Playing for Julia by Annie Carroll Page B

through.”
    “Okay.”  I answer , hoping I am hiding my disappointment.  “I miss you, too.”
    Oh no. This i s it.  I am a one-weekend stand—maybe.  But would he have called at all, if I was going to be dropped? No. I don’t think so, but I can’t help it—I feel insecure.  Maybe Ali and Dan were right.  Maybe no woman in her right mind would do this. I just know that I miss him and want to be with him and be in his bed making love every night, every day—that I know for sure.
    We talk for a little while longer.
    “Dream of me, baby.”
    “I always do, Austen.  Dream of me.”
     
    * * *
     
    I don’t know who invented this new self-service salad bar idea, but he is a genius.  It is fast and healthy and showing up in cafés all around town.  Cathy and I take our trays to the table at the café around the corner from Voices .  We are both having the salad bar lunch today—mine with lots of cherry tomatoes and crunchy croutons. The salad, plus one roll, plus black coffee is a low calorie, low cost lunch—just what my budget allows.
    “Something’s up,” Cathy tells me.  “I don’t know what it is, but there have been meetings behind closed doors lately.  Have you heard anything?”
    “No.  Nothing.”  I answer.  “Do you think Voices is in trouble financially?”
    “I don’t think so. Dale keeps telling me how many new advertisers he’s getting, how much more money he’s making.  And how wonderful he is.”
    “Has he been hitting on you?”  I smile.   Cathy has an angular face with high cheekbones and long dark brown hair that she usually pulls back in a ponytail. More often than not she wears black jeans and black knit tops along with big chunky bracelets.   She looks sort of arty and gives the impression of being very independent. It’s almost laughable to imagine her with roly-poly Dale in his bland gray businessman suits.
    “The guy will not take no for an answer—but he’s going to have to.  I have no interest in him whatsoever,” she says.  “You’re lucky.  Everyone knows you’re dating Austen Raneley —especially since that photo was published. That sets up a kind of do-not-touch wall around you at the office.”
    Oh, I think, a wall around me?  Do I want that? Maybe this is another side of being the rock ‘n’ roll girlfriend and I’m not sure that I like it.
    “I don’t think many people saw that photo . Rags ’ circulation is small and they may not be around much longer,” I say, then change the topic.  “Cathy, I’ll ask Dan this afternoon and let you know if I find out anything.”
    D an tells me we will all find out on Friday at a meeting for everyone on staff.  Whatever it is, he doesn’t seem very enthusiastic about it.  I pass the word along to Cathy, who is busy editing the ever-expanding Weekly Events section.  It has become the most popular feature of Voices .  If it is not in the Voices ’ Weekly Events, it is not really happening in San Francisco.
     
    * * *
     
    Austen calls again Tuesday night.  He can fly up on Saturday late afternoon.  Will I pick him up at the airport?  “Yes,” I answer.  Yes. Yes. Yes. A million times Yes.
     
    * * *
     
    On Friday morning it is standing room only as we all crowd into the small conference room. Dan, David and another man are standing at the front. The mystery man has bushy reddish-brown hair, a stocky build, is wearing jeans, a tan T-shirt and a brown tweed sports jacket with leather patches on the elbows. No beard; he is clean-shaven. I glance over at Cathy who raises one eyebrow, skeptically.  I think she knows who the other man is.
    It is David who tells us.  “As you all know Voices is committed to providing a platform for the voices of a wide range of people in the city.  To further that ideal we have come up with the concept of Guest Editor.  Three times a year Voices will be edited by someone other than me for a week, someone who brings a different viewpoint, a different