Beyond the Call (26 of more behind than in front of us now.)
bottom: 0in;">
Summery: Miranda is faced with the possibility of losing Andy soon after finding her.
Disclaimer: The Devil Wears Prada and it's characters do not belong to me. No profit being made here. I'm just playing with them for a short while and I promise to put them away neatly when I'm through.
Comment: Thank you for all the wonderful comments! Comments feed the muse and the Muse is feasting! But contrary little bastard that he is, like a puppy, he'll look me in the eye claiming never to have been fed. Comments and constructive criticism eagerly encouraged.
Notes: Deus ex machina in full effect. This is a work of fiction. I'm sure that some of my audience will find parts of it in error or stretching their credibility.
A/N 1: I know that members of the Ohio National Guard have served bravely in the conflicts overseas. I honor that service, as I do the service of all those in uniform. The 192nd Supply Regiment and the 161st Military Police Company, however, are fictitious units and do not exist.
A/N 2: This work is being written very differently from most of my writing endeavors. While the idea for this story has been in my mind for some time it only recently demanded to be written. I did not pursue the level of research I normally engage in. Some of my materials are pure fiction culled from watching TV and movies. I ask the reader to suspend disbelief and go with it.
A/N 3: There is a a very unpleasant character residing in this story. He is racist, misogynistic, corrupt, and one of those individuals the world would truly be a better place without. He is a fictional character and his views in no way express the views of the author of this piece.
A/N 4: Although they do not appear in this installment, the President and the First Lady (both of whom I admire greatly) have become characters in this story. I try to write them carefully and I mean them no disrespect.
Very Special Thanks: to Ragelikeafire. I've stopped kidding myself and have given her a well deserved co-author credit. The ideas are mine, the beauty and flow of language hers. This work is SO MUCH BETTER because of her efforts on its behalf.
Very Special Thanks: to Needled_ink1975, for being my sounding board and for constructively giving me a kick in the ass when I need one.
It was late Saturday morning when DeSaix woke from a restful sleep and stretched lazily in her extremely comfortable bed, in her extremely expensive hotel room. As the commanding Officer of the American visiting party she had insisted on a late start.
They had arrived exhausted and the time difference had really thrown them all for a loop. They had a few hours of R&R and DeSaix had insisted her two Corporals use the time wisely. They had all been given rooms on the same floor, but the Italian Government had seen to it that Sachs was placed in the grandest room in the hotel, it looked as if it belonged in some 18th century palace. DeSaix smiled and stretched again. Sachs was okay she affirmed to herself. She was a good soldier, she followed orders and she was clearly trying to do the right thing. It made her proud to be with her and be a part of the tour.
Andy woke to the strange surroundings, taking a moment to remember where she was.She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stretched lazily in her magnificent four-poster bed. The hotel manager, who had insisted on escorting them to their rooms, had taken great pride in explaining the history of the hotel and how each room had a story to tell. The grandeur of the suite brought a distant sense of familiarity, she closed her eyes and tried to force the memory but all she saw was the darkness.
After some awkward maneuvering Andy made it to the expansive bathroom and turned on the shower. As she stood under the thunderous waves of hot water she tried again to force the lost memories back into her head. Subconsciously she ran her fingers along her neck line and gripped the two rings hanging on their chain. Her mind flashed to the box of hand written love letters that she had left in her bedside cabinet when she had fled from Walter Reed. At the time, when she had read the words they had meant nothing to her, they were just the empty words of a stranger. But now as she recalled the passion and promise that had spilled across the pages she felt the butterflies dance in her stomach. Her mind spun out a reel of questions. Did the ring belong to Miranda? Had Miranda written those beautiful letters? Did the picture on Miranda's desk mean what she hoped and prayed it did? Had Miranda Priestly loved her? She had scattered pieces of a puzzle, she had hints of what the picture might have looked like, but no matter how many times she searched in the box, she couldn’t find the pieces that connected them all together.
Andy opened her eyes and looked at her naked, scarred and disfigured body. How could anyone love her now? She thought. She felt the tears form in her eyes and closed them once again as she pushed her face back into the full force of the shower stream and let the tears fall freely. She slumped against the tiled wall, sobbing deeply. She inhaled sharply as the cold tiles touched her back, she longed for comfort, to curl up into strong warm arms, to feel safe again. As she opened her eyes and looked at her body again, she knew that was never going to happen again. She was a monster, who could love a monster.
Andy sat on the wooden stool in the bathroom, trying to find the strength, physically and mentally to start her morning routine. She felt numb, empty and ultimately alone.
