The Suite
Andy sat on the bed, head pounding and blood rushing in her ears. What the hell had she just done? No one walks away from Miranda Priestly. No one. Especially in the middle of Paris Fashion Week.
The weight of her actions settled heavily in her stomach, and real fear took grip, as a wave of nausea washed over her. Not only had she most likely just committed career suicide, but she had lost her access to the person that had rapidly come to mean the most to her.
Miranda.
A loud banging echoed through the hotel room. The knocking was far too loud to be Miranda, and her hunch was confirmed when she heard the voice of Nigel through the hard oak door.
"Six, open up. I know you're in there."
Andy sighed, not sure if she wanted to deal with an upset Nigel on top of her own problems, but the man had been a good friend to her so she went to let him in. She wasn't really dressed for company, having stripped off her dress and pulled on a pair of dark grey yoga pants and a white tank top, but he had seen her in outfits like this before when he stayed at her apartment after a night out.
Nate was long gone. He had been for several months, and Nigel had been her rock throughout the whole messy break-up. It was time to be there for him now.
She pulled open the door, and Nigel nearly fell through into the room. His glassy eyes and lopsided smile give him away.
"You're drunk," she accused with a grin.
"And you could be," he replied, holding up a bottle of whisky that was now only half full.
"Come in, Nige." She moved out of the way, and he stumbled into the hotel room, collapsing down onto the sofa with a giggle, unlike anything she had heard from out of his mouth before.
"Is her majesty back from the last showing?" he asked, with a slightly bitter tone.
She glanced to the adjoining door that led into Miranda's suite, "I haven't heard her come back yet."
Andy picked up two glasses from the small bar in the room and then sat down next to Nigel. She held out the two glasses in a wordless request for him to pour them a drink and then gulped slightly when she saw the size of the measures.
"Did you know?" he asked.
"I had no idea," Andy replied honestly, taking a huge swig of whisky and then nearly coughing because of the burn, "I found out this morning that Jacqueline was going to replace Miranda as the Editor in Chief of Runway, and I tried to warn her, but she already knew. I didn't know what she would do to you though, or just how far she would be willing to go to keep her job."
Nigel nodded, "I'm sorry I asked. I know you would have warned me if you could. Is that why she did it then? To keep her position at Runway?"
"She threatened Irv with The List. You know, all the photographers and designers that would only work with her, and therefore would follow her if she ever left the magazine. Then I guess she made a suggestion that Jacqueline couldn't refuse, to keep her happy. Unfortunately it was at your expense."
"All she had to do was warn me. I would have understood," Nigel complained, slurring slightly, "but she let me sit there, thinking my new job was about to be announced, and gave it to someone else. I've never been so humiliated in my life."
"I know. That's why I quit. I realised that no matter what I might feel, I will never be anything but a bug to be squashed under her Prada heels. If she could do that to you, then she could just as easily do it to me, and my heart can't take it," Andy confessed, as the tears that she had been holding at bay, finally were set free and she allowed herself to cry.
"You quit?" Nigel exclaimed, "you don't work for Runway anymore?"
Andy looked sheepishly at him, "I walked away from her, threw my phone in the fountain and then came back here, but I can't get another flight out until tomorrow."
"There is no coming back from that, Kid," he warned seriously, "you're going to have to leave New York if you want to get another job."
"I know. I reacted in a moment of panic, and I regret it so much," Andy admitted with a fresh overspill of tears, "how can I live without her? How can I not see her everyday? My heart is breaking."
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I wish I had been wrong when I told you to be careful. You gave your heart to the wrong person, and it would always have ended like this. She doesn't care about anyone, including you."
"Do not be so sure, Nigel, and please refrain from speaking for me, in future," a cool voice floated across the hotel room, coming from the adjoining door to Miranda's suite.
Andy and Nigel froze to the spot, staring at each other in horror. Miranda strode across the floor, and stood in front of them both, scowling at the now nearly empty bottle of whisky on the table.
"Nigel, I believe your presence is no longer required. Go back to your suite, sleep it off and I will see you for breakfast at 8am. We have much to discuss about your future. Do not be late," Miranda warned.
Nigel looked guiltily at Andy, mouthing "I'm sorry" at her, as he clumsily got to his feet.
"Bye, Six, keep in touch," he requested, as he quietly left the room.
