Part 2:
The discovery of Nate's indiscretion a month ago had made the decision for her about their relationship simple. That morning, when Andy had gotten up to speak with him, she found that he'd already left the apartment. A hastily scrawled note let her know that he was staying with a friend for a while to give them "some space to think". Andy threw the scrap of paper into the garbage. Nate had cheated on her; Andy didn't need space to think about it. As the song went, 'it was all over but the crying'.
She made a quick call to Runway. Emily cut into her rambling explanation of why Andy wanted the weekend off before the Andy could get very far. The red-head informed Andy that she would handle the re-scheduling and notify Miranda, if their boss inquired, of the change. Then, Emily had promptly hung up before Andy could thank her. Andy took it in stride and decided that she would use the weekend to re-access her goals, but Friday was for telling her friends about her change in status.
Doug was, unfortunately, at a company retreat and couldn't be reached for another week, but Lily had blown a gasket when Andy told her about Nate's cheating, and the subsequent break-up. Andy had invited her over for a girls' night in. She didn't feel like going out, but she didn't want to be alone either. Andy didn't think she had ever even heard of some of the words that came out of the shorter woman's mouth, before Lily had spouted them off. It made her grateful that her best friend was still in her corner.
Andy smiled every time she remembered Lily's censor-worthy tirade about Nate's inconsiderate behavior following on the heels of her demands to have more girl-time. Because apparently, if Andy had spent more time with her best friend aka Lily, then "this wouldn't have happened". Andy had drunk quite a bit that night and was considering whether or not she should feel insulted when Lily continued.
"I mean," she stated, unperturbed by the peeved look on Andy's face, "if you had spent more time with me, then I could have told you that you prefer the girls…"
That comment surprised a laugh of disbelief out of Andy, "God! You are so drunk!"
"I know you are, but what am I?" Lily sing-songed back to her.
Lily straightened up, suddenly serious even in her drunken state. "Well, you don't have to worry about that asshole Nate anymore," Lily said succinctly, as she laid on the couch in Andy's living room. Her face flushed with indignation (and wine) on Andy's behalf, she slurred slightly, "You and I can go out, an' hook you up with a nice girl. An' if I see him again, Imma kick him in the balls."
"Lily," Andy replied, touched, "Thanks."
"Well, no- no matter what anyone says," Lily began leaning over to where Andy sat on the floor. Her speech slid into baby talk, "I still wuv you." She smooshed Andy's cheeks together between her palms, and kissed her loudly on the forehead, before giggling uproariously. Andy just shook her head in amusement at her friend's antics, glad that Lily was such a good friend. Then, they spent the rest of the night companionably watching terrible D-rated movies, drinking lots of wine, and eating lots of junk food; calories be damn. She promised herself that she would to try to get together with the other woman more often.
Andy spent the rest of the weekend trying to work out her goals. The long term was easy. Andy wanted to write front page articles about class struggles and discrimination in America, or uncover multimillion dollar white collar fraud at work within the hearts of corporate giants. She wanted those articles to appear in publications such as the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, and Newsweek. She did not just want to kick anthills to see what would happen. She wanted to effect change in her own way. She wanted to be in a position where her writing could change minds, and influence US Policy. She wanted to direct attention to the injustices still happening in the world. And, Andy reasoned, if she could win a Pulitzer or two while doing that, then great.
Convincing herself that her job at Runway was what Andy actually needed in the short term was a much harder task. Emily claimed that there was more to Miranda than the surface showed, but Andy never saw any evidence of that. She often found herself trying to figure out the enigmatic woman, but never saw anything more than a self-entitled woman who had seemingly proclaimed herself the embodiment of fashion. It had been frustrating coming to the realization that Emily was right. The job was all about Miranda.
It was about taking on ridiculous tasks that seemingly didn't matter, and completing them as quickly as humanly possible, then, to do it all over again 'just because' her boss ordered her to, and it was her job. The end. No more or less. Andy didn't know if she could perform her job to the exacting standards demanded by the beautiful and enigmatic Miranda Priestly. But eventually, Andy came to the conclusion that she was honestly willing to try.
