The Guest Editor – Chapter Five
A/N: WOW! I'm amazed at the response to this story. And it keeps on coming. Over a hundred of you have this added to your alerts now! Apologies for the delay in posting, you might want to go back over the story to refresh your memories. I hope you enjoy.
Irving Ravitz, CEO of Elias-Clarke, had a good feeling about today. He could finally deal once and for all with what had been a very prickly thorn in his side for the past fifteen years. Today was the day he could replace Miranda Priestly with somebody who could respect corporate decisions. The dragon had left the building.
Okay, it might be seen as immoral to replace the woman whilst she was in hospital; recovering from a heart attack no less, but Irving knew that he wouldn't get a second chance. Good business relied on chances. Besides, he could always argue that Miranda wasn't fit to run Runway. How could their flagship publication function if its editor was at risk of a coronary if she had too much steak for lunch?
Miranda had been at the helm for nearly three decades. It was time for change. Runway had so much potential but only turned a tiny profit. It was a financial black hole. How Miranda could justify her exorbitant spending in producing the magazine month after month…
So he was enraged to hear, on the office grapevine no less, that Miranda had had the foresight to go ahead and appoint a successor in her absence. The successor would have to be dismissed as a matter of course. Miranda wouldn't be able to do anything about it. He could have somebody who was actually commercially viable take the helm of Runway and then this person could be justifiably seen as a replacement for Miranda. And Miranda would be no more.
He could dismiss the interloper and have Jacqueline Follet, who was already on a plane to New York, in Miranda's chair by the end of the day. All he had to do was make the calls.
Charlotte was the unfortunate who picked up the phone.
"Good morning, Miranda Priestly's office."
"Get whoever is in the office to my office now."
"I'm sorry, who is this?"
"This is Irving Ravitz."
"And you are? Sir?"
"The boss. I'm the CEO."
"But Mrs Priestly is the head at Runway?"
"And I'm the CEO of Elias-Clarke. I'm her boss. Now send whoever is sat in her office to my office now."
"And where is your office? Sir?"
"Oh this is ridiculous. I'm coming down there myself. You can clear out your desk. You're fired. Be gone by the time I get there." The line went dead. Charlotte just sat there in shock which quickly became tears.
There was a knock at the door as Nigel and Andy were eating breakfast whilst Emily pushed a Danish around her plate.
"Come in!" Andy called, through a mouthful of bagel.
The door opened to reveal Charlotte in floods of tears.
"Charlotte whatever's the matter?"
"I—", Charlotte sobbed, "I've been told to tell you that Irving Ravitz is coming down now and that I've been fired."
"What?" asked a now shocked Andy.
"Irving Ravitz is coming down…"
"Yes, I got that bit. He fired you?"
"Yes, Ms Sachs."
"On what grounds?"
"He called the office and I didn't know who he was and he asked me to send you to his office and I asked where his office was and then he fired me."
"Right, Charlotte you're not fired. Stay here, I'll go and speak to Mr Ravitz and sort this out."
"There won't be any need for that, he's already here, and now all our jobs are on the line…Christ I love my job!" muttered Emily as she watched the short statured CEO of Elias-Clarke come barrelling into the ante-office.
"Mr Ravitz." Nigel rose in greeting. "May I introduce Andrea Sachs from the Times, she'll be filling in for Miranda whilst she is recovering from her heart attack."
"Nigel, I've already got somebody lined up to take over," he then turned to Andy and smiled, "I'm sure that Ms Sachs is a good journalist but her services are no longer-"
He was cut off by an increasingly irate Andy Sachs. "Peabody Award winning journalist."
"I'm sorry?"
"I'm not just a 'good journalist', I'm a Peabody Award winning journalist," she said curtly, glaring at him. "Folks, can we have the room for a moment?"
Emily was happy to escape. Nigel seemed a little shaken. Charlotte was still sniffling. Nigel offered her his handkerchief.
"She must be mad!" Emily sighed, pinching her nose. "What does she expect to achieve?"
"I have no idea." Nigel gave a wry smile.
"My services are no longer required?" Andy echoed once the door had shut. "It's a good job you don't remember me Mr Ravitz for I certainly remember you. Boy am I glad you don't employ me."
"I employ the Editor of Runway-" Irv began before he was cut off.
"Who is currently recovering from a heart attack but could probably run this magazine from her hospital bed if she so tried."
"So who are you?"
"Google me," Andy smirked. "The fact is, it doesn't really matter who I am. I'm the person who will give you the most profitable edition of Runway that Elias-Clarke has seen in many years. I'll ignore the lack of morality in firing a woman whilst she's in intensive care and cut to the chase. You were going to come in here, after firing my new assistant and then fire me."