Andy sat numbly on the sofa. What was already a terrible situation was suddenly so much worse, and Andy had no idea what to say. She could feel the tension radiating from Miranda, who was just standing in front of her, eyes boring into her own.
Miranda stalked to the bar, and came back with a clean glass. She sat down on the spot of the sofa that Nigel had recently vacated.
"Pour," she demanded in a deadly voice, sending shivers down Andy's spine.
Hands shaking, Andy picked up the bottle and poured Miranda a large amount of the amber liquid. If Andy had to have this conversation, half drunk, then Miranda could damn well join her.
Miranda took a delicate sip, followed by another, and then drank more quickly until the glass was half empty. Without saying a word, she put the glass down carefully on the table and sat back on the sofa, relaxing into the corner. She kicked off her Prada heels and tucked her feet to the side of her, just like she had the night before when they had discussed the seating arrangements for dinner.
Andy knew that Miranda was waiting for her to speak, but didn't know what the woman was waiting for her to say. Should she tell her she was sorry? Was an apology enough? Or would Miranda rip her apart for her audaciousness.
What did she want from her?
Andy, with the whisky making her feel a little braver than normal, decided to do the one thing that a good assistant knew not to.
She asked Miranda a question.
"Why are you here, Miranda?"
"Why did you leave me?" Miranda asked in reply, turning to face Andy and searching her face. For what, she wasn't quite sure.
Andy felt the heat rise to her cheeks, wondering just how much of her and Nigel's conversation Miranda had heard, before she had made her presence known.
"Um," was all she managed to get out, as Miranda snorted uncharacteristically.
"Alcohol has stolen your eloquence, Andrea, and to think, you wanted to be a journalist."
"I had to leave, Miranda, I'm sorry for the way that I did, but I had to do it," Andy managed to get out, rather proud of her brevity under the circumstances.
"I do not think you understood the question. I asked you why?" Miranda snapped impatiently, leaning forwards to take another drink.
"Why does it matter? It's done now, and I can't take it back," Andy said sadly, cursing herself when she felt her eyes welling with tears again.
"Am I really so awful that you couldn't bear to be around me for one more second? That you had no other choice but to abandon me in the street?"
"I don't think you're awful at all, Miranda," Andy was quick to reassure her, adding on in her head, 'and that's half the problem'.
"Then why did you leave me?"
"Miranda, none of it matters now. I don't work for you anymore, and you hold all the cards. I know that you can destroy me, that you can blow up my life, and I have no right to ask you not to. I do feel bad about the way that I left today, however, and I'm sorry."
"That's what you think? That I want revenge? That I will destroy your life?" Miranda hissed, as Andy recognised the look of hurt as it crossed her delicate face.
"I said you can, not that you will. I don't know why you wouldn't, though?" Andrea mumbled the last bit, mostly to herself.
They sat there in silence for a while. Andy because she wasn't sure what to say. She had no idea how to make any of this better, and Miranda seemed deep in thought. Eventually one of them would have to speak, but Andy was determined that it would not be her.
Miranda watched as her assistant set her jaw defiantly, and could see the determination not to reveal more than she already had. Was she not aware of just how much Miranda had heard, before she came into the room?
She had returned from the showing, a relatively new and ultimately disappointing young designer. She had wanted nothing more than to just relax in her suite, and wind down from the worst day she had had in a while.
Voices coming from the room next door had alerted her to the fact that Andrea was still here, and curiosity had gotten the better of her. She found herself standing the other side of the adjoining door, listening to the conversation between Andrea and Nigel
When she heard Andrea crying, she had wanted to go to her, but it would never do to approach her in front of Nigel like that. What if she was wrong about the younger woman's feelings? Disappointment in front of Andrea was one thing, but humiliation in front of Nigel, especially after the day's events, was quite another.
So she had stayed, and listened, but hearing Nigel tell the woman that he had warned her what would happen, had prompted her to enter the room. The shock on their faces would have been comical if not for the gravity of the situation.
She had dispensed with Nigel as rapidly as possible, and had taken a seat next to Andrea, determined to lay her cards on the table, once and for all. However, when faced with the emotional younger woman, she had found herself at a loss for words for the first time in her career, and now they were waiting each other out.
How to broach what she had heard them discussing? It was a terrible breach of Andrea's privacy to eavesdrop on her conversation, but getting her to open up was proving to be impossible.
"Andrea," she started, "I believe that we have many things that we need to discuss. Are you willing to talk to me? Please?"