Andy went into work the following Monday with renewed optimism for her job. However, following a brief slow period, the following weeks had been some of the most mentally and physically trying of her life. Every tiny, shit-task that could be passed off to her had been. Andy swore that there wasn't one inch of New York that she hadn't seen. Twice. She spent her days trying to keep up with Miranda's list of demands, and her nights trying to figure out why she was still stubbornly holding on to a job she still felt ill-suited for. After six hectic, chaotic, mind-numbingly exhausting weeks, of what Andy could only conclude was a form of reparation for previous wrongs, her work life was just now easing up again.
Initially, working at a fashion magazine had been one of the last things that she thought that she'd ever do. Andy had hoped to get an entry level job with one of New York's many newspapers but none of them, even the smaller weekly or monthly periodicals, were hiring. Still, she had her part of the rent to pay, so when Elias Clark HR called and offered her a job, Andy had jumped at the opportunity. It was a last minute phone call that had Andy interviewing without knowing anything about Runway, its consumer base or its editor-in-chief.
Meeting Miranda Priestly, Editor-in-chief of Runway magazine for the first time had been a lesson in what someone with power and control looked like. A text message received by the first assistant of Miranda's impending arrival had thrown the entire department into a symphony of chaos. And when the woman finally strode off the elevator, Andy had felt her jaw drop a little barely able to grasp the beauty of the coldly confident older woman.
Andy still didn't really know how she had gotten the job as personal assistant. Another girl wouldn't have been such a drain on resources. The first questions asked during the short interview had highlighted the fact that Andy knew nothing about Miranda 'Queen of Fashion' Priestly and the world she ruled. Her contempt at Andy's negative replies had been quite clear: Andy didn't fit within the Runway Empire.
Although at the time, Miranda had seemed to like the anonymity that Andy provided; her decision to hire Andy had made little sense from a business point of view. A girl who understood the fashion world would have known the language and culture she was entering. She wouldn't have needed training in both office productivity and fashion politics.
Andy had her prize-winning pieces on the Janitor's union, her ambitions and her work ethics but she was a total novice. She would have to be taught from the ground up to the frustration of all involved. However, the editor must have seen something of value in the hopeful journalist. But while Miranda was many things, Andy was sure she was a business woman first. Even though Emily's claims, that there were deeper depths to their boss than the surface showed, appeared valid, if Andy couldn't learn quickly enough, Miranda would replace her.
"That won't be a problem." Serena faintly heard Andy trying to bring the call to a conclusion as she strolled into Miranda's outer office with two cups of coffee a little before three. The faint scratching of a pen on paper as some information was scribbled onto a notepad accompanied the clipped, "Yes, I'm writing it down now."
"Andy," Serena greeted the brunette in her cool contralto. The younger woman looked up and sketched a brief wave in greeting before she continued speaking into the headset. Serena took a sip from one of the cups before placing the other on the 2nd assistant's desk. Andy gave her a grateful look, and mouthed 'thank you'.
"Andy?" Serena asked once the call was done. "Do you have a moment?" She leaned a hip against the second assistant's desk carefully avoiding the green and orange folders that were piled off center at the edge.
"Yes," Andy nodded, smiling self-depreciatingly, "As much time as the well intentioned 'well-wishers' will allow."
Serena heard the weight of sarcasm injected into her voice in spite of the smile Andy presented. She sounded little worn out. Serena knew from Emily that run-through callers were on average, annoyingly persistent. With Miranda's capricious personality, Serena suspected that now would be her best chance to speak with Andy today.
Serena had been meaning to speak with Andy at length since the Green Room incident two months ago. She was worried that Andy might have felt alienated because of the revelations that her lover had dropped in Andy's lap. Not that Serena thought that Andy was small-minded, but states like Ohio just did not scream cosmopolitan to her, and it had to be both weird and awkward to learn of her co-workers' lesbian relationship the same time as her own possible homosexual tendencies were subtly pointed out.
