Small Favors, Part VI
Small Favors, Part VI
Fandom: Devil Wears Prada
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox do.
Rating: M
===
The rest of the day passed without incident, and Andy was preparing to leave just before eight when the doors of the newsroom were thrown open.
Miranda barreled toward her, silver hair flying as if blown by a great wind, and Andy was instantly, utterly terrified. Emily scurried in behind her, looking as confused as Andy felt. The reporters still working at their desks gaped openly at the vision Miranda presented.
“Andrea,” Miranda said as she came to a stop in front of her desk.
Andy tried hard to hide her fear. “Hi.”
“I need to speak with you. Is there a room with a door in this god-forsaken establishment?”
“Um, yeah,” but Andy didn’t want to go there. She felt dread in the pit of her stomach. If they were alone, Miranda would eviscerate her. But perhaps it would be better to finish it now. Things would end, and Andy could get over it. Get over her. “This way.”
“Emily, wait here.” Emily nodded, and when she looked at Andy, her incensed expression was comical. What did you do? she mouthed.
Andy headed toward the small conference room at the end of the maze of desks. It was private enough, windowless except for one long pane of glass that displayed a view of the shoddy gray building next door. She opened the door and shut it behind the two of them. Miranda threw her bag on the conference table, and it landed with a familiar clunk.
“What is this?” Miranda said, holding up the letter she’d sent. “I spent half the day delivering the girls to Connecticut, and I get back to the office and find this sitting on my desk. I was supposed to be at dinner with Donatella tonight, which obviously I did not want to attend, but instead I’m here. I want to know why you’re disappointing my girls, Andrea. I do not issue these sorts of invitations to just anyone.”
Andy wanted to cry. She wanted to throw herself into Miranda’s arms. Instead, she said, “I have to work.”
“Do not lie to me,” she said, accusingly. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I don’t work for you, Miranda. You can’t just summon me to do your bidding anytime you want. If I can’t make it, I can’t fucking make it!” Her voice broke, anger rising up at being denied everything she wanted.
Miranda was stunned. Apropos of nothing, she demanded, “Where is the stationery I sent you?”
“I threw it away!” Andy shouted.
Miranda flinched. The fury seemed to drain out of her, and for a moment, she looked lost. “Why?”
Andy couldn’t hold in a sob of frustration. She covered her mouth, mortified at the show of emotion. “I can’t do this, Miranda. I can’t.”
“Am I really so horrible?” Miranda asked softly. “I have treated you with nothing but generosity and respect. And I get this in return,” she said, shaking the letter at her once more. “I deserve an explanation.”
The tears finally spilled from Andy’s eyes. She turned away, looking out at what small portion of skyline she could see. “You’ll break me, Miranda,” she whispered.
The room was silent. Andy let the tears fall, wondering when Miranda would take the hint and leave. But she didn’t. “Break you,” Miranda finally repeated. “What--”
Andy turned back toward her, enraged. “My heart. Break my heart, get it? So just go home to your kids, and your career, and whatever dinner you’re invited to, and leave me alone.”
Miranda went white. Her mouth opened, and closed. A typically invisible wrinkle formed between Miranda’s eyebrows. “Your heart.” She swallowed. “I didn’t believe I had that power,” Miranda said, so softly Andy had to strain to hear it.
“Well, you do. So you can go off and tell everyone your old assistant was stupid enough to care about you in a way that probably disgusts you. Have fun. I have better things to do.” Andy wanted to put an end to it, and made a beeline for the door.
Miranda grabbed her arm with a strength that Andy did not anticipate. “Don’t you walk away from me again,” she growled.
“Or what?” Andy demanded.
And then Miranda’s hand was in her hair, yanking her close. A shock of pain blazed through her scalp, but it was cancelled out when she realized Miranda was kissing her, kissing her with something that could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was.
Desire.
Miranda’s tongue pushed inside her mouth, and Andy gasped as heat flared up in her like a spark ignited. She crashed back against the door and Miranda followed her, shoving a thigh between her legs and holding Andy up when her body went slack. Andy couldn’t move, or even embrace Miranda, because all her focus was on her lips, and the delicious way Miranda was moving against her. Andy’s tears still fell as she sobbed into the kiss, a moan coming up from deep within.