Andy's head shot up from where she had been staring at the drink in her hand, shocked. Miranda had not only asked her a question, but also said 'please'.
"Of course I will talk to you. What do you want to discuss? I don't want my job back, if that's what you're asking?"
Miranda sighed, there were a lot of hurt feelings to navigate here, which combined with the alcohol meant that it probably wasn't an optimal time to have this conversation, but it was now or never. Tomorrow Andrea would leave her life for good and it would be too late. If ever there was a time to be courageous, it was now.
"Not everything in life is to do with our careers," Miranda replied softly, "there are things that are far more important than our position in life."
"There are?" Andrea scrunched up her nose adorably in confusion.
"You seem to have misjudged just how much I care for you," Miranda stated, finishing the contents of her glass and holding it out for a refill.
Andy picked up the bottle and poured Miranda another drink, topping up her own glass at the same time.
"I didn't realise you cared for me at all," Andy replied, turning to face Miranda, a slight look of wonder on her face.
"As an assistant, no. I can have the agency HR uses send me a replacement for you, that will be in the office, being trained by Emily, before I even get back to New York," Miranda stated flatly, "however, as a person in my life, then yes, I care, and your absence would be felt. You would be sorely missed not just by me, but by Caroline and Cassidy too, if you were to walk away from us."
Miranda waited as this information filtered into Andrea's brain, and then the girl softly smiled at her, nearly taking the breath from Miranda's lungs.
"You care? You really care?" she asked, warily, but Miranda could see the hope that was lighting up her eyes.
"Yes," Miranda told her firmly, "am I wrong in assuming that you may also care for me?"
Miranda had heard her words when she was talking to Nigel and all she could do was hope that Andrea trusted her enough now to speak up. She could see the moment that the light went out of her eyes though and she braced herself for the younger woman's next words.
"I've seen what you do to people that you 'care' about." She resolutely turned her head, staring at the painting on the wall in front of her.
"It was a business decision, Andrea. Nigel will understand that, given time. He is understandably upset, but he knows how the game is played and he knows that I will recompense him for his loss today."
"He is a friend, Miranda. A friend! I could never treat someone like that."
Miranda took a deep breath, aware that if she lost her cool, then this conversation would go nowhere.
"It was business. Nothing more, nothing less. I'm sorry that you had to see the darker underside of the industry that we are in, but that's the truth of it. They don't call it a cut-throat business for no reason."
Andrea turned on the sofa, pulling up her legs and sitting cross legged, facing Miranda.
"I don't think I am cut out for this world. I hate what you did today."
"If it's any consolation, I hate what I was forced to do. However, I cannot change it and neither would I. It was the best decision, if not without sacrifice, for all who work at Runway. Nigel didn't get his dream job, but if Jacqueline Follet had taken over then Runway would have suffered and eventually it would cease to exist," Miranda explained, "I meant what I said today. No one can do what I do."
"You could have warned him," Andrea snapped petulantly.
"I could have, and with hindsight, maybe I should have. I didn't have much time though."
Andrea was quiet then and Miranda gave her the space to work through what they had discussed so far.
Eventually Andrea spoke again, "so what happens now?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you say you want me in your life, but in what capacity. I've already told you that I won't come back and work for you."
"I do not expect, nor want you to come back and work for me, Andrea."
"Then what do you want?" Andy threw her hands up in frustration.
"I want you," Miranda shot back in a matching burst of exasperation.
Andrea's mouth fell open at Miranda's words, but she snapped it shut and a blinding smile bloomed on her face.
"You do? You really do?"
"It's too soon for either of us to say, 'I do'," Miranda joked gently, "but yes, I want you."
"I love you, Miranda, in case you didn't realise."
"I love you too, darling, and I am well aware that you have been completely oblivious to that fact."
"Wow," Andy sighed happily, relaxing against the back of the sofa, still smiling, "what now?"
"Now you come and kiss me, you silly girl," Miranda found herself smiling at her wayward assistant, and beckoned her closer. Andrea slid across the sofa, and reached out to stroke Miranda's soft smooth cheek with the pad of her thumb.
"I've wanted to do this for so long," Andrea admitted, before leaning forwards and kissing Miranda so softly, and so full of love that Miranda felt more with that single kiss than she had ever felt before.
They pulled apart, and Miranda offered her a shy smile, "acceptable."