She was disappointed that it had taken so long for her to get around to it, as she knew Emily had a habit of bulldozing her way through unpleasant conversations, and Andy had always come across as a bit… innocent? Provincial? Sheltered? But honestly, Miranda kept all her employees busy, so here she was, now, trying to see if all was well.
Sensing that the conversation would require a bit of tact, Serena started the conversation with an easy question, "So... how are you doing?"
"I'm fine," Andy replied with a soft shrug.
"That's good. Seeing as it's been four months, and Miranda hasn't fired you, how do you think you like it, here, at Runway?"
"It's different from what I first expected," Andy said honestly. "But so far, so good. You know Miranda keeps us all busy."
"I know. Emily's talked about it." Serena stated gently, "Runway's special to her."
Andy scoffed a little, "Yeah. I got that message."
Serena noted the reply and probed a little deeper, "And you're getting along alright with Emily?" As soon as the words left her mouth, however, she saw that Andy suspected that something was up. Andy had paused mid nod, and her head tilted contemplatively to the side, her mind having unconsciously picked up the direction of Serena's questions.
The brunette sighed, and reached for her cup of coffee. She took a big sip, moaning in appreciation of the invigorating liquid before responding. "Well, she's not talking to me like I'm a five year old anymore. If that's where you're heading with the questions."
"Sort of," Serena admitted. "Look Andy, I just don't want any hard feelings between the two of you. Emily would never admit it, but she likes you."
Andy waved away her remark, "That's hard to believe sometimes."
"Only sometimes?" Serena smiled playfully. Andy leaned back in her chair with a raised eyebrow.
"She does," the blonde stated seriously. "Like you, I mean. Miranda's sort of a hot button for Emily." She explained, glad that the conversation had worked its way around to the topic she wanted discuss.
"And I pushed it," Andy said, mockingly.
"You pushed it," Serena confirmed. "She's passionate about Runway, and she feels that she owes Miranda."
At Andy's questioning frown, Serena shook her head, "Why that is? You'll have to ask her yourself. I won't tell her secrets." Andy gave a grudging nod of acceptance, and Serena continued, "The point is..."
"She was acting like a child," Andy said sarcastically.
"Yes," Serena said. "But so were you." She smirked at the surprised look adorning Andy's face, "And for lack of a better phrase: You tried to break one of her toys. Please try to be more careful."
"You know how weird that sounds? Miranda isn't a toy," Andy stated.
"Please, Andy," Serena said, again.
Andy swung her chair back and forth a couple of times restlessly. "Anything else?"
"Not from my side," Serena took a sip of her cooling coffee. "Do you have any questions for me?"
Andy opened her mouth to answer when the phone rang. "Guess you've been saved by the bell."
Andy smiled easily before saying, "Hello. Miranda Priestley's office," into the office phone.
Serena could tell that the caller was going to be a particularly persistent one when she heard Andy repeat several variations of the word "no" within minutes of answering the phone. Having set aside time for this conversation, Serena was not in any hurry to leave so she sat, and observed Andy.
The 2nd assistant handled the caller well. Serena suspected that she herself would not be as apt at fielding calls for Miranda. Unlike Andy, and surprisingly Emily, she didn't have nearly enough patience. At the thought of her girlfriend, Serena looked towards Miranda's office.
The wall facing the outer office and door were glass, and Serena could see the meeting taking place. Emily took notes while Nigel and Jocelyn appeared to be having a dialogue about one of the shirts on the clothes rack. Serena was no expert, her forte was makeup, but it looked like it was from one of Vera Wang's 'Spring' collections.
Emily was beautiful as always. The late afternoon light caught the hints of gold in her hair, and seemed to set the air around her into a halo of flame. She sat studiously, almost primly, although Serena knew her as anything but prim and proper in the privacy of their bed. Miranda, of course, held court from behind her desk, willingly allowing her employees to quibble about some point of aesthetics concerning one design over another. Serena never had any trouble seeing what Andy, and to some extent Emily, saw in Miranda, the older woman unconsciously oozed sex, but she just couldn't compare in Serena's mind with her Emily.
