May
Three weeks later, there is a benefit at the Plaza Hotel. It's not the event of the season, like the Met Gala, but it's also not a forgettable business meeting. Miranda, as always, dazzles in Valentino and Andy looks chic as well in a Gucci floor length gown. Miranda sweeps up to the side of the building in a shiny black limousine driven by Roy. Emily and Andy stand in wait for her just behind the front doors waiting for Miranda to enter and lead them around the party.
The paparazzi flit about the outer edges of the building, but they aren't the typical press vultures swooping in for the kill. They are curious fashion reporters who simply want to know who Miranda is wearing, what Miranda is working on at Runway, what she eats for lunch.
Surprisingly, Miranda answers them in kind giving these reporters quick honest answers and a smile with no deadly fire behind it. The gauzy blue silk and chiffon of her gown nuzzles her body, making Miranda Priestly more ethereal than ever. The world falls at her feet and Andy really can't blame a single one of them. She would gladly do so too if given the opportunity.
While Emily has been able to put a face to every name in the black binder for months, Andy is by Miranda's side as well tonight just in case. She was incredibly impressed when her second assistant filled in for Emily all those nights ago when the Brit became an incubus of viral plague. Since then, Andy has just keeps impressing her every day. Miranda has decided that a promotion for both of her assistants is in order very soon.
After Miranda has made her grand entrance into the benefit, it's time to mingle. Emily is sent on errands and is left to her own devices after a while. Nigel and Serena stand with her off to the side talking and laughing amongst themselves. She would be jealous of their good times without her if Miranda hadn't specially requested Andy's presence at her side. When Andy sent a questioning glance about this in Miranda's direction, the answer was simply, "I'd like to keep you close tonight," she'd said in a whisper, "in case I need something."
After that Andy had absolutely no complaints. In Emily's absence, Miranda has taken to ushering Andy around by the small of her back, urging her to walk beside her boss instead of behind. When people approach to talk to the fashion queen, it's almost as if the company is addressing them both. This makes Andy feel strange and wonderful all at once. It makes her want to walk beside Miranda every day, everywhere, for the rest of her life. That thought should be terrifying.
The party is in full swing, and Miranda pulls in interested guests like a magnet. She keeps Andy by her side the whole time, only asking her once to retrieve a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Andy is surprised at Miranda's good mood. Typically she hates these kinds of functions, but tonight she engages her second assistant in conversation when the crowd around them lulls for moments at a time. Andy doesn't want the surprise to show on her face for fear of Miranda clamming up altogether. Moments of openness where Miranda Priestly are concerned are rare gems indeed, and she wants to hold tight to each once.
Donatella catches Miranda's eye from across the room and gives a flickering little wave. As she makes her way over, Andy hears Miranda mutter, "Oh, dear God." With a glance in Donatella's direction, Andy sees why.
Donatella's dress was surely meant to turn heads, as it is covered almost completely in grey and blue feathers. What parts of it that aren't covered in feathers are cut away to reveal bare patches of skin. Miranda takes the words right out of Andy's mouth when she says, "she looks like a pre-plucked goose."
Andy swallows the cackle that wants to break free from her throat. She says back to Miranda needlessly, "that's Donatella," as if her name would ever escape Miranda's knowledge. Andy continues, "and that's her current wealthy suitor Ronald Whitham."
Miranda continues to watch her long time acquaintance make her feathery way towards the Queen of Fashion. Even her hair is swept up into a swirling up-do with protruding feather-like wisps at the crown of her French bun. Donatella is the kind of woman that makes her money by marrying rich and divorcing even richer. Her friendship with Miranda may or may not be based on the fact that she has a fully functional private jet that she lends out to friends at only a moment's notice.
She comes over, and grabs Miranda by the tops of her arms, placing wet sounding cheek kisses on both sides of Miranda's face. Miranda most assuredly relies on years of trained politeness to not wipe off any residual dampness immediately. Andy can practically feel her twitching with rage.
"How nice of you to stop and say hello," stiffly squeezes out of Miranda's mouth.
"Oh, of course!" Donatella says loudly. "Ron and I wouldn't miss it for the world. Right, Ron?"
"Mmm," he says absentmindedly.
Ronald of course isn't paying the slightest attention to his surroundings, with Miranda's cleavage being the one exception. He can't seem to pull his eyes away. Andy wants to pluck them right out of his skull.
The interaction only lasts a few short moments. Andy hasn't been following the conversation between her boss and Donatella, but can tell that it is drawing to a close. She works to lessen her glare in Ron's direction.
"Ta-ta, Miranda darling. You'll be at my luncheon next month?"
