Kitchen Chinese Read Free Page B

liar.
    My heart leapt at the ringing phone and I pounced on it, but it was only Julia. “Iz, I just heard what’s going on.”
    How ? I thought wildly. Does everyone know?
    “Are you okay?” she asked.
    “I’m still trying to reach Zara,” I admitted.
    “Well, don’t freak out before you know all the facts.”
    “Jules?” I said in a small voice. “If something did…happen…you don’t think I’d get…fired…do you?”
    She sighed. “I don’t know.” Her voice was grim. “But I promise that no matter what happens, everything will be okay. You will be okay.”
    My other line beeped, signaling another call. “Look, that might be Zara on the other line. I’ll call you back, okay?”
    I switched lines and heard Nina on speaker phone, her voice distant and echoey. “Can you come into my office?” she said.
    I tried to respond, but could only squeeze a croak beyond the lump in my throat.
     
    I f, as they say in journalism, getting fired is a badge of honor, then I was surely on my way to a long and illustrious career.
    Nina regarded me from behind her desk, her shoulders slumped. “I just got off the phone with Elaine,” she said quietly.
    I swallowed. Elaine was our editor-in-chief.
    “I’m…She wants…” Nina shifted in her seat. “Look, the magazine can’t let this slip through the cracks. Belle is not the kind of publication that allows shoddy journalism.”
    No, just articles on how to fake an orgasm, I thought bitterly.
    “We’ll give you six month’s severance. If you agree to the terms, I need your signature.” She gestured at a sheaf of documents before offering me a pen.
    “You’re firing me?” My voice cracked. “But how—Why—”
    “Elaine feels that we need to send a message. Make a clean start. Clear the slate.”
    “But—” I couldn’t untangle my thoughts to form a sentence. “It wasn’t me. Zara—” The words caught in my throat.
    Nina sighed. “You didn’t hear this from me, but Jolly’s lawyers have agreed to drop the lawsuit against us if we identify the responsible parties and terminate their employment,” she said quietly. “We’ll never use Zara again, but she’s just a freelancer. She’s not under contract at Belle . And it was your responsibility to fact-check the article…”
    I opened my mouth to protest but nothing came out. It wasn’t fair, but Nina was right. I had fact-checked the article—and I hadn’t verified every source. I didn’t think it was possible that Zara would fabricate quotes. I trusted her. I stared at Nina’s wide hands for a moment before reaching for the pen and signing the papers. I pushed them back toward her and searched her face, hoping for a glimmer of compassion, but the expression in her eyes seemed closer to relief.
    I managed not to cry until we had politely shaken hands, until I had cleaned out my desk and hugged the other fact-checkers good-bye, until I had walked out the double glass doors of Belle magazine, my dreams of journalistic success tarnished black by my tears.
    By the next day (and three boxes of Kleenex later) I had started wandering the streets, officially unemployed. Well, maybe not actually wandering. But I was tucked up in my apartment, Aunt Marcie’s hand-knit afghan pulled up to my shoulders, TV turned to The View, when Rich called and asked me to dinner. “I’d love to!” I said, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice. As much as I adored him, Richard wasn’t exactly known for his caring, nurturing side. Nevertheless, he’d booked a table at my favorite French bistro for eight o’clock.
    I arrived first and ordered a glass of champagne. One sparkling sip and my mood lifted. After all, I was young, I lived in the media capital of the world, I had tons of contacts, and a sophisticated, thoughtful boyfriend…I had nothing to worry about.
    “Darling!” Richard advanced from the door and swooped down to kiss me on both cheeks.
    “Hi, sweetheart,” I said, and felt a smile