“Damn”, Ava muttered to herself as she spilled her drink on her new Marc Jacobs dress. Ava Heartwright was at
the party of the year, not to mention the party that could determine if she would get the job of her dreams; the co-editor of
Vogue. Some of the most revered fashion icons were in attendance at this party, and Ava needed connections. “Ah, Ava! I’m glad you could make it!” Ava looked up from the tragedy that was her dress to see Erin Wheeler floating ethereally towards her. Erin was Ava’s co-worker, also one of her main rivals for co-editor. “Erin! How are you?” Ava said this as she double air kissed Erin, grimacing at her overly strong perfume. “Fine. I think I really have a chance at this job,” Erin said almost menacingly. Of course, Ava being her paranoid self, thought Erin meant, “Back off. This job is mine.”
Ava Heartwright was one of those in between-boyfriends, twenty-something girls who had tried to rebel against her parents by moving to New York City. Everything had been going well: a great job (if not a little too competitive), good friends, and great neighbors, which something almost unheard of in the city. But of course, there was that one itch that she couldn’t scratch; the pebble in her shoe that wouldn’t come out no matter how hard you shook. That pebble was Ben Berman. Ben was Ava’s boyfriend from before she had migrated to the city from New Jersey. Ben was…special…lets put it that way. Not only had they been completely in love, Ava and Ben have had plans to get married since they were 18. After Ava had left Ben in Jersey, still hopelessly in love with her, Ben had become nothing short of a stalker. Leaving Ava voicemails at all hours of the night, singing cheesy 80’s love songs (Wind Beneath My Wings, anyone?) and reciting Shakespearean poems he was reading off the internet, sending her flowers
at work, even going so far as to name a star after her. Ben called it romanticism, Ava called it laying down $150 at Bliss for a rejuvenating facial after being woken up at 3 A.M. Ava hadn’t seen Ben for almost three years, yet he was relentless.
“Screw him! Change your number and get a haircut,” exclaimed Stephanie, Ava’s best friend since moving to New York City. “He’s costing you the job of a lifetime, not including the fact that he’s holding you back from any serious relationships.” Stephanie had been dating Mark, the cute boy at the checkout counter at Saks, for the past two years. Ava suspected he would propose to her any time now. “He is
not holding me back. I am simply too busy to be in a relationship right now,” Ava retorted. She had to admit it: Ben was stopping Ava from being free. Free to go for the job, free to be happy with a different guy. “Please honey. You spend your nights with me watching re-runs of “Will & Grace” and ordering in Chinese. I don’t think you’re too busy,” Stephanie said jauntily. In fact, that’s what Ava and Stephanie were doing that night. Suddenly, Ava had an idea. “Steph. You’ve cut hair before, right?”
That night, under the influence of life and a few too many gin and tonics, Stephanie cut Ava’s beautiful, long, brown hair, into an Audrey Hepburn-esque pixie cut. “Oh my god. I look…different,” Ava said, obviously in shock. “I’m so sorry! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Here, let me call my stylist. His name is Marco; he’s great. You can get extensions!” Stephanie said this in one, overexcited breath. “No. Don’t touch that phone, Steph. I love it. Thank you,” Ava said confidently.
That day, Ava went to work with a bounce in her step. “Today is the day,” Ava thought to herself. Today was, in fact,
the day. On this very day, Anna Wintour, editor-in-chief of Vogue would be announcing her new co-editor. As Ava walked to her office with her head high in the air, she almost bumped right into Anna Wintour herself. “Ava. I like the haircut. Very edgy,” Ms. Wintour said approvingly. Ava, reeling, walked into her office. “Anna Wintour just spoke to me. Anna Wintour just spoke to me. Anna freaking Wintour just spoke to me.” All of a sudden, Ava had this feeling in her chest; a feeling of pride, accomplishment. Like she could do anything she put her mind to. Ava picked up her phone and dialed a familiar number. “Ben? Hi, it’s Ava. We need to talk.”
“No! Stop it Ben…. no of course I don’t hate you! I just need to move on. Ben… it’s over. Please don’t call again. I’ll always love you in a way; we just can’t be in a relationship. Goodbye, Ben. Goodbye.” Ava hung up the phone, feeling no remorse. “I’m free,” she realized happily. Abruptly, Ava’s Blackberry dinged. “I wonder who that might be,” Ava thought cautiously, automatically thinking of Ben. She picked up her phone: one new text message from Stephanie. “aves! good luck 2day! hope u get the job!” Ava put down her phone, her heart dropping into her stomach. The meeting where everyone found out who got the coveted position of co-editor was in two minutes. Ava stood in front of her desk, heart racing, mind in utter and complete shock. Finally, she gathered herself. “I can do anything. I’m like the little engine that could. I think I can, I think I can,” Ava thought to herself as she walked to the large conference room, overlooking the busy city street of Broadway and 42nd.
Anna Wintour sat in the front of the conference room; Ava’s co-workers sat admiringly around her. “As you all know, it is time for a new co-editor,” Ms. Wintour started, in a clipped, slightly Americanized British accent. “This person must be powerful. Cutting edge, fashionable; a true leader. You must be willing to squash the person below you under your Mary-Jane Manolos. I have been examining all of you for the last 4 months. In this time I have seen a lot. But the one person who has really stood out has been one girl. That girl is Ava Heartwright. Not only has she been there for every coffee run and late night at the office, but she has also fought nail and tooth for this job. So I congratulate you, Miss Heartwright. Make me proud,” Anna finished with a tight smile. “Thank you so much, Ms. Wintour. I won’t disappoint you,” Ava said coolly. But inside, Ava was freaking out. “AHHH!!! OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD. I can’t believe this is happening!!! My parents will be so proud! And Steph… oh Stephanie will be so happy. Ahhhh!!!” She could see Erin in the corner, turning as red as her Yves Saint Laurent lipstick in Rouge Volupte. “You are all free to go,” Anna Wintour said nonchalantly. Ava strided back to her office, feeling on top of the world. She thought joyously, “So Steph was right. All I needed was a little bit of freedom."
