“Digital media is wiping its arse with us, twenty years ago everyone wanted to be part of this magazine. Presidents, Generals, Movie Stars, Fashion Designers, Car manufacturers… All of them were banging down our doors. I had the best journalists money could buy, we set trends in photography, we had it all.”

“Now we scrounge for the smallest tidbit of information always a week a month or a year behind the latest trends, sometimes I don’t even want to come into the office,” Ross Zuber said staring into the framed first copy cover of his magazine “Popularity Plus” hanging on his office wall.

Bailey Kendall, 22, rooky journalist, striving for a career in the dying industry of glossy magazines, stares at his boss as the complaints about the modern issues plaguing the contemporary magazine business rang out into the already very thick air of the office.

“You people need to get out there more I want you bringing me cutting edge I want this magazine to lead the way.” Zuber said as spittle flew from his parched and ill-tempered lips landing on Bailey’s Ben Sherman shirt.

“Maybe we should be looking at the online version of us,” Bailey cut in. “I will not hear of it! We need to be exclusive, top-shelf, you don’t see Dom Pérignon being marketed on your damn e-bay, my boy.”

This was supposed to be a production meeting, but it’s ended up more like a funeral Bailey thought to himself. Zuber collected his temper and calmed down momentarily,

“Right you lot. We have a couple of new high-end clients. I have agreed to run a series…yes, a series, featuring these new clients over the next three issues.

In exchange for a large sum of cash, we will be, for the next three issues the bible for 2 leading religious groups. Highlighting the good, the not so good and the best parts of being associated with these groups. This will either make us or break us kids it is that critical right now.

The staff in the room avoided Zuber’s gaze as he looked around the office at them all. Bailey felt most precarious being one of the youngest members of the team. He slid his iPhone into his back pocket as Zuber’s steely gaze, like a tractor beam fixed on him.

“Another thing you lot. Whilst these clients are on the books, nobody had better step out of line morally. No Facebooking yourselves drinking in strip bars. No affairs, nothing! We can’t afford to be smeared by any accusations of low morals and lascivious behaviour. I know it’s a tough order in this business, but that is the rule from now on. Right! Now get back to work, your personal briefs regarding the clients will be in your inboxes this morning.

“Zuber is such an arse sometimes, I don’t know about you, but I’m spending most my days applying for jobs.” Destiny White, 25 and extremely fashionable, said as she flicked through her LinkedIn profile. “Damn I wish they would answer just some of my applications, it’s driving me crazy. That Zuber has been hell for years and he just gets worse. If I wasn’t taking care of my sick Mom, I would be long gone.”

“How can Zuber be broke he owns this building?” Bailey said.

“It’s his wife’s money, she was a top model back in the fifties and her Daddy owned half of the old meat packing district of Manhattan and it was left to old Zuber’s wife when the old boy died. And now it’s called Chelsea and they are spectacularly wealthy. Frankly I don’t know why he persists in the publishing world clearly he is out of step with the modern world of online publishing, a bit of a Luddite if you ask me old Zuber. I hate him and I like him I don’t know why. But I am still out there looking to work somewhere else.

“How long have you been here? “ Bailey smirked.

“So long now I feel like I will never escape, I was selected for a job here when I wrote a story as part of a competition to gain work experience at a magazine back in my university days. Old Zuber and I were very close for a while but things were getting a little too weird for me if you get what I am saying.”

“Oh god. Oh Yuk!” Bailey cringed.

“He even invited me to the mansion for dinner quite a few times; I got to learn pretty quickly that Zuber doesn’t wear the trousers in his relationship that’s for sure. He was like his wife’s lap dog every time I went to the house. But you know I kind of like him apart from his traits I still do. I feel safe around him, it’s weird,” Destiny shrugging.

They got back to their office and checked their emails. Their story briefs for the next edition that were going to make the magazine a lot of money were waiting for them. The brief was pretty clear the team were to be hard hitting and informative but within guidelines. In other words, they were not allowed to find anything wrong with the religious groups known as “God’s Children” or “CCF Christ’s Chosen Few” affiliated with millions of members. Together they were paying for the privilege of being talked about in a glossy magazine with a positive slant.

Almost at the same time Bailey and Destiny noted the closing paragraph in Zuber’s email;

“Anybody with skeleton’s in their closets had better hide them well or let me know as a matter of course, because if there are any indiscretions in any area that will jeopardise this story and our client’s profile you will be fired.”

“That’s not right can he do that?” Bailey said as he walked into Destiny’s office clutching a copy of the email.

So what have you got to worry about anyway Bailey? You don’t drink, you spend your life building virtual castles in Minecraft and then you come here, really, what do you have to worry about?” Destiny snapped.

“Clearly not much, but you look pale, what’s going on with you?”

They locked their offices and walked down the corridor to the elevator.

“See you in the morning, got preachers to interview… c’mon lighten up it’s not the end of the world.” Bailey smiled.

“I wish I felt that way,” Destiny said pushing the ground floor button.

* * *

The next morning in Destiny’s office:

Bailey stared intently at the open briefcase, his attention grabbed by a copy of Penthouse magazine “Blondes” edition. He knew Destiny pretty well; she had been his boss for the past 2 years. She wasn't the type of girl who read those magazines.

