I hesitate

Damn. I hesitate, then write, “What about credit card? I’ll pay you back, honest. And what are you listening to?”
I pass the page to her and suddenly the lights go up. The presentation has ended and I didn’t hear a word of it. People shift around on their seats and a PR girl starts handing out glossy brochures. Elly finishes her call and grins at me.
“Love life prediction,” she says, tapping in another number. “It’s really accurate stuff,knockoff handbags.”
“Load of old bullshit, more like.” I shake my head disapprov-ingly. “I can’t believe you go for all that rubbish. Call yourself a financial journalist?”
“No,” says Elly. “Do you?” And we both start to giggle, until some old bag from one of the nationals turns round and gives us an angry glare.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” A piercing voice interrupts us and I look up. It’s Alicia, standing up at the front of the room. She’s got very good legs, I note resentfully,shox torch 2. “As you can see, the Foreland Exotic Opportunities Savings Plan represents an entirely new ap-proach to investment.” She looks around the room, meets my eye, and smiles coldly.
“Exotic Opportunities,” I whisper scornfully to Elly and point to the leaflet. “Exotic prices, more like,Replica Designer Handbags. Have you seen how much they’re charging?”
(I always turn to the charges first. Just like I always look at the price tag first.)
Elly rolls her eyes sympathetically, still listening to the phone.
“Foreland Investments are all about adding value,” Alicia is saying in her snooty voice. “Foreland Investments offer you more.”
“They charge more, you lose more,” I say aloud without thinking, and there’s a laugh around the room. God, how embar-rassing. And now Luke Brandon’s lifting his head, too. Quickly I look down and pretend to be writing notes.
Although to be honest, I don’t know why I even pretend to write notes. It’s not as if we ever put anything in the magazine except the puff that comes on the press release. Foreland Invest-ments takes out a whopping double-page spread advertisement every month,and they took Philip on some fantastic research (ha-ha) trip to Thailand last year—so we’re never allowed to say any-thing except how wonderful they are. Like that’s really any help to our readers.
As Alicia carries on speaking, I lean toward Elly.
“So, listen,” I whisper. “Can I borrow your credit card?”
“All used up,” hisses Elly apologetically. “I’m up to my limit. Why do you think I’m living off LVs?”
“But I need money!” I whisper. “I’m desperate! I need twenty quid!”
I’ve spoken more loudly than I intended and Alicia stops speaking.
“Perhaps you should have invested with Foreland Invest-ments, Rebecca,” says Alicia, and another titter goes round the room,fake uggs online store. A few faces turn round to gawk at me, and I stare back at them lividly. They’re fellow journalists, for God’s sake. They should be on my side. National Union of Journalists solidarity and all that.
Not that I’ve ever actually got round to joining the NUJ. But still.
“What do you need twenty quid for?” says Luke Brandon, from the front of the room.
“I . . . my aunt,” I say defiantly. “She’s in hospital and I wanted to get her a present.”