The Rothman Scandal (57 page)

“
What?
I'm talkin' fashion, and you're talkin' ribbon-bows!”

“Rodney, I'm warning you! Put a lid on it!” his wife said.

“It's a bit of an old-fashioned look,” Alex said. “But it's different, and it goes with you.”

“
Old-fashioned?
We want Maudie to look fashionable, not old-fashioned!”

“Maude is a nice, old-fashioned name,” Alex said. “It's distinctive. I don't think I know of another Maude in New York.”

“Okay, make a note of that hairdo style, Maudie,” her husband said. “Tell whatsisname to do that to you, and get some of those whatchamacallit-type bows.”

His wife bared her teeth at him, and went, “
Grrrrrr!
”

“But what about dresses? All those designer dresses that she's got. When're you going to tell us which ones she ought to wear and which ones we're gonna throw out?”

“I usually recommend that a woman find one designer that suits her,” Alex said. “And then stick to that designer. And the minute I saw Maude walk down that stair, I immediately thought—Pauline Trigère.”

“Make a note of that, Maudie. Pauline Trigère.”

“Oh, for Christ's sake, Rodney! I've heard of Pauline Trigère!”

“And all that stuff from those other faggots—out with the garbage. Down the incinerator.”

“I could take you over to Pauline's workshop, if you'd like,” Alex said. “Let her get her eye in with you, as they say. Sketch a few things for you.”

“Yes! I'd like that!” Maude McCulloch said.

“Pauline's a bit out of fashion right now, but—”

“Out of
fashion!
But I thought we were going to put Maudie
into
fashion.”

Alex smiled at him. “But Maude McCulloch is going to bring Pauline Trigère back into fashion, Rodney,” she said.

Suddenly Maude McCulloch jumped to her feet and ran around the huge onyx coffee table to where Alex sat, hugged her, and kissed her noisily on both cheeks. “I love you!” she cried. Then, releasing her, she said, “I hate this apartment.”

“What?”
her husband shouted. “Do you know how much it cost me to do over this apartment? Do you know how much I shelled out to that Billy Yardley faggot?”

“Of course I know. I balance your checkbook, don't I? It cost too much. And what did we get for it? A place that looks like it belongs in Las Vegas. In a high-class whorehouse.”

“What?”
he cried again. “Alex, didn't you say you thought this apartment was beautiful?”

Alex hesitated. “I don't think I actually said that,” she said. “I think I said something like ‘extraordinary.'”

“Black and gold, black and gold—once he got off on black and gold, he couldn't stop,” Maude McCulloch said. “My bathroom's got black sinks, a black toilet, a black Jacuzzi, and a black bidet. What kind of a woman would use a black bidet?”

“You
don't
think the apartment's beautiful, Alex?” Rodney McCulloch said.

“Let me put it this way,” she said. “I think Maude McCulloch deserves better.”

He let out a despairing howl. Then his chin sank to his chest and his shoulders sagged. “You're right,” he said. “You know what I first said when I saw this room, Maudie? I said it looks like a faggot's wet dream. It still looks like a faggot's wet dream.”

“I can give you the names of some excellent New York decorators, if you should decide to do it over,” Alex said. She knew it was time to go.

Alone in the apartment with her husband, Maude McCulloch stood in front of one of the gilt-framed mirrors with her hair pulled back away from her face. “She's right,” she said. “I do have nice skin for a woman my age. I have a good forehead, too.” She removed her glasses. “I'm going to get contacts,” she said.

“They'll make your eyes itch.”

“Hmm,” she said.

“Maudie,” he said. “Those things you said about me when she was here. I know I'm a boor, but you used the word
cruelty
. Have I ever been cruel to you, Maudie?”

“Oh, I'm used to it,” she said.

“I've never been unfaithful to you, Maudie.”

“No, I don't expect you have. So. She's done this for you. What are you going to do for her? What's the quid pro quo? With you, there's always a quid pro quo.”

“I'm going to let her develop her own new magazine.”

“Really?” she said. She was still studying her reflection in the glass. “Why? She already has
Mode
.”

“Not for long she won't. Herb Rothman's about to give her the ax.”

