Chapter 3

After a long week, Friday crawled into existence. Andy blinked in slow motion, stifling a yawn. She sat in the court gallery, set up and waiting for the day of litigation to begin. Yesterday was the last day of Plaintiff witnesses, ending with Stephen's testimony. Andy smirked. He was decimated by Miranda's legal team. She took great pleasure creating a drawing yesterday of his sorry ass being dragged out of the courtroom by his frustrated lawyer, the prenup left on their table with big red Xs over the words "deserving," "pillar of society," and hardworking." On cross examination it came out that he often abused his corporate credit account to splurge on business trips with lavish dinners and needless, decidedly not-business-related activities. It was obvious that he was losing, and he'd be lucky not to find all his dirty laundry aired before the end of trial.

Andy wouldn't be surprised to learn that he cheated on Miranda, but that was not introduced. Miranda must be confident to withhold that information. Nor had Miranda's team exploited his alcoholic tendencies. Andy couldn't help thinking how such revelations might cause Miranda headaches. Better to hold those gems back unless they're needed to beat his demands.

As with every day that week, her body hummed, brought to attention moments before Miranda entered the room. As had occurred each day that week, Andy turned her head and locked eyes with Miranda, whose warm blue eyes smiled at her today. She nodded before sweeping past, and Andy took a deep breath to settle herself. She licked her dry lips and trapped her upper lip between her teeth, feeling as if she'd drunk a double shot cappuccino. Glancing at the front, Andy was surprised to see Miranda gazing at her.

They stared at each other, Andy existing in a time warp where nothing intruded upon the moment. She didn't even entertain the thought of looking away. To have Miranda's complete attention, even for a few seconds, was exhilarating. One of Miranda's attorneys touched her forearm to gain her attention, and Andy felt disappointment rip through her. Holding back a growl, Andy shook her head. It was time to focus on the job at hand, anyway.

But, oh, how she wished they could have stayed in that bubble for just a few moments more.

By lunchtime Andy was done with her sketches. Miranda's team has already brought in two witnesses, and it seemed like Stephen's attorney had given up, his questions perfunctory and toothless. Biting into her burger, Andy started when a person sat down across from her.

"Hello. My name is Elizabeth Conway."

Andy recognized the woman right away. She wore a sharp navy pantsuit with thin white pinstripes and a French blue silk blouse underneath the blazer. Her dirty blonde hair was arranged in a chignon which highlighted pronounced cheekbones and robin-blue eyes. She was part of Miranda's legal team. "Hi," Andy said.

Her sharp gaze swept over the sketches spread before Andy, and she smirked. "Miranda will like those."

"Oh, ah, thanks." Andy took a sip from her water glass, waiting for the woman to tell her why she was at her table. She didn't have to wait long.

"I'm sure you're aware that she cannot communicate with you during the trial since it may be construed as creating bias, so she asked me to reach out to you."

Andy nodded, scrunching her forehead. She watched Elizabeth slide a large sealed envelope, large enough to hold legal papers, toward her.

"She knows you're writing an op-ed piece to be published in the Sunday edition for the New York Mirror. Did you know it's going to be picked up by the New York Times and the Washington Post, too?"

Eyes widening, Andy shook her head. "Greg didn't mention anything…"

"The agreements are informal, but I'm sure you'll be compensated. They liked your early draft. When are you submitting the final version?"

"Tomorrow."

"In the envelope is some information you may wish to add. Or not. Miranda is leaving it to your discretion. She'd also like to see you after the trial has ended, if you're amenable."

"I, yeah. Yes. Let me give you my contact information." Andy dug out a pen and paper, scribbling her cell number and email address before sliding it across the table. Elizabeth looked at it before placing the slip of paper into her blazer pocket.

"I'll get it to her." She rose. "I won't take up anymore of your time. Have a good lunch."

