A ladies' room is a girl headquarters, so it was only natural that Ellen, Courtney, and another reporter, Sarah Liu, would end up talking about the layoffs by the sinks. A photographer had been let go after the meeting, so they were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Courtney and Sarah were in News, but Ellen was in Features, traditionally the most dispensable of reporters. She washed her hands, and the water felt hot, though it could have been her imagination.
"Marcelo won't fire anybody in Sports," Sarah said, and anxiety speeded up even her normally fast speech. She was slim and petite, with pretty eyes and a small, lipsticked mouth that never stopped moving. "I think it's going to be a reporter, either News or Features."
"One more to go today," Courtney said, and her Boston accent made it, One ma ta go taday. "I think it'll be News."
"No, it can't be. They need us." Sarah raked a hand through her glossy black hair, layered around her ears. Diamond studs twinkled from her earlobes, and she looked typically chic, in a tailored white shirt with black slacks and a skinny, ribbed black sweater. "They can't get it all off AP."
"That's why God invented Reuters." Courtney chuckled, without mirth.
Ellen reached for a paper towel and caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her lips flattened to a grim line, and she'd swear she had more crow's-feet than when she got up. Her extra makeup emphasized the hazel green of her eyes, but she felt like she'd dolled up for her own firing.
"You're just wrong, Courtney," Sarah was saying, and it reminded Ellen of why she'd always disliked her. Aggressiveness was an occupational hazard in journalism, and Sarah never knew when to turn it off. She said, "They need news reporters, with Iraq and the new administration."
"Why? It's not like we have somebody in the White House pressroom." Courtney shook her head. "And it's our turn, because they already cut in Features. Remember Suzanne?"
"She deserved it," Sarah said, and Ellen tossed away a paper towel, her stomach a clenched fist.
"Suzanne didn't deserve it. None of us deserves it."
"If it's News, it won't be me, it can't be." Sarah folded her arms. "I'm too well sourced in City Hall, and they know it."
"It'll be me," Courtney said, and Ellen turned to her, hating the sound of it.
"No, Court, they can't let you go."
"Yes, they can, and they will. Bet me." Courtney's gaze, devoid of eye makeup, looked resigned. "Look, it is what it is. My uncle used to set hot type with Linotype machines, and he and his friends lost their jobs when computers came in, in the seventies. The cuts that everybody went through in production have come to editorial, that's all." She shrugged. "I need a vacation, anyway."
"It won't be you." Ellen managed a smile, but she knew the truth. "It'll be me, and we all know it. Marcelo thinks Features is kitten-up-a-tree, so I'm outta here. At least I'll get canned by somebody hot."
"There's the upside." Courtney smiled. "I heard he made Philadelphia magazine's list of the most eligible bachelors."
Ellen rolled her eyes. "I can't believe they do those stupid lists."
"I can't believe they use the word "bachelor."
Courtney and Ellen laughed, but Sarah was deep in thought, then she looked up.
"It's gonna be you, Courtney."
"Sarah!" Ellen frowned. "Don't sugarcoat it or anything."
"She said it herself," Sarah shot back.
"That's not the point." Ellen turned away, ashamed of her next thought.
Courtney's husband owned three summer camps in Maine, and Sarah's was a thoracic surgeon. She was the only one who didn't have a husband, like a salaried safety net.
"El, you look kinda sick." Courtney eyed her. "You gonna barf?"
"No, Boston, I'm not gonna barf." Ellen shook her head. She was going to lose her job today, and that damn white card gnawed at the edge of her thoughts. "Look, let's calm down, okay? We'll know any minute which one of us is getting let go. It doesn't help to obsess."
Sarah turned to her. "Oh, get real. You know Marcelo will never let you go. He's hot for you."
"He is not." Ellen felt her face flush.
"He looks at you from his office, like you're the one behind glass, like a fish in a bowl." Sarah's eyes flickered. "Like a little blond fishie."
"That's ridiculous," Ellen said, but Courtney placed a hand on her shoulder.
"El, here are my famous last words. You're single, he's single, and life is short. I say, go for it."
Suddenly there was a knock at the bathroom door.
And the three women looked over.