I own nothing. St. Trinian's and Devil Wears Prada belong to their respective writers.
Miranda stormed off the elevator giving rapid fire instruction to Emily. As she pasted Andy's desk she paused mid-sentence. There was her second assistant. Wearing a long gothic style black dress. Black gloves and black buckle up combat boots. The kicker was the black lace veil she wore over her head which was looking down at the floor.
"Andrea what are you wearing? This isn't a funeral home. Go change."
Andy looked up showing the dark eye makeup and lips on pale skin. Her sad eyes gave Miranda pause.
"You didn't check your e-mail this morning did you Miranda?"
"What does that have to do with this." Stated Miranda as she got more inpatient.
Again, sad eyes bore into her "Camila Fritton died last night in her sleep."
"How do you know that name?"
"Once a Trinian always a Trinian." Andy said with a sad smile.
Both Miranda and Emily looked at her in shock. Miranda shook herself and marched into her office and checked her email. As she read she almost didn't look up when Andy walked in carry a piece of her past with her. A bottle of Trinski Vodka and two shot glasses. Looking up Miranda saw what was in her hand and waved her to take a seat. Andy pour them each a shot.
"I thought you were from Cincinnati?"
"Lived with Mum in London till I was fifteen. She sent me to St. Trinian's when I was ten. Then Dad decided to be a dad and took custody of me and moved me to a normal high school in Cincinnati. He also put me in counseling to "deprogram" me."
"Well then a toast to Camila Fritton. May she look over hell as she did her girls."
"To Camila Fritton."