"They just started the meeting," she heard Andy say a few minutes later as she hung up. Serena gave a soft, absent-minded "Mmm" in acknowledgement of the words spoken to her as Emily glanced up from her notes. The red-head noticed her and gave a faint smile, which Serena returned with a small wave of greeting, before her lover focused once more on the meeting and her notes.
"Well, I guess I know who you're really here to see." Serena heard Andy continue, "Down girl."
The teasing note evident in Andy's voice drew Serena's attention away from her Emily-gazing, and to the brunette behind the desk. The blonde gave Andy a curious look, trying to ascertain any malice behind the comment but couldn't find any. Raising her eyebrow in surprise, as the younger woman ducked her head, and bit her bottom lip in an obvious effort to suppress a grin, an amused crooked smile danced across Serena's face as she contemplated Andy for a moment. She watched as a light blush feathered across the other woman's cheeks while Andy avoided her eyes. Standing abruptly, she gathering a small stack of folders from the crowded desktop.
Her eyes followed Andy as the brunette filed the small stack in the appropriate drawers of the filing cabinet behind her desk. Serena was rather pleased that Andy was comfortable enough with her to tease her about her relationship with Emily. She waited until the brunette sat back down, and start working again. She waited until Andy let her guard down.
"Actually," Serena purred and saw Andy stiffen at the implication behind her teasing rejoinder, "she really wasn't the one I was here for. You on the other hand..."
Andy looked up at her with a hesitant expression on her face. "I'm sure she would be amenable to sharing, if I asked her…" Serena leaned down so that her face was on level with Andy's.
"Please tell me you're joking?" Andy asked eyes wide.
Serena's sultry smirk dissolved into an amused grin at Andy's earnest plea. The sight of Andy taking a deep relieved breath turned the grin into a full out laugh. "Don't joke like that!" Andy said, earnestly. "Emily would kill me! I would literally be dead."
"No worries," Serena wiped the stray tears from her eyelashes, "I would never cheat on meine liebe."
"I'm sure," the brunette stated emphatically, nodding her head for emphasis. "But I don't want to get on her bad side again." Andy quirked the corner of her mouth in self-abasement, "She's a little scary." Serena laughed again.
It's so quiet, Andy thought lying in bed. Her eyes were closed and she listened as her breath seemed to echo faintly in the empty room. In. Out. In. Out. Her thoughts kept cadence with her breathing, pulling night cooled air into her lungs, and then letting it go again.
It's been three months since Andy found out about Nate's indiscretions. After living with him for so long, Andy still wasn't used to sleeping alone. She still expected to fall asleep to the counter rhythm of Nate's soft snoring; to wake to his sleepy muttering. She still expected to feel the sudden heat of an arm or leg brush against her own limbs at random times throughout the night as she and Nate moved towards and away from each other in sleep. She wasn't used to the stillness. She wasn't used to the quiet.
Andy opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She had been up for hours already; listening to the muted sounds of her neighbors in the apartment above her and the early morning traffic on the streets below. The inky, blue-grey shadows that lingered from the night before had been chased away by pink-gold rays as dawn edged over the horizon. It is so quiet.
Andy rolled away from the empty side of the bed as the ringing of her cellphone broke through the silence, its piping jingle prompting an immediate response. If Nate were there she thought, remembering other phone calls, he'd no doubt describe her actions as Pavlovian. As quickly as the realization came she dismissed it, Nate's opinion didn't matter anymore. It was one of the things Andy was happy to get used to.
The day after Nate left, Andy had arrived to work on time and surprisingly, she did it without racing to get there. It was a novelty. Andy wasn't guilt-tripped into staying at the apartment longer in the morning. She didn't have to worry about what he'd say if she was late coming home at night. It was the first time in months that Andy felt that she could breathe easily.
