Manipulations
A DWP (MirAndy) story
By Gun Brooke
Part 4
Miranda strode up the stairs to the townhouse and only when Andy caught up did she see how badly Miranda's hands were trembling as she tried to get the key into the lock on the door.
"Allow me," Andy said gently and held out her hand. "It sure is cold enough out here, isn't it?" Not wanting Miranda to feel self-conscious, she acted as if she thought the tremors in Miranda's fingers came from the cold evening air.
Miranda gave her the key and Andy quickly opened the door, not wanting the idiots flocking on the sidewalk to get more photos than they had already. Inside, she automatically reached for Miranda's coat and hung it in the closet. She did the same with her own and by then Miranda had already started up the stairs.
Unsure, Andy stood in the foyer looking up at the enticing sight of Miranda's swaying hips. She was not sure if Miranda was going up to fetch something or if she wanted Andy to follow her. A quick glare over her shoulder made Andy realize which and she hurried after Miranda who disappeared into her study. Stumbling into the cozy room, all dark wood and luscious cream carpet, Andy found Miranda over by the small bar placed in one of the book cases.
"White? Red?" Miranda's shoulders looked rigid as she opened a bottle of red wine.
"Red's fine, thank you."
"It's no bother for me to open a white if you prefer."
"I'd love some red, actually, Miranda." Andy wasn't sure why she felt it necessary to placate the other woman; perhaps it was because she felt Miranda was especially vulnerable.
"Very well. Have a seat." Miranda pulled the visitor's chair behind her large desk.
"Oh. Okay." Andy sat down and found herself sitting closer to Miranda than she normally did in the car.
"All right." Sipping her wine, Miranda took a long, fortifying breath. "Andrea. I haven't been completely honest with you."
"Excuse me?" Andy placed her glass on a coaster on the desk without drinking. For some reason, she just knew she needed to be sober for this. "What are you talking about?"
"The fact that I have deceived you—and this is all my fault." Miranda looked pale and her lips moved as if the words were hard to get out.
"I don't understand. Why don't you start from the beginning?" Andy curled up sideways in the visitor's chair, pulling her legs in underneath her. "This is surreal."
"You have no idea." Opening her laptop, Miranda plugged the flash drive into one of the USB ports. "Remember I told you I had a feeling more pictures would show up?"
"Yes."
"And you probably wondered if I'd become clairvoyant." Miranda smiled joylessly. "No. I know because the pictures were stolen by someone. This someone was most likely paid by Irv or someone close to him to break into my system."
"Someone broke into your computer? Here at home?"
"Nobody was actually in my home, physically." Miranda pressed a hand against her midsection. "Though I feel as furious and violated as if they had."
"So what did they take?"
"More pictures…of us." Swallowing slowly, and, as it seemed, painfully, Miranda sighed.
Andy changed her mind and grabbed her glass. Sipping it, she half closed her eyes as the smooth wine hit the roof of her mouth. "I still don't understand," she confessed after swallowing a few more sips.
"Here. Let me show you." Miranda pulled up Photoshop and double-clicked on a file to open it.
Andy looked at the picture of Miranda and herself, standing alone on a wet and rainy sidewalk. They were huddled under an umbrella that Andy knew she'd never laid eyes on, and Miranda held her arm around Andy's waist. Andy, in turn, had her lips pressed against Miranda's temple in a tender kiss.
"Holy fuck!" Andy blinked and leaned forward. "How the hell…I mean, who…I, there's no…it's seamless! This thing looks entirely real!"
"Thank you."
"I mean, it's like it's a real photo and—what? What do you mean, 'thank you?'" Andy turned her head and regarded the now trembling woman next to her. "Miranda? You all right?"
"I don't know. It depends." Miranda spoke through tense lips.
"You're… What do you mean?" Andy glanced at the manipulated photo and back again at Miranda. "You mean…what you're saying is, this is you? I mean, by you?" She pointed at the screen with an unsteady index finger. "You did this?"
"I did."
"The ones in the paper too?" Andy's mind whirled as she tried to fathom this totally unforeseen development.
"Yes."
"And you have…more?"
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Twelve. A few more that are works in progress." Miranda's jaw looked so rigid, Andy fully expected Miranda's teeth to shatter.
"This damn Twilight Zone," Andy muttered. "Wh-why have you? And for heaven's sake, how did you do this? And why? And why me?"
Miranda opened a folder. "Why don't you look at the other pictures? I'll be right back. I'll try to answer your questions when I'm done." She rose from her chair and then seemed to realized that she couldn't pass until Andy moved out of the way.
"Miranda?" Andy frowned. "You're pale. Do you have a headache?"
"Yes. I'll get some aspirin."
Standing up, Andy backed away to allow Miranda to leave the study. Something, perhaps curiosity paired with confusion, made her leave just enough room for Miranda to squeeze by. Holding her breath at how their bodies nearly brushed together, Andy then sat down again and began browsing the impossible pictures. She saw them hug, air kiss, and even dance, which was totally surreal. She had two more left to peruse when Miranda returned. Her boss was now wearing an off-white leisure suit and was sipping from a glass of what had to be Pellegrino.
"All done?" Miranda seemed as composed as ever.
"Almost. Two more." Andy knew her own eyes had to be like saucers by now.
"Which two?" Miranda actually came to a full halt. "The last folder in the list?"
"Yes."
"I suppose I can't persuade you to delete it unseen?"
"Are you kidding?" Andy blurted before thinking better of it. "Come and sit down. I need to see it all—and I have questions."