After a few moments of self loathing, she moved into autopilot and began to redress her wounds as the medic in Washington had shown her and then cocooned herself in the luxurious full length bathrobe provided courtesy of the hotel. Next she laid out her long line of prescribed medication and vitamin supplements. Although her appetite had still not returned she remembered the warnings from the medic about taking her tablets on an empty stomach, so she ordered some light room service. While she was waiting she decided to lay out her dress uniform for the day. As she opened the doors to the enormous wardrobe with the hand carved detail, she smiled weakly in amusement as she saw the clothes and remembered how Scruggs had insisted on preparing her ‘Blues’ for her. He had been appalled at the Hotel Manager’s suggestion of taking them to housekeeping. Scruggs was military through and through. He wore his uniform with pride and he would make sure Sachs could do the same. He had even polished her boots.
She opened the French doors on to the balcony and stepped out into the late morning sun and beautiful blue sky. Without giving it much thought, she leaned over the balcony to take in the view and was hit unexpectedly by the chant of SACHS, SACHS, SACHS. The sound rose immediately, given wings by a multitude of voices and hundreds of cameras flashed below. The square before the hotel was awash with people, seemingly waiting for her to show herself. She swallowed hard and began to realize that monster or not, Corporal Andy Sachs had work to do.
Bella stood pouting before her dressing room mirror, the floor around her scattered with any number of dresses she had tried on and rejected. They were all wrong, today was too important to not have the right clothes. She needed to captivate her intended, bewitch her from the first glance. The woman she would meet at the ceremony later that afternoon was going to be the one, the one she would spend the rest of her life with. The one that she would betray only once, when she finished her business with the Iconic Editor-in-Chief of Runway Magazine. Oh yes, she would have Miranda Priestly, she would show her that no-one got the better of Bella Messalina Giovanni. But Andrea Sachs would be the one that Bella would grow old with, the one she would live happily ever after with. Tonight, her plan would be set in motion, she would begin the seduction of Andrea Sachs. Bella smiled, reaching for the locket around her neck. She opened the clasped and studied the picture inside for a moment before closing it gently and kissing the locket sweetly. “Soon, il mio fratellino dolce,” she whispered, “soon”.
Amelie Pelletier the young private detective lounged in the peaceful the courtyard of the Italian Model’s magnificent villa, bathing in the beautiful sunshine and sipping a glass of the local wine. Her inquisitive mind turned to her required task. She had been instructed to act as Bella’s personal security, but things didn’t add up. There were large holes in Bella’s story, information missing that made it difficult for Amelie to trust her. At that moment her employer was preparing to go into the city and it had been made quite clear that her presence was not required. It was strange, how was she supposed to protect her if she wasn’t with her? Also from what Amelie had learned so far during her time with Bella, she could look after herself. She tried to calm her growing unease, she needed the paycheck, she couldn't afford to mess this up.
Irv Ravitz let out another sigh of bored frustration. It was ridiculously early in the morning and he was stuck in the city having coffee with two members of the Elias Clark Board of Directors, when he would have much rather of been on the golf course.
Individually the two other Board members held a great deal of power and influence in the company, they were often chosen by the other members to be the voice of the group, but they rarely saw eye to eye. This was something Irv often used to his own advantage, playing them off against one another like he was the spoiled and devious teenager and they were the dysfunctional parents. He didn’t see the point in being there that morning. ‘Elias Clark was a Corporate monster, as a team they were virtually unstoppable. Why hadn’t they crushed this case and the Counsel already?’ He wondered.
Alice McCann stirred the heavy cream into her cup as she glanced at her peer, James Carter waiting for the signal to begin. She blew lightly on her coffee and took an experimental sip as she received the cue. Smiling her practiced smile, she looked up. “So,” she began. “I met with the young woman from Runway and her Lawyer yesterday afternoon. I find their demands really quite reasonable.”
James glared into his black coffee. “Just how many zero’s are we going to need to add to make it go away?” He asked sullenly acting as if this was the first time he had heard the news. As if they hadn’t already discussed this, and that he didn’t know exactly how this was going to play out.
Alice smiled wickedly in Irv’s direction. “She doesn't want any money James. Well at least not directly. By agreeing to her terms we will be publicly exonerating Elias Clark from this nasty incident.”
James looked up and raised a questioning eyebrow. “Ok, you have my attention. What does she want Alice?” He asked, giving a performance worthy of an Emmy.
Alice continued to smile. “She wants us to introduce yearly mandatory seminars on sexual harassment prevention, for all Elias Clark employees. Plus we must publicly reiterate our policy on sexual harassment in the next issue of all our publications.” She paused for a beat, making sure she had Irv’s attention. “And one other small thing...”
