Manipulations
A DWP (MirAndy) story
By Gun Brooke
Part 2
"Andrea." The barely audible voice of Andy's boss signaled her presence was required. Miranda had not canceled any meetings and somehow managed to go through the business of the day without a hitch.
"Yes, Miranda?" Andy was ready with her pad and pen, but Miranda shook her head.
"You won't need those. Close the door."
Holy smokes, was that very smart? After today's Post, wouldn't it be clever not to add to the rumors? Still, not doing as Miranda said was a surefire way to light the fuse of the only powder keg that counted. She closed the door. Miranda stood and motioned for Andy to join her on the couch. Trembling now, she tried to decipher Miranda's expression, which was about as easy to read as hieroglyphics.
"I think it's time to deal with the…situation." Miranda seemed calm, if Andy disregarded the way her fingers fluttered along the hemline of her Calvin Klein skirt.
"Should I call the editor of—?"
"No."
"Oh." Andy frowned.
"I'm going to ask you to take a leap of faith with me, Andrea."
A leap of what? Andy knew she'd probably jump off a cliff or a bridge or just about anything for Miranda, but what did "leap of faith" mean in this context? "I'll do my best," she said, hoping that was what Miranda wanted to hear.
"Good. Good. I mean, I cannot force you to, um, participate in what could be considered my countermeasures, but I hope you might see things my way."
The feeling of being in a surreal twilight zone was making Andy's head spin. What was Miranda talking about? "You've lost me now. I'm sorry, Miranda, but I don't understand." Andy swallowed, expecting to receive the lethal glare Miranda used to eviscerate annoying, or worse, boring people.
This didn't happen. Instead, Miranda took Andy's right hand between hers. "Irv's behind this. I'm sure of it. A mere demand for official denial from the Post won't suffice."
The words trickled into Andy's mind very slowly. Miranda was holding her hand. Holding her hand and apparently intended on doing so for a little while. Afraid this would make her palm sweat, Andy tried to focus on what Miranda was saying. "Irv? How can that be? He paid someone to manipulate photos of us?" She frowned. "Why would he—?"
"You were there. In Paris. He wasn't happy to have his plan thwarted." Miranda shrugged. "He's been scheming ever since. In the boardroom and clearly out of it as well."
"That pathetic little man." Andy saw how her growling words made Miranda jump. "Well, I hate his guts for what he tried to do. What he made you do to Nigel."Oh, shit. Andy closed her eyes, knowing full well she'd gone and done it now. My big, big, fucking mouth.
"I know I disappointed you, Andrea," Miranda murmured. "I saw no other way at the time and I won't apologize for it. If it makes you despise me less, I can share that Nigel is up for a promotion, which is a bigger step for him than working with James Holt."
Explanations from Miranda? Oh, yeah. They'd taken up residence in the twilight zone all right. "Oh. That's…that's good." Andy wanted to avert her eyes from Miranda's, but knew if she did, she might not be able to anticipate when the cobra that was her boss would strike. It wouldn't stop Miranda from launching, but it was still good to know when the blow was coming in case she had time enough to duck.
"So. Here's my suggestion." Miranda took Andy's other hand and then dropped both of them as if she only now realized she was touching her assistant. "We don't demand a denial from the Post. We let them think they're onto something."
Something had to be wrong with the ventilating system. All the oxygen in the room was depleted in seconds. Andy gasped, and she was certain her eyeballs would pop out of their sockets any moment now.
"Breathe, Andrea. I can't have you fainting on me in here. That would be taking things too far." Miranda smirked, but something else, something haunted in her eyes, made it possible for Andy to do as she said. She greedily inhaled several times.
"You—you want Irv to realize we're onto him, or something?"
"In a way." Miranda looked uncomfortable. "I think if we act as if nothing is amiss, go to a few venues together and let the press take real pictures of us in similar situations, it will take the wind out of their sails, so to speak."
