Read The Knockoff for Free Online

noting that she could feel Jenny’s ribs beneath her silk Tucker button-down.
    “Welcome to my new digs.” Jenny spread out her arms, nearly touching each of the opposite walls in the tiny space. Her old office had been just a couple of doors down from Imogen’s, not quite as large, but still spacious and with a view of downtown. They engaged in the requisite small talk. How was Imogen feeling? What was Jenny’s husband, Steve, the architect responsible for making Williamsburg in Brooklyn hip and expensive, working on now? Was Alex buried in the McAlwyn case? The answer to that question was indisputably yes. Imogen thought she would have heard something by now from her husband on her first day back at work, but Alex Marretti, assistant U.S. attorney, had been in his own office since six a.m. working on what was quickly becoming one of the more high-profile Ponzi scheme crackdowns in the past twenty years. Marty “Meatball” McAlwyn, the defendant, had been a stockbroker to the stars until the United States Attorney’s Office finally got a whistle-blower to reveal that his entire investment portfolio was a fraud. According to the indictment against McAlwyn, he created false trading reports, backdated trades, manipulated account statements and ultimately used other people’s money to pay out false returns. If Alex won the case it would mean big things for his career.
    Imogen looked around. Her hips had no choice but to brush against Jenny’s as they stood chatting in the small space. “Why are you all the way back here? Did she turn your office into a nap room too?”
    “Yup.” Jenny nodded as Imogen’s smile faded. She had been joking. “She has them working around the clock, but the girls need to sleep. I think they should sleep in beds at home! But, since she never lets them leave, they need somewhere to get some rest. It’s fine really.” There was a distinct resignation in her voice. “I don’t plan on sticking around much longer.” The “she” was very clearly Eve.
    With no pages left to plan out and then produce, the job of a managing editor, what Jenny did was now obsolete.
    “You need to learn how to code.” Jenny expertly mimicked Eve’s newly affected accent, a cross between Boston and old New York with a lot of soft vowels and condescension, as she recounted to Imogen what Eve told her when she had asked what her new responsibilities were at the website. “ ‘You’re drowning in the ocean and I am throwing you a life jacket to pull you into the digital future’ is what she said to me.”
    “So fucking patronizing!” Imogen shook her head. “What code does she want you to learn? Morse code?” That was the only kind of code Imogen could think of. She knew it was wrong the second it came out of her mouth. If she were being honest with herself, she would admit she had buried her head in the sand these past few years when it came to the Internet. “It’s not my problem” and “It’s not what I do” were the phrases that came to mind. Other people had simply taken care of it.
    Jenny gave a wry smile and moved her hand across the few inches between them to pat her on the arm. “HTML, Ruby on Rails, the things that make a website. Don’t feel bad. I didn’t know what the hell the stupid little cow was talking about either, but I’ve been doing some research. Here is the thing—I just don’t think that’s where my heart is. I’m no engineer and I don’t want to be. Steve and I may take some time and live in the house in Hudson Valley. I might finish my novel. I used to be someone important in this office and she’s made me feel like an unwelcome guest. She never asks my opinion, never tells me when meetings are. She’s just waiting for me to quit.”
    “Let me talk to her,” Imogen said. “I can fix this.”
    Was Jenny looking at her with something akin to pity?
    “Thank you, and I appreciate it. Truly. But I think I’ve alreadymade up my mind. Mannering is offering