“Here it comes,” James said disgustedly, “the one little thing is always the killer.”
Alice sipped her coffee drawing out the moment, watching Irv Ravitz almost squirming in his seat as she again shot him a sadistic grin. “She requested that you Mr Ravitz, be removed as the CEO of Runway Magazine and that Miranda Priestly will report directly to the board of directors until a suitable replacement is found.”
Irv stood from his seat. “This is preposterous.” He spat. “I will not stand for this.”
James sipped his coffee calmly. “Really Irv, I never have understood this ridiculous vendetta that you seem to have against Miranda.” He paused to take another drink. “I mean she's the only Editor-in-Chief we have that brings in a profit every month, a huge one at that.” He sighed. “And this unauthorized audit from an outside firm, was just the last straw. What on earth were you doing, bringing them in when Miranda was in Paris...”
But she's left Paris,” Irv defended looking for something, anything, that would exonerate him from the accusations. “The most important fashion event of the year and she just walks out. How is that going to look with our readers?” He demanded. “She's losing it I tell you! She's going to cost all of us a fortune. We need to dump her before that happ...”
Alice sighed. “Irv,” she said interrupting him, “It seems we are in a bit of a bind here. We either remove you as the Chief Executive Officer of Runway and move you to another publication with your reputation in one piece or we refuse to act on the demands and this case goes public. If that happens we will end up having to write out a seven or eight figure check and sacrifice a Senior Executive to act as the Scapegoat for our Zero tolerance policy... So I for one, suggest that you shut up, take your defeat gracefully and accept that the Board is in agreement. We need Miranda more than we need you.”
James nodded solemnly.
Olivia Keiffer was a woman who had lived all her life in the Army’s back yard. Her Father had been an officer and she had lived the lonely life of an Army brat moving from post to post. Naturally she had married a soldier, falling head over heels for a handsome young officer and marrying him on her twentieth birthday. Thirty years later and still very much in love, she was the perfect officer’s wife. She'd never expected him to rise to the rank of General, certainly not to the exalted position of a Joint Chief of Staff in Washington. Not that her husband hadn’t worked for it and didn’t deserve it, he was a hard working and honest man. But they had both remained humble throughout his rise through the ranks and although she had never wanted for anything, she had always chosen to spend her time helping worthy causes rather than frivolously shopping and lunching with the other officers wives.
Pottering around the kitchen of their newest posting on base, Olivia had just finished beating a homemade pancake batter and started a fresh pot of coffee as she waited for her husband to comeback from his early morning PT session with Alpha Company. She was just about to start grilling the rashers of bacon when the front doorbell rang.
General Allen Keiffer strolled onto the porch smelling the fresh coffee as he opened the front door. The last thing he expected to see was the paper and cardboard chaos that filled in his Living Room. Open boxes and mountains of clothes were strewn everywhere and the oval full length mirror from their bedroom stood in the center. Olivia stood among scattered clothing examining herself proudly as she twirled in a outfit he'd never seen before. He had fallen in love with his wife the moment they'd met, it had been love at first sight and now if it was possible he was sure he had just fallen in love with her all over again. She looked so happy and excited, he couldn’t help but sweep in and wrap his arms around her, giving her a big kiss. “Al!” She exclaimed. “You’re all sweaty, you’re going to mess up my couture!” she shrieked playfully. “I thought you were my breakfast honey.” He quipped tapping her ass and nuzzling her neck. “Get off you big oaf.” She giggled. He reluctantly released his hug and kissed the tip of her nose. “Are you going to tell me where all this came from or are you going to make me guess?”
Captain Wilks entered Senator Meriweather’s office, a huge and lavishly decorated room, buried in the inner sanctum of Washington. He found the Senator sitting behind his desk, casually reading the newspaper and sipping his morning coffee. “Senator,” Wilks called out announcing his arrival, “I've found the information you wanted.” The Senator, putting down the paper, gave his attention to his young protégé. “Carol Rodriguez isn't in the Army anymore. She was dishonorably discharge four months ago, the file states Bad Conduct. She's living in Charlotte, North Carolina.”
The Senator took another sip of his coffee. “Excellent,” he responded. He pressed the button on the intercom on his desk. “Betty,” he said to his secretary, “tell Phillip to step into my office, I have an urgent matter for him to attend to. ”
Caroline and Cassidy, rousted Wade out of his bed at what he considered god-awful early on Saturday. They had decided on a project they were excited about and wanted his help with it. Pulling him out of bed and pushing a large cup of coffee under his nose, they explained how they had already been up for hours doing some intense research on artificial limbs.
