"Bloody hell, Andy, you're lucky Miranda didn't catch you sleeping at work or she would have your head." Andy blinked a few times, disorientated, before murmuring "Emily?" The irate redhead rolled her eyes while frantically shuffling through the papers at her desk. "Who else were you expecting, the Queen?" Rubbing her face with her hands, Andy blinked a few more times before her heart plummeted at the realization that everything – her relationship with Miranda, their wedding and ensuing love-making – had all been a dream.
However, Andy had no more time to dwell on the implications of the dream, as her phone rand suddenly. In auto mode, Andy picked up the phone with a "Miranda Priestly's office, how may I help you?"The voice at the other end was gruff but familiar. "I am just about to pick her up now. We'll be there in 15 minutes." "Thanks Roy," Andy replied sincerely, before hanging up and hitting speed dial number 5. "Hey Marlene, its Andy. I need the usual... I will be there in 5 minutes." Without further ado, Andy hung up the phone – a bad habit that all of Miranda's assistants tended to pick up – slid her leather bomber jacket on over a brightly printed A-line dress and headed for the elevator.
No less than 13 minutes later Andy was making her way back towards the Elias-Clark elevators, a selection of magazines in one hand and a tray containing Miranda's coffee, Emily's tea and a Espresso for Andy, in the other, leaving her with a minute or two to get upstairs and prep Miranda's desk. Dashing into the elevator, Andy shifted from one 6-inch-heel clad foot to the other, urging the lift to move faster. With a 'ding!' the elevator doors opened to RUNWAY as Andy, a model and one of the editors swept into the offices. With practiced motions, Andy delivered her and Emily's drinks to their respective desks before slipping into Miranda's office.
Although Miranda had softened slightly since the Paris disaster, when Andy had almost walked away, it was still crucial that Andy set up the editors desk perfectly and left before Miranda arrived, for the fashion icon still froze her assistants in an icy glare if they were caught alone in her office. Carefully, Andy set the Starbucks cup next to the computer, twisting it so that the logo faced Miranda's seat. The collection of magazines were then splayed methodically across the table, in a fixed order; everyone had heard the story of the assistant fired for putting Vanity Fair before Vogue. Finally, Andy misted a single pump of perfume towards Miranda's chair, knowing Miranda preferred to be surrounded by her favorite scent.
Just as the elevator 'ding!'ed once more, Andy swept out of the office, waiting in front of her desk for Miranda's coat and bag. Seconds later, Miranda arrived, depositing her coat and bag into Andy's waiting hands. "Emily, move my meeting with that new designer forward, to 9 o'clock, and get Nigel for me. Andrea, coffe-" the word died on her lips at the sight of her desk, already complete with magazines and Starbucks. "Thats all."
Attempting to hide her small smile, Andy hung up the coat and bag in the closet and set about updating the schedule. Emily called Nigel, who promptly arrived at Andy's desk. Dropping a note on Andy's keyboard, he proceeded into Miranda's office, forgoing mundane greetings in favor of "I know, the shoot was terrible, so I called..." Unfolding the paper, Andy read "Six, drinks, tonight, after you drop of the book?" Andy grinned at the words – Nigel knew her so well, they had become quite close during their time in Paris, and met irregularly for drinks. At the end of a long day, they both tended to need the alcohol buzz, and Nigel was one of the few people who didn't hold Andy's long working hours against her.
When Nigel emerged a few minutes later Andy forwent words in favor of a simple nod, knowing Miranda would be mad if she heard them discussing non-work related matters. Glancing at the time, Andy called Roy to arrive downstairs, only moments before Miranda glided out of her office, hand out-stretched for her personal belongings. Andy carefully helped the editor into her elegant coat and handed over her bag before grabbing her own belongings and following a step behind Miranda.
The two women rode down in the elevator together – a custom that had been constant since Paris, much to Emily's envy – and exited at the ground floor. Crossing the foyer, a young woman shredded jeans and a less-than-designer shirt intercepted their path. She was still a few meters, maybe five, away from the editor and her assistant, but her stance was somewhat confrontational. Andy bit back a sigh – it was not uncommon for Miranda to be accosted outside of Ellis-Clark, but between security and Miranda's 'Dragon' persona, there was never really a problem. Miranda paused at the sight of her, waiting for the usual "you ruined my business" or "how could you chose their design over mine" accusations.
This one was different thought. The woman was dressed to poorly to be a designed, and looked as if she'd had several sleepless nights. "Do you remember me, Miranda?" she hissed, "or am I just another Emily? You probably have know idea who I am, and yet you ruined my life. You blacklisted me – I haven't been able to get a job on the east coast for months."
"I do remember you, actually." Miranda replied coolly. "You stole clothes from the closet, so I made sure you would never work with an item of clothing ever again. Is that all you wanted?" she asked with a sneer.
"I Wasn't Stealing!" the visibly flustered ex-Emily shouted. "You ruined my life, and now I will ruin yours." The woman reached to the small of her back and, for a split second, time slowed down. Andy watched as the woman pulled something shiny and metal from the waistband of her jeans. Without even thinking, Andy snagged Miranda's arm, spinning them to put her younger body between the editor and her attacker. Dimly, Andy heard a trio of deafening cracks split the air, and everything was numb. Unable to control herself, Andy sunk to the ground, suddenly surrounded by a flurry of movement. Men in security uniforms where rushing past her, towards the ex-assistant, thought one stopped to look at Andy. "I think she's in shock" he shouted, though it sounded as if he was talking underwater.
Looking down, Andy saw red stains blossoming on her clothes – one on her shoulder, one near her stomach and one in her thigh. Somehow, seeing the blood, everything became real. Gritting her teeth in pain, Andy slumped down fully so that her was lying on the floor. Absently aware of people around her shouting for ambulances and police, bandages and towels, Andy realized someone had slid her head onto there lap, cradling it gently. "Miranda?" she mumbled best she could. "Yes, Andrea," the older woman choked, holding back a sob, "I am here." "She shot me." Andy muttered. "What the hell? You cant just go around shooting people."
Miranda's tears splashed onto the younger woman's face at the sound of her assistants non-nonsensical rambling, unable to chastise her for once. "Its alright Andrea, she's going to go away for a long time, just stay with me." The older woman was reduced to begging. "Please, don't go, don't close your eyes. Just stay with me, it will be ok, just don't to to sleep. Please Andrea, don't leave me." By now, Andy's body felt as if it was on fire, and the pain was becoming over-whelming. Knowing that, for once, she wouldn't be able to do as Miranda asked. "Sorry Miranda..." she managed to whisper before descending to a place without pain and agony, a place of pure blackness, where even Miranda's voice failed to reach her.
A.N. Ok, this has been a while since my last post. I'm more of a reader than a writer, so I am crap at remembering to write. Starting my IGCSE's soon, which means I will be on study leave, so I will try to post again within a few weeks at the most. Sorry bout that...