“Really? Why?”

“There's a new Limey cunt wants her job. The Limey cunt's got him completely pussy-whipped. That's the scuttlebutt. The Limey cunt wants Alex canned, and whatever the Limey cunt wants from Herb, the Limey cunt gets, according to the scuttlebutt. As the Canucks say,
sher-shay la fame
. Anyway, I'm hoping Alex'll be canned soon.”

“Oh? Why?”

“'Cause the sooner she gets canned, the sooner she'll belong to me. And on my terms.” Now he looked gloomily around the room. “Forty-six separate coats of lacquer,” he said.

Not many blocks uptown from the Lombardy, the young woman with the helmet of dark hair was saying, “It was really terribly kind of you to come up here tonight, Mel. But I knew from the moment I met you that you were one of the kindest men I'd ever met. It's funny, but I have a sort of antenna about kind people. I recognize kind people right away. I can also recognize people who are not kind—cruel people. And I think I shall never forget what you said to me that night we met.”

“Oh? I'm afraid I've forgotten. What was it?”

“Mel! How could you have forgotten? You said, ‘Sometimes it helps to share your feelings with another person.' And it's so true. It helped me then, and it's helping me right now—to share my feelings with you. It helps so much.”

“I'm glad, Fiona.”

“And so the thing is, if you can just do something to get her to call off her lawyers. Once you bring barristers into a situation, it just makes things worse, it seems to me. It just makes things uglier.”

“Believe me, I know all about lawyers,” he said.

“Of course—that hideous divorce you went through! But in this situation, with her bringing in lawyers, it drives an even deeper wedge into an already deeply divided family. I know Herbert and Alex have never got on all that famously, but if she ends up suing Herbert, what will that do to the relationship between Herbert and his only grandson? Herbert adores Joel, and he wants Joel to succeed him one day as the head of the company. But a lawsuit could absolutely poison Joel's relationship with his grandfather. It could also poison Joel's relationship with dear old Aunt Lily. And it's really such a small family. To see it ripped apart by a lawsuit seems tragic to me.”

“I know what you mean,” he said.

“Of course you do! You've seen your own little family ripped apart by a lawsuit. And you can see my position—right in the middle. This trouble is all because of
me!
That's why I'd like to see this settled amicably, without bloody lawyers.”

“Of course. But Alex's point is—”

“Herbert is a very determined man. He's determined to get me onto his masthead in some shape or form. He's already made a public announcement. He feels he
can't
back down at this point. If he did, it would be a terrible blow to his pride. If he did, he would suffer a terrible loss of face in the entire media community. People would say he'd been bested by his daughter-in-law. He'd be a laughingstock. So, given this situation, wouldn't it be better for all concerned if Alex Rothman and I could just sit down together and try to work out a solution where we could coexist in the company? I'd certainly be willing to listen to any suggestions she might have. I'm really an easy person to get on with, Mel.”

“I'm sure you are, Fiona. But I just don't think you realize how much her magazine means to Alex. For the last twenty years, it's been the most important thing in her life.”

“Oh, I'm sure it has. That's quite apparent from the wonderful success she's made of it. She's devoted nearly a third of her life to
Mode
, even at the expense, I suppose, of her own son—though I shouldn't say that, since I don't know her son. But I'm sure the magazine is the one true love of her life.”

“She worked hard to get the terms of the contract she has now,” he said. “And she feels—rightly, I think—that the terms of that contract should be honored.”

“Oh, I do agree. But I think these things can be sorted out without bloody lawyers lining up on both sides, and driving a deeper wedge between members of the family. There are human ways to settle differences without bringing in barristers and their briefs. It's like national differences, isn't it? Isn't it better to solve national differences through diplomacy, rather than all-out war? It was a war that cost me my young husband's life.”

“Well, I'll speak to her,” he said. “I'll see what I can do. But I'm not sure anything I say will change Alex's mind. She's very angry at Herb Rothman. She feels Herb's trying to double-cross her, and I tend to agree.”

