Summary: Miranda attempts to abide by Andrea's vegetarian diet. Disastrous consequences.
A/N: Post-film. Miranda/Andrea an established couple. I blame this twisted tale on a recent visit to the Walt Disney Family Museum (at the Presidio, San Francisco).
Disclaimer: Ingredients were borrowed without malice and mixed to create the following concoction. Gratitude to Sheknowsnofear for genius beta work - she perfects all of my recipes. Last minute pinches of this & that may have occurred post-review, thus any flaws in the final dish are mine alone. Bon appétit~
Apple
Caryn closed one eye, tilting her head as she studied the model in front of her. The tall, thin girl sighed, awaiting the next alteration that would be made to her pose for the shoot.
"Did you get enough sleep last night?" Without waiting for a reply, Caryn turned; her short, copper-toned curls becoming frizzier by the minute. A few strands tickled the model's nose, causing a faint sneeze into Caryn's ear – which the redhead ignored.
"Ralph? Can we get a little make-up here to hide the shadows under her eyes?"
Seeing the make-up artist rushing forward in response, Caryn stepped away, returning to Patrick Demarchelier's side as he patiently made some adjustments to a tripod-mounted camera.
Once Ralph scampered out of the shot, Patrick and his assistants made some minor alterations to how the model and props were positioned, taking several shots with Caryn watching on.
The model was wearing a deconstructed Dolce & Gabbana gown in white, yellow and blue. A red ribbon was threaded through the dark wig on her head, and a butter yellow leather satchel completed the ensemble. Caryn was feeling fairly pleased with the Snow White set and the creative way in which her department had incorporated various items from the design house's upcoming Spring collection into the scene. There were several pairs of men's shoes lined up at an angle under the bench near the model, and a few sets of heels on display atop the piece of furniture. A coat tree had been carefully decorated with handbags and scarves in various hues.
As they were about to wrap up the shoot, the support personnel on site parted like the Red Sea for a familiar silver Mercedes. Caryn groaned under her breath while Patrick feigned ignorance, continuing to adjust his f-stop for what he planned to be the last shot for the day.
Miranda Priestly strode past Patrick, Caryn, and the lighting staff holding bulbs and reflective panels. As she stopped in front of the model, her stomach gave a loud, irritable growl.
"Don't you dare." Voice smooth, tone sharp as she dared the model to continue her downward gaze at the Editor-in-Chief's mid-section. Their eyes met for a piercing instant. Then the model submitted and Miranda, resplendent in her authority, tilted her sleek, white head to study the apple clasped in the girl's meticulously manicured hand. After a moment, she reached out, fingers brushing gently against the red flesh of the fruit.
"Take a few shots. Carefully." Caryn directed in hushed tones. Patrick complied, moving the camera minimally from where it currently sat, cradled in his arms. The shutter clicked silently.
Miranda's head swiveled towards Caryn, "Shouldn't there be a little tag here?" A slender finger tapped against the smooth skin of the apple. Patrick continued to click away, unnoticed.
"I don't think so. It would distract attention from the couture, don't you think?" The shorter woman approached her boss, unaffected by the pointed look she was receiving.
"Considering the whimsical nature of all – this –" Miranda continued, her gaze taking in the set, " – I don't see how a simple tag would be inappropriate." A single brow arched in challenge.
"What are you thinking, then? The standard 'D&G' logo or maybe the version in orange calligraphy from the Autumn line, 2007?" Caryn's eyes were glazed over as she mentally retrieved the various versions of the designer's label.
"Bite Me," Miranda proclaimed.
The set, which had been fairly silent due to the presence of the Editor, now bordered on becoming a black hole as dozens of individuals simultaneously inhaled.
Caryn, stunned, took a moment to respond. Her hazel eyes flashed as she rejoined, "Eat Me."
Another, smaller intake of breaths occurred as faces became dusky with the continued forfeiture of oxygen.
"Whatever. And," Miranda shrugged, indifferent, "perhaps a crystal goblet on the table with 'Drink me.'"
Now, Caryn's lips quirked. "That would be 'Alice In Wonderland.'" She paused for effect. "Tomorrow's shoot. I do like the idea for the tags and the goblet, Miranda. They will add a nice touch to that layout."
"Mmm. That's all." With that, Miranda turned, her black Donna Karan pantsuit blurring past the crew. Her driver barely had the door to the sedan open in time for her to slide into the back seat.
Once the car had safely pulled away, a smattering of chuckles, laughs, and guffaws permeated the set. Caryn, unruffled, turned to Patrick.
"Please tell me you got decent shots. I want them."
"Why? What do you have in mind?"
"Haven't you ever read the original story? Seen the movie? The Wicked Witch, dressed in somber colors, giving Snow White the poisoned apple?"
"Caryn!" The photographer blanched. "I must destroy these. If she were to-"
"Please, Patrick. Let me have them, then you may destroy your copies."
"Emily, I want my steak on my desk the moment I return. Medium-rare – which means I had better see red when I slice into it. That's all." Miranda snapped the phone shut, then flipped it back open and hit another speed-dial button.
"Andrea. I realize you have… noble intentions. However, I can no longer acquiesce to this vegetarian diet – at least while at work. I have called to notify you that I will be having steak for lunch today." Miranda paused, fingers playing with a few strands of grey hair at the nape of her neck as the car made its way through the crowded streets.
"No, there will be no discussion as to why I've made this decision. I…" she stumbled, cheeks infusing with a crimson hue for a nanosecond, eyes blinking closed at the memory of the ruby tone of the apple minutes earlier. And her verbal exchange with Caryn over the trivia of fairytales.
Clearing her throat, the editor continued, "I simply called as I felt you ought to know." Her fingers dropped from her neck as she laid her head back against the smooth leather headrest. "You will be making that eggplant dish for dinner tonight, won't you?" Her voice was softer now as she waited for a response. "The girls will be pleased." Then, almost as an afterthought, "So will I. That's all."
This time, when the Editor snapped the phone shut, the tension fell from her frame, her torso melting into the seat. As the car pulled up in front of the Elias-Clarke building, her stomach rumbled once more, this time distinctly aware that there was a filet mignon awaiting consumption.
That evening, after Miranda left the office, Nigel crossed the hallway into Caryn's space.
"Don't hoard. Let's see them."
Caryn turned from the rack of clothes in the corner of her exceedingly messy office space, and sat down at her computer. Nigel slid a stack of binders aside so that he could sit comfortably on a corner of her desk.
Within seconds, the screen was filled with an image from the Snow White photo shoot. Nigel gasped.
Miranda stood, fingertips resting along the skin of the blood red fruit, lips barely upturned in what appeared to be a painful smirk. The model's face was devoid of emotion, but her posture held a thread of fear. The severe cut of Miranda's dark pantsuit and white collar contrasted dramatically with the muted tones and soft edges of Snow White's dress.
"I wish I had an audio recording of our little repartee." Caryn's face lit up at the thought, her grin reminding Nigel of the Cheshire cat as she turned and said, "I'll just have to settle for using the photo as is… on this year's Christmas cards."
~ The End ~