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Epilogue
Two weeks later, it was the second week of October, and the last day of Charlotte’s first week at Rolling Stone magazine. Hustling from the offices, where she’d slaved over an article about an up-and-coming band reminiscent of Soft Cell, the ‘80s band, she met up with Randy for a quick drink, telling him the complex hierarchy of the editors and writers of Rolling Stone, and how it felt to finally be taken seriously.
“I know you’ll find your niche somewhere,” she told him firmly, over their second cocktail. “You’re a great writer.”
“It just sucks that you left us with Pamela,” Randy said, teasing her. “Because in the end, she’s treacherous to everyone. Her and Maggie have kind of bonded, maybe it’s their joint red hair—who knows—and Maggie’s been pushing to have Pamela write