A hand caressed her cheek, trailing down her jaw, her throat. Miranda gripped the collar of her shirt, moving her mouth to her ear, breathing fast and hot against the shell of it. “Goddamn you,” she said.
Something throbbed between Andy’s legs, and her head dropped back against the door. Breathless, she groaned again when Miranda’s thigh shifted, the silk of her stocking raking against Andy’s dark nylons.
Andy lifted her head, and Miranda was transformed. Her usually pale cheeks were flushed, and blue eyes were dark and intense. It made Andy wonder if she could come from just a look.
“You will not walk away from me, Andrea,” Miranda said firmly.
Andy finally found the strength to move. She lifted one hand to touch the sweep of hair that had fallen across Miranda’s forehead. With a nod, she said, “Okay.”
The wildness left Miranda’s eyes. She took a breath and hesitated before kissing Andy again, more softly. Andy was able to savor the taste of her lips this time, to learn the shape of them. She touched Miranda’s waist, moving her fingers to the curve of her spine.
Finally Miranda pulled away, but she looked regretful. “I have to go.”
With a shiver, Andy replied, “All right.”
“We’re going to do this again,” Miranda said, and Andy wondered which one of them Miranda was trying to assure.
Andy grinned, and finally allowed all her desire to show through. “That’s good.”
Miranda cleared her throat, moving in briefly before coming to her senses and stepping back. She smoothed her skirt and straightened her jacket, while Andy walked around her and picked up her bag from the table. She handed it over, and Miranda’s face had returned to its former blank expression. But now there was more to it, Andy saw. It had been there for a while, but she hadn’t realized what it was.
It was want. And maybe something else. But Andy didn’t care. Want was enough.
She opened the door and Miranda walked through it, and kept going straight out of the newsroom. Emily’s panic was evident, but Andy just shrugged and hoped it wasn’t too obvious she’d just been ravished against a door. Emily wouldn’t notice though, and she raced after Miranda.
Andy giggled, and touched the sore patch on her head. Things were looking up.
===
Sunday afternoon, Andy was ready two hours early, and the wait was agony. She tried to read. She tried to watch television. She called her parents and left out most of what was going on in her life. One obstacle at a time, she thought. And as much as she wanted to talk to Doug, she didn’t want to tell him anything yet. Andy was certain that whatever dalliance they might start would have to remain a secret to everyone in both their lives. It would be a challenge, but Andy didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything except kissing Miranda again, and getting her hands on her body.
Andy’s eyelids fluttered shut again at the thought. She’s spent the night before touching herself, thinking about that kiss, and what it might have been like to tear off Miranda’s clothes right there in that poorly lit conference room and fuck her till she screamed. Andy had come repeatedly, discomfited at her response. But she awoke Sunday with a smile on her face after some scorching wet dreams, so she couldn’t complain.
But today was for soccer, she reminded herself. There would likely be no kissing on the field. She would be patient.
At 1:50 she went downstairs to wait, happy when the sun shone down on her face. It was very cold, but there was no way the game would be rained out. Nine minutes later, Roy drove up, and Andy had the passenger door open before he could even stop the car.
The backseat was empty. “Hi?” she said.
“Ms. Priestly is picking up her ex-husband and the girls at the train station. She’ll meet you at the field.”
Oh shit. “Is, uh, he coming to the game?”
“Yes.”
Sadly, all thoughts of kissing vanished from Andy’s mind.
Traffic was heavy, but Roy delivered her to the Randall’s Island soccer field with plenty of time to spare. Miranda was nowhere in sight so Andy milled around, smiling uncomfortably at the parents and kids. There were bleachers set up, and Andy took a seat a few rows from the bottom.
Finally, Andy spotted Caroline and Cassidy racing toward a group of similarly dressed girls, hauling a bag between them. They were immediately enveloped in hugs all around, and the chattering grew in volume with their arrival. A good hundred paces behind them, Miranda walked unsteadily in the grass, and Andy wondered if her heels were sinking in the damp earth. She prayed that was not the case. Those shoes did not deserve such punishment.