"Of course you do." Miranda shimmied by Andy and quickly sat down.
"How's your head?" Andy gently pressed the back of her hand against Miranda's forehead. "You're ashen."
"I've been better." Miranda looked at Andy with a strange expression, something resembling bafflement, on her face. "Very well."
"Oh. Okay." Andy clicked on the last folder and the first of the two pictures. And stared with her jaw sagging.
In the picture, Miranda had somehow managed to find someone with similar body type to Andy, dressed in a very small bikini. This body, with Andy's head, was lying next to Miranda on a blanket on a beach, but that wasn't the mind-blowing part. The thing that made Andy lose her breath was how "Andy" was possessively staking a claim to Miranda by placing her hand on Miranda's bare stomach.
"Where did you get that photo of me?" Andy pointed at her head on the screen; clearly this picture of her, with her hair fanning out in the wind, was taken outside.
"I think it's from the Central Park shoot. One of the photographers took photos of the staff to test one of his cameras. Nigel had some idea of using it for a staff pamphlet." Miranda shrugged. "That might still happen."
"And…the body? I'm guessing that no woman was actually caressing your stomach on the beach?"
"The photo of me sunbathing was taken by Cassidy last summer in the Hamptons. We have a private beach area there. And no, I don't have a harem of women at my disposal to caress me anywhere."
"Ah." Always something. Andy double-clicked on the last picture. "Holy fu—"
"Just delete it." Miranda's weary voice made Andy jump.
"No! No. Not yet." Andy leaned forward, mesmerized by the way Miranda had managed to place them. Miranda was sitting in one of the small armchairs in herRunway office, leaning back with her eyes half closed. She had put a photo of Andy facing the opposite direction, as if straddling Miranda's thighs. Her hands were cupping Miranda's shoulders and her puckered lips were a fraction of an inch from Miranda's exposed neck. The scene was so sexy, so sensual, and the expression on Andy's face so adoring, her mind went blank for a moment. "Miranda…"
"So now you know."
"Know what?" Andy shook her head. "That you're good at manipulating pictures and photos? Yes, that I do know. Now. I still don't know why you did it or why you chose me as your…motif."
"Does that matter?"
"Are you kidding?" Andy raised her voice. "That's all that matters."
Miranda winced. "No matter what I say, what's done is done and I'll pay for this…this folly, one way or the other."
"So, whoever Irv used stole all these pictures?" Andy decided to change tactics. "And they'll run them on Page Six?"
"Yes."
"We have to find a way to mitigate this attack on you." Andy pushed back a little from the desk and chewed her lower lip. "The only way they can hurt you is if this has an effect on your position at Elias-Clarke. When it comes to the twins, they know about tabloids and how they will do anything to sell newspapers. Unless it embarrasses the hell out of you that the twins think we've been…uhm, carrying on, then that shouldn't be hard to deal with. As for your peers, you're not the first one to chase an assistant around a desk—what?" Andy looked down where Miranda gripped her arm tightly.
"I do not chase assistants anywhere." Blue fire flashed in her eyes.
"I didn't say you do, or that I thought you had. I merely stated that among your peers, it's not unheard of. Remember, assistants share stuff with each other."
"I see." Miranda relaxed marginally, but kept her grip on Andy's arm.
"You're divorced and don't have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, as far as I know. Nobody on that front to defuse either." Andy squinted as she ticked off the awkward list. "So if we look at it pragmatically, the only one that it affects in ways we can't even judge at this point is me. Privately, my friends and family will feel validated in their opinion that I'm certifiable for choosing to work for you in the first place. When they see this, they'll—" Andy quickly wiped at errant tears and tried to smile with an irony she couldn't quite muster. "They won't let me back in, I don't think. They'll think I lied to them all this time."
Miranda's lips lost their pale tension and her cheeks grew pink. "Oh, Andrea, I'm so sorry." She cupped Andy's cheeks and brushed at new tears with her thumbs. "If I thought it would help, I'd talk to them personally."
"Oh, God, no." Half laughing, half crying, Andy shook her head. "That would not be good. So, that's my family. Then there are future employers. They will either think they have a free pass since I clearly am used to sleeping my way to a promotion, or they will think I didn't earn my current position and that I'm not employable because of that."
"Stop." Miranda lowered her hands to Andrea's shoulders and shook her gently. "Stop it. You're not going to end up in either of these situations. You're not the only one taking stock of this situation. I have a few suggestions, if you'll hear me out." She motioned toward the couch. "Let's more over there."
"All right." Andy wondered if she would have to raid Miranda's aspirin stash. Her temples were pounding and she still had unanswered questions. As she sat down, she expected Miranda to sit at the other end, to want to distance herself. Instead the editor sat down right next to Andy, half turned toward her as she leaned her head in her hand, her elbow on the backrest. Her clear eyes scanned Andy's face and then the rest of her; the glance was oddly comforting in its familiarity.
"I was onto something with my first and less honorable suggestion," Miranda said cautiously. "I realized tonight that absolutely nothing can be gained by pretending to have a somewhat sordid affair. I know it's asking a lot, most likely too much, but I'm still going to ask you to trust me."
"T-trust you?" Andy heard her own voice sink an octave.
"In order for my new plan to work, the so-called sordid affair is over." Miranda took Andy's hand in hers. "Instead, I suggest we start dating properly." Miranda put up a hand, palm toward Andy, when she was about to object. "And before I forget, this also means you can't work at Runway any longer."