There was silence for a moment. Alexa managed to maintain some semblance of a smile and then, since Derek was preoccupied with throwing his arms about and pulling stupid expressions, she checked for any other business and dismissed the team.
The deputy editor was one of the last to leave the room.
‘Derek?’ She caught his attention as he passed. ‘Can I have a word?’
Derek stopped in his tracks, holding his position in the doorway as though deliberating over whether to heed or ignore the request. Eventually, when everyone else had returned to their desks, he turned to face Alexa.
‘I’d love to have a word with you,’ he sneered.
Alexa could feel herself tense up as she watched him return to his seat at the head of the table. They were now separated by four chairs, which seemed odd, but she didn’t comment.
‘I just wanted to say . . .’ Alexa took a breath and pushed out the words. ‘Well, I thought it would be sensible to talk about our roles and responsibilities.’
‘Our roles and responsibilities,’ he echoed mockingly.
‘Yes, let’s.’ Alexa thought for a second. She had known that this wouldn’t be easy, but she hadn’t quite anticipated the extent of Derek’s resentment towards her.
‘So, to clarify,’ she persevered. ‘In my mind, you are still the acting editor of this magazine.’
Derek snorted. ‘I don’t know what the fuck is going on in your mind. All I know is that a few weeks ago, I was demoted to deputy editor for no apparent reason and then you come along with a fancy title and start talking about rejuvenation and engagement.’
Alexa sighed. So this was what it was all about. Derek blamed Alexa for his demotion. It wasn’t exactly a revelation, but at least there was no longer any room for doubt. Alexa wished she had spoken out when Peterson had told her of his plans. She ought to have foreseen this problem; she should have realised from Peterson’s cryptic mumblings that Derek Piggott would prove to be a problem. She should have advised the chief executive not to demote him. Inflated egos were far easier to deal with than crushed ones.
‘Look,’ she said, picking up on Derek’s last few words. ‘We need to get this magazine back on its feet. That’s why I’m here, and as soon as I’ve done my job, I’ll be out of your hair.’
‘Back on its feet?’ Derek stared at her, nostrils flaring. ‘Who said it wasn’t on its feet?’
Alexa was about to reply and then stopped.
He had no idea.
For the last few weeks, she had been working on the assumption that Terry Peterson had told Derek about the Americans’ plans to dispose of the title if it didn’t improve its profitability. She had assumed that he was being discreet by not mentioning it around the office. She should have thought. Derek wasn’t capable of discretion. Peterson had clearly kept him in the dark on purpose.
‘Sorry,’ she said, watching Derek tug irritably at his goatee. ‘That was melodramatic. I just mean, I’m here to try and help Banter hit its April targets. I’m not here to run the editorial side of the magazine.’
Derek just stared at her, shaking his head.
‘Primarily,’ she said when it became apparent that nothing more was forthcoming from the man, ‘I see this involving new channels for the existing content – your content. But it’s inevitable that at times, there may be a need to look at the content itself, maybe make a few changes.’
Derek continued to stare hatefully at Alexa, slowly shaking his head.
‘For that, I need your support.’ She could hear the desperation in her voice. ‘I need to feel that you trust me to get involved. I need to . . .’ Alexa faltered. This was the real reason she had called him in. She could barely bring herself to say the words. ‘I need to know that you won’t undermine me in front of the team.’
Initially, there was no reaction from Derek. Then he sat back, slowly, still looking at her through the dark slits that his eyes had become. All of a sudden, he launched himself forwards. Alexa jumped.
‘Banter,’ he spat, pressing his face right up to hers, ‘is a fucking good magazine.’
Alexa nodded mutely. He was so close she couldn’t breathe. ‘I know that,’ he said, through gritted teeth, ‘because I’ve worked here for six years. So when some bint in a suit comes in here on some crazy salary and starts telling me how to run my magazine and how to talk to my team . . .’ He sniffed loudly, angrily, only millimetres from her face, ‘then it’s hardly surprising when I don’t take too kindly to her. Is it?’
Alexa shook her head, saying nothing.
Eventually, Derek threw himself back into his chair, shaking his head and looking into the main office with a cold, hard stare.
Alexa slowly exhaled. She was about to say, tentatively, that she wasn’t trying to dictate how he ran his magazine or talked to his team, but as she opened her mouth to speak, Derek threw back his chair and stood up, marching out of the meeting room and slamming the door on his way out.
Alexa sank down in her chair and pressed her fingers against her closed eyes. She was so close to crying, but something inside her was blocking the tears. She couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t allow it. This was just part of the challenge, she told herself. This was the lion’s den Matt had warned her against. This was the all-male environment Leonie had been so worried about. She had to stay strong. She thought about Kate’s reaction to the girl in her boyfriend’s office who had let her tears show. She wasn’t going to be like that.
Alexa grabbed her notepad and stood up. She was going to go back into the office and continue to do what she was being paid to do. She was going back into the lions’ den.
Chapter 7
The photographer squinted critically at his digital display.
‘Okay, that last one again, if you don’t mind. Yeah, move your hands about, that’s it, like you’re really enjoying yourself.’
The girl grabbed her breasts with fresh gusto, flicking her long, dark hair to one side and pouting at the camera. Alexa swallowed nervously, wondering whether the girl actually was enjoying herself. Going by the shaky knees and the look of forced ecstasy on her face, Alexa suspected not.
Kayleigh Williams was nineteen years old. This was her first modelling shoot – a fact that Alexa could probably have deduced by the girl’s demeanour, had it not been written on the call sheet in front of her. She couldn’t help thinking that it might also be the girl’s last.
It wasn’t that Kayleigh didn’t have the looks: she was tall and curvy with dark eyes and glossy, chestnut-coloured hair that cascaded in waves down her back. Her breasts, as noted on the call sheet, were a sizeable 32DD. The problem was the way she held herself. It was her confidence – or lack thereof. The girl looked petrified.
‘Can you move a bit more slowly, Kayleigh?’ Jamie, the pictures editor, obviously felt compelled to intervene. ‘That’s it. Much more sexual, yeah.’
The videographer gave a nod of approval as he changed angle.
This was why amateur photographs never looked anything like those in the magazine. Aside from the photographer there was a photographer’s assistant, a lighting guy, a junior lighting guy, makeup and a young lad whose job it was to run around the set looking busy and repeatedly offering drinks. For this shoot there was also a videographer. Banter now filmed, as well as shot, all of its most popular features, for the website and Banter TV.
The