These Girls Read Free

morning.”
    “Hey, I leave a good tip on the nightstand,” Renee said, hearing Bonnie’s laugh as she hung up. Renee surveyed her outfit with new eyes. She had to look spectacular today. Winning the beauty editor job would mean a nice boost in salary but, better yet, the perks! She’d go on junkets to spas, be flooded with packages of all the latest cosmetics and skin care lines, and nab invitations galore—which meant she’d get to eat out at cocktail parties whenever she wanted. She’d save loads of money.
    She turned and ran back to the apartment, huffing as she climbed the four flights of stairs. She burst into her bedroom and stood in front of her closet, scanning the contents. She needed something chic and, above all, slimming, she thought, already regretting the spoonful of sugar in her coffee. If only she could be more like Naomi, who seemed to live on protein bars and air—or even Cate, who was a naturally lean size 4. Cate treated food the way some guys treated women—she took exactly what she needed and never gave it a lingering thought afterward. She was the type of woman who could eat a single potato chip (type? There was no type; Cate was the lone woman in that bizarre demographic). It would be intolerable, except that Cate wasn’t the slightest bit smug about it.
    Twenty minutes later, her closet was more of a shambles than usual, and Renee was no closer to finding the perfect outfit. All of her cheap lunches consisting of a slice or two of pizza fromRay’s, the half-priced happy hour drinks, and the illicit handfuls of chocolate meant her size 12 clothes were getting tight. Now she was sweating and late for work.
    She reluctantly shrugged back into her original outfit, despising the roll of flesh that protruded over her waistband. Anyone working for Gloss needed to look good, but the beauty editor was held to an elite standard. Back in Kansas—heck, in most of the world—Renee would be considered a healthy size. Here in the epicenter of New York’s magazine world? She was the fat girl.
    Starting today, though, that was going to change. She was going to give careful consideration to every crumb that passed through her lips. She’d be more selective than an Ivy League admissions officer. And in two months—voilà!—she’d be fifteen pounds slimmer.
    It would take weeks for the Gloss editors to settle on Bonnie’s replacement. By the time they were ready, they’d look up and see Renee, slim and chic, standing in front of them. They’d recognize her years of hard work at the magazine, and she’d land the job. She had to. But first she had to get to the office and ask for it.

Two
    IT WAS CATE’S FAVORITE time of the week. A late September breeze swept across her face, her sneakers pounded a satisfying rhythm against the Central Park path, and her body felt clean and light, as if she were on the cusp of flying. Her breath came in quick gasps; her lungs burned. Fifty more yards. She turned on a final burst of speed, giving it everything she had, until she almost collapsed over an imaginary finish line. She walked in slow circles, hands on her hips, gulping oxygen. Every ounce of tension in her body, all of the knots and little kinks that built up during the long week, had evaporated in the sweet release of the past three miles.
    She moved to the left to let a smiling, white-haired couple walking a golden retriever on a bright red leash pass by, then she exhaled and tilted her face toward the sun. Rich green leaves capped the nearby hackberry and saucer magnolia trees, and the paths had been scrubbed clean by an early-morning rain. A bald guy on a unicycle rode by, calling out a cheery “Hello!” and Cate grinned. Times like these were the reason she’d fallen in love with New York.
    Her Saturday morning routine never varied: After her run,she’d stop by the Korean deli for cut-up fruit and a container of mixed salads—food for the weekend—then pick up a Vitamin-water and