Still half asleep, Wade descended the stairs and shook his head in despair at the bombsite that used to be his living room. The twins, trying to be methodical, were creating a chart on what legs and arms they thought Andy would need to make her life complete. For their efforts the chart was quite comprehensive, they knew a few things about Andy that helped. They knew she had liked to run and stay in shape, so a leg designed for running was a must. They made the assumption that Andy would, at times, want to wear short sleeve fashions and skirts, so a cosmetic arm and leg were part of the list they were building. It appeared that Caroline had been in charge of the itemization and budget on their presentation. She had begun to try and research what benefits the Veteran's Administration would allow for a disabled soldier and how much money they would pay out towards Andy getting what she needed to live a full life.
Bored with the math and not able to get at the keyboard, Cassidy began to apply her makeup at the mirror above the fireplace. Wade watched his daughter, as she carefully applied the rice powder concealer over her lovely freckles. Internally he had to admit that he didn't like the Goth look on his little girl. To him, it made her look like a porcelain doll rather that the active sports loving child he had known, but, he told himself, this wasn’t the first time that one of his girls had tried to break out and find their individuality. She was trying to find herself and this was a step in that direction. Caroline had told him that she was as happy as she could ever remember her being. All he wanted was to see them happy and no matter what his reservations were he would support the change in his daughter. His ex-wife however, was a different story. Miranda was a woman of very strong opinions. He knew that Cassidy was going to need his complete and total support. An interdiction with Miranda would be necessary before she saw the new Cassidy. To make that happen and have a prayer of success he knew he needed to know the whole picture. “Cassidy,” he said softly, “why don't we see about taking your girlfriend out to dinner tonight. I'd like to meet her.”
General Keiffer tarried a moment after the morning briefing with the President and the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He’d hoped to catch the Commander-in-Chief alone for a few precious moments to express his concerns over the expected outcome of the ‘good will’ mission to Italy, and some new information that had come to light. Even though the reports of what was happening in the world at large were mostly positive, as far as U.S. interests were concerned. The Pentagon was buzzing over reports from the world press, which showed that Italy and several other large European countries, were responding well to the story of Corporal Sachs and the American recognition of her bravery. Discreet polling in Italy, since her arrival, had found that overall her actions had been responsible for boosting the support of the US, and the Middle Eastern efforts. Now the story was beginning to garner interest in the American Press. General Keiffer was sure that this was exactly what the Pentagon had hoped for when it had conceived of the mission.
General Keiffer had been an officer for more than thirty years. He had succeeded where others had failed because of his ability to think outside of the box. Corporal Sachs had been on his radar ever since he had received that call, the call from one of the most powerful women in America, Miranda Priestly. Miranda had some undefined but compelling connection to Sachs. She was a woman of influence and power, she was very much used to getting her own way. He had discovered that morning, for his small part in locating the wounded solider Miranda had immediately sought to repay him. It was a gift which far exceeded the value of the information provided. He wanted to believe that the gift, which had made his wife so happy, had been filled with only good intentions. But, he had a feeling that by accepting it he was now another pawn on her board, waiting to be used and sacrificed for the Queen. He had spent the rest of the morning looking into the history and connection between the two women but his sources had drawn a blank. However they hadn’t returned completely empty handed, the General learned that interestingly, Miranda was in Washington. She had recently cause a stir by leaving an important event and flown into the city quite unexpectedly. He’d thought about the situation carefully, was it all coincidence? He had a strong intuition that the mission was in danger, Miranda Priestly was wild card. One couldn’t accurately calculate the odds when an uncontrollable variant was entered into the equation, a variable that could not be contained.
“Mr. President,” he said aloud as the Commander in Chief was leaving the room, “A moment of your time please...”
Vernon Avery stood before a mirror in his office, whistling a tune and tying a careful Windsor knot into his tie. Lunch with Miranda Priestly, he mused, a woman as dangerous as she was beautiful One who held the fashion world in the palm of her hand, She was renowned for her ruthless streak and a will to destroy her enemies, not unlike his own. She had served his needs in the past by supplying vital information at a critical time in his career. The information of the peculiar sexual peccadilloes of the Editor-in-Chief of a major New York Newspaper had allowed him to quash a story that would have destroyed a Presidential Candidate in the 2000 election before it reached print. It had been a very near thing and without Miranda's aid, he would have failed his client. At the time he had been unable to comprehend exactly why she had relinquished the information so easily, but even then he was well aware that Miranda Priestly never had to explain her actions to anyone. The disconcerting thing, however, was that Miranda had never used his services in return. All these years he been left indebted to the Devil and now he had the distinct feeling that she had come to collect her payment with interest. He would enjoy this, he mused.
