A Topsy-Turvy World Chapter 4
Title: A Topsy-Turvy World
By: Nicolina
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Andrea/Miranda, Andrea/OC, Miranda/Stephan
Archive: Please do, but send me a message and tell me!
Rating: PG (at the moment anyway)
Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognize, which belongs to a variety of people including the screen-writers of the DWTP as well as Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway. Credit for the inspiration behind the plotline goes to
mirandyscrow , and credit also goes to my beta
amelie_n . So in other words, I don’t own anything,
Warning: AU, Future slash fiction (f,f)
Chapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5 Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10
Chapter 4
Andy slipped out of the bed, feeling the thick carpet between her bare toes. She looked down at Greg’s naked figure spread out on the bed, with a tolerant smile. Greg had always been a bed hog, and nothing had changed in the past two years it seemed. She reached for her dressing gown and slipped it onto her own bare body. The night before, after putting him off for just over a week, she’d finally let him make love to her. It had been...nice, she mused as she stared down at the disarrayed bed. Greg was a good lover from her admittedly very limited range of experience. She’d been only nineteen, and recovering from the collapse of her second serious relationship, when she’d met him, and she hadn’t taken another lover since. He wasn’t very imaginative in bed, but she was pretty sure that being tender and conscientious were hallmarks of a good lover in anyone’s book. There were no fireworks, but then, there never had been. Even when their relationship was at its strongest, it had always been about more than just the bedroom.
Tying her belt, she headed into the kitchen. A few minutes later, she was nursing a mug of hot coffee as she stared out over New York City. So far, everything was going well. He’d been home by six o’clock every night to take her to the movies or to dinner or out clubbing. They hadn’t fought once, and living in close proximity to someone else hadn’t irritated her like she’d expected it to after two years of being on her own. She eyed the bouquets of flowers in vases dotted around the room and laughed. The fresh flowers every day were getting a little much, but at least he was trying.
Her cellphone rang shrilly from where it sat on the wooden breakfast table. Andy picked it up and flipped it open without glancing at the screen. “Andy Clarke here.”
“ANDREA!” a female voice shrieked down the line.
Andy winced and held the phone away from her ear till the sound died away. “Hello Mom.” She’d been expecting this call for days now. She’d left a message on her parents’ answering machine three days earlier, telling them that she was moving back to New York to try again with Greg.
“What in god’s name are you doing?” her mother raged, still at the top of her lungs.
“At the moment, I’m standing in my dressing gown in the kitchen,” Andy replied flippantly. “And can you keep your voice down? Greg is still asleep.”
Janet ignored her and continued screeching at the top of her lungs, “I can’t believe you’re going back to him!”
“Mother!” Andy said sharply. On the other side of the phone, Andy could hear her dad’s voice saying something.
“Fine.” Janet sounded grumpy but did lower her voice, “what are you doing, Andy? Don’t you remember why you left?”
Andy sighed. There were times when she regretted telling her mother exactly why she and Greg had split. “Of course I do.”
“Then why are you setting yourself up to be hurt again?”
“I’m not,” Andy told her firmly. “Greg’s different now.”
“You haven’t seen him in two years,” Janet shot back. “How can you know that?”
Andy twirled the wire around her finger as she leaned against the kitchen bar. “I’ve been living with him for a week. Seriously, Mom, he’s changed. He’s really attentive and everything.” She eyed the latest bouquet of daffodils and grinned.
Janet sniffed and Andy could almost hear the disapproval. “What makes you think that he’ll be able to accept you wanting a career anymore than before? And what about your job back in England?”
“He said he was fine with it.” Andy licked her lips. “And as for the job, well, two weeks ago I was offered another job here. A really good one. I turned it down, but then accepted when I decided to move back. And before you ask, Greg had nothing to do with it.” He’d said so and Andy had no reason to mistrust him...yet anyway.
“Mmmm. And what is this new job you’ve got now?”
