Page 30 of Gold Diggers

‘Yes,’ said Molly, flicking a sheaf of hair over her shoulder. ‘Back to Badrutt’s Palace. Gorgeous as ever. Didn’t I tell you?’

‘No, you didn’t tell us actually,’ Lindsey Feldman’s voice was harsh. She was a five-foot-two-inch dynamo who didn’t take any shit and was the perfect foil to Sophie’s silver-spoon polish. ‘If you had told us, we might have had something to say about it, seeing as we had a pitch with a client this morning that we needed you to be at.’

Molly looked bemused. ‘We had a meeting? With who?’

‘Callanders, the stockbrokers, remember?’ said Lindsey with a hint of sarcasm. ‘Want us to do their Christmas corporate event? Two thousand guests? We did discuss this, Molly. It was rather embarrassing when you didn’t turn up.’

‘Callanders. Oh shit. Yes. I completely forgot. As I said, my flight didn’t get in until nine-thirty. Then I had to pop home to freshen up.’

Sophie stared at Molly for a long moment. ‘Can we just have a chat in the meeting room, Molly?’

Molly pushed her chair back and walked after the women, seething. How dare they talk to her like that in front of the workies? Making her feel as if she was a teenager caught smoking behind the bike sheds. The nerve! Molly sat down truculently and Lindsey got straight to the point.

‘This can’t go on, Molly,’ she snapped.

‘Jesus, Lindsey. I miss a meeting. I’m sorry,’ said Molly, rolling her eyes at the ceiling. ‘I can take the client out again if it means that much to you.’

‘It might well be too late for that.’

‘Oh don’t worry, we’ll get the pitch,’ said Molly. ‘We always get the pitch.’

‘If we do it will be no thanks to you, Molly,’ said Lindsey abruptly.

Sophie held up a hand, stopping the argument mid-flow. ‘Molly. We might as well cut to the chase,’ she said. ‘This arrangement just isn’t working. You’re hardly in the office, you don’t come to pitches, and when we hold an event you spend the whole time socializing.’

‘Socializing! Isn’t that what you want me to do?’

Sophie nodded. ‘It was what we wanted you to do when we started, but things have changed.’

It was true Molly Sinclair had been a definite asset when Feldman Jones had launched – she had high-class contacts and clients were flattered to see a supermodel at pitches. She certainly added an undeniable sheen of glamour to a party too. But she was simply not doing what they had brought her on to do – attend pitches, charm the CEOs, bring in new clients. Put simply, she was baggage.

‘Molly, we want you out of the partnership.’

Molly felt her blood run cold. She didn’t exactly enjoy working at Feldman Jones, but being a partner in a company gave her credibility. It also gave her a salary. Okay, it wasn’t much, but she relied on it. A woman like Molly could expect swish nights out and holidays to be paid for by some rich guy in return for a blowjob in the shower, but even she had overheads to pay. She hated to admit it, but she needed this job.

‘You can’t do that,’ said Molly, struggling to appear calm and confident, ‘I’m a director of this company.’

Sophie smiled. ‘Yes we can. We’ve already had a lawyer look into it. Don’t worry, you won’t be out of pocket, we’ll get a valuation and buy out your shareholding for a fair price.’

‘But you need me,’ said Molly, a waver of panic in her voice now. ‘You need me to bring in the business.’

Lindsey couldn’t suppress her smirk. ‘Molly, you haven’t brought in any business for over a year, and Feldman Jones Productions generates its own business now. We have a fantastic reputation and we need everyone to be pulling their weight.’

‘I do pull my bloody weight!’ said Molly indignantly.

Lindsey couldn’t resist a jibe. ‘The only thing you pull, Molly, is the clients.’

Molly jumped to her feet and strode to the door. ‘I will enjoy watching this tinpot company crash to its knees when word gets around that I have resigned,’ she said haughtily.

Sophie smiled. ‘I think we’ll manage,’ she said.

‘Oh and Molly?’ Lindsey called after her. ‘Could you clear out your desk? We don’t want the drug squad round again.’

13

‘Don’t we have any more girls to see?’ sighed Karin, snapping the portfolio shut and dismissing the fifteen-year-old Estonian blonde with a regal wave. As the skinny model shuffled out of the Karenza office, Karin looked at the pile of model cards in front of her and rubbed her eyes. Karin and her head of merchandise Kirsty Baker had been casting for the Karenza spring/summer advertising campaign all afternoon, and not one girl had been even remotely right.

‘What about Gisele?’ said Kirsty, flicking through a copy of American Elle.