HAYLEY HANNA HAD two options—buy every copy of Los Angeles Woman magazine in the city or ignore the unflattering article within its pages. Maybe no one would mention the multipage spread that claimed she was a ruthless, man-hating divorce attorney.
As if that were a possibility.
She reached for the other six copies on the newsstand outside her office building then, placing them on the counter, she slid her teal, diamond-encrusted Tiffany & Co. sunglasses to the top of her head and rummaged in her Michael Kors bag for some cash.
“Thirty-two dollars, please,” the older gentleman behind the counter said.
Thirty-two dollars. Un-freaking-believable. For six copies of a magazine headed straight into the recycle bin under her desk.
“Have a great day,” he said.
Was he mocking her?
“I’m just hoping to get through it,” she muttered.
Her cell phone rang as she tucked the magazines under her arm, and she held her breath as she glanced at the caller ID. The Perfect Gown. Just Terri-Lynn, thank God. If her friend had read the article, she would give it to her straight. “How bad is it?” she said, answering on the third ring.
“A ruthless man hater? A shark in a Giorgio Armani suit?” Terri-Lynn shrieked into the phone.
Well, you couldn’t get any straighter than that. Maybe she shouldn’t have told everyone about the article. At least not until she’d had a chance to read it herself. “I just saw it,” she said.
“Who does this...Annette Miller think she is? She can’t write this about you. I thought this article was supposed to honor successful women in business?”
Hayley readjusted the slipping magazines as she entered her office building. “Apparently they were going for an accurate portrayal, not a sugarcoated version.”
“Well, I hope you’re going to call the magazine and complain.”
Her friend should know it didn’t exactly work that way. Owner of a high-fashion bridal gown store, Terri-Lynn had to deal with reviews on a regular basis. Once things were printed, they couldn’t be changed—for better or for worse. “I don’t think that’s going to fix things—the magazine is already out. Besides, this may be my fault.”
“How? Did you tell the interviewer that you eat men for breakfast and cut their balls off for sport?”
She may as well have.
When the prestigious women’s magazine had asked her to be a part of their Women On Top series, she’d been flattered. Their interest had been the ego boost she’d needed after her breakup with James, a dentist she’d been dating since moving home from New York City. After only ten months, James had proposed and she’d ended the relationship.
Unfortunately, in her hurt and disappointment with James for having ruined a good thing with his untimely proposal, she’d been a little too eager to answer Annette Miller’s questions about love, marriage and divorce—without a filter.
Entering the elevator and hitting the button, she said, “I didn’t exactly hold back on my views of men and marriage...” And all that crap.
“Okay, maybe you said some of this stuff, but there’s no way you said...” She heard her friend flip the pages of the magazine and bit her lip while she waited. “Ah, here it is. ‘Men are easily replaced—hell, save yourself the headache and buy one half your age with your divorce settlement.’”
Had it been those exact words?
“Hayley! Tell me you did not say that.”
The elevator doors opened and she stepped out. “I may have said something to that effect, but I’m pretty sure it was ‘off the record.’”
“Nothing is ever ‘off the record.’ Didn’t you read the release form for the interview?”
“Look, I wasn’t exactly in a great place. James and I had just broken up and I was still getting over it.”
“You broke it off with him.”
Hayley lowered her voice. “Only because he proposed.” Hayley Hanna Healey? Seriously? Not in a million. Hayley Hanna, period. Always.
“That’s right—he was such a terrible man wanting to marry you and all.”
Her friend didn’t get it. “He knew how I felt about marriage. I was very clear about my feelings going into the relationship.” She took comfort knowing she was always honest right from the beginning. “Anyway, can we get back to this latest disaster? What am I going to do about this article?”
“Unfortunately, it sounds like the only thing you can do is relax and wait for it to blow over,” Terri-Lynn said.
“I think you’re right. And I mean, who really reads these articles anyway? I’m at the office. I’ll call you later, okay?” Hayley tossed her phone into her purse and straightened her suit jacket as she entered the offices of Marshall and Thompson Family Law. She pushed her anxiety over the article aside. A silly feature in a local magazine, that was all it was. She doubted a copy would even find its way into the mostly male law firm, except of course for the ones under her arm that were headed directly to the shredding machine used for confidential documents.
As she passed the main reception, she spotted the cover on the secretary’s desk.
Shit. Okay, don’t panic yet. It was just a single copy. She’d ask to see it and add it to the others heading for destruction. “Hi, Megan. Beautiful morning.”
The young paralegal secretary held up the magazine. “Obviously you haven’t read this.”
Lie or fess up? Tough call. “I saw it this morning. It’s completely ridiculous,” she said, hoping her attempt at sounding nonchalant was working.
Megan skimmed the article. “So you didn’t say ‘Men deserve the harsh settlements they receive when they can’t keep their dot dot dot in their pants?’”
Okay, now that quote had been changed completely. What she’d actually said was men deserved the harsh settlements they received if they couldn’t keep their dot dot dot in their pants. If... The if made a big difference. “Of course not...not exactly, anyway.” She paused. “Do you know if anyone else has seen this?”
Megan nodded. “Everyone has a copy. A courier delivered them from the magazine’s office this morning and the new intern, Laura, made sure to distribute them right away.”
Damn those new, eager-to-please interns.
She needed to get those magazines back. Starting with the most important copy. “Is Marvin here yet?”
“Mr. Marshall arrived about three minutes before you.”
Six-inch, not-yet-broken-in Manolos, a slightly too tight pencil skirt and adult asthma made her half sprint nearly impossible, but this was one of those