Summery: Miranda is faced with the possibility of losing Andy soon after finding her.
Disclaimer: The Devil Wears Prada and it's characters do not belong to me. No profit being made here. I'm just playing with them for a short while and I promise to put them away neatly when I'm through.
Comment: Thank you for all the wonderful comments! Comments feed the muse and the Muse is feasting! But contrary little bastard that he is, like a puppy, he'll look me in the eye claiming never to have been fed. Comments and constructive criticism eagerly encouraged.
Notes: Deus ex machina in full effect. This is a work of fiction. I'm sure that some of my audience will find parts of it in error or stretching their credibility.
A/N 1: I know that members of the Ohio National Guard have served bravely in the conflicts overseas. I honor that service, as I do the service of all those in uniform. The 192nd Supply Regiment and the 161st Military Police Company, however, are fictitious units and do not exist.
A/N 2: This work is being written very differently from most of my writing endeavors. While the idea for this story has been in my mind for some time it only recently demanded to be written. I did not pursue the level of research I normally engage in. Some of my materials are pure fiction culled from watching TV and movies. I ask the reader to suspend disbelief and go with it.
A/N 3: There is a a very unpleasant character residing in this story. He is racist, misogynistic, corrupt, and one of those individuals the world would truly be a better place without. He is a fictional character and his views in no way express the views of the author of this piece.
A/N 4: Although they do not appear in this installment, the President and the First Lady (both of whom I admire greatly) have become characters in this story. I try to write them carefully and I mean them no disrespect.
Very Special Thanks: to Ragelikeafire. I've stopped kidding myself and have given her a well deserved co-author credit. The ideas are mine, the beauty and flow of language hers. This work is SO MUCH BETTER because of her efforts on its behalf.
Very Special Thanks: to Needled_ink1975, for being my sounding board and for constructively giving me a kick in the ass when I need one.
It was late Saturday morning when DeSaix woke from a restful sleep and stretched lazily in her extremely comfortable bed, in her extremely expensive hotel room. As the commanding Officer of the American visiting party she had insisted on a late start.
They had arrived exhausted and the time difference had really thrown them all for a loop. They had a few hours of R&R and DeSaix had insisted her two Corporals use the time wisely. They had all been given rooms on the same floor, but the Italian Government had seen to it that Sachs was placed in the grandest room in the hotel, it looked as if it belonged in some 18th century palace. DeSaix smiled and stretched again. Sachs was okay she affirmed to herself. She was a good soldier, she followed orders and she was clearly trying to do the right thing. It made her proud to be with her and be a part of the tour.
Andy woke to the strange surroundings, taking a moment to remember where she was.She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stretched lazily in her magnificent four-poster bed. The hotel manager, who had insisted on escorting them to their rooms, had taken great pride in explaining the history of the hotel and how each room had a story to tell. The grandeur of the suite brought a distant sense of familiarity, she closed her eyes and tried to force the memory but all she saw was the darkness.
After some awkward maneuvering Andy made it to the expansive bathroom and turned on the shower. As she stood under the thunderous waves of hot water she tried again to force the lost memories back into her head. Subconsciously she ran her fingers along her neck line and gripped the two rings hanging on their chain. Her mind flashed to the box of hand written love letters that she had left in her bedside cabinet when she had fled from Walter Reed. At the time, when she had read the words they had meant nothing to her, they were just the empty words of a stranger. But now as she recalled the passion and promise that had spilled across the pages she felt the butterflies dance in her stomach. Her mind spun out a reel of questions. Did the ring belong to Miranda? Had Miranda written those beautiful letters? Did the picture on Miranda's desk mean what she hoped and prayed it did? Had Miranda Priestly loved her? She had scattered pieces of a puzzle, she had hints of what the picture might have looked like, but no matter how many times she searched in the box, she couldn’t find the pieces that connected them all together.
Andy opened her eyes and looked at her naked, scarred and disfigured body. How could anyone love her now? She thought. She felt the tears form in her eyes and closed them once again as she pushed her face back into the full force of the shower stream and let the tears fall freely. She slumped against the tiled wall, sobbing deeply. She inhaled sharply as the cold tiles touched her back, she longed for comfort, to curl up into strong warm arms, to feel safe again. As she opened her eyes and looked at her body again, she knew that was never going to happen again. She was a monster, who could love a monster.
Andy sat on the wooden stool in the bathroom, trying to find the strength, physically and mentally to start her morning routine. She felt numb, empty and ultimately alone.