A tall, slim man strode next to her, dressed in a heavy trench and dress pants. Jeremy. Figures he’d be as well put together as Miranda, Andy thought. He was handsome, his light brown hair flecked with gray. It was thinning, but as it often happened, he managed to look distinguished rather than unfortunate.
If Andy didn’t know better, she’d think they were a very happy couple. A spike of jealousy stabbed her in the gut.
They were barely civil to each other a year ago. They’re probably just now learning to tolerate one another, Andy told herself. She gritted her teeth, and imagined what kind of sex life they once had.
God, she had sex on the brain. She silently cursed Miranda for upping her libido so dramatically.
She watched Miranda come closer, and some of the jealousy receded when she noticed her scanning the mass of people. Andy sat up straight, unsure if she should wave. But she didn’t have to wait long, because Miranda’s gaze traveled at light speed over the rest of the crowd to fasten directly on her.
Warmth exploded in her belly. She was glad her cheeks were already ruddy from the cold. She smiled, and Miranda motioned with her head just enough to know Andy was supposed to come over. That was interesting. She climbed down from the bleachers, apologizing to the people she had to go around. A few moments later, she approached.
“Hi,” she said, a little breathless.
“Jeremy, this is Andrea. She once worked for me at Runway, some time ago.”
“Ah, one of the many former Emilys, I take it,” he said, and to Andy’s surprise, his smile was warm. “Glad you lived to fight another day.”
“Thanks,” Andy said uncertainly, hoping Miranda wasn’t insulted. She held out a hand, and they shook. His grip was firm but not overwhelming, and at that instant, she decided to like him. “Great to meet you. I’m happy you could make it. I’m sure Cassidy and Caroline are thrilled to have you both here.”
Miranda made a face Andy couldn’t interpret, and Jeremy bobbed his head. “That’s nice of you to say, Andrea. This, I will tell you, is a first.”
“Do you want to sit? I have some space up on the bleachers.” The whistle blew, and a swarm of girls scrambled onto the field in a group around the referees.
“I’m staying on the sidelines. You go ahead.” Miranda stalked off to stand at the white line surrounding the field, amongst a handful of other parents.
Andy turned to Jeremy. “Sure, let’s sit,” he said.
Miranda wasn’t looking at either of them; apparently the action on the field was taking all her attention. Andy assumed this was okay, so she led Jeremy back to the seats she’d claimed earlier. Once they were seated, Jeremy rubbed his hands together and blew on them. “It’s cold now. I hoped the fall would last a little longer, but no luck.”
Ah, the safest topic of them all. “I know. I walk to work, and it’s been a tough adjustment this week.”
He nodded. “Miranda said you were a journalist?”
“Yep, for the New York Mirror.”
“Award-winning, according to her.”
Andy shrugged. “I’ve done all right.”
“And humble, too.” He chuckled. “What the heck are you doing spending time with Miranda?”
Nervously, Andy glanced out on the field. It was a joke, she knew, but she wanted to tread carefully. “Don’t know, really. It just sort of worked out that way.”
He followed Andy’s gaze to watch his daughters chase the ball when the second whistle blew. “It takes a special kind of person to be Miranda’s friend, I’m sure you know,” Jeremy said. “She doesn’t suffer fools.”
“Yeah,” Andy agreed.
“You must be special then,” he said.
“Nah,” she replied. “We just get along. I think she’s fascinating. Unique.”
His lips formed a sad little half-smile, and Andy sensed real loss in his manner. “I used to think she was the most fascinating person on earth,” he said, and his eyebrows went up. Andy thought maybe he was surprised he’d said the words. “I still do,” he added. “There’s certainly nobody else like her, not that I’ve ever met.” He turned to Andy. “Too bad we drove each other certifiably crazy.”
Andy laughed this time. “I can see how that might be a problem.”
He sighed. “I don’t know why I’m talking to you about this. It was just so odd that you’d be here. I knew in the first minute I saw you that you’re not like anyone else in Miranda’s circle,” he told her. “You seem… real. Like a person. Not plastic.”