"Thank you." Andy watched the attorney strut away, weaving a path to the exit without looking back. She opened the envelope and took out a stack of papers, sorting through several legal documents. She exhaled a forceful blast of air. Prenuptial agreement, charge card statements with several highlighted line items, photographs of Stephen and different women in compromising positions, and spreadsheets of his law firm's billable hours and expenditures spilled across the table. "Holy shit."

The information made Andy salivate. No investigative journalist had this information, and here she was writing an op-ed with evidence to back up her most biased statements. For the rest of her lunchtime, Andy pored over the documents, taking notes and devising a plan. She wanted to thrust the killing blow to his reputation while protecting Miranda as much as possible. Although the judge wouldn't read the article, those in the business world would. Stephen's career was on borrowed time, and by this time on Monday, he'd be a social pariah. Best of all, Miranda would not be the one introducing such information through the courts, leaving her above the fallout. She would be viewed as a woman who trusted her husband too much, perhaps, but her integrity would remain intact.

Knowing how some media outlets questioned whether Miranda had frozen Stephen out of the marriage through lack of affection, Andy took pains to argue against such gender bias toward women in the workplace. She highlighted other powerful women whose reputations suffered due to the unfair and outdated belief that women could not be successful in business and in marriage. She listed several instances when Miranda placed family above work, and how Stephen repaid her through poor behavior while in public. Andy commented on how society's collective upbringing of males contributed toward men's ego-driven reactions when they earned less than a female counterpart, and how such a mindset could put insurmountable stress on a relationship. Now Andy could add the proof of his indiscretions to highlight her points. Instead of a cautionary everyman tale, this would serve as a modernized everywoman warning.

By the time Andy returned home, she was in full writer mode. She started revising the article, mind visualizing where best to add the new damning evidence against Stephen. By the time Lily returned from work, Andy was editing the article, well-pleased with the updated version. With a grin, she submitted the final copy to her editor.

"Well, you look happy," Lily said, sinking into the armchair.

Passing the day's sketches to her friend, Andy said, "I submitted the op-ed. I'm so glad it's finished." Chortling interrupted her, and Andy smiled.

"What an awesome picture of that jackass. One more week?" Lily asked, handing the sketchpad back.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was cut short. He's taking a beating. He might want to salvage what little dignity he has left and settle out of court."

"Did she give you the nod today?"

Andy hummed. "And a stare from the front table, but there's more."

"More than a stare that connects you across the room, uniting two hearts and removing all distractions for those few blessed moments?" Lily asked, hands clasped against her heart and eyelashes fluttering. Andy threw a pillow at her head, chuckling when it hit its mark.

"Do you want to hear or not?"

"Of course."

Andy told her of the lunchtime encounter and the resulting revisions of the article.

"Wow. She really trusts you."

"Well, yeah. But wait. What?"

"You could have used that information against her, too. You do realize that?"

"No. She saw the early draft of the op-ed. She knew how I slanted it, not to mention the sketches that were published this week."

"Yes, but that doesn't make giving you such sensitive information any less scary. She gave you proof of his indiscretions and is allowing you to provide that revelation to the masses. She gave you a copy of her actual prenuptial agreement, something no one else has. Her private credit card statements and Stephen's incriminating documents and those compromising photographs. That was a leap of faith, Andy."

"I don't know that I deserve her trust, but I'm glad." Andy picked at some nonexistent lint on her slacks. "She wants to meet with me after the trial ends."

"That's huge. Are you going to do it?"

"Of course. I'm riding this train to the end of the tracks." Andy ducked as a pillow sailed past her.

"Okay, cowgirl. Just try not to throw up when she's within range."

"I'm not that bad."

"Need I remind you of last Sunday night when you got so nervous you upchucked dinner? I worked hard on that chicken piccata, too."

"No. No, you don't. Point taken. I will try to calm down, but I might need you to talk me down."

"One of my best friend duties. It came with the best friend membership card."

Andy smiled, bittersweet memories taking hold. They had made those cards when they were teenagers, declaring their best friend status and listing the duties that came with such an elevated position. She still had her laminated card in her wallet.