After a few moments of self loathing, she moved into autopilot and began to redress her wounds as the medic in Washington had shown her and then cocooned herself in the luxurious full length bathrobe provided courtesy of the hotel. Next she laid out her long line of prescribed medication and vitamin supplements. Although her appetite had still not returned she remembered the warnings from the medic about taking her tablets on an empty stomach, so she ordered some light room service. While she was waiting she decided to lay out her dress uniform for the day. As she opened the doors to the enormous wardrobe with the hand carved detail, she smiled weakly in amusement as she saw the clothes and remembered how Scruggs had insisted on preparing her ‘Blues’ for her. He had been appalled at the Hotel Manager’s suggestion of taking them to housekeeping. Scruggs was military through and through. He wore his uniform with pride and he would make sure Sachs could do the same. He had even polished her boots.
She opened the French doors on to the balcony and stepped out into the late morning sun and beautiful blue sky. Without giving it much thought, she leaned over the balcony to take in the view and was hit unexpectedly by the chant of SACHS, SACHS, SACHS. The sound rose immediately, given wings by a multitude of voices and hundreds of cameras flashed below. The square before the hotel was awash with people, seemingly waiting for her to show herself. She swallowed hard and began to realize that monster or not, Corporal Andy Sachs had work to do.
Bella stood pouting before her dressing room mirror, the floor around her scattered with any number of dresses she had tried on and rejected. They were all wrong, today was too important to not have the right clothes. She needed to captivate her intended, bewitch her from the first glance. The woman she would meet at the ceremony later that afternoon was going to be the one, the one she would spend the rest of her life with. The one that she would betray only once, when she finished her business with the Iconic Editor-in-Chief of Runway Magazine. Oh yes, she would have Miranda Priestly, she would show her that no-one got the better of Bella Messalina Giovanni. But Andrea Sachs would be the one that Bella would grow old with, the one she would live happily ever after with. Tonight, her plan would be set in motion, she would begin the seduction of Andrea Sachs. Bella smiled, reaching for the locket around her neck. She opened the clasped and studied the picture inside for a moment before closing it gently and kissing the locket sweetly. “Soon, il mio fratellino dolce,” she whispered, “soon”.
Amelie Pelletier the young private detective lounged in the peaceful the courtyard of the Italian Model’s magnificent villa, bathing in the beautiful sunshine and sipping a glass of the local wine. Her inquisitive mind turned to her required task. She had been instructed to act as Bella’s personal security, but things didn’t add up. There were large holes in Bella’s story, information missing that made it difficult for Amelie to trust her. At that moment her employer was preparing to go into the city and it had been made quite clear that her presence was not required. It was strange, how was she supposed to protect her if she wasn’t with her? Also from what Amelie had learned so far during her time with Bella, she could look after herself. She tried to calm her growing unease, she needed the paycheck, she couldn't afford to mess this up.
Irv Ravitz let out another sigh of bored frustration. It was ridiculously early in the morning and he was stuck in the city having coffee with two members of the Elias Clark Board of Directors, when he would have much rather of been on the golf course.
Individually the two other Board members held a great deal of power and influence in the company, they were often chosen by the other members to be the voice of the group, but they rarely saw eye to eye. This was something Irv often used to his own advantage, playing them off against one another like he was the spoiled and devious teenager and they were the dysfunctional parents. He didn’t see the point in being there that morning. ‘Elias Clark was a Corporate monster, as a team they were virtually unstoppable. Why hadn’t they crushed this case and the Counsel already?’ He wondered.
Alice McCann stirred the heavy cream into her cup as she glanced at her peer, James Carter waiting for the signal to begin. She blew lightly on her coffee and took an experimental sip as she received the cue. Smiling her practiced smile, she looked up. “So,” she began. “I met with the young woman from Runway and her Lawyer yesterday afternoon. I find their demands really quite reasonable.”
James glared into his black coffee. “Just how many zero’s are we going to need to add to make it go away?” He asked sullenly acting as if this was the first time he had heard the news. As if they hadn’t already discussed this, and that he didn’t know exactly how this was going to play out.
Alice smiled wickedly in Irv’s direction. “She doesn't want any money James. Well at least not directly. By agreeing to her terms we will be publicly exonerating Elias Clark from this nasty incident.”
James looked up and raised a questioning eyebrow. “Ok, you have my attention. What does she want Alice?” He asked, giving a performance worthy of an Emmy.
Alice continued to smile. “She wants us to introduce yearly mandatory seminars on sexual harassment prevention, for all Elias Clark employees. Plus we must publicly reiterate our policy on sexual harassment in the next issue of all our publications.” She paused for a beat, making sure she had Irv’s attention. “And one other small thing...”