“I am real. I think, at least.”
“She’s lucky then. She tends to scare most real people away. Fast.”
“Yeah,” Andy said. “She scared me for a long time.”
“But not anymore.” There was the hint of a question.
“I wouldn’t go that far. But not as much,” she said with a grin.
“You might be a good influence on her, Andrea,” and Andy was taken aback at the way he said her name.
“You can call me Andy,” she said.
He nodded. “Andy, then.”
Andrea was reserved for one person only.
===
Andy tried hard, but it was a Herculean effort to hold back her laughter as Miranda harassed the referees on the field while Caroline begged her mother to keep quiet. “Mom, you’re embarrassing me!” she yelled.
“She’s not seeing half of what’s going on out there. You were nearly killed!” Miranda shouted back. Andy thought it was the first time she’d ever heard Miranda raise her voice, but it was a necessity. The level of noise was intense, what with all the squawking parents making their feelings known to various refs and kids on the field.
“Go sit with Dad and Andy!” Caroline begged, and ran back down the field after Cassidy, who ignored them both.
Miranda crossed her arms, refusing to budge. She looked strange out there, so regal in her Escada skirt and jacket. The other parents around her were well dressed, but none of them had Miranda’s panache. And all of them were wearing flat shoes.
Finally, Miranda relented. The game continued, tied 3 to 3 in the final third. Looking more awkward than ever, Andy watched her climb the metal bleachers to take a seat between them. Andy handed over the trench coat she’d shed not long after the game started. Miranda threw it over her shoulders in a huff. “The ineptitude of these officials stuns me. Are they blind?”
Jeremy looked at Andy over Miranda’s head and made a face. Andy looked away before she could utter a sound. There would be no forgiveness if she laughed at Miranda, especially in concert with her ex. Instead, Andy moved a little closer to her, sure that no one would notice two people sitting very near each other in 40 degree weather.
“It’s a good game though. They’re both great players.”
That satisfied Miranda for a moment.
“They’re doing well, Miranda,” Jeremy said, nudging her. “I know I have you to thank for that.”
Andy tried not to eavesdrop, but her proximity made it virtually impossible. She shifted away, keeping her eyes fastened on the game.
“I want them to be happy,” Miranda said.
“They are. They talked about you all weekend. And would you believe it, they weren’t complaining?”
“The new therapist has been excellent.”
“I think it’s you,” Jeremy said, and his voice was low. She liked the guy, but the sound of it made Andy want to throw up. “You’ve changed.”
Andy tried to watch Miranda out of the corner of her eye.
“I haven’t,” she assured him.
“I think you have. I can’t remember the last time we survived ten minutes together, much less two hours. You seem… softer.” His voice dropped further, and this time, Andy didn’t hear what he said. She bit her lip.
A moment later, Miranda said, “No.”
“Come on, Mira,” Jeremy said.
“Jeremy, please do not ruin this day,” Miranda said, exasperated. “And don’t call me that.”
“You used to like it.”
“Not anymore,” Miranda said. “We’ve had a lovely afternoon. You’re going back to Connecticut. I’ll see you in a month again when I drop off the girls.”
“Maybe we could--”
Miranda sat up swiftly. “I won’t have this conversation. You spent six years hating me, nay, detesting me, and now you want to have dinner. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Jeremy snorted. “I guess it’s been so long since we’ve been civilized with one another that I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I’m sorry. I won’t push my luck.”
“Thank you. And Jeremy,” Miranda said, her voice rising just a touch. “We will not escalate our friendship. This is how it will remain. I just want to be clear.”
Andy took a breath and let it out slowly. Thank you, god. She looked at the elegant hands resting on Miranda’s thighs. She wanted to hold them in her own. They looked so cold and lonely there against the dove grey of the skirt. No rings adorned Miranda’s fingers, and Andy traced their length with her eyes, following the veins that stood out in sharp relief. They were the hands of a woman far older than herself, and she could absolutely not wait to have them on her skin. She flushed and looked away.
She missed the rest of the conversation, and hoped whatever was said was polite enough.
===
Part VII