Small Favors, Part V
Small Favors, Part V
Fandom: Devil Wears Prada
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox do.
Rating: M
===
On Monday, Andy rang up Nigel.
“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal daughter, come back to haunt us all.”
“Nice to speak to you too, Nigel. What does that mean?” Andy asked.
“Emily told me you’ve been spending time with Miranda these days. Have you saved humanity from itself already?”
So much for being the one to ask the questions, Andy thought. “Geez, word gets around even beyond the halls of Runway, huh.”
“Are you kidding? Emily wasn’t even out the townhouse door last week when she called me. She demanded to know if I knew you were still skulking about. Which I didn’t, of course.”
“I haven’t been skulking. I’ve been working very hard. And I’ve barely seen Miranda.”
“Oh, really,” Nigel said.
“Why don’t you believe me?”
Nigel sighed. “I don’t know Andy. It’s a little bizarre. You disappear from Paris, possibly because of the fact that Miranda gave my job to Jacqueline, and more than a year goes by. Now you’re back. Doing what?”
“Listen, it’s simple. I got this award, and I saw Miranda. She gave me a tip on a story, and I wanted to thank her. That’s it.”
“And you’re attending soccer games.”
“Christ, we didn’t even go, it got cancelled!”
“But you were planning to go.”
“Well, yes.” Andy’s irritation got the better of her. “Nigel, I called to say hello, and to give you congratulations on your job. I didn’t call to get interrogated on something that’s none of your business. So, congrats. Catch you later, okay?” Andy prepared to hang up, until she heard Nigel’s voice babbling on the other end.
“Okay, okay, sorry, sorry. I was just… surprised that you were back in the picture. Miranda was a beast after you left, so I’m still a little bitter.”
“A beast?” This was new information.
“She went through six assistants in the first eight weeks after Paris.”
“Shit. I didn’t know.”
“And why would you? You were getting your dream job at a crappy paper, while the rest of us had to pick up the pieces after your meltdown.”
Andy waited for more. When none came, she said, “If it’s any consolation, I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s not, but I accept. I’m not one to hold a grudge.”
Andy laughed. “Yeah, right.”
“Hey, I’m the one who stuck around after getting shafted.”
“And look what happened. You got your dream job.”
“True, very true,” he said, and Andy could picture him polishing his nails on his suit coat. “Now that you have time for a social life, did you patch things up with that gorgeous young man you were seeing?”
“Nate? No. We gave it a shot, but he moved to Boston. It didn’t work out.”
“Sorry. Any new ‘friends’ on the horizon?”
Andy gulped. “Not a one. How about you?”
“Please. I have less time for romance now than I had at Runway. But James is… nice to look at, so there are perks.”
“Do I sense a little romantic tension in the office?”
“Well, no. But maybe,” Nigel said, his voice softening.
“He’s a nice guy, Nigel. I hope he’s good enough for you.”
He snickered. “At this point, my standards aren’t exactly through the roof. It’s lonely at the top, you know.”
“So I’m told,” she replied. “Hey, do you want to get a drink sometime? I know you’re busy and all, but--”
“James is having a little soiree tomorrow. We can combine work and pleasure. Or rather I will. It’s the best I can do right now.”
He sounded so apologetic that Andy was happy to oblige. “I’d love it. Where and when?”
He gave her the details and she was already wondering what to wear when he said, “I’m glad you’re all right, kid. You were a keeper.”
Her heart warmed. “So were you, Nige. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Ciao.”
===
Andy only agonized for 45 minutes over her outfit before throwing caution to the wind and going with a basic Audrey Hepburn get-up, minus the white socks. It was only Nigel and James, after all; they wouldn’t be impressed no matter what she wore, since the place would be teeming with models and designers. A black cape with red lining added a little drama, and that would have to do. She did go heavy on the eyeliner, and stuck with her red lipstick. Hair pulled back in a high ponytail completