The Painter
Title: The Painter
Part 3: Setting the Stage
Rating: PG13-NC17
Warnings: Angst, hurt & comfort, smut in chapters to come, etc...
Summary: Andy Sachs Goldman is a celebrated painter. She paints the rich and famous all around the world. Or, she did, until two years ago when she dropped off the grid entirely and became almost hermit-like. But now after her self-imposed exile, she is back in the public eye. Miranda Priestly has only a vague recollection of ever hearing about AS Goldman, but when she meets the woman in the flesh, her unexpected offer of a portrait surprises her into accepting. Will these two women find a balance between their two personalities and get along for the sake of the portrait? Or will Andy's past come back to haunt them and tear them apart irreparably?
(A/n: Enjoy the read. I love hearing from my readers! It helps me to keep writing!)
“When we are born, we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.”
― William Shakespeare, King Lear
The phone rang only once before Emily’s snooty voice said, “Miranda Priestly office.”
“It’s Lily Weiss calling. I’m Andrea Sachs Goldman’s assistant. I want to set up another appointment for Miranda sometime this week. What time is she available?” Lily said into the phone.
Andy who was sitting at the chair opposite to her, at Le Bernadin, had asked her to call to set it up seeing as they were both waiting for their food to arrive.
“Alright, yes, 5pm not this Tuesday, but the next one? The 25th?” She looked at Andy questioningly. Andy nodded her approval to the proposed time. “Yes she has an opening. Alright, thank you. Have a nice evening.” Lily replied.
Andy smirked, amused at her usually exuberant assistant’s temporary ‘politesse d’affair.’
“So,” Lily shut her phone and turned back to Andy. “5pm next Tuesday.”
“Hmm, yes, if she doesn’t have to cancel it and reschedule again.” Andy said trying to be objective while still managing to inject a certain amount of annoyance in her tone of voice.
“So how was it?” Lily asked, leaning forward on her elbows. “Working with La Priestly I mean.”
“It was…” Andy trailed off. Lily lifted her eyebrows, a question implied in the gesture.
The appointment last week had been fine, yet the atmosphere had been filled with a strange kind of tension. It had unnerved Andy for a few days. She couldn’t get Miranda’s eyes out of her mind.
“It was fine of course.” She replied instead of admitting what was on her mind.
Lily was just an assistant, despite how nicely they got along. They had a strange kind of working relationship, in which Andy was clearly the Alpha. They would have lunch like this together, but it was usually to discuss business. Still, Andy appreciated Lily’s work for her. She was efficient at the gallery and helpful without being overbearing.
“Plans for the opening this Friday are coming along smoothly I take it?” Andy asked.
“Yes, everything is going according to schedule… for once.” Lily replied grinning.
“Good.” Andy picked up her fork, “Oh and set up a fitting with the Cartier people, my wedding ring is a bit too loose. It’s been bothering me lately.”
“Yes Andy.” Lily replied automatically.
Andy suppressed another smirk. All her employees reacted to her with the same kind of immediate obedience. They’d learned that she was to be obeyed with speedy precision or they would lose their job and receive no reference.
She watched from the corner of her eye as Lily glanced at her nervously while picking away at her food.
Good.
Lily knew who was in charge and she also knew she owed Andy respect.
Andy enjoyed the effect she had on people.
_________________________________________________________________________________________
It was raining outside. Of course it was raining. Tonight of all nights.
Pathetic fallacy seemed to follow Andy everywhere she went. Tonight weather had decided to be vaguely dramatic, just as the gallery’s opening night was no doubt sure to be.
Tonight was after all, just a long performance by Andy and those she worked with. It was similar to what Andy imagined putting on a play must feel like.
‘The scene is set, the actors know their lines and now all that’s left is for the public to arrive,’ Andy mused, smirking slightly.
The theme, “WHO ARE YOU?” was printed on the pamphlet that would be handed out at the entrance. The attendance of the event itself was by invitation and open to the very paying public. A few of the actual models Andy had had hired for the portraits would be attending, despite it having been two years since the portraits had been done. They had never been exposed before and were by definition, ‘new’.
Andy looked about the room, pleased with the concepts her team had come up with. The gallery was a simple large rectangular room, separated in the middle a pane of glass, on which one side was a mirror and the other, a see through glass, like the kind seen in bad cop shows on late night TV.
In between each of the paintings hung on the walls, were floor length mirrors.
The walls themselves were painted wine red on the mirror side and navy blue on the see-through side.
The paintings were particularly interesting because they were hidden behind velvet curtains that matched the color of the walls depending on the side they were on. The viewer had to pull on a cord to expose the painting. Once the cord was released the curtains fell back into place. It had been Andy’s idea to hide the paintings, yet leave the mirrors uncovered.
Andy believed it was easier to look at other people and judge them, than it was harder to look at oneself with the same critical eye, hence the exposed mirrors and the hidden canvases, forcing the public too look at themselves and to work at seeing others.
In the middle of each room, on a small round white pedestal was a model in a white full body spandex suit, with a sign on the pedestal, proclaiming: ‘Pose me’. The idea of the moveable models had been inspired by the central idea of choosing to be who we are as well as being shaped by those around us. It had been Lily’s idea.
The girl was really getting good at being an artistic director in training, as well as her personal assistant, Andy thought as she walked slowly around the gallery.
Andy felt the familiar tingle of anticipation in the bottom of her stomach, the trembling in her hands, the old sense of achievement she had achieved years ago through her art, before anything had happened. Tonight reminded her of when she had been young and naïve, willing to trust blindly in other people. It had been this kind of interactive, themed gallery, along with her father’s name, that had launched her into the world of the glitterati she now found herself in.
Sometimes, she still felt like Alice in Wonderland, for all that she understood of how the people around behaved and their reason behind it.
“Ok people, ten minutes till show time!” Andy heard Lily call loudly from somewhere behind her.
She checked her watch. It was 7:50pm on the dot.
Andy rolled her eyes and sighed quietly. She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on.
Henry came up behind her, wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her temple. Andy tried not to flinch at the touch and failed miserably. If he noticed, he pretended not to.
“Andy darling, I’m sure it will all be fine.” Henry said inanely. This was his halfhearted attempt at reassuring her. Andy had to stop herself from scoffing at him.
His hand at her waist tightened in what she assumed was meant as a reassuring gesture but felt more like being pawed at by a bear. In the other hand he was holding a full glass of whiskey. The night had barely begun and he was already on his third glass, Andy noted acerbically.
‘Please dear god don’t let him get too drunk and make a scene.’ She thought, wishing she could have excluded alcohol from her gallery’s opening night entirely, although she was sure Henry would have kicked up a fuss if she had.
“Really, Henry? I’m not at all convinced.” Andy retorted, a tinge of annoyance coloring her voice.
She shrugged off his hand, and walked towards Lily to once again check that everything was well and that all the guests were well and truly coming tonight. This was her first gallery opening in over two years. Andy sighed again and bit her bottom lip. What she wouldn’t give to able to have a glass of bourbon right now to calm her nerves. It was out of the question of course.
Andy suppressed yet another sigh.
“Andy are you alright?” Lily asked concerned. Had she been talking to her? Andy hadn’t noticed.
“What?” She blinked. “Oh. Yes, I’m fine.” Andy replied, not bothering to explain she had been miles away in her thoughts.
Lily gave her a concerned look. Andy wanted to hate her for her concern, her pity, but she knew that it would be entirely unfair to Lily if she did. It didn’t stop Andy from wishing she could.
‘Damn my stupid morals and humanitarian mind set,' Andy thought, with no small amount of irony. They really were inconvenient in this world of false pity and placating smiles.
“D-did Emilio confirm or do I have to make do with Carina for the catering tonight?” Andy said trying to sidetrack Lily before she began asking boring questions.
“Emilio confirmed at long last. He really should have known better than to make you wait so long on the confirmation.” Lily huffed, also annoyed at the pompous Italian man.
“Hmph. Yes, well. Maybe next time I’ll look elsewhere for catering services.” Andy had learned long ago that Italians did things the way they thought was best regardless of anyone else.
Andy’s phone vibrated in her clutch. She picked it up and looked at the caller id, but she didn’t recognize it. She decided it was best to answer it although few people knew her private number without having been given it by Andy herself.
“Hello?”
“Andrea Sachs Goldman?” An unmistakable British voice asked.
“Yes that’s me-” she tried to say but she was cut off by the ever stressed out redhead.
“Miranda Priestly would like to RSVP that she will be attending your opening night.”
Andy lost her breath.
She blinked twice and gapped at the phone in her hand. Lily looked at her strangely, obviously wondering who was on the phone.
“She’s w-what?” Andy asked completely caught off guard.
“She’s attending the gallery opening. She’ll arrive a bit later than most guests but she will be attending. The car should arrive at approximately, nine o’clock. Good evening.” Emily hung up on her.
Andy blinked again trying to process the information.
Miranda Priestly, fashion icon extraordinaire was attending her gallery’s opening night. For no apparent reason.
“Andy? Andy who was that? Are you alright?” Andy vaguely heard Lily’s voice ask her.
She shut off her phone and stared at it for a moment before answering with a much steady voice than she had expected, “Yes I’m fine Lily. Miranda Priestly’s assistant called to RSVP. She’ll be arriving at nine o’clock. Or rather, exactly fifteen minutes before nine.”
“She’s what?! Miranda Priestly is coming? Here?! Oh my god!” Lily exclaimed. She was practically bouncing up and down with excitement rolling like waves off of her. “Andy that’s great news!”
Andy was still reeling from the shock. When Henry had invited her, Andy had almost elbowed him in the ribs for his stupidity.
Miranda Priestly was an extremely busy woman. Surely she wouldn’t want to take time out of her busy schedule to visit a re-emerging artist’s first gallery in New-York in years?
Apparently, she did.
Andy could have been bowled over with a feather.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Andy forced herself to smile pleasantly at each new guest that arrived at the gallery, even though she felt tight enough to snap at any moment. She was like a bow string pulled too tight. She could only hope to avoid whiplash.
The low lights in the gallery, and the city jazz lounge music playing from the speakers gave the gallery an air of ‘mystère’, while using spot lights on the hidden canvases to allow for proper viewing of the art once the curtains were pulled back.
Once again, Andy was dragged out of her musings by the voice of the newest bout of people come to greet her.
“Andrea darling!” Andy managed to stop herself from cringing because of the way the woman said her name, putting emphasis on the AN-drea instead of the way a certain white haired fashion editor said it.
“You look lovely.” Cooed Norma Schulmann gesturing widely at her golden metallic Gucci minidress*.
“Thank you, so do you Mrs.Schulmann.” Andy replied, attempting to look pleased at the compliment.
She glanced surreptitiously behind the shorter woman’s shoulder to see who was next to come greet her. Andy saw that Henry was talking to Nicholai Androkovitch and his wife Sybil, handling himself like the professional smooth-talker that he was. He didn’t have a glass of alcohol in his hand for once.
‘Thank god for small favors,’ Andy thought.
“We’re so glad you’re back, dear,” Charles Schulmann said with a smarmy smile. “The gallery looks fascinating. I’m sure we’ll enjoy it immensely.” He patted her hand, then led his wife away to smooze at other rich people in the room. Andy decided to move towards the blue side of the mirror to watch but not be seen, as other guests entered the gallery. It would give her the opportunity to observe the guests arriving without being seen immediately.
She called over a tuxedoed waiter and took a flute of non-alcoholic punch. She sipped at it, and was mesmerized for a moment by the way the light reflected on the ice cubes in the glass.
She felt her hand twitch. She wanted to go home and paint. Yes, that sounded like an excellent idea. But Miranda Priestly was coming tonight. And if only for that reason, she shouldn’t leave. Andy huffed at the glass in her hand, annoyed, as though it was the glass’ fault she couldn’t have a drink and she couldn’t leave early.
She checked the time again. 8:44pm. Miranda could arrive at any given moment.
She watched the door as she walked around the room greeting people who had already made it to this side of the gallery.
She took their empty compliments for what they were, empty. Nothing more and nothing less. It didn’t matter what they thought about her art.
The only people whose criticism or praise Andy ever allowed to affect her, was that of the people she painted. It was their depiction on the canvas after all. They should get a say in how others would see them for years to come.
A whispering current of surprise began on the red side of the room. Andy watched through the pane of glass as silent heads turned to whisper soundlessly to each other about the newest arrival.
Miranda Priestly had just entered the room.
She immediately and effectively captured the stage Andy had so carefully set. Some small part of the back corner of Andy’s brain told her this was her night and that this should bother her, but she quickly shoved that thought away.
She saw Miranda’s sharp gaze search the room, drifting over the non-entities, searching. For whom? Surely it couldn’t be her. Andy decided she’d watched long enough.
It was time to greet the guest of honor.
-To be continued-
(A/n: I'd love to hear from my readers! Let me know what you think! I hope you enjoyed it)
Part 3: Setting the Stage
Rating: PG13-NC17
Warnings: Angst, hurt & comfort, smut in chapters to come, etc...
Summary: Andy Sachs Goldman is a celebrated painter. She paints the rich and famous all around the world. Or, she did, until two years ago when she dropped off the grid entirely and became almost hermit-like. But now after her self-imposed exile, she is back in the public eye. Miranda Priestly has only a vague recollection of ever hearing about AS Goldman, but when she meets the woman in the flesh, her unexpected offer of a portrait surprises her into accepting. Will these two women find a balance between their two personalities and get along for the sake of the portrait? Or will Andy's past come back to haunt them and tear them apart irreparably?
(A/n: Enjoy the read. I love hearing from my readers! It helps me to keep writing!)
“When we are born, we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.”
― William Shakespeare, King Lear
The phone rang only once before Emily’s snooty voice said, “Miranda Priestly office.”
“It’s Lily Weiss calling. I’m Andrea Sachs Goldman’s assistant. I want to set up another appointment for Miranda sometime this week. What time is she available?” Lily said into the phone.
Andy who was sitting at the chair opposite to her, at Le Bernadin, had asked her to call to set it up seeing as they were both waiting for their food to arrive.
“Alright, yes, 5pm not this Tuesday, but the next one? The 25th?” She looked at Andy questioningly. Andy nodded her approval to the proposed time. “Yes she has an opening. Alright, thank you. Have a nice evening.” Lily replied.
Andy smirked, amused at her usually exuberant assistant’s temporary ‘politesse d’affair.’
“So,” Lily shut her phone and turned back to Andy. “5pm next Tuesday.”
“Hmm, yes, if she doesn’t have to cancel it and reschedule again.” Andy said trying to be objective while still managing to inject a certain amount of annoyance in her tone of voice.
“So how was it?” Lily asked, leaning forward on her elbows. “Working with La Priestly I mean.”
“It was…” Andy trailed off. Lily lifted her eyebrows, a question implied in the gesture.
The appointment last week had been fine, yet the atmosphere had been filled with a strange kind of tension. It had unnerved Andy for a few days. She couldn’t get Miranda’s eyes out of her mind.
“It was fine of course.” She replied instead of admitting what was on her mind.
Lily was just an assistant, despite how nicely they got along. They had a strange kind of working relationship, in which Andy was clearly the Alpha. They would have lunch like this together, but it was usually to discuss business. Still, Andy appreciated Lily’s work for her. She was efficient at the gallery and helpful without being overbearing.
“Plans for the opening this Friday are coming along smoothly I take it?” Andy asked.
“Yes, everything is going according to schedule… for once.” Lily replied grinning.
“Good.” Andy picked up her fork, “Oh and set up a fitting with the Cartier people, my wedding ring is a bit too loose. It’s been bothering me lately.”
“Yes Andy.” Lily replied automatically.
Andy suppressed another smirk. All her employees reacted to her with the same kind of immediate obedience. They’d learned that she was to be obeyed with speedy precision or they would lose their job and receive no reference.
She watched from the corner of her eye as Lily glanced at her nervously while picking away at her food.
Good.
Lily knew who was in charge and she also knew she owed Andy respect.
Andy enjoyed the effect she had on people.
_________________________________________________________________________________________
It was raining outside. Of course it was raining. Tonight of all nights.
Pathetic fallacy seemed to follow Andy everywhere she went. Tonight weather had decided to be vaguely dramatic, just as the gallery’s opening night was no doubt sure to be.
Tonight was after all, just a long performance by Andy and those she worked with. It was similar to what Andy imagined putting on a play must feel like.
‘The scene is set, the actors know their lines and now all that’s left is for the public to arrive,’ Andy mused, smirking slightly.
The theme, “WHO ARE YOU?” was printed on the pamphlet that would be handed out at the entrance. The attendance of the event itself was by invitation and open to the very paying public. A few of the actual models Andy had had hired for the portraits would be attending, despite it having been two years since the portraits had been done. They had never been exposed before and were by definition, ‘new’.
Andy looked about the room, pleased with the concepts her team had come up with. The gallery was a simple large rectangular room, separated in the middle a pane of glass, on which one side was a mirror and the other, a see through glass, like the kind seen in bad cop shows on late night TV.
In between each of the paintings hung on the walls, were floor length mirrors.
The walls themselves were painted wine red on the mirror side and navy blue on the see-through side.
The paintings were particularly interesting because they were hidden behind velvet curtains that matched the color of the walls depending on the side they were on. The viewer had to pull on a cord to expose the painting. Once the cord was released the curtains fell back into place. It had been Andy’s idea to hide the paintings, yet leave the mirrors uncovered.
Andy believed it was easier to look at other people and judge them, than it was harder to look at oneself with the same critical eye, hence the exposed mirrors and the hidden canvases, forcing the public too look at themselves and to work at seeing others.
In the middle of each room, on a small round white pedestal was a model in a white full body spandex suit, with a sign on the pedestal, proclaiming: ‘Pose me’. The idea of the moveable models had been inspired by the central idea of choosing to be who we are as well as being shaped by those around us. It had been Lily’s idea.
The girl was really getting good at being an artistic director in training, as well as her personal assistant, Andy thought as she walked slowly around the gallery.
Andy felt the familiar tingle of anticipation in the bottom of her stomach, the trembling in her hands, the old sense of achievement she had achieved years ago through her art, before anything had happened. Tonight reminded her of when she had been young and naïve, willing to trust blindly in other people. It had been this kind of interactive, themed gallery, along with her father’s name, that had launched her into the world of the glitterati she now found herself in.
Sometimes, she still felt like Alice in Wonderland, for all that she understood of how the people around behaved and their reason behind it.
“Ok people, ten minutes till show time!” Andy heard Lily call loudly from somewhere behind her.
She checked her watch. It was 7:50pm on the dot.
Andy rolled her eyes and sighed quietly. She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on.
Henry came up behind her, wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her temple. Andy tried not to flinch at the touch and failed miserably. If he noticed, he pretended not to.
“Andy darling, I’m sure it will all be fine.” Henry said inanely. This was his halfhearted attempt at reassuring her. Andy had to stop herself from scoffing at him.
His hand at her waist tightened in what she assumed was meant as a reassuring gesture but felt more like being pawed at by a bear. In the other hand he was holding a full glass of whiskey. The night had barely begun and he was already on his third glass, Andy noted acerbically.
‘Please dear god don’t let him get too drunk and make a scene.’ She thought, wishing she could have excluded alcohol from her gallery’s opening night entirely, although she was sure Henry would have kicked up a fuss if she had.
“Really, Henry? I’m not at all convinced.” Andy retorted, a tinge of annoyance coloring her voice.
She shrugged off his hand, and walked towards Lily to once again check that everything was well and that all the guests were well and truly coming tonight. This was her first gallery opening in over two years. Andy sighed again and bit her bottom lip. What she wouldn’t give to able to have a glass of bourbon right now to calm her nerves. It was out of the question of course.
Andy suppressed yet another sigh.
“Andy are you alright?” Lily asked concerned. Had she been talking to her? Andy hadn’t noticed.
“What?” She blinked. “Oh. Yes, I’m fine.” Andy replied, not bothering to explain she had been miles away in her thoughts.
Lily gave her a concerned look. Andy wanted to hate her for her concern, her pity, but she knew that it would be entirely unfair to Lily if she did. It didn’t stop Andy from wishing she could.
‘Damn my stupid morals and humanitarian mind set,' Andy thought, with no small amount of irony. They really were inconvenient in this world of false pity and placating smiles.
“D-did Emilio confirm or do I have to make do with Carina for the catering tonight?” Andy said trying to sidetrack Lily before she began asking boring questions.
“Emilio confirmed at long last. He really should have known better than to make you wait so long on the confirmation.” Lily huffed, also annoyed at the pompous Italian man.
“Hmph. Yes, well. Maybe next time I’ll look elsewhere for catering services.” Andy had learned long ago that Italians did things the way they thought was best regardless of anyone else.
Andy’s phone vibrated in her clutch. She picked it up and looked at the caller id, but she didn’t recognize it. She decided it was best to answer it although few people knew her private number without having been given it by Andy herself.
“Hello?”
“Andrea Sachs Goldman?” An unmistakable British voice asked.
“Yes that’s me-” she tried to say but she was cut off by the ever stressed out redhead.
“Miranda Priestly would like to RSVP that she will be attending your opening night.”
Andy lost her breath.
She blinked twice and gapped at the phone in her hand. Lily looked at her strangely, obviously wondering who was on the phone.
“She’s w-what?” Andy asked completely caught off guard.
“She’s attending the gallery opening. She’ll arrive a bit later than most guests but she will be attending. The car should arrive at approximately, nine o’clock. Good evening.” Emily hung up on her.
Andy blinked again trying to process the information.
Miranda Priestly, fashion icon extraordinaire was attending her gallery’s opening night. For no apparent reason.
“Andy? Andy who was that? Are you alright?” Andy vaguely heard Lily’s voice ask her.
She shut off her phone and stared at it for a moment before answering with a much steady voice than she had expected, “Yes I’m fine Lily. Miranda Priestly’s assistant called to RSVP. She’ll be arriving at nine o’clock. Or rather, exactly fifteen minutes before nine.”
“She’s what?! Miranda Priestly is coming? Here?! Oh my god!” Lily exclaimed. She was practically bouncing up and down with excitement rolling like waves off of her. “Andy that’s great news!”
Andy was still reeling from the shock. When Henry had invited her, Andy had almost elbowed him in the ribs for his stupidity.
Miranda Priestly was an extremely busy woman. Surely she wouldn’t want to take time out of her busy schedule to visit a re-emerging artist’s first gallery in New-York in years?
Apparently, she did.
Andy could have been bowled over with a feather.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Andy forced herself to smile pleasantly at each new guest that arrived at the gallery, even though she felt tight enough to snap at any moment. She was like a bow string pulled too tight. She could only hope to avoid whiplash.
The low lights in the gallery, and the city jazz lounge music playing from the speakers gave the gallery an air of ‘mystère’, while using spot lights on the hidden canvases to allow for proper viewing of the art once the curtains were pulled back.
Once again, Andy was dragged out of her musings by the voice of the newest bout of people come to greet her.
“Andrea darling!” Andy managed to stop herself from cringing because of the way the woman said her name, putting emphasis on the AN-drea instead of the way a certain white haired fashion editor said it.
“You look lovely.” Cooed Norma Schulmann gesturing widely at her golden metallic Gucci minidress*.
“Thank you, so do you Mrs.Schulmann.” Andy replied, attempting to look pleased at the compliment.
She glanced surreptitiously behind the shorter woman’s shoulder to see who was next to come greet her. Andy saw that Henry was talking to Nicholai Androkovitch and his wife Sybil, handling himself like the professional smooth-talker that he was. He didn’t have a glass of alcohol in his hand for once.
‘Thank god for small favors,’ Andy thought.
“We’re so glad you’re back, dear,” Charles Schulmann said with a smarmy smile. “The gallery looks fascinating. I’m sure we’ll enjoy it immensely.” He patted her hand, then led his wife away to smooze at other rich people in the room. Andy decided to move towards the blue side of the mirror to watch but not be seen, as other guests entered the gallery. It would give her the opportunity to observe the guests arriving without being seen immediately.
She called over a tuxedoed waiter and took a flute of non-alcoholic punch. She sipped at it, and was mesmerized for a moment by the way the light reflected on the ice cubes in the glass.
She felt her hand twitch. She wanted to go home and paint. Yes, that sounded like an excellent idea. But Miranda Priestly was coming tonight. And if only for that reason, she shouldn’t leave. Andy huffed at the glass in her hand, annoyed, as though it was the glass’ fault she couldn’t have a drink and she couldn’t leave early.
She checked the time again. 8:44pm. Miranda could arrive at any given moment.
She watched the door as she walked around the room greeting people who had already made it to this side of the gallery.
She took their empty compliments for what they were, empty. Nothing more and nothing less. It didn’t matter what they thought about her art.
The only people whose criticism or praise Andy ever allowed to affect her, was that of the people she painted. It was their depiction on the canvas after all. They should get a say in how others would see them for years to come.
A whispering current of surprise began on the red side of the room. Andy watched through the pane of glass as silent heads turned to whisper soundlessly to each other about the newest arrival.
Miranda Priestly had just entered the room.
She immediately and effectively captured the stage Andy had so carefully set. Some small part of the back corner of Andy’s brain told her this was her night and that this should bother her, but she quickly shoved that thought away.
She saw Miranda’s sharp gaze search the room, drifting over the non-entities, searching. For whom? Surely it couldn’t be her. Andy decided she’d watched long enough.
It was time to greet the guest of honor.
-To be continued-
(A/n: I'd love to hear from my readers! Let me know what you think! I hope you enjoyed it)