"Yeah." A chime sounded, and Andy saw she had a text from Nigel. "Okay, we're meeting everyone at Da Nico's in an hour. I'm gonna take a shower." Andy rose and gathered her belongings, her mind switching on what to wear.

"Okay. I better figure out what I'm wearing."

Humming her agreement, Andy left the room. She was looking forward to seeing her friends and excited to introduce them to Lily. She knew they would get along.

A couple of drinks in, Andy was reevaluating her decision to bring Lily into the Runway gang, pouting while Lily told another embarrassing childhood story. The others were eating it up, and Andy had no doubt they would use these stories as ammunition in the future. A hand on her forearm switched her focus toward Serena.

"I say we have a contest of the most embarrassing childhood experience. We've heard several about Andy," Serena said, squeezing her arm, "but none about us. I will go first. When I was just a garotinha, I decided I wanted to play with my older brothers, but they didn't want their scrawny little sister running behind them."

"I have a hard time believing you were scrawny," Lily said.

"Oh, but I was. Skinny as a pole with long limbs. I ran after them, calling for my irmãos, and they tried to lose me by climbing up a tree and jumping to the next one. They were like monkeys. I climbed the tree, but I was too afraid to jump to the next tree. I sat on a branch higher than our home, and I cried. You see, I was too afraid to climb down, too. After much teasing, they got me down. To this day they call me 'gatinha pequena,' which means little kitty."

Andy grinned. It felt good hearing these stories, even when she was the one being embarrassed. She didn't feel as if she were the butt of their jokes. She felt included. It helped to hear of their own insecurities and stories of embarrassing events. We're only missing one person. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she scoffed. She knew Nigel and Miranda were close, but Andy doubted the fashion editor would ever let her guard down in front of Emily or Serena. They were her subordinates, and Miranda's persona kept her safe from any perceived weaknesses. Miranda would never sit in a bar telling stories of awkward encounters or embarrassing events.

It was Emily's story that won their little game. She told a tale of taking dance lessons when she was five years old, and her first recital turned into quite a spectacle. "I simply did not want to dance. My mum captured the whole thing on video. I stood at the end of the dance line, arms crossed, in my pink tutu, frowning mightily. I did not like being told I had to dance right then. Dancing was supposed to be fun. So, I stood still while the others danced. The audience started pointing at me, smiling and laughing. At first I was well put out by all that attention, but as the song progressed I remembered how fun it was dancing to that song. I looked over at my dance mates, and I recognized the routine. Well, what else could I do but join in? But it was on my terms—when I was ready. Once I joined in, everyone broke out in applause. Naturally."

Andy could picture the scene unfolding. "Someday you'll have to share that video," Andy said. Emily rolled her eyes, but a slight grin gave Andy hope.

"So, Miranda has been in an unusually good mood considering she's in the middle of a contentious divorce trial," Nigel said.

"I saw her looking at your sketches on the internet yesterday," Emily added. "She was smiling. It was terrifying." Emily's shudder was met with light laughter.

"Andy is awesome at drawing," Lily declared, patting Andy's shoulder.

"Thanks," Andy said, ducking her head. She could feel her cheeks warming up at the praise. "Stephen makes it so easy. He's such a greedy ass."

"Well, everyone's pretty clear on your opinion, thanks to your drawings," Nigel said.

"I'm sure. I'm trying to figure out how many other ways I can reflect Stephen as being the witless fool he is."

"I happened to mention we'd be seeing you tonight," Nigel said, a smirk on his face.

"Really?" Andy asked, attempting to appear unaffected. She knew she was fooling no one, but everyone was kind enough not to comment on it.

"She asked where we were going, and she offered suggestions for future meet ups."

"Probably places I wouldn't be able to afford unless I saved up a few months' paychecks," Emily whined.

"Oh come on, Em. You get paid more now that you're in Nigel's department," Serena teased.

"No, they're quite affordable, and I was thinking that we should invite her along next time."

