Free New York for Beginners by Susann Remke

said, “but it’s only the result that counts. Remember that! Women have to beat men with their own weapons. Play with him a little. Make connections through him that you wouldn’t otherwise have had a chance to make. And then you can happily ditch him at the end.”
    Zoe slumped a little and said, “Do you not understand me, or do you not want to understand me?”
    “I only want to help you, dearest.”
    Then Zoe’s transatlantic spiritual advisor began to bury her client in work. “Work will distract you,” Al said. “If you’re working, you won’t have time for any more foolishness.” Of course, Allegra and Zoe didn’t necessarily share the same definition of foolishness .
    “So, here’s what I’m thinking. When I see the news about Tiger Woods, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and the German TV presenter Joerg Kachelmann—and the twenty-seven or so mistresses they’ve collectively had—it makes me think of the partnership vertical. Why don’t you start it off with a bang? I’m thinking the first theme should be ‘The Other Woman.’”
    “Hmm,” Zoe murmured halfheartedly.
    “I want to know who the other woman really is. Behind the glittering facade of romantic encounters in luxury hotels, surprise packages of Agent Provocateur underwear, and diamond earrings from Tiffany for her birthday. How does it feel to sit alone at home on Christmas? What’s it like to have no long-term prospects for a real partnership or children? Or for growing old together?”
    “OK, whatever,” Zoe said. “I’ll put together a gallery with pictures of famous mistresses. That will get us plenty of clicks.”
    After she’d hung up, Zoe tried to brainstorm about “The Other Woman.” She thought about what the term conjured up. Loneliness? Thigh-high stockings? Crying in airports? Abruptly ended telephone calls? She made a few notes for herself.
    What a bunch of nonsense!
    Something was brewing deep inside her that she couldn’t exactly define. Of course it had to do with McSlimy. Idiot number two in her collection had slept with her even though he’d known exactly who she was. Even though he had known he would be her boss. After all, in her Sunday-morning champagne rush, she’d laid out half her life in front of him on the kitchen table. He knew that she had wanted to be a journalist since she was a teenager, and had finally gotten an internship at Schoenhoff publishing. He knew that she’d managed to get herself the reputation as a damn talented writer for Vision . That rat knew exactly who he was hopping into bed with—and he’d done it anyway.
    Zoe suddenly felt empty. How could he? Who would do something like that? “Sex, Lies, Arrogance: What Makes Powerful Men Behave So Badly?” was once a headline on the cover of Time magazine. Back then, Zoe had been so fascinated by that headline that she’d hung a copy of the cover on the wall of her Berlin office.
    “I slept with one of them,” Zoe murmured. “And I even slipped a note under the egomaniac’s door like a dizzy little girl.” She could have slapped herself.
    It was time for a plan. A plan for revenge. Cress seeds on the carpet, an obituary in the newspaper—that was all beginner’s stuff. You have to hit an alpha man where it hurts the most. And where was a titan’s secret weak spot? His ego, of course! Zoe decided to torture McSlimy by ignoring him. Because what alpha men always wanted most was what they couldn’t get.
    “Besides, your American pajamas look ridiculous, McSlimy,” she said poisonously to the potted plant. “Like something out of the loony bin at Bellevue Hospital!”
    The plant kept its opinion to itself, but Zoe felt better immediately. She strode out of her office with her head held high. “Good evening, everyone.”
    She got in the elevator. Before the doors closed completely, another person shoved them back and slipped inside.
    “Are you feeling better?” McSlimy asked. He leaned casually against the back wall of the