Irv nodded.
"Tiny problem with your logic there. Technically, I don't work for you, so you can't fire me."
"I'm going to call security."
"No you aren't."
"Watch me," he moved to the door.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she called.
"What are you going to do? Stop me?"
"No. In the time it takes you to make the call, I'll have called my editor and arranged for a full-page ad in tomorrow's Times criticising the performance of you and the company. Then I'll call Miranda and tell her what you have done. Depending on how long it takes for security to get here, I can probably even get our cartoonist to capture your likeness; the guy owes me a favour. Either way, once Miranda hears that you are trying to effect a coup at Runway then I'm sure that she'll produce her list of designers, photographers and models who would leave with her. Not to mention withdrawing her stock options…"
Irv hesitated.
"…so do you really want to make that call?" Andy finished, daring the short man to act. She would find designing the ad and approving the cartoon very satisfying. Irv was still stood there, mulling things over.
"Sit down Irv. We're not done," she said coolly.
Irv stat, stunned into silence.
"I know about the problems you have with the magazine. Its over-budget and barely in the black. I can change that. And do you know what the best bit is Irv?" she smiled at him. There was a moment of silence. "Irv?"
"I don't know," he ground out. He was not enjoying be treated like a child.
"You don't know Irv? And I thought you were meant to be an intelligent man. I don't work for you Irv, so you aren't paying me anything but expenses. That includes this wonderful breakfast," she gestured at the remains of the meal that had been interrupted. "Would you like something to eat Irv? A bagel perhaps?" she gestured at the bun on the tray on the desk.
"No thank you."
"More's the pity. I'll just have to have it later," she set the bagel aside. "You see Irv, you just interrupted my breakfast. I don't like that. I also didn't like that you also had the temerity to fire my assistant without consulting me first. Why was that?"
"She was rude."
"Charlotte has a good head on her shoulders. This is her first day. If we never gave anybody a second chance we wouldn't get anything done. Would we Irv?"
"I guess-"
"So I'm giving you a second chance Irv. Now I'll enjoy my breakfast and I won't call Miranda. You will apologise to Charlotte and then you will go back downstairs. If you want to talk to me, schedule an appointment with Charlotte. That's all."
Irv was dismissed. He left the office with his proverbial tail between his legs, his pride wounded.
"Uh, who is Charlotte?"
"That would be me," sniffed the woman in question in the ante-office.
"My mistake, you aren't fired. Keep up the good work," he tried to smile but it came out like a grimace of pain.
"Um—" she began but Irv was already heading to the elevators.
"Nigel, Emily, Charlotte?" called Andy from inside the office.
The three of them entered the office warily. Emily almost expected an Andy sized hole in the window or to be walking into the remains of a warzone. Instead, Andy looked like the cat who had eaten the canary.
"Charlotte, move the meeting of department heads from my office to a boardroom on the executive floor, then call the press department and have them issue a short release…"
Miranda Priestly, editor in chief of Runway magazine suffered a serious heart attack on Friday. She is in a stable but serious condition in hospital and is not expected to return to work for the next few weeks. Andrea Sachs of the New York Times will be heading the Runway team in the meantime. We wish Miranda a speedy recovery… - So read the short piece on the Runway website that was issued to the major press agencies by Monday lunch time.
"Nigel, Emily, I'd like you both in on the meeting. I need to establish a little credibility among these people. Can you do that?"
"Sure," said Nigel, although Emily didn't look convinced.
"What did you do to Irv?" she asked.
"I believe that I - as you British would say - 'sent him packing!'" Andy smiled. "He wanted to fire me and no doubt replace me with Jacqueline Follet or somebody equally ghastly."
"Jacqueline would be the logical choice. But-" Nigel was cut off.
"Nobody can do what Miranda does." Andy and Emily finished together smiling at one another.
"What do you want us to do?" asked Emily.
Andy's 'appointment' wasn't common knowledge so she decided to use that little titbit of information to her advantage. They arrived fashionably late. With the amount of 'props' Andy wanted to use, it had taken the combined effort of herself, Charlotte, Nigel and two clackers to transport everything. Emily, was by design not carrying anything. She was acting more imperious than ever. Andy would have only found the image of the two spindly women, tottering along in painfully high heels, struggling to keep their balance whilst carrying boxes writing pads and back issues of the magazine, funnier if one of them had been Emily.
The department heads were already waiting when the entourage made an appearance on the executive floor. Serena was noticeably absent with a meeting at Harper's Bazaar.
"You two can leave those over there," Emily ordered. "Then you can go," she told the clackers. "That leaves you two to distribute it all. Charlotte can do the magazines." It left Andy, the dutiful assistant, distributing the pads. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you could take your seats, we'll begin shortly."
