Page 3 of Cockpit
“Okay,” I repeat, a little quieter now.
“I think you’re just the person for the job.”
“What do you mean?”
Really, I’m more intelligent than I sound, but hell if I’m not standing here and staring at my dad as if it’s judgment day. If it’s a magazine with decreased circulation, it’s most definitely one I’m not keen on.
I just screwed myself, didn’t I?
He takes one look at my expression and reminds me, “If you really want that job at Haute, you’d do anything to get it, right?”
“Of course.”
“Even figure out a way to save Modern Family and prove you’re worthy of the job?”
“Modern Family? As in ‘what’s for dinner,’ and ‘how to get your kid to behave,’ or ‘silly summer crafts’?” I sound calm while I’m cringing on the inside at what feels like a major demotion.
“As in domesticity.” His grin is wide and unforgiving.
This is a test.
He’s watching me closely, waiting for the immediate rejection I refuse to give. Domesticity—motherhood, parenting, kids in general—is the one subject I know almost nothing about. Strike that. I know plenty about those things, but they are so far removed from my current life that it makes the notion hard to swallow. I can fake it with the best of them, but stepping in and working side by side with the people at the magazine and pulling it off? Now, that might be hard to do.
But editor-in-chief of Haute?
Holy shit.
“I can’t just walk in and run a whole magazine.”
“Rejecting the idea of hard work already, are you?”
“That’s not what I mean.” I sigh in frustration. “I mean, to step in without any footing and—”
“Relax, Sid.” He chuckles when I don’t find his little joke amusing at all. “I don’t expect you to step in and take over. Modern Family has its own very capable and tough editor-in-chief, Rissa Patel.”
“Great,” I mutter through my forced smile. I can already see her finding ways to make my life hell.
“It will be. She can teach you a lot, but your main focus will be to elevate the magazine’s online component. There are a million different and innovative ways to capture new readers and improve advertising. It’s your job to figure out what that way is and how to implement it. Whatever you do, I need to see an increase.”
I think of the offices for Modern Family in Sunnyville, the town where I grew up. I think of leaving my very sleek apartment in my high-rise overlooking downtown San Francisco. I think of my best friend, Zoey, and having to leave her after everything that just happened. Sure, she says she’s fine now. Of course, she’ll say it again when I tell her I have to leave. But hell if I’m not going to worry about her or that prick she swears she’ll never see again while I’m gone.
And I think of having to leave it all behind for a while to satisfy my dad with the lesson he is trying to teach me.
My resolve wavers. “I know nothing about—”
r /> “And before you answer, I should preface this offer by saying it isn’t an automatic. You don’t do this and then step into the editor’s shoes at Haute. Veronica will be retiring at the end of next year. That will give you six months to turn Modern Family around and then another six months to a year to learn what you need to do the job. Then and only then—with her blessing—will I promote you to your dream position.”
“So, if I can prove myself to you and Veronica, the position is mine, correct?
“Correct.”
“Should I assume that you’re expecting me to leave soon?”
His tight smile already has me canceling my plans to head to Santa Barbara at the end of the month. The trip I’ve looked forward to for weeks. “Of course. Time is money.” He glances at his calendar and then back to me. “Take your trip with your friends, but know this . . . you will be working on it every day until then from here on out, and the day after you return, you will be in Sunnyville, hands-on. You should be able to accomplish plenty in the month, so when you arrive there, you can hit the ground running.”
“Okay.” I fight the sudden swell of tears that burn. Are they because I know he’s showing me a glimpse of mercy now only to be merciless on me later? Or is it because he’s my dad and I hate that I’ve let him down?
“I’m not messing around here, Sid.”