“Here it comes,” James said disgustedly, “the one little thing is always the killer.”
Alice sipped her coffee drawing out the moment, watching Irv Ravitz almost squirming in his seat as she again shot him a sadistic grin. “She requested that you Mr Ravitz, be removed as the CEO of Runway Magazine and that Miranda Priestly will report directly to the board of directors until a suitable replacement is found.”
Irv stood from his seat. “This is preposterous.” He spat. “I will not stand for this.”
James sipped his coffee calmly. “Really Irv, I never have understood this ridiculous vendetta that you seem to have against Miranda.” He paused to take another drink. “I mean she's the only Editor-in-Chief we have that brings in a profit every month, a huge one at that.” He sighed. “And this unauthorized audit from an outside firm, was just the last straw. What on earth were you doing, bringing them in when Miranda was in Paris...”
But she's left Paris,” Irv defended looking for something, anything, that would exonerate him from the accusations. “The most important fashion event of the year and she just walks out. How is that going to look with our readers?” He demanded. “She's losing it I tell you! She's going to cost all of us a fortune. We need to dump her before that happ...”
Alice sighed. “Irv,” she said interrupting him, “It seems we are in a bit of a bind here. We either remove you as the Chief Executive Officer of Runway and move you to another publication with your reputation in one piece or we refuse to act on the demands and this case goes public. If that happens we will end up having to write out a seven or eight figure check and sacrifice a Senior Executive to act as the Scapegoat for our Zero tolerance policy... So I for one, suggest that you shut up, take your defeat gracefully and accept that the Board is in agreement. We need Miranda more than we need you.”
James nodded solemnly.
Olivia Keiffer was a woman who had lived all her life in the Army’s back yard. Her Father had been an officer and she had lived the lonely life of an Army brat moving from post to post. Naturally she had married a soldier, falling head over heels for a handsome young officer and marrying him on her twentieth birthday. Thirty years later and still very much in love, she was the perfect officer’s wife. She'd never expected him to rise to the rank of General, certainly not to the exalted position of a Joint Chief of Staff in Washington. Not that her husband hadn’t worked for it and didn’t deserve it, he was a hard working and honest man. But they had both remained humble throughout his rise through the ranks and although she had never wanted for anything, she had always chosen to spend her time helping worthy causes rather than frivolously shopping and lunching with the other officers wives.
Pottering around the kitchen of their newest posting on base, Olivia had just finished beating a homemade pancake batter and started a fresh pot of coffee as she waited for her husband to comeback from his early morning PT session with Alpha Company. She was just about to start grilling the rashers of bacon when the front doorbell rang.
General Allen Keiffer strolled onto the porch smelling the fresh coffee as he opened the front door. The last thing he expected to see was the paper and cardboard chaos that filled in his Living Room. Open boxes and mountains of clothes were strewn everywhere and the oval full length mirror from their bedroom stood in the center. Olivia stood among scattered clothing examining herself proudly as she twirled in a outfit he'd never seen before. He had fallen in love with his wife the moment they'd met, it had been love at first sight and now if it was possible he was sure he had just fallen in love with her all over again. She looked so happy and excited, he couldn’t help but sweep in and wrap his arms around her, giving her a big kiss. “Al!” She exclaimed. “You’re all sweaty, you’re going to mess up my couture!” she shrieked playfully. “I thought you were my breakfast honey.” He quipped tapping her ass and nuzzling her neck. “Get off you big oaf.” She giggled. He reluctantly released his hug and kissed the tip of her nose. “Are you going to tell me where all this came from or are you going to make me guess?”
Captain Wilks entered Senator Meriweather’s office, a huge and lavishly decorated room, buried in the inner sanctum of Washington. He found the Senator sitting behind his desk, casually reading the newspaper and sipping his morning coffee. “Senator,” Wilks called out announcing his arrival, “I've found the information you wanted.” The Senator, putting down the paper, gave his attention to his young protégé. “Carol Rodriguez isn't in the Army anymore. She was dishonorably discharge four months ago, the file states Bad Conduct. She's living in Charlotte, North Carolina.”
The Senator took another sip of his coffee. “Excellent,” he responded. He pressed the button on the intercom on his desk. “Betty,” he said to his secretary, “tell Phillip to step into my office, I have an urgent matter for him to attend to. ”
Caroline and Cassidy, rousted Wade out of his bed at what he considered god-awful early on Saturday. They had decided on a project they were excited about and wanted his help with it. Pulling him out of bed and pushing a large cup of coffee under his nose, they explained how they had already been up for hours doing some intense research on artificial limbs.