"Of course, of course," Miranda says, managing to sound sincere. Andy has to applaud her boss's many talents. Miranda can navigate a party or social function with the grace of a seasoned captain at sea. Irv really doesn't give her nearly enough credit.
"Andrea," Miranda says sharply, "Let's go to the powder room. Now."
The tone of her voice would have turned Andy on in any other situation, but Miranda sounds furious, which makes her second assistant absolutely terrified. Andy dutifully travels behind her boss towards the back of the ballroom, to a secluded little hallway that would have otherwise gone unnoticed. Miranda walks along the hallway adorned with paintings until she finds a unisex single stalled bathroom. Andy is prepared to wait outside while Miranda freshens up, but at the last second Miranda yanks her by the arm into the small room.
Inside, Miranda holds her hand out, palm up, where Andy immediately has a moist towlelette prepped and ready and hands it over to her boss. Miranda looks in the mirror as she furiously wipes at her cheeks to remove Donatella's overzealous cheek kisses.
Miranda's eyes meet Andy's in the mirror. Miranda gives a childish shiver as if shaking off the memory altogether. Andy tries not to let a smile crack through her stoic second assistant exterior, but Miranda sees it anyway. She gives a questioning look to her assistant and says, "Andrea, are you laughing at me?"
"No, Miranda," Andy supplies, trying not to look endlessly amused. Miranda lets a little smirk of her own show through, but says nothing else. Andy considers herself to be off the hook.
Once Miranda throws the wipe away, she reaches out her hand once again. Right on queue, Andy hands her a small round compact of foundation and a miniature makeup brush. Miranda dusts the powder delicately on her cheeks. The lighting isn't the best, so in a fit of bizarre boldness Andy offers a hand.
"Here, let me," Andy says, and Miranda hands the makeup over to her. "Close your eyes."
Surprisingly Miranda immediately complies. Andy spends only a minute or two applying thin layers of powder and blush. Then without a second thought, she reaches up and smoothes Miranda's pale eyebrow and the fashion queen's eyes snap open.
"Sorry," Andy says, turning away from her boss to stick the supplies back into her clutch.
She hands Miranda a tube of lipstick and Miranda takes it to apply another coat in the mirror's reflection. When she's done, she hands it back to Andy for safekeeping. Before leaving the small washroom, Miranda turns over her shoulder to say gently, "thank you," before continuing down the hall. Andy just might play the lottery on the way home. In this moment, she feels on top of the world.
The party continues with little fanfare. Miranda only needs the occasional name of an approaching party guest. The rest of the time she spends keeping Andy entertained by narrating the details of any outfit that draws her attention. "Look there, Andrea," she says, "the stitching is all wrong. She looks like her gown got into a fight with a potato peeler."
Another woman, dressed in a bright neon shade of orange prompts Miranda to make comments about traffic cones and "Orange is the New Black." Andy hides laughter in her champagne glass, both amused and surprised that Miranda apparently has a Netflix account.
It takes valiant effort for Andy to keep a composed lid on what is sure to be a giddy expression on her face. To any other person it would look as if Miranda was simply providing instruction to her assistant, but for Andy it makes the whole night seem like a fairytale. This has been probably the best time she has had at a Runway event. Andy doesn't feel like Miranda's assistant at all. She feels like her friend, and she holds this feeling close to her knowing that so little get to experience it.
About an hour later Miranda has had her fill of this event. Andy steps aside to call Roy and tell him to bring the limo up to the curb. The street outside is pleasantly vacant of paparazzi and photographers, all of them having gotten their fill of fodder at the start of the event. A gust of wind causes Miranda to shiver a little, her strapless gown providing little shelter.
Suddenly Andy comes up behind her, draping her own wrap around Miranda's smooth shoulders. It smells like Andy's light clean perfume, and Miranda inhales the sweet scent. She can't help but smile at her assistant after such a gentlemanly act. Andy for her part has her hands clasped behind her back, directing her blushing gaze toward the ground. Miranda is entirely charmed.
Roy pulls up before she can say anything to the pretty brunette standing beside her. Andy slides in first, relaxing into the cushy leather seats for the ride home. Her apartment is the first stop on the way to the townhouse, and Miranda doesn't mind dropping her off. They ride in silence, the soft radio music filling in the holes where conversation would otherwise be. Andy doesn't want to taint such a pleasant night with inane polite conversation. Miranda hates that.
The ride is only about 15 minutes even with Friday evening traffic. When the car reaches Andy's apartment building, Andy doesn't know where tonight's dose of confidence comes from. Miranda is just looking so pretty and so intently focused on her that she can't help but ask, "Would you like to come up for dessert?"
"Dessert?" Miranda asks, a surprised little smile playing at the corners of her lips.
