Been working on this story on and off for AGES! Hope it's worth it..let me know :) xx
Disclaimer: Usual. I am but a poor student with nothing to my name, especially not these characters.
There'll Always be Paris
It was late. Or so Andy assumed. It was dark. But then again, it had been dark for a long time. Truth was she didn't know what time it was, how long she'd been there, or even if she cared. She wrapped her poncho tighter around herself, feeling bones she didn't know she'd had six months ago. She looked down at herself, a stone lighter, and a dress size smaller, kitted out in the latest fashion, and felt nothing.
A million girls would kill for that job.
She wondered at this. A million girls who lived and breathed fashion. Catwalks. Runway. Miranda. A million girls, who thought they would have everything, be complete with a purpose if only they had her job. She wondered if they would end up feeling as alone and empty as her.
She felt a hand on her shoulder, heat behind her. She turned, half-smile, expecting Nate, or someone, anyone who made her fit.
"We called last orders half an hour ago, ma'am."
She nodded at the bar tender and drained her wine. It had turned warm an hour ago. She headed out into the Parisian night, clear and freezing. As she wandered unsteadily back to the hotel, she allowed herself a wry smile. Growing up, she had always wanted to go to Paris: The Eiffel Tower; Saloon; Arc de Triomphe. She had wanted to save for a romantic trip, something which seemed ludicrously unlikely now that she and Nate had finished. She never thought she'd be there in the middle of Paris Fashion Week with not a hope in hell of seeing anything but heels and flashing cameras.
She entered the hotel, the heaters blow making her feel suddenly claustrophobic. She thought of the suite she was sharing with Miranda and decided to get a drink by the bar.
The bartender was pulling the shutters down as she arrived. He was most apologetic, especially when he realised she was staying with Miranda. Apparently she had been less than impressed with her room service that night. She cringed inwardly as she stumbled into the elevator, her heel catching on the bottom of her black trousers. She supposed it was a good thing that the bar was shut. She probably would have ended up drowning herself. No doubt that when she saw Miranda the sub-standard room service would somehow be her fault, probably because she hadn't pre-empted that nights events and stuck around to sort it out. As she snorted at this, Andy realised that, unusually she hadn't had a phone call all night from her boss. Bracing herself, she let herself into the room as quietly as possible, not easily achieved given that her brain had just decided to acknowledge how much alcohol she had consumed and her head began to swim.
She collapsed on the sofa, unwilling to risk trying to get to her room and waking Miranda, who was in the opposite suite to her room that adjoined the living room, in the process. Her eyes were closed, her mind was drifting.
She thought she heard a voice, but it was far away. Echoing. Nate, complaining, Lily shouting; Emily insulting; Miranda demanding. She rolled over on the sofa, curled into herself, away from everything.
'Just let me die.'
Miranda's hand stilled suddenly in mid air. She had strode into the living room when she heard the door shutting, but slowed her pace when she saw Andrea collapse onto the sofa. She wondered fleetingly if her assistant was unwell, but dismissed the thought of asking. She frowned at the fact that she was still even thinking about it. What did she care? She was the girl's boss not her nurse. Her frown deepened when she caught scent of the alcohol emanating from the sofa.
"Andrea." No reply. Miranda took another step towards the sofa. She was impatient. She didn't know why. She didn't want Andrea conscious for any particular reason, but she was just used to having her people at her constant beck and call. It was irritating to find herself alone.
"Andrea." She tried again. No response. She reached out her hand to grab the woman's shoulder but stopped when Andrea moved. Without opening her eyes, she turned into the couch, her back to Miranda, wrapping her arms around herself.
'Just let me die.'
Miranda managed to catch the gasp that almost fell from her throat. Her irritation floated away as she leaned over slightly and saw a tear forming in the corner of Andrea's eye. Without thinking too deeply, she pulled the soft cashmere throw up over Andrea's shoulder, leaving it fall lightly, her wish to have the woman conscious now dissipated. Apparently the woman was disturbed enough already.
The car was gliding smoothly, like silk slithering over the roads. Andrea smiled, relaxed into the seat. A shadow of a frown disturbed her features as the engine began to groan and thud, thud, thud. It got louder, took on a voice of its own, thud, thud, thud. The car began to roll; she was no longer in control. Over the cliff. Thud, thud, thud Andrea thud, thud, thud Andrea...
She woke with a start, and promptly squeezed one eye shut when it became obvious that they wouldn't focus together. It took a while for her to analyze her surroundings and she wondered why she wasn't in her flat. Everything hit her at once and she groaned as she collapsed back down.