Still half asleep, Wade descended the stairs and shook his head in despair at the bombsite that used to be his living room. The twins, trying to be methodical, were creating a chart on what legs and arms they thought Andy would need to make her life complete. For their efforts the chart was quite comprehensive, they knew a few things about Andy that helped. They knew she had liked to run and stay in shape, so a leg designed for running was a must. They made the assumption that Andy would, at times, want to wear short sleeve fashions and skirts, so a cosmetic arm and leg were part of the list they were building. It appeared that Caroline had been in charge of the itemization and budget on their presentation. She had begun to try and research what benefits the Veteran's Administration would allow for a disabled soldier and how much money they would pay out towards Andy getting what she needed to live a full life.
Bored with the math and not able to get at the keyboard, Cassidy began to apply her makeup at the mirror above the fireplace. Wade watched his daughter, as she carefully applied the rice powder concealer over her lovely freckles. Internally he had to admit that he didn't like the Goth look on his little girl. To him, it made her look like a porcelain doll rather that the active sports loving child he had known, but, he told himself, this wasn’t the first time that one of his girls had tried to break out and find their individuality. She was trying to find herself and this was a step in that direction. Caroline had told him that she was as happy as she could ever remember her being. All he wanted was to see them happy and no matter what his reservations were he would support the change in his daughter. His ex-wife however, was a different story. Miranda was a woman of very strong opinions. He knew that Cassidy was going to need his complete and total support. An interdiction with Miranda would be necessary before she saw the new Cassidy. To make that happen and have a prayer of success he knew he needed to know the whole picture. “Cassidy,” he said softly, “why don't we see about taking your girlfriend out to dinner tonight. I'd like to meet her.”
General Keiffer tarried a moment after the morning briefing with the President and the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He’d hoped to catch the Commander-in-Chief alone for a few precious moments to express his concerns over the expected outcome of the ‘good will’ mission to Italy, and some new information that had come to light. Even though the reports of what was happening in the world at large were mostly positive, as far as U.S. interests were concerned. The Pentagon was buzzing over reports from the world press, which showed that Italy and several other large European countries, were responding well to the story of Corporal Sachs and the American recognition of her bravery. Discreet polling in Italy, since her arrival, had found that overall her actions had been responsible for boosting the support of the US, and the Middle Eastern efforts. Now the story was beginning to garner interest in the American Press. General Keiffer was sure that this was exactly what the Pentagon had hoped for when it had conceived of the mission.
General Keiffer had been an officer for more than thirty years. He had succeeded where others had failed because of his ability to think outside of the box. Corporal Sachs had been on his radar ever since he had received that call, the call from one of the most powerful women in America, Miranda Priestly. Miranda had some undefined but compelling connection to Sachs. She was a woman of influence and power, she was very much used to getting her own way. He had discovered that morning, for his small part in locating the wounded solider Miranda had immediately sought to repay him. It was a gift which far exceeded the value of the information provided. He wanted to believe that the gift, which had made his wife so happy, had been filled with only good intentions. But, he had a feeling that by accepting it he was now another pawn on her board, waiting to be used and sacrificed for the Queen. He had spent the rest of the morning looking into the history and connection between the two women but his sources had drawn a blank. However they hadn’t returned completely empty handed, the General learned that interestingly, Miranda was in Washington. She had recently cause a stir by leaving an important event and flown into the city quite unexpectedly. He’d thought about the situation carefully, was it all coincidence? He had a strong intuition that the mission was in danger, Miranda Priestly was wild card. One couldn’t accurately calculate the odds when an uncontrollable variant was entered into the equation, a variable that could not be contained.
“Mr. President,” he said aloud as the Commander in Chief was leaving the room, “A moment of your time please...”
Vernon Avery stood before a mirror in his office, whistling a tune and tying a careful Windsor knot into his tie. Lunch with Miranda Priestly, he mused, a woman as dangerous as she was beautiful One who held the fashion world in the palm of her hand, She was renowned for her ruthless streak and a will to destroy her enemies, not unlike his own. She had served his needs in the past by supplying vital information at a critical time in his career. The information of the peculiar sexual peccadilloes of the Editor-in-Chief of a major New York Newspaper had allowed him to quash a story that would have destroyed a Presidential Candidate in the 2000 election before it reached print. It had been a very near thing and without Miranda's aid, he would have failed his client. At the time he had been unable to comprehend exactly why she had relinquished the information so easily, but even then he was well aware that Miranda Priestly never had to explain her actions to anyone. The disconcerting thing, however, was that Miranda had never used his services in return. All these years he been left indebted to the Devil and now he had the distinct feeling that she had come to collect her payment with interest. He would enjoy this, he mused.