetings, discuss submissions, and work on photographic interiors, but I can’t expect too much so soon. Maybe it’s something I’ve got to earn.

I’m only Penny’s PA, but my line manager and mentor is Kristina Dorval (shoulder-length hair, flipped at the ends nineties style, reminiscent of Avi; midthirties with dark green eyes). It’s her food and drinks list I’m assisting on and her method of mentoring is very admin-focused, but I like her. She insists I call her Kris and our first catch-up lasted much longer than the allotted thirty minutes because it doesn’t take much for her to turn away from her computer and talk to me about life.

She has a partner called Bruce and a cat called Alfred. No children, and I get the impression that it’s a choice. She attends salsa classes every Thursday evening and goes to the theater at least twice a month. She loves to eat but hates to cook.

“On Thursdays we have Creative,” Kris says, “and you’ll need to prioritize that in Penny’s diary because that’s where we discuss submissions we want to share with the wider team and our upcoming titles.”

“Do I go to that?” I ask hopefully.

“No, that’s just for assistant and commissioning editors,” she says, “but every Tuesday, the entire department meets for NFPM—Nonfiction Publishing Meeting—where we discuss proposals/new projects, perspective authors and illustrators/photographers, our back and front list, the like. You’ll take the minutes.”

A catch-up with Penny follows straight after. I was naive enough to assume the PA aspect of this job would be minimal, given that at the theater it was a full-time job in and of itself, and it paid me a grand more than this one.

“I need to add three new meetings to my calendar this week,” Penny says. “One with Thom, Gabby, and Sabrina and then a follow-up meeting later on in the week—though not Friday afternoon—with just Thom and Gabby, and then I need a separate meeting with Marie, Levi, and Chrissy from the US office—watch out for the time difference.” Penny doesn’t pause for breath or look up from her computer screen as I scrawl notes at her office table. “The follow-up meeting can be half an hour, but the other two are a full hour. If no conference rooms are available, we can have the UK meetings in my office, coffee, tea, biscuits, et cetera.”