“It’s still with Kaizer. I’m going to be the US Financial Manager.” Andy waited with baited breath.
“US Financial Manager?” Janet repeated.
There was a sudden scuffle as though someone had snatched the phone from her, and then Andy’s dad’s voice came down. “The US Financial Manager? For Kaizer?”
“Uh huh.” Andy grinned.
“But you’re only twenty-six,” David objected.
“I know.” Even after having accepted the job, she still found it hard to believe she had even been offered it.
“But...but that’s impossible!”
“I know,” Andy repeated, giggling now. She was acting like a child, and that was hardly going to convince her parents that she was making the right decision to come back to Greg, but she couldn’t help it. Greg had smiled tolerantly as she bounced around the apartment for the past seven days in between calling Diane to arrange to rent out her apartment in London and apologetic phone calls to the UK branch of Kaizer for bailing out on them without warning. She’d finally calmed down the day before yesterday, but having to tell her parents had gotten her all excited again.
“Uh, are you okay honey?” David asked cautiously. “I haven’t heard you giggle like that since...well, before you went to London.”
Andy sobered. “I’m fine. I don’t know, I’m just really happy at the moment. Maybe it’s something in the New York air.” She grinned again. “Or maybe it’s being with Greg again. I have missed him, you know.” She hadn’t realized just how much she had until she came back.
“Maybe it is,” her father agreed.
Janet said something indistinguishable.
“One moment, Janet.” David sighed, “for what it’s worth Andy, since I know you’ll do whatever you want to anyway, you have my support.”
Andy felt her eyes grow damp. “Thanks Dad.” Maybe it was true that she’d do whatever she wanted even if her parents didn’t agree, but it was nice to know that at least one of them was there for her.
“Love you sweetie.”
Her mom got back on the phone. “Are you sure about this?”
“No,” Andy admitted. “But I know I have to give it a try. He’s my husband. I owe to him, and to myself, to give us another shot.”
“I don’t want you to do anything out of duty,” Janet’s tone reflected her concern.
“It’s not duty, mom,” Andy promised her. “Greg and I, we had something really good going on when we first got married. And I want to see if we can get that back.”
“But do you still love him?”
Andy considered that for several long moments. Did she still love him? “I don’t know.” Her heart didn’t beat quicker at his approach, nor did she go dry-mouthed and stumble over her words when he was around. But she cared for him, and she would be devastated if something happened to him. Maybe that was love, in a more mature form than the crush-like symptoms of love she’d had when they were first married. Besides, she was his wife. That had to count for something. “I think so.”
“If you’re not sure, maybe you should wait before moving back in?” her mom suggested.
Andy shook her head, forgetting that she couldn’t be seen. “No. If I wait till I’m sure, I’ll never do this.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t do this at all.”
“Sometimes, you just have to take a chance.”
There was a pause. “I hate it when you quote me back to me.”
“I know.” Andy smirked.
“All right,” Janet sighed. “I might not agree with you, but I’ll support you, I guess.”
Andy rolled her eyes. “Thanks, mom.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I just can’t forget that he got in the way of your dreams.” Andy could almost hear her mother’s pout.
“I promise I know what I’m doing,” Andy told her firmly. A glance down at her watch told her she was running late. “I’ve got to go, mom.”
“All right. Call us if you need to okay?.”
“Uh huh. Bye.” Andy snapped the phone closed. She drained the mug of coffee and abandoned it on the kitchen table. Hurrying through the master bedroom into the ensuite bathroom, she dropped the robe and turned on the water.
Ten minutes later, she emerged dressed in a pair of black slacks and a cerulean blue sweater. She considered her appearance in the mirror, and snorted. She dressed like most of the other female financial advisors in London, and although she wasn’t fashionable by any stretch of the imagination, she wasn’t completely hopeless either. Although, considering where she was going, she probably was hopeless by comparison. Slipping her feet into a pair of flat black shoes, Andy leaned across the bed and kissed Greg’s cheek.
