The Other Black Girl(41)

C. J. simply nodded and started to walk away, this time with a bit more purpose. His voice drifted around the corner. “Hey—you know, Hazel got here around six or something. She might be working three times as hard. Better watch out.”

Nella sat up. She wasn’t sure if he’d really said those words, or if she’d just imagined them. “Huh? Watch out for what?”

But C. J.’s long legs had already taken him around the corner and down the hall, leaving her painfully alone with her thoughts.

Where was she?

Nella stole a glance across the aisle once more, this time letting her eyes rest on the place card affixed to the outside of Hazel’s cube. Hazel’s name, etched in an unassuming fourteen-point Arial font, directly faced her own name in a faint opposition of sorts. Nella stared at the bold-faced letters for a good long while, long enough for the letters to become one thick, indiscernible black block. Then she closed her eyes again, drew in a long, ragged breath, and sighed it out. She felt even more troubled than she had when she’d left the office the night before. She didn’t like the way better watch out was still ringing in her ears—not unlike Oh hi, Nella; too much like Leave Wagner, now—and she really didn’t like how big of a deal C. J. had made about that note. Maybe he’d been right.

And hadn’t he been right, too, about Hazel? She belonged exactly where she’d been placed, of course: right outside of Maisy’s office, which happened to be in Nella’s corner of the office. But, still—it was funny. Funny that out of all the editors who would finally hire a Black assistant, that editor had been Maisy, rather than a different upper-level employee who worked on the opposite side of the office, where things could certainly use some spicing up. It was as though some sort of providence, in the shape of a five-foot-one HR employee named Natalie, had plucked Hazel up and dropped her there, right into Nella’s—

“Hi, Nell! Great minds think alike, huh?”

They were words that no early-arriving employee desperate for privacy wanted to hear another employee say—especially when that other employee sounded as chipper as Hazel did. “Oh—hey, Hazel. Work was calling your name first thing this morning, too, huh?”

“Yeah, my eyes popped open at five a.m. and I just couldn’t sleep. You know.”

Nella did know; granted, her reasons for waking up early were likely much different than Hazel’s. So, too, had been her morning routine. While Nella had swiped at a surprise crust of drool on her chin during her commute, realizing she hadn’t looked closely enough at herself in a mirror, Hazel—fresh-faced and animated—had found time to put on mascara, eyeliner, and coral-tinted lip gloss.

“So,” she said, shifting the huge stack of papers in her hands from one shoulder to the other, “what are you doing here so early?”

“I couldn’t sleep, either. I had so much to do here that I couldn’t finish last night so I… I figured I’d just pop in.”

The words in her lie tumbled out of her like a mass of disgruntled passengers exiting out of a sluggish L train at rush hour.

“Crazy how that happened to both of us!” said Hazel, inching a bit closer to Nella’s cubicle. “Maybe it’s something in the air.”

“Maybe. A low-pressure system, or something.” Nella wiggled her fingers.

“Yeah. Speaking of pressure…” Hazel laughed nervously. “Can I ask you a dumb question? God, I don’t know when I’m going to ever stop asking you dumb questions…”

“Aw, no. It’s okay,” Nella said, softening a teeny bit. “What’s up?”

“I have this manuscript that I need to take a look at and give, like… ‘editorial comments’ on. I’m pretty sure I know what those are and how to do them—hell, they were part of the interview process! As you know. But I’m a bit worried I’m gonna screw it up.”

Nella relaxed. “It’s not a dumb question! I can email you a sample of what I send Vera when she asks me to read something. Although, it might be more helpful for you to look at that assistant guide for Maisy, since I’m pretty sure her editorial style is radically different from Vera’s.”

“Actually, whatever you send me might just do it. The letter is for Vera, not Maisy.”

Nella’s voice caught in her throat. “Vera?”

“Vera sent me a book that she’d like me to read. She wanted to get my opinion on it.”

Nella froze. She still wasn’t fully comprehending what Hazel was trying to tell her. After a moment, she said, “Please tell me it’s not the Colin Franklin.”

“Oh, no, no, no, thank God.” Hazel laughed. “No, it’s another one. The Lie. You’ve read it, right?”

Nella furrowed her brow. “No. What’s that?” she asked, trying in vain to recall something with that title that had graced her inbox in the last few days.

“Oh, sorry—I thought you’d started it already. Leslie Howard’s new book. She’s one of Vera’s authors, isn’t she?”

“She is, yeah. Vera just… hasn’t sent it to me yet.”

“Weird. Maybe she sees how overwhelmed you’ve been, with all the Colin stuff…”

“When did she send it?” Nella interrupted, a band of sweat beginning to gather at her hairline. She scratched it away.