Destiny was a journalistic whiz kid at university and had been in a top position at the magazine even before she had graduated NYU. The magazine had a name for being squeaky clean; it had done articles on the Catholic Church and Family Food Chains, owned by the Mormons. Both contracts were worth in excess of $2 million. The Magazines image was glossy but credible there had never been any controversy with anyone working there since it began. Zuber was a stickler for good morals and, of course, this is what he expected all the time.

Bailey picked up the Penthouse and started flicking through it. The magazine opened as if by itself to a picture of a naked women lying on a tiger skin rug. Her vivid white skin and blonde hair stood out against the red silk curtains that hung in the background. Bailey almost dropped the magazine when he realised who was in the picture. Oh my God Destiny there goes your career, my dear, he thought as she walked back into the office.

"What are you doing snooping into my briefcase," she snapped.

Bailey threw down the magazine trying to cover up his embarrassment.

“I, I'm sorry I couldn't resist having a peek." Bailey squirmed.

"You saw the picture didn't you?”

"Yes. I think you look excellent in it," He said avoiding eye contact.

Destiny was a gorgeous blonde with blue eyes. She was a brilliant woman she didn't have to be told that the picture in the magazine was probably an express trip to the dole queue.

"That's not me!" Destiny snapped. "Look at the magazine again,” she threw it at Bailey. He opened it to the picture. The caption read, "Meet Miss March 1970."

“Come on, that’s you, the caption could be a fake," Bailey said sarcastically.

“Sure, I would throw away a $100,000 a year career for the sake of hanging my breasts out for men like you to fantasise over?" She yelled snatching back the magazine.

“Who is it then?"

“My mother. She did this before I was born. About the same time my father dropped her," Destiny said looking at the picture. "The only thing he left us was these photos and negatives. My mother earned good money for these back in the seventies."

"You know if old man Zuber sees this, you're out of here," Bailey cautioned. "We are going to have to assume damage control with this situation."

“What are you suggesting?" Destiny asked.

"You have to tell him before he finds out from another source,"

Old man Zuber was a tyrant, a churchgoer and very strict with his staff. He could not tolerate undisciplined people who weren't career minded. He was a family man, in his late fifties and had just celebrated his thirtieth wedding anniversary. He started his career in advertising as a photographer and moved to glossy magazines when his father-in –law bought this one.

Zuber was now a millionaire because of his hard work strict doctrine and natural talent. He had assembled around him a team of like individuals, naturals in publishing like himself. He liked Destiny and often commented that she was a reincarnation of him because of her natural ability. He had hunted through every university in the state looking for the right person and after the national writing contest. He found Destiny.

The next day Destiny and Bailey arrived for work earlier than usual. Destiny said she wanted to forget telling Zuber about her mother's pictures in “Penthouse Magazine” and take her chances, but James insisted the only way to handle this embarrassing problem was to tackle it head on. Reluctantly she agreed.

They arrived at Zuber's office.

"Enter," Zuber called. They went in. "Sit," he said pointing to the chairs lower than his." How can I help you?" he said with a dismissive tone.

"Well sir I really don't know how to begin," Destiny said as she placed the open magazine in front of him. Zuber looked at the photo and went pale with rage. He stood up so fast his high backed office chair fell over hitting the full-length windows of his office, which overlooked the city.

"You pair of assholes! What the hell are you up to? Blackmail?" Zuber shouted.

“What are we up too? What are you talking about?" Destiny queried confused with Zuber's reaction.

“Don’t play innocent with me, young lady," Zuber sneered “How much? How much? Zuber yelled.

"Look Mr. Zuber we know how you feel about the controversy that's why we are here. We wanted to solve this problem today before you found out about this picture from someone else," Destiny said nervously.

"Who else knows about this?" Zuber asked.

"Nobody, only us," Bailey interjected.

“Good, I'll give you a hundred thousand dollars each to shut up about this little indiscretion," Zuber said with frightening calmness as he pulled out his chequebook.

"Indiscretion?" Destiny said, feeling very confused.

“Twenty-five years ago I had an affair with this girl. I was a photographer and she was a model, in fact, I took these photos myself." Zuber said as he poured himself a Jack Daniels." It was relatively harmless until she fell pregnant. What could I do I was already married with a little baby. I left her and never saw her again. Never heard from her again. In fact Destiny, you remind me a lot of her, funny that?"

Destiny couldn't believe what she was hearing. Bailey sat in a state of mild shock.

“Mr. Zuber…the woman in those photos is my mother."

The glass fell from Zuber’s' hand smashing onto the floor.

“She almost drank herself into the grave because of you. She never stopped loving you. You killed her life, you asshole." Destiny said through clenched teeth.

"Destiny I didn't know," Zuber said trying to come to terms with his latest discovery. “I’m so, so sorry. How can I make it up to you?"

“Right now I'm leaving before I hit you over the head with that whisky bottle, I will be back and I will be heading up the online version of this magazine," Destiny said as she turned away.

"I'll look after you I promise," Zuber yelled after her. "

"You certainly will daddy, you certainly will," Destiny said as she picked up the family photo Zuber had sitting on his bookshelf. She threw it straight at his head; it narrowly missed as Bailey caught it. She turned and left the office slamming the door so hard it shattered the glass surrounding it.

“Bailey! What the hell are you doing sitting here staring into space? Get back to work!" Zuber shouted.

"A Porsche 911, Lava Red, Ice Blue interior and the hundred grand will keep me quiet," Bailey said pouring himself a drink from Zuber's bar.

Ends