Page 27 of By A Thread
I was an excellent drift catcher.
“Not all of the fish werewillingto be caught,” Gola added.
This was news.
“Basically he was a big ol’ perv,” Ruth whispered. “It was common knowledge with the staff, and according to the rumor mill, he’d fired a few of his less-willing victims. So if you wanted to keep your job, you let him grab your ass.”
“That’s bullshit,” I gasped.
They nodded.
“Of course it was,” Gola said.
“And Dalessandra didn’t do anything about it?”
“We don’t know if she knew. I don’t think she would have let him get away with it,” Ruth said. “But no one wanted to test the theory that she’d believe an intern or a junior editor over her own husband.”
“And then there were the Malinas,” Gola added. “She was happy to lock herself in his office for a quickie. He even took her out of the country for a few shoots and shows.”
“She thought she was going to be the next Mrs. Russo,” Ruth added.
“Poor little gold-digging dumbass,” Gola scoffed.
“Anyway, we don’t know for sure. But rumor has it that Paul finally grabbed the wrong girl. And all hell broke loose,” Ruth continued.
“What happened?” I pressed.
“We came in one day, and there was no more Paul. No official announcement. Just Dominic with an assistant clearing out his father’s office. Side note: Another rumor has it he found three boxes of condoms and a bottle of lube in the desk.”
“He got all new furniture because ew,” Gola chimed in.
“A week later, HR rolled out a shiny new harassment and fraternization policy, which pretty much confirmed the rumors.”
“Paul immediately got a job withIndulgence,” Ruth said, naming another fashion magazine. “All of the executives here have non-competes, so who knows how he pulled that off.”
“What about the women?” I asked.
They both shrugged. “We’re not really sure what went down. There was an exodus of almost a dozen people. Again, it was super hush-hush. A handful are still here, including Malina,” Gola said. “None of them ever answered any direct questions.”
“I heard from an acquaintance of a friend of a friend that there was some kind of settlement involving iron-clad NDAs,” Ruth explained.
“Wow.” I didn’t know what else to say. No wonder the vibe was so off here. It didn’t sound like a solution, it sounded like a cover-up.
“But things are better now,” Ruth insisted. “The sexual harassment policy wasn’t drafted in the 1950s. And a fraternization policy kind of sort of adds more protection.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Basically relationships can’t exist between executives and underlings,” Gola said.
“That’s notexactlywhat it says,” Ruth disagreed.
“It’s the spirit of the rules. They’re trying to prevent relationships with lopsided power dynamics. But it kind of comes across as ‘we fucked up, and now we’re holding the rest of you responsible,’” Gola sighed.
“She’s touchy because she’s in love with a junior VP in fashion,” Ruth teased.
“Used to be. And I’d say it was more lust,” Gola corrected her.
“He is really, really cute,” Ruth mused. “But not cute enough for either of us to lose our jobs over.”