"Ah, Andrea, finally. I have been talking to you for the last half hour. I have ordered my own room service for the second time, clearly the staff here are even more incompetent than the ones that surround me given the sorry state of dinner last night," Miranda paused slightly and glared at Andrea over the top of her glasses before continuing her almost whisper, "it will be arriving in two minutes. You will check that it is at the very least hot, and I mean hot, Andréa, and fetch it through to my room. I have a meeting at 8.30 in the Lagoon, no, absolutely no flowers at all seeing as it seems the florists of Paris are quite unable to distinguish between a freesia and any other plant life and make sure there's a coffee."
Miranda wafted into her room as quietly as she had spoken. Andy pulled the cushion up over her head; her eyes squeezed shut, her brain screaming.
More demands, more flashes. More dresses. More demands. By the time Andy got back to the hotel at the end of the day she was numb. She collapsed onto the couch, eternally grateful to Nigel, who had supplied her with enough Tylenol to suppress her headache, but now she had to finally acknowledge her growling stomach. She grabbed a cushion, held it close as her thoughts turned to Miranda.
Andrea, Andrea, Andrea. This is the new Emily...the new Emily...my new Emily...Andrea...so good to meet you...
She grabbed her head, the throbbing back full force. Andy found her feet and rushed towards the door. She had to get out.
Miranda Priestly, the great unmovable Miranda Priestly listened to the sudden onslaught of buzzing on the other end of the phone for what seemed like forever, and then threw it across the room. Her already red rimmed eyes filled with fresh tears. She made her way to the bathroom where she stood for an eternity in front of the mirror studying herself. Her hand moved slowly up to her cheek, her fingers feeling the tear tracks streaking them. With a small pang and skip of a heartbeat, she realised that the tears were not for Stephen, or even for the conversation that had just ended so abruptly between them.
Miranda Priestly, the great unmovable Miranda Priestly sat on the toilet seat and hugged herself close. She tried to convince herself she felt nothing, thought of nothing, even as she shut her eyes and images of Andrea flashed through her mind. She stifled sobs as she realised that it was not Stephen who she wished would appear in the room, even though she knew she would send anyone who dared away. And it was not Stephen who she could see when she closed her eyes against the onslaught of fresh tears. Miranda's brain screamed.
She had thought a little earlier in the evening that ordering a whole bottle of wine instead of paying by the glass would be a better option. Andy, who usually hardly ever drank, stared into the bottle, which she had apparently emptied all by herself. She held her chin in both hands and squinted to try and focus more clearly. Giving up, she reached unsteadily for her glass and barely managed to stifle a scream when she noticed a hand resting on top of it. She spun around on the barstool expecting to meet some waiter ready to escort her off the trendy premises.
It took a great deal of effort for her to lift her eyes from the dickie bow to focus on the smiling face.
"You look in need of a coffee."
Andy smiled as she relaxed again and ducked her head.
"Christian! Hi! What are you doing here?" she tried to focus on her words but nevertheless she sounded slurry even to her own ears.
Christian slid onto the stool next to her and gently spun her around to face him.
"Apparently I am reprising my role as a knight in shining armour for the glamorously mysterious brunette that keeps flitting in and out of my life."
He smiled at the slight blush that graced Andy's cheekbones and raked his hand through his dirty blonde curls.
"Actually I'm escaping. And as I snook past, I happened to notice you looked like you were doing the same thing." He glanced at the empty bottle on the bar. "So I thought, mysterious brunette Miranda lady, that we could escape together."
Andy flicked her hair over her shoulder.
"And what makes you think that I have anything to escape from?"
Christian smiled and stood. He retrieved Andy's jacket and held it out for her.
"You work for laPriestly. That's the ultimate lair to escape from. And besides, you owe me, remember, for helping you out with the gruesome twosome. Be part of my escape plan so I don't feel so guilty. I mean, I couldn't possible ignore a damsel in distress and leave her all alone, could I? Coffee?"
Andy laughed and protested even as she slid off her stool and into her coat.
"I refuse to be the reason for your shirking Mr. Thompson. Or your damsel in distress. However, a non alcoholic beverage sounds good right about now, and seeing as it's your treat I shall overlook the fact that you are merely using me as a means of escape."
They were both laughing as they left the bar, Andy having managed to trip over practically every table on the way to the door.
"Did you see the bartender?" Christian laughed, his eyes twinkling and his blonde hair dancing on the chilly breeze. They were both consumed by a fit of giggles as they staggered down the street, neither seemingly noticing as their bodies melted closer together, their feet drawing them towards Christian's hotel.