A/N: The reason it takes me longer to type is that my wrist only allows for 15 to 30 minutes at a time. But here's part two!
Andy looked around the office that spoke of Miranda's as someone who liked a lot of light, both for illumination and the lightness as in weight. The glass desk from where Miranda could see anyone coming and going through the glass doors, suggested she had a notion to control her environment. The small settee and chairs in the opposite corner didn't invite anyone to sit and linger. There were photos of Runway covers, but no true 'I-love-me' wall. Instead, there was an A4 photo of a pair of red-haired twins on a small shelf by Miranda's desk. Did she have children?
Miranda wrapped her nails against the glass surface of her desk and then pointed at her visitor's chair. "Take a seat and tell me how Krantz had the audacity to send you instead of heading out contract?"
Andy waited to answer until she sat down and crossed her legs. "Josh's husband suffered a stroke two days ago. Josh is with him in the hospital."
Miranda blinked. "Why wasn't I informed immediately?"
Andy could hardly believe her ears. Did Miranda truly believe that she would be notified right away, like a family member would, in an instant like this? She leaned forward and laced her fingers around her knee. "That was hardly a priority at the time," she said, barely able to keep her disdain from her voice. "And as I'm not only the most seasoned photographer next to Josh, but his next in command at the firm, I'd imagine my prompt presence here shows how fast the company picks up the slack when something serious happens."
Miranda's eyes became narrow slits as she pursed her lips. "The slack." The way she repeated the two words made it sound as if they tasted like milk gone bad. "That's how you refer to the most prestigious photoshoot this year?" Now she spoke in a low, dangerous purr. It was clearly meant to intimidate, but instead it sent shivers of something entirely different down Andy's spine.
"Please, Ms. Priestly, don't misunderstand." Andy was normally not one to try and placate anyone, but the way this human dragon was starting to breathe fire made her attempt it—and also for Josh's sake. The way he had looked when facetiming her from the hospital had her worried for him. "I know Josh is the photographer, especially on the East Coast, and he has done nothing but rave about this particular photoshoot to me. Because of that, I'm intimately familiar with his intentions."
Miranda's expression changed, if marginally. "And your own work? Why haven't I heard about you?"
Andy took a deep breath with as much stealth as possible. "I have worked internationally, mainly in the news media, for the most part. I have only been back in the States a while." She resisted the instinct to duck at the sight of Miranda's now widening eyes.
"News media." Miranda's tone of mentioning something foul was back. This woman was infuriating.
Andy was not one to name drop or brag, in fact the opposite as her innate shyness hit full force when it came to such things, but now she wanted nothing more than to wipe the scornful expression from Miranda's beautiful features. "I suppose I can't expect everyone to keep up with the news or recent events, but I was shortlisted for a Pulitzer last year for breaking news photography. That's one of the reasons Josh wanted me to work for him. I'm a versatile photographer and you'd know that if you had waited to pass judgment until you have a look at my portfolio. Josh and I are doing our best to honor the contract with Runway, but the final decision of course, is yours."
xxxxx
Miranda was stunned. It didn't sit well with her as she was never stunned. Annoyed, frustrated, angry in a simmering way, yes. And she was all of these things—and stunned. How dared this…this girl, sit there and lecture her, and more than that, insinuate a shallowness in Miranda for not keeping up with the news.
There was only one way to show Andrea Sachs how wrong she was about everything. There was no way this woman's portfolio of grainy news photography would do for a fashion shoot, not even for the lesser ones.
"Then by all means, show me." Miranda put on her reading glasses and held out her hand. "I'll peruse your portfolio and after that, I want you to set up for the test shoot in one of our smaller studios. I need to see how you work with models."
Andrea handed over an A3 portfolio and merely sat quietly waiting as Miranda untied the ribbon. That wouldn't do.
"Come sit by my side," Miranda said, smirking inwardly. "I want us to look at them together." She shot Andrea a look and was strangely delighted at the now guarded expression in those amazing eyes.
Andrea lifted the visitor's chair and rounded the desk, sitting down next to Miranda. Opening the portfolio, Miranda stared at the first photograph, a black and white shot of a woman on a pier. The fifties inspired dress…no, it was an original, Miranda decided. A black and white fifties Chanel dress billowed around the woman's legs. Her dark hair was half in her eyes, but it only gave her a mystique that made Miranda lean in. Behind the woman, the ocean sent cascades of seafoam as the perfect backdrop.
"Where is this taken?" Miranda's throat became parched instantly.
"In Denmark." Andrea spoke softly.
Miranda turned the photo over, reluctantly. The next photo nearly made her gasp out loud. Whereas the first photo had been understated in black and white, with a lot of motion in the motif, this one was a colorful explosion of a pensive woman sitting in a window seat, the juxtaposition of her dreamy expression and the brightness of a sunrise and the colorful items around her, mesmerizing.
One by one, the photos showed a talent beyond Andrea's years, and Miranda began to feel dizzy from mixed feelings of relief and shock, tinged with some humiliation. Her frayed nerves had allowed her to jump the gun and now she did look like a fool—and that was another thing she loathed. Her beyond humble beginnings had spoon-fed her enough humble pie back in the day to last her a lifetime.
"I stand corrected," Miranda said, schooling her voice to sound entirely flat. "If you can keep up this level, and judging from your portfolio, I don't see why not, the shoot can go on to the next planning stage. I still want you to do the test shoot today. Not to prove your worth, but to learn how we work at Runway."
"No problem, Ms…"
"Call me Miranda." Miranda flicked her fingers at Andrea.
"Of course. Most people call me Andy." Andrea smiled as she stood and moved the visitor's chair back to its place. Miranda pressed her nails into her palms for a moment at the effect this girl had on her. If she wasn't imagining things, she could feel small drops of sweat run down the small of her back.
"Go get set up, Andrea," Miranda said calmly—there was no way she was going to call this creature Andy—relieved that she could sound like her usual detached self. "Emily and Serena will show you where and Nigel is your go-to person when I'm not present."
"All right." Andrea leaned over the desk and gathered her photos and closed the portfolio. This made her scent, soft and fruity, waft over Miranda. "Want us to tell you when we're ready?"
Miranda couldn't help but smile. "I'll be there in ten minutes, and I don't like to be kept waiting." It was a small thing, but it still restored a bit of confidence that Andrea visibly swallowed hard. "That's all."
xxxxx