"I like to end good nights with something sweet." Andy says back. She may as well run with this surge of confidence while it lasts.
Miranda looks a little at war with herself. She silently considers the proposition for a moment while Andy wonders if she misinterpreted any signs.
Finally she says, "Alright," and accepts Andy's helping hand out of the back of the car.
"Should I wait, Ms. Priestly?" Roy politely asks.
"I may be a few moments, Roy," Miranda replies, "But I would appreciate a ride home. Perhaps you could circle the block a few times?"
Roy looks a little shocked at that. He's not used to being asked questions, he is typically just told what to do. He stutters for a moment but then offers up, "Uh, sure. I'll just be a phone call away."
"Thank you, Roy," Miranda says, and follows Andy to her building.
The elevator in Andy's apartment is shabby but clean, and Andy tries not to be embarrassed about the smell of mothballs and the buttons that haven't been properly lit since she moved in. Miranda for her part does not look disgusted or even particularly interested in her surroundings. She doesn't even seem to mind the company of another person in such a small space.
The pair reaches Andy's front door and the brunette roots around in her clutch for the key. Once inside, Miranda looks around the small space, but is pleased by the homey decorative furnishings and two bookcases covering a far wall. She drapes her wrap across the sofa arm and wanders over to them perusing titles at her leisure. Andy kicks her heels off and makes her way over to the freezer in the corner of the kitchen. She wishes that she had something better to offer Miranda than two pints of Ben & Jerry's.
Andy contemplating over whether or not to just forget the ice cream and open a bottle of wine gives Miranda time enough to wander through the space to take in her surroundings. An end table covered in framed pictures draws Miranda's attention. She lifts one up and sees that it is a picture of Andrea and the cook she used to live with, alongside another man and woman around her age. The man has a head of brown hair and light stubble while the other woman is African American with rings of curly hair. They are all dressed in what are hopefully Halloween costumes. Andrea looks happy, surrounded by these people, her wide smile in full effect.
"Are these your friends?" she asks, turning around with the frame still in her hands.
"The used to be," Andy says a little ruefully before explaining, "Well, I guess we're still friends. I just haven't seen them in a while."
Miranda feels a tendril of guilt momentarily wrap around her before it dissipates. At least Andrea has a little more free time now that she has gotten a lot better at her job. She's remarkably quick at any tasks Miranda manages to throw at her. Miranda wonders if she's going soft, before realizing that perhaps she just has one soft spot for this girl. It's not hard to; she's incredibly smart and has those enormous deep brown eyes.
Before Miranda can wax any further poetic about the wonder known as Andy Sachs, the brunette assistant is at Miranda's side with a glass of sweet red wine. Miranda is a little surprised at the offering and says, "Dessert?"
Andy looks a little bashful and responds, "I couldn't imagine you with a pint of Chunky Monkey. This was the next best thing."
Miranda chuckles a little and nods her head as a toast before sipping. "You'd be surprised," she says back.
Andy has the feeling she would be surprised about a lot of things concerning Miranda Priestly if given the opportunity. "Well, next time then," she says. She tries not to freak out about the thought of another dessert with Miranda. If only she could be so lucky.
To her surprise, Miranda actually responds in kind, "Next time."
They sit on the sofa for a while, sipping their wine and talking about the most memorable party ensembles. The sounds of the city drift around their conversation. The night is young on Andy's block and people mill about on the street. Car radios, sirens, and other activity bustles around them. She feels a little uneasy about just how easy it is to be next to her boss on a couch in a five thousand dollar gown. This is not at all what she had in mind for her life when she first arrived in New York, but cannot find even a slither of regret within herself.
At around ten o'clock Miranda cannot possibly stall any longer. Her wine glass has but a sip left within it and it is getting pretty late. This quiet time with Andrea has done her well, but she must get home in time enough to tuck her girls in for the night.
"I suppose it's time for me to go," she says into Andy's direction, setting her glass on the coffee table and shifting to stand.
"Alright," Andy says back, also standing to see her to the door She texts Roy to let him know that Miranda is on her way. "Thanks for the company tonight."
Miranda lets a little smile shine through, "Thank you for dessert."
Andy hands Miranda her small clutch and covers Miranda's shoulders again with her own wrap. She can pick it back up again on Monday when she delivers the book, before returning it and the matching down back to the closet. Nigel will never have to know.
As Miranda saunters back in the direction of the elevator, Andy whispers, "Goodnight," before closing her front door and preparing for bed. That night, she dreams of blue eyes and a shock of soft silver hair.
A/N 1: Hopefully the next part will be up soon? Maybe? Who knows.
A/N 2: Thank you so so much for reading.