His eyes fluttered open.
“I’m leaving now,” she murmured. “See you later?”
“I’ll join you two for lunch,” Greg agreed sleepily, before rolling over and promptly falling asleep again.
Andy slung her bag across her hip and then headed back out of the bedroom. She let herself out of the penthouse apartment, and took the stairs down two steps at a time. She nodded at the security guard and then headed out.
“Mrs. Clarke.” A blonde man leaned against the door of a dark blue car, gesturing her to enter through the open door.
She slid inside, feeling slightly awkward. In London she took the subway everywhere, and definitely wasn’t driven around in a chauffeured car. But apparently Arthur was, and so when she’d agreed to go with him to Elias-Clarke, he’d come by to pick her up. “Hi, Arthur.”
Her father-in-law gave her a smile. “Ready, Andy?”
She didn’t miss the flicker of his eyes up and down her outfit. “Sure.”
He leaned forward to tap the chauffeur on the shoulder. “Let’s go.” He settled back against the seat as the car pulled away from the sidewalk.
Andy stared out the window of Elias-Clarke watching the tiny ant-like figures scurrying below. The Elias-Clarke building soared into the clouds, dwarfing all those around it into inconsequentiality, the same way that she had been told by friends that Runway’s editor-in-chief did.
Andy thought back on the woman she’d met the week before. The tabloids called her the ‘Snow Queen’ and the ‘Dragon Lady’ and she’d certainly been cool enough at the gala. Dismissive and arrogant even, she’d been the indisputable ruler of the evening. CEOs, celebrities and fashionistas alike seemed to gravitate around her, revolving like planets around a sun. And yet, there had been those tiny flickers of weakness that night. Things that showed Miranda Priestly wasn’t completely in control of everyone and everything. Andy had interfered that first time because she simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get her own back at Irv, but she wasn’t quite sure why she’d intervened the second time. She barely knew the woman, but her hackles had risen as soon as Miranda’s husband had begun to embarrass her.
“Andy?”
She turned. “Coming.” With one last glance out the window, she followed him away from the Buzz magazine offices and towards the lifts.
Once inside, Arthur punched one of the buttons and the lift started to move.
“Where next?”
“The Runway floor.” Arthur turned to face her. “Now, there’s a couple of things we all have to remember when dealing with Miranda Priestly. First, always call her Miranda, not Ms. Priestly. Second, Runway is the cashcow of Elias-Clarke and Miranda is the only one who can keep it that way. So we ignore any of her little oddities and idiosyncrasies.”
Andy nodded as the doors opened. She stepped out of the lift and nearly gaped at the racks of clothes that were spilling out of the corridors and into the receptionist’s area. She’d never seen so many clothes in one place before.
Arthur ushered her through the glass doors, and then past the receptionist without any fuss. “This is the Runway offices. They share the floor with Advertising, but other than that they’re on their own.”
Incredulously, Andy eyed the glass offices they passed where exquisitely dressed men and women were bent over displays of pictures and articles. She didn’t think she’d seen this many pairs of high heels in her life, even at the gala. “How do they do it?”
“Do what?” Arthur gave her an inquiring look.
Andy gestured. “Work in those shoes.”
Arthur glanced down at her shoes. “Practice, my dear.” He shrugged. “It’s a fashion magazine, Andy. Besides, Miranda would kill them if they didn’t. Ah, here we are.” He pushed open a set of glass doors.
A short, balding man looked up. “Mr. Clarke.”
“Morning, Nigel,” Arthur nodded. “Nigel, this is Andrea Clarke, my daughter-in-law. Andrea, this is Nigel Kipling, Runway’s Fashion Editor and Miranda’s right hand man. He’s irreplaceable.”
“Thank you, but no-one is irreplaceable here,” Nigel corrected him with a faint smile, “except for Miranda.” He turned towards Andy. “Mrs. Clarke.”
“Call me Andy,” Andy offered, instantly charmed by his manner. She held out her hand. “I think I saw you at the gala last week.”
“Andy then.” Nigel ignored the hand, leaning in to kiss her cheeks. “You were wearing that interesting black Yves Saint Laurence dress with the Gucci heels.”
“You remember my outfit?” Andy was stunned.
“Of course,” Nigel sniffed. “I am a fashion editor. It’s my job to remember clothes.”
Andy couldn’t help the grin on her face.
“If you two will excuse me for one moment,” Arthur nodded to a man who was standing on the other side of the glass wall. “I need to speak with Florence.”
The door swung closed behind him, and Andy turned back to Nigel.
He looked her up and down. “Are you going to see Miranda?”
“Yes,” Andy confirmed, wondering why he wanted to know.
He walked to a cupboard along the wall and rummaged around in it for a moment. He pulled out a shoe box and presented it to her. “You’ll need these then. Size 8.”
Andy took the box and opened it. She laughed, picking up the black heels inside. “Cute.”
“I’m serious,” Nigel insisted. “She won’t like those shoes you’re wearing.”
“I think I’ll be fine,” she placed the box down on the table. “But thanks for the offer.”
“Andy,” Arthur poked his head back in. “Ready to move on?”
“Sure. It’s been nice meeting you, Mr. Kipling,” Andy smiled.
“Nigel,” he told her, already looking back down at his work.
Andy slipped out and the two of them headed down the corridor. They rounded the final corner and pushed through another pair of glass doors into an office. Two desks, each with a pretty, stylishly dressed girl behind it, faced each other from either side of an open doorway, which led into a spacious white office.
“...thought you were better than that,” Miranda’s voice drifted through the doorway. Her voice was barely audible, but all the more chilling because of it. “It was such a simple thing I asked you to find for the shoot. And you still failed me. You disappointed me.”
There was a sob from someone inside the room. Andy felt her heart jerk and her back stiffen. No-one deserved to be spoken to like that, as though they were worthless. Miranda was definitely a bitch. She glanced at Arthur, who was carefully studying the opposite wall and looking resigned but not surprised. The blonde at the desk looked ready to run, screaming, from the room. The redhead opposite her was rolling her eyes.
“On your way out, tell Emily to contact HR for a new Accessories assistant. That’s all.”
There was a moment of silence, and then a tall blonde girl stumbled from the inner office, tears streaming down her cheeks. She stared blankly at Emily, looked back at the open doors and then back at Emily.
The girl at the first desk stood up and stepped around it, looking exasperated. “Oh stop blubbering, Irene. Go home. I’ll be in touch.”
“I tried, Emily,” the blonde girl lifted tear stained eyes. “I really did.”
“Emily!” Miranda’s voice floated out.
Emily tossed a terrified look at the open doors. She looked back at the sobbing girl, her eyes suddenly hard. “No you didn’t. You didn’t try at all. If you had, you would have found the bags she needed. You failed and that’s that. Now go home before Miranda has security escort you out.”
Andy blinked, not having expected the redhead to turn on her co-worker. And she was being fired over a bunch of bags?
The blonde sobbed harder and sped through the glass doors and down the corridor.
Miranda appeared in the doorway, looking impatient. “Emily, I said...” She trailed off as she spotted Arthur and Andy standing near the door, looking uncomfortable. “Arthur. Mrs. Clarke. What a lovely surprise. I hope Emily didn’t keep you waiting.” She glared at her cringing assistant.
“Not at all.” Arthur stepped forward, clasping her hand and exchanging air kisses with the editor. “I was taking Andrea for a tour of Elias-Clarke and thought we’d drop in on you.” Clearly, Miranda’s propensity for being unduly harsh on her employees was one of those ‘oddities’ that was to be ignored. Andy ground her teeth together. She didn’t agree with letting it go, but could hardly say anything in front of her father-in-law, who was letting it go.
Andy leaned forward and exchanged air kisses with Miranda, trying not to grate her teeth. “Miranda.”
Miranda’s eyes lingered on her shoes, and Andy suddenly wished she’d taken Nigel up on his offer of shoes. She promptly scolded herself. She was a fully grown woman. She didn’t need the Dragon Lady to approve her shoes.
“I’d love to stay and chat Arthur,” Miranda checked her watch. “But I have an appointment scheduled at James Holt’s studio in twenty minutes.”
“Of course,” Arthur nodded. “We won’t keep you then.”
Miranda held out her hand and the other assistant, a brunette, handed her a black trench coat and a black handbag. “I see the silly girl forgot to tell you to talk to HR about a new Accessories assistant. Arrange it.”
“Yes, Miranda.” The red-head bobbed her head.
“It was nice to meet you again Mrs. Clarke,” the editor said smoothly. “Arthur, Emily has the name of that person you asked for.” Without waiting for a reply, Miranda swept out of the room.
The office was silent for a split second before Emily made a dive for the phone and dialed. “Roy, she’s on her way down.”
Simultaneously, the other dialed another number. “Tell James that Miranda’s on her way over, and she’ll be about fifteen minutes late. They’d better be ready to go when she gets there.”
Arthur waited for Emily to get off the phone before asking, “Miranda said you had the number of a personal shopper for me?”
Andy wondered what he needed a personal shopper for. As far as she knew, Arthur had shopped for himself since his wife’s death from cancer five years before.
Emily pointed at the brunette. “Not me. Katrina.”
“Katrina hasn’t earned her name yet?” Arthur raised an eyebrow. He turned to the brunette. “How long have you been here?”
“A...a...we...week,” Katrina stuttered.
Andy winced. Even she could tell that no-one who stuttered would be able to survive Miranda long. You’d have to have self-confidence by the ton to withstand the barrage of Miranda’s treatment.
“I see,” Arthur nodded. “The number?”
The girl shoved a piece of paper at him.
“Here you go.” Arthur handed it to Andy.
Andy blinked. “Arthur?”
“You’re living in New York now, Andy, and you’re part of the Clarke family. You have to dress like it,” he looked her up and down.
“I don’t see what’s wrong with my clothes,” Andy thought her clothes were very serviceable.
Arthur said dryly, “And therein lies the problem, my dear. For me, for Greg, just call that number and set up an appointment.”
Andy didn’t agree, but she wasn’t willing to fight in public. “Fine.” She’d just bring it up later with Greg.
“Nice to see you again Emily.” Arthur tugged on Andy’s elbow. “Let’s move on.”
Andy waited till they were in the lift before turning to stare at Arthur incredulously. “So we just let it go? She reduced someone to tears before firing them and we just let it go?”
Arthur nodded. “Exactly.” He laid a hand on her arm. “I know you don’t like it. But while Miranda might be a demanding bitch and holy terror to work for, she is good at what she does. Runway has the biggest circulation of all fashion magazines, and it’s all because she expects perfection and won’t settle for anything less than that from anyone, including herself.”
Andy bit her lip. She didn't think that being good at what you did gave anyone the right to be that cruel.
“She may not have the nicest way of getting things done, but no editor does.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “To claw your way to the top seat of a magazine, you have to be ready to be a bitch, to be harsh and demanding. It’s a cruel and competitive world, Andy, especially in fashion. So yes, we look the other way when Miranda blows the Runway budget by half a million dollars and goes through six assistants in six months. Because we need her at the helm of Runway, and this is the only way that she knows how to operate.. She needs the best and if her assistants can’t deliver, then they are a liability and shouldn’t be here.”
Andy blinked. “Oh.” She hadn’t thought of it in quite those terms before.
“In London, you lived in a different world,” Arthur added quietly. “London is nothing like New York for cut throat politics, and the hotel finance industry is a far cry from the fashion industry.” Unspoken was the fact that she was going to have to get used to it if she stayed here with Greg.
The elevator doors slid open, and Andy followed her father-in-law out to the next department.