"You're both new."
"Yes we are," smiled Charlotte. "You would be?"
"Michelle Eastleigh, Cosmetics," the woman said. "Are you Miranda's new assistants?"
"In a manner of speaking," Charlotte said.
"Emily, are you acting-EiC?" asked a man in a dapper suit.
"No."
"Who is?"
"Andrea Sachs. She's from the New York Times. One of Miranda's former colleagues," Emily said.
"What is she like?"
"Good sense of humour. Defends her friends. Smart. Witty. A bit of a perfectionist. Don't underestimate her." Nigel warned.
"Or her sense of fashion!" Emily added.
Andy flushed slightly, turning to the wall to hide it. Nigel tried to disguise a snort of laughter as a cough. "Are you quite alright Nigel?" Emily asked curtly. Of course, she didn't expect him to answer.
"Is she like Miranda?" a second woman asked Charlotte.
"It's my first day so I don't know, I haven't met her yet," said Charlotte. "Miranda that is."
"To quote a former art director, 'gird your loins!' She eats assistants like you for breakfast," said Michelle, looking towards Nigel "What's the going rate at the moment Angie?" she turned to the woman sat next to her.
"Oh I don't know…about one a month, probably less. I've lost count." the woman tittered as Andy distributed the last of the pads.
"Well I lasted eight months," Andy spoke for the first time.
"That long? Must be a record. How come I've never seen you before?" asked Michelle.
"Because it was ten years ago."
"Wait? What?"
But Andy had already moved on. She'd crossed the room to pour herself a glass of water from the carafe on the side.
"Now that we are all settled, I'll begin," said Emily, sitting in one of the chairs at the top end of the table. She left the head of the table conspicuously empty. Andy was still at the drinks carafe whilst Nigel sat opposite her, next to the man in the dapper suit. Charlotte had moved to stand behind the chair at the head of the table.
"As we all know, Miranda was taken to hospital on Friday afternoon, her assistant quite literally gave her a heart attack. I know it leaves us in a bit of a lurch, we've been planning this issue for some time and it will be the first time that somebody other than Miranda has edited Runway in nearly 30 years. We've really got to make this issue our best work. I mean, it needs to be better than normal. Now I don't know which direction Ms Sachs will take us but Miranda trusts her and that's good enough for me."
"And me. It's going to be a tough couple of weeks, there is no denying it. Ms Sachs doesn't come from a fashion background but her credentials as an editor and a journalist are well known. Both Emily and myself will be here to support her." Nigel added.
"She doesn't come from a fashion background? Don't tell me, she wears sweatpants all day, chain smokes and is always looking for the next scoop," Angie cringed.
"Actually, no. It's true that she's nothing like us but then are any of us like Miranda?"
"I guess…" the dapper man next to Nigel trailed off.
"Colin, none of us are. Ms Sachs certainly is nothing like Miranda but Miranda must have approved of her because otherwise she wouldn't be anywhere near Runway." Emily said.
"I though Jacqueline Follet would have been the logical replacement." Michelle said, some of the others around the table nodded.
"Do you seriously think that Miranda would allow Jacqueline Follet to keep her seat warm?" Emily rolled her eyes. "Honestly?" she said hotly.
"Miranda chose Ms Sachs herself," Nigel reassured them. "I know if you Google here you'll find more on Syria than on summer collections and more about Egyptian politics than I could pretend to understand but it doesn't mean that she can't edit. At the end of the day, its all she needs to do. We, as in Emily and I, can advise on content. Don't worry."
"As far as I know she doesn't chain smoke, and she won't wear sweatpants to the office," said Emily.
"You sound like you know both know her well," said Colin.
"We did at one point."
"Well where is she then?" asked Michelle.
"She's late," added Angie.
"Oh she's already here," said Nigel trying contain himself. "I should have said, she has a certain fondness for the dramatic."
"Is that what you would call it Nigel?" asked Andy smoothing down her skirt as she crossed the room. "Don't worry, I don't chain smoke and I won't wear sweat pants to the office. I might jog in though." She took her seat at the head of the table, Miranda's seat. "Good morning everybody. I'm Andrea Sachs."
A/N: Well now: what's next? I hate to ask, but I need some ideas for how to move this forward in terms of general plot. I have a few vague ideas but any external inspiration would be appreciated. I've changed the spelling of 'Priestley' to 'Priestly' in this chapter. At some point I'll probably edit the other chapters to suit. I hope it hasn't bored you. I quite liked writing 'dramatic' Andy! Please tell me what you think! New chapter probably coming up between now and Easter. Until the next time…