"What?" Emily squawked. "Nigel, are you barmy? Miranda doesn't want to spend time with us! She's our boss. She's…" Emily held her hands up, as if exalting a goddess. "Why would she lower herself to drink in a bar with her employees?"

"Em, that's unfair. Everyone needs to unwind, and we've known her for a long time. She trusts us. Besides, it's obvious that she wants to see a certain someone in a social capacity," Serena said, her eyes flitting to Andy with a knowing glint in her eyes.

An elbow in her side had Andy looking over at Lily, who whispered, "See. That's proof your feelings aren't one-sided." Andy was afraid to believe it, but even with doubts plaguing her, she couldn't withhold a smile at the thought of spending time with Miranda.

"There's that megawatt smile," Nigel said. He clapped his hands together, rubbing them while sporting a shit-eating grin. "I can't wait to get the two of you in the same room again. I know I'm not the only one to see the heart-eyes. Lily, you'll have to come along since you don't know Miranda that well. You'll be more objective."

"I'm in," Lily said.

Andy felt her stomach flutter. Now she had two nebulous dates when she would see Miranda in a social capacity—the first after the trial ended, according to Miranda's attorney, and the second with her friends. For the first time, Andy felt hopeful that those two opportunities would lead to Miranda wanting to spend even more time with her in the future.

When Andy woke up Sunday morning, she pulled the blankets tighter around her body, wrinkling her nose as the cold air invaded her consciousness. She groaned as her eyes traced shadows around her room. It was as if she were viewing monochrome snapshots, her room filled with varying degrees of gray. Silhouettes of her art supplies failed to reflect the vivid colors of her favorite pencils, and her purse was a dark blot against the lighter shades of gray filling the room between her bed and the door. She wondered what woke her. Even without knowing the exact time, she guessed it was still early. Light flashed beside her, and she realized it was her cell phone, indicating an incoming message. With a sigh, Andy pulled her arm out from under the covers and picked up the phone.

Squinting, Andy gasped. She had eleven messages, and it was seven o'clock in the morning. Sitting up, Andy connected to her voicemail, curious to hear who called her so early. Hearing Emily sputter about not being told on Friday made Andy giggle. Nigel. Her parents. Doug. Serena. Several news outlets. And one more message, which made Andy lose her breath. Succinct as usual, Miranda said, "Acceptable." But, God, her voice. Sultry. Slow. Infused with warmth. Andy listened to it several times. I'll be uploading that to my hard drive.

Once the shock wore off, Andy rolled out of bed. As soon as she entered the kitchen, Lily greeted her. She had her laptop open, and she began to quote some of the local blogs. "This is from Teri in Brooklyn. 'I don't know where Andy Sachs got her information, but DAYUM! She burned that bastard, the soon-to-be ex-Mr. Priestly, hard.' And here's one from Vance in Soho. 'I don't know why Miranda ever put up with that good-for-nothing. As soon as he began cheating, I would've kicked that trash to the curb. No one treats the Queen of Fashion that way. I hope he goes to jail.'"

"Wow. I guess the article struck a nerve."

"Oh, yeah. Listen to this one from CeeCee in the Upper Eastside. 'That dude was a dud. How could he throw away the affection of the Devil in Prada and not expect to pay the price? He deserves to lose everything. And now he will.' Ouch! From what I've read, everyone is on Miranda's side. And yours. I bet you'll get solicitations for articles from here on out from all over the place. You'll be able to write on a regular basis, if that's what you want."

"Oh, I want."

Humming, Lily said, "That's not all you want."

Andy rolled her eyes at the gentle dig. "I'm gonna get my laptop so I can read some of the posts."

"Pancakes for breakfast?"

"Sounds perfect," Andy answered with a grin. And it was. Somehow everything had fallen into place. As if being recognized for doing what she loved weren't enough, she felt as if Miranda really saw her now. Saw who she was and what she could do. More than that—Miranda had trusted her to see beyond what the editor wanted, what she needed, and to choose what was best. Perhaps it was time for Andy to trust that Miranda would do what was best for her, too.