"Take real pictures? As in of us h-hugging?" Andy swallowed against the dryness of her throat. "But that would mean—" People would think she slept with her boss. And when she was promoted to first assistant, they'd "know" just how she got the job. "Are you sure, Miranda?" Was there not any other way?
"We would have to seem intimate to some degree—and make it believable." Miranda plucked at her hemline again and now Andy was sure she saw fear in her eyes. And something resembling defeat, but that was crazy. Miranda was undefeatable, invincible. She was the Queen of Fashion, the Devil in Prada, not to mention the most gorgeous creature that ever prowled the planet. At least that was how Andy saw her. If helping her meant hugging Miranda in public, Andy would gladly do it and revel in it for as long as it lasted. Then, she would no doubt spend the rest of her life piecing together her pulverized heart. As long as she could help remove that haunted expression from Miranda's features, she would do it.
"I'm in," she gushed. "Whatever it takes, I'm in."
Miranda closed her eyes briefly. "Thank you."
The rift back to reality from the twilight zone began to close above Andy's head with those last two words from Miranda. Miranda had never ever thanked her. Not aloud. There was the time when Miranda had mouthed "thank you" after Andy interjected herself between Irv and Miranda's drunken then-husband. Ah. Perhaps a trend was forming. "You're welcome. When do we start?" Trying to sound businesslike might be the right way to stay sane.
"I have information that the culprit has more pictures up his sleeve to share on Page Six." Miranda pressed her lips into a fine line. "Which means we have to do something tonight." She tilted her head. "How about we have a drink together at the bar at Pastis?"
"All right."
"Then I'll give you a ride home in the town car. That's a good start." Miranda tapped her lips. "Yes, that will do."
"It's just…Miranda? What will happen once we've gotten back at whoever is doing this?" This scared Andy most of all. Going from fake hugs to no hugs at all, back to polite employer-employee status, if she even had a job then as she would have tarnished her reputation by having an official affair with her boss—either way it would devastate her, Andy was certain of it.
"We'll cross that bridge then." Miranda waved her hand dismissively.
"And you're sure you can manage hugging me in public and not flinch or bat an eye?" Andy wanted Miranda to be sure, or this could backfire very badly.
"Why wouldn't I—Oh, I see what you mean." Frowning now, Miranda seemed to size her up. "As we're aiming for supplying the paparazzi with a hug and a clingy sort of embrace, we might need to practice."
What?! "Practice?"
"Pay attention, Andrea. I can't keep repeating myself. Stand up." Miranda stood and jerked her chin to hurry Andrea up. "Put your arms around me."
Andy wanted to ask why she had to start, but knew it was pointless. Standing close to Miranda, she took a deep breath and placed her arms around her shoulders. Miranda was trembling and rigid as a flagpole. "That's not going to fool anyone." Andy wasn't thinking when she started stroking Miranda's back. "You have to relax and lean into me. Otherwise people will think I'm just a drunk assistant with a death wish."
Miranda snorted softly and began to lean into the embrace. "You have a point."
Andy had never felt anything as wonderful as Miranda's slowly winding her arms around her waist, returning the hug. "Lean your head on my shoulder. Yes. Like that." Andy could have wept at how wonderful it felt when Miranda's soft, white hair brushed her jawline. They stood like that, Andy still caressing small, soothing circles on Miranda's back, for what seemed too short a time, but was probably a full minute. When they withdrew, Andy regarded Miranda's pink cheeks and darkened blue eyes with wonder. If she didn't know any better, she would think Miranda had actually enjoyed the hug as much as Andy had. Impossible, of course, as this was just a way to mitigate Irv's stealth attack on Miranda. She had better keep that in mind and safeguard her heart. Andy quickly took two steps back and smiled broadly.
"Okay. You let me know when it's time for drinks at Pastis. I'll be—I'll be at my desk." She strode to the door and opened it, donned her best having-been-told-off-by-the-boss-look, and sat down. Emily looked quite concerned, but Andy wanted to savor the memory of being in Miranda's arms, never mind the reason, and pretended to read from her screen.