That was why, even knowing that it was most likely work related, Andy accepted the call at 5:15 in the morning. She fully expected the caller to be either Miranda or Emily with a demand that had to be taken care of immediately, and which couldn't wait until Andy got to Runway. She was not disappointed.
"Andrea," said the voice on the other end of the line by way of greeting. Andy could hear the clack of heels in the background and she guessed that Emily was probably already at Runway. "Stop by Miranda's lawyers," she continued, the crisp British accent sharper than normal, "they have a package for her to look over."
"Good morning to you too, Emily," Andy said wryly as she pushed back the bed sheets and headed for her closet. She turned on the phone's speaker before continuing, "You know that's what most people say when they call to wake up their co-workers first thing in the morning." Andy heard Emily snort in amusement before she replied.
"Yes. Yes. Good morning. Whatever." Andy rolled her eyes at the retort. "I don't have time for pleasantries today. Miranda just called me and she's in a snit this morning."
"What happened?" Andy asked, quickly selecting an acceptable top and bottom. "She was fine when she left yesterday evening.
"I haven't the faintest," Emily replied seriously. Andy heard the faint ding of the elevators. "Look I have to go. If you want to keep your job though, you'll get here with those papers quickly."
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm-" Andy didn't even blink when Emily hung up before she finished her sentence.
Hours later, Andy found herself back at her desk having delivered the lawyer's package to Miranda and finished all the pertinent objectives on her morning list. She sat back after ending her call to move up the run-through and had the realization that she had a rare moment of leisure. She thought about visiting Nigel in the Art Department since Emily was at her desk working on something for Miranda, but with the editor due back in the office any minute Andy couldn't justify being away from her desk, especially since he would be attending the meeting shortly.
She reflected that it had been quite some while since she'd done any in-depth research; the type that she might do for an investigative report. Working for Runway and Miranda, however, didn't leave a lot of free time for data collection. Investigation, though, had been one of the aspects of journalism that she loved most when writing. Even as a child watching mystery cartoon re-runs on TV, the five W's: knowing the 'who', 'what', 'where', 'when' and 'why' of something had always been the biggest draw. As she got older, the mysteries got bigger, and her approach to them had changed, but the feelings from solving the mysteries never altered. The bigger the mystery, the bigger the rush.
The last time Andy had time to do such in-depth inquires had been junior year in college, when she was first allowed to do real news rather than a feature article. Eager to make her mark, Andy chose to tackle the rumor of an impending university union strike. When she was done, she wrote an exposition for the Northwestern Daily that won a national collegiate competition.
Emily's words to her about their enigmatic boss came back to her, and Andy found herself pulling up a search engine. Emily claimed there was more to Miranda than the surface showed, but Andy had never seen that. Maybe a little research was in order, Andy decided, to find out if The Ice Queen was just a non sequitur or if the person matched the persona.
Andy had always believed that the award for the union strike piece had been given partly based on its comprehensive data gathering. Andy had spent a month gathering data and sources, then filtering through all the innuendos and the blame game backstabbing being played by both sides to discover the truth behind the rumors of unfair working conditions and university strong-arming. Andy had gotten very good at interviews for that piece, but if she had learned anything from Miranda over the months of working with her, it was that you never asked her any questions. Andy would couldn't go at this directly, Miranda was the exact definition of inaccessible.
Andy's interview with Runway was an example of that. It had been nothing like she expected. Andy had not really wanted the job, but when Human Resources had called and offered either Runway or Auto Universe, Andy had chosen the fashion magazine. It was that last minute phone call that had Andy interviewing without knowing anything about Runway, its consumer base or its editor-in-chief.
Luckily for Andy, despite not knowing those things, Miranda had seemed to be amused with the anonymity offered. Andy for her part, having gone into the interview and come out with a job regardless of everything, had taken a perverse sort of pride in her lack of knowledge concerning all things fashion. But that bit of positive re-enforcement was working against her now.
