Maame(99)

* * *



In the afternoon, Penny exits her office and the editors gather around. The senior team, along with Sales, Marketing, and Publicity, are meeting in one of the conference rooms with an illustrator (I think her name is Charlotte) they’ve been watching for weeks. From what I understand, Charlotte blew up overnight because of a set of illustrations she did for a restaurant’s website and now so many food writers want her drawings in their books instead of photographs.

“Now, as I said,” Penny continues, “we found out from the agent that the primary reason we’re being considered is because they found out we pay our illustrators of color the same standard rate as our white illustrators.” She holds her hands up. “Apparently that’s not the case elsewhere. Now, Maddie, bearing in mind you will be one of only two people of color in this meeting of eleven and I have no intention of parading you around to prove some kind of point, do you want to attend? It’s up to you.”

I think there’s a contradiction somewhere in what she’s said, but I don’t really have time to think it through when half the office is staring at me.

Penny smiles and asks, “In other words, would you like to sit at the table?”

“Yes.”



* * *



The Griffiths Room is the largest meeting room in the building, with shelves of books and large bay windows, and is often reserved for the most important meetings. I straighten my trousers and pull my top from where it’s sticking. At least at Creative I’d know everyone there, but what if Charlotte starts asking me questions? Thinking on my feet is not an area in which I thrive.

We walk in and Penny says, “Charlotte, Sam, it’s lovely to finally meet you.”

I look around and it’s my Sam. I mean, Jo’s Sam!

He’s not as surprised as I am. “Hello, Maddie.”

“Sam?” I step toward him. “This is your important meeting?”

Penny looks at us. “The two of you know each other?”

“We’ve met once or twice before,” Sam says.

I just nod.

“Well, Maddie, since you already know Sam, this is Charlotte, his agent,” Penny says. “Please take a seat, everyone. Rosie will take our drink requests if you have any.”

I’m usually the one who makes the tea and coffee.

“Maddie, sit beside me, please.”

I never sit beside Penny. She’s usually flanked by other senior members of staff, of which there are many present today. I take the seat she gestures toward and diligently take notes as Rob from Marketing and Sadie from Sales lead the meeting. I sneak glances at Sam and my pen slips on the page whenever he catches me. He’s very good-looking, but then I think of what Shu said concerning my “funky taste in men.” Sam’s face is made up of hard, straight lines, but his brown eyes soften him. Maybe he’s only good-looking to me? I catch both Sadie and Thea staring at Sam’s lips whilst he talks.

Maybe not.



* * *



It’s an impressive pitch and Sam says as much at the end of the hour, along with, “I’m afraid I have to leave now.”

“Meeting with another publisher?” Penny asks.

Sam laughs. “No, I promise, and to prove it, Charlotte’s going to stay behind and catch me up later.”

Penny says, “In that case, Maddie will show you out.”

I nod—that’s fine. I usually do that, too.

Sam says goodbye to everyone and we’ve reached the building’s entrance door before he says, “You didn’t say much.”

“I tend to just take the minutes in meetings like that.”

He folds his arms. “Did you manage to talk to your boss in the end?”

“Penny, yes. That’s why I was even sat in your meeting. I think things are going to change, but only time will tell.”

“Good for you.” He seems to genuinely mean it.

“You didn’t seem that surprised to see me.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure I would. I knew I’d be seeing members of Marketing, Sales, Publicity, and Editorial, but I assumed only Penny and Thea from the latter.” He looks at the door briefly. “Maddie, will you have dinner with me? How do you feel about burgers?”

“It’s one of my favorite food groups but … you’re asking me on a date? Can we do that?”

“How do you mean?”

“What about Jo?”

“Is me having…” He presses his lips together and thinks of a better way to define their relationship. “Is the two of us having been involved a problem for you?”

“Shouldn’t it be?”

He smiles. “Are you asking me, Maddie?”

“Right.” I shake my head. “I should make that decision.”

“For what it’s worth,” he says, briefly holding out his hand as if to physically offer me his thoughts, “I really hope it isn’t a problem.” I think about how both of mine could fit into one of his. “Jo’s great, as you know.”

Debatable.

“But we didn’t make much sense outside of … well.”

I nod, only eighty percent sure he’s referring to their physical relationship.