“Oh,
would
you speak to her? That would be so kind. Even if it did no good, it couldn't hurt, could it—if she'd agree to let us settle this as human beings, without the lawyers? I'd be so grateful if you'd speak to her, because I'd do anything—anything—to see this bollix sorted out. I suppose I was naïve, but when I accepted Herbert's offer, I was so thrilled—I'd no
idea
of the kind of bollix I'd be walking into. These last few days have been terribly hard on me. You've no idea of the stress I've been under. The press have been hounding me. I've become a virtual prisoner in this hotel.”

“I saw your interview in Mona Potter's column.”

“That was the only interview Herbert wanted me to give, because Mona is his personal friend. And now, on top of everything else, all this publicity has meant that my father has found out where I am. He's threatening to send detectives after me. Everybody, it suddenly seems, is out to get me—including Alex Rothman, whom I've always admired so much. Mel, you've no idea what it's been like for me. It's been utter hell.”

“Yes, I imagine it has been,” he said.

“I'm not really frightened. I'm sure my father can't touch me in America. Still, it's worrisome—terribly worrisome. The thought of detectives after me. On top of everything else.”

“Let me just ask you one question, Fiona.”

“Yes?”

“If all this has turned into such a nightmare for you—”

“It has! It has!”

“Then why not just back out gracefully? Why not say it was all a misunderstanding on your part? That you had no idea of the complexity of the situation, but now you do, and so you gratefully decline Herb's offer. That way, Herb's famous pride would be intact, and you'd come out looking like a perfect lady. You could move on to something else.”

“You mean go back to England? And the horrors that await me there?”

“Perhaps Herb Rothman could find something for you on one of his other magazines.”

She hesitated. “There are several reasons why I can't do that,” she said at last. “For one thing, I gave Herbert my word that I would take this job. This is the job Herb specifically wanted me to do, and I gave him my word that I would do it. And I am a woman of my word. Then there is the fact that I have always wanted to work for
Mode
. It has been my singleminded ambition—to work for the world's leading fashion magazine. This is an opportunity I have waited for all my life, and when Herbert offered it to me, I felt I simply could not turn it down. Then, aside from my personal ambition, there is my belief that I could bring a lot to
Mode
. I hope you won't mind my saying that I believe in my talent, and that
Mode
is the best—the only—place where I can use that talent. I think
Mode
is a wonderful magazine, but I believe I can make it even more wonderful, and Herbert believes that too. And I feel I can't in good conscience betray Herbert's belief and trust in me. But finally, of course, there is little Primrose.”

“Little Primrose?”

“My daughter, Primrose. I deliberately didn't tell you about Primmy, because—because it's such a painful thing to tell about. But you see, when Eric was killed in the Falklands, I was six months pregnant. Primmy was born three months after that. Primmy is a sweet child, but she was born hopelessly retarded. The doctors blamed my shock at Eric's death. Primmy now goes to a special school in Switzerland. For years, nearly every sou I earned went for Primmy's care. But when Herbert Rothman offered me this post at
Mode
, I had very nearly run out of sous! That's why Herbert's offer seemed a gift from heaven! If it hadn't come when it did, I would have had to take her out of her special school. And the only alternative would have been to bring Primmy back to my father's house. And there—there—I would have always lived in terror that my father might have tried to do to little Primmy what he did to me.” She brushed aside a tear. “And so—and so—that is why I need this job the most. For Primmy. I know you have two daughters, Mel. I think you understand. I need the money, Mel. I desperately need the money for Primmy's care.”

His eyes moved around the Westbury Hotel suite, and she seemed to sense his question, for she said, “These glamorous digs are being rented for me by Rothman Publications. It was part of the arrangement when Herbert brought me over here. I wanted just a tiny basement flat, but Herbert insisted that I should live the way a glamorous fashion editor would, and Herbert is a very determined man. Oh, and I know all about the gossip, the rumors—that I'm Herbert's mistress, or something. Which is too ridiculous, since Herbert is even older than my father, and I personally don't find him physically at all attractive. But this was the way Herbert insisted on setting it up. And so here I am, sitting here, waiting for my first paycheck, because Primmy's tuition is already three weeks overdue.” She dabbed at her eyes with a hanky.