What once seemed to be a pro was becoming a hindrance to Andy's job performance. As a 2nd assistant, Andy was expected to be aware of everything relating to the Queen of Fashion's very public persona. The fact that Andy hadn't figured this out until two months in was, at best, annoying. But since Miranda didn't do best case scenarios, it was definitely problematic. And as Emily pointed out, another assistant wouldn't have any trouble getting rid of the problem if Miranda passed down the order.
Dusting off her skills, Andy started with a basic internet search. Typing the editor's name into the search engine yielded 30 pages and more than 298 unique entries. The majority of the entries were for the Editor-in-chief of Runway magazine, but there were one or two for people with sound-alike names. Miranda L. Priest was, according to her Linked-in page, a doctor of dental science while Miranda Priest-Lee was a five year old internet singing phenomenon.
What she learned surprised her. There was so much more than meet the eye concerning the editor. Andy read through page after page of Wikipedia, Political Ticker, Forbes, and several Miranda related entries on NY Magazine's online site. She went through the celebrity gossip sites such as The Gawker and Perez Hilton, and ran across pages and pages of candid shots of Miranda at charity events, fashion galas, and even coming in and out of the Elias Clark building.
But by the sixth entry, Andy realized something was off with everything that she had read. Oddly enough, what caught her attention was what wasn't there. Prior to her joining Runway as a very junior copy-editor, there was absolutely no information about the older woman. None. As in nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. It was surprising, considering the amount of publicity that Page Six of the New York Times, and other gossip rags put out about her.
Andy was able to look up Miranda's hire date by going into the Elias Clark website. It was public information. She found out from Wiki that Miranda had not one, but two ex-husbands, and that the twins were a product of Miranda's first marriage. The Gawker, in one schadenfreude-filled page, declared that ex-husband number three was in the works. Biography's websites related Miranda's meteoric rise from virtual obscurity to become one of the most powerful women New York, but even those articles didn't go into details about her pre-Runway past.
Like Pallas Athena, Miranda seemed to have just appeared out of nowhere, fully grown and wearing perfectly tailored Haute Couture, a modern-day goddess of fashion. It's a mystery, Andy mused quietly to herself. It was as if Miranda Priestly hadn't existed before 1972. Her smile widened, Andy never could resist a mystery.
"Emily," Miranda addressed the redhead as she walked quickly by the red-head's desk. Emily looked up eagerly from her computer as she finished typing the last sentence of her work. "I want you at the run-through to take notes for the Van Du Ques line."
Miranda's presence drew Andy away again from yet another fruitless internet search. Andy watched as Miranda, who seemed to be in a good mood, sashayed through the door. Her eyes following the older woman through the glass window that made up the entire front wall of the Editor-in-chief's office.
Andy had been searching on and off, more off than on unfortunately due to time restraints, for information on Miranda Priestly before 1972. She unfortunately found out all sorts of information about Miranda's ex-husbands, and her soon to be ex, but so far, nothing on the subject of her obsession. And Andy was beginning to suspect that she was slightly infatuated with her boss. No, Andy frowned slightly at the thought, I just like solving a good mystery.
Andy had determined that Miranda must have legally changed her name at some point because she couldn't find anything on Miranda Priestly before she started at Elias-Clarke. She was aware that some people changed their names for various reasons, from 'I just don't like it' to religious conversions, so the name change was no real surprise. Still, Andy was in contact with the Office for Vital Statistics of New York in the hopes of coming up with something concrete. The official that she had been in contact with promised to get back with her by the end of the week.
"Yes, Miranda," Emily responded smiling, her posh accent doing little to hide the excitement in her voice. She straightened her desk and grabbed up her electronic tablet and stylus as the elevator doors opened, and Nigel walked out. He nodded to Andy's small wave but was obviously in a hurry. He was followed by two women and a man pushing dress carts loaded with designer clothing into the office. Andy looked forlornly at their entrance. She hadn't been allowed to sit in on a run-through since her first disastrous attendance, when Miranda cuttingly informed Andy about how much she didn't know about the influence of the fashion world.
"Andrea? Phones," Miranda directed, walking out of the office again. She took a stack of folders from Emily as she finished gathering them, and plopped them on Andy's already crowded desk. "And try to do something with these."
"Yes, Miranda," Andy replied automatically. She watched Miranda head to the run-through before dragging one of the folders off the pile. It contained pages of itemized invoices for a photo shoot. The invoices still needed to be entered electronically onto a monthly spreadsheet compiled by Emily and Andrea for Miranda. Then, a hard copy of the invoices needed to be filed with the accounts department for both Runway magazine, and Elias Clark publishing.
"Remember," Emily rounded her desk making a quick stop by Andy's desk, "Miranda is not to be disturbed by anything short of an emergency with the twins during the run-through."
"Alright," Andy nodded. She was determined to surprise both Miranda and Emily by having everything done by the end of the run-through. "I should have this all done before you guys get out." Her smile faltered slightly when Emily raised an eyebrow dubiously.
"Today? I truly doubt it," Emily said as smirk gracing her face. She gave a little laugh before heading in with the others, "But have a go at it anyway, won't you?"
Andy frowned. What was happening today? It wasn't like Miranda had left her with a lot of work. She'd had more complicated tasks to carry out in less time before. How hard was it to file the small pile of invoices by the time the meeting over?
Half an hour later, Andy was cursing both Miranda generally and Emily specifically under her breath while the office phone rang nearly non-stop. Miranda, apparently, had caused some kind of stir this morning by tying the Runway magazine brand publically to some animal anti-cruelty cause. Now proponents, both for anti-cruelty and against the fashion industry-at-large, were beating down the metaphorical doors to get inside information on what Miranda was doing.
The calls would start, and then there would be a host of them that needed to be fielded.
"No, Miranda was not available for the call. Can I take a message?" Andy often replied to the caller. Every now and then, just to keep it fresh, she'd answer with some variation of "Sorry, Miranda is in a very important meeting at the moment. Could you leave a number and she'll get back to you at her earliest?"
Andy would answer like that for a while then, she'd get a ten or fifteen minute break before the lines would start ringing again. Wave upon wave of incoming, and public relations transferred calls prevented Andy from making much headway on the folders. It was like everyone knew when the worst time to call Miranda was, and still insisted on talking to her.
Halfway through waylaying one particularly insistent caller, Andy decided that there had to be a very special place in hell for coworkers like Emily. Andy never expected any information to be forthcoming from the editor... that just never happened. However, Andy felt that Emily should have warned her about the potential public backlash especially since her parting comments implied that she was well aware of said possible backlash.
About an hour after the run-through was over, Andy was still fielding calls. Miranda called for Andy to alert the department heads for yet another ad-hoc meeting, this one concerning the KRUSH menswear line's change in proprietorship. And as always, needing a fresh coffee, was paramount. Miranda had Emily return to the office to take notes, and Andy was left with a list of tasks to complete and all the previous meeting's notes to type up and correlate.
Andy watched from her desk as the department head members involved with the KRUSH apparel placement flowed into the office minutes after her return with Miranda's coffee. Some looked determined more than anything, while several others had looks of consternation gracing their faces. A few, like Jocelyn and Nigel, had long ago learned to hide their feelings on the premise that showing any feelings, fear especially, was like a ringing dinner bell to a hungry dragon.
"No, I'm afraid that she's out of the office. Can I take your name and number?" Andy spoke into the phone again.
"This is Stephen. I need to speak with Miranda," came the cultured baritone of Miranda's soon to be ex-husband. Andy remembered the tall, athletic older man from a luncheon that she'd had to attend with Miranda once. They were currently going through a very messy divorce, full of name calling and nasty recriminations, but Miranda and Stephen had looked like a very well put together couple before their separation. Andy was pretty sure that Miranda wouldn't consider anything that Stephen had to say an emergency.
"I'm sorry Mr. Thomplinson." Andy continued pleasantly, "Miranda is in an important meeting. Could I-'
"You could put my wife on the damn phone," he abruptly interrupted. "Tell her that I don't care where she is or what she's fucking doing! These demands are absurd, and I will speak with her now or she'll be hearing from my lawyers!"
Andy found herself angrily standing at his words, "Hey-" She stopped abruptly, biting off the rest of her first response. She took a calming breath. "Mr. Thomplinson..." She started again coming to a decision before she stated pointedly, "It's not going to happen."
There was a shocked pause on the other end of the line where Andy slid in bitingly, forcing the words into a semblance of pleasantry, "I'll tell her you called, sir." She hung up on the vitriol he immediately began to spew out at her with satisfaction.
The phone rang again immediately. For a moment, Andy was undecided as to whether or not she would pick up the call; since working at Runway she had become uncomfortable with ignoring a ringing phone. Andy knew that she would probably get reprimanded for missing a call, but it would be worth it if Stephen was calling back. Because, Andy thought glaring determinedly at the telephone until it stopped ringing, Mr. Stephen Thomplinson wasn't going to get through to Miranda today, if she had anything to do with it.
"Was that Stephen?"
Startled, Andy looked up to see Miranda giving her an unreadable look. Think of the Devil... Andy's eyes wandered unconsciously over the slender silhouette Miranda presented as she leaned tiredly against the open door frame of her office.
A glance further into the room showed Andy that the others had already left. The sun red in the sky, beginning to set. She was surprised that she hadn't noticed the meeting ending, and people passing by her desk while arguing with Stephen. She worried about how much of the argument the others and, more importantly, Miranda had overheard.
Andy looked down at her desk: the papers scattered across its surface, the empty coffee cup from Serena, her cellphone open to a writing program filled with notes. Then she looked back up at the woman that so many people seemed to revere. Miranda didn't look so iconic in that moment; exhaustion seemed to radiate from each pore, bringing the woman underneath the normally indomitable figure more into focus.
"Yes, Miranda," Andy answered, dutifully. She tried to keep the sullen tone out of her voice. Andy definitely didn't want to be chastised for what she felt was a proper response to a legitimate grievance. I didn't even tell him to fuck off! She thought unhappily.
Miranda walked into the outer office and leaned against Emily's desk. "What did he want?" Her boss asked, quieter than usual. It was quite the feat since Miranda was habitually a very reticent woman.
It couldn't be easy going through a messy divorce, Andy thought. Or to act like everything was fine when it couldn't be. Seeing the woman, and not the boss, maybe for the first time ever, Andy was struck by the realization that maybe it was all for show. Everything that was off-putting about Miranda, from her acerbic criticisms to her ice queen persona, was possibly an act.
Andy opened her mouth to say something (Probably something stupid, she later reflected) when Andy saw it happen. Miranda pulled at the dregs of her strength reserves, and it was like a steel shutter had been sent careening down. Just like that, the woman was again locked away. The golem replacing her stood taller, no longer leaning against the desk, and the look in her blue eyes was focused.
"Please, take your time." Miranda stated archly, "It's not like I have anything better to do than watch you imitate a fish."
Andy closed her mouth with a snap. Shaking herself out of her stupor, she reported, "He was upset about something, and wanted to speak with you."
"No doubt invoking the all-powerful threat of the lawyer," Miranda said, pursing her lips in disgust. The remark hinted that Miranda knew more occurred during Stephen's phone call than Andy reported.
Unsure if she was speaking rhetorically, or asking a question, Andy hesitantly replied, "Yes. He did mention them during the... conversation." She tried not to smile when Miranda snorted, seemingly amused at the obvious understatement.
Looking lost in thought for a long breathless moment, Miranda finally nodded to Andy before turning towards her office. Andy breathed a quiet sigh of relief at Miranda's retreating form, thankful that she didn't have to elaborate further. "Hold my calls," Miranda ordered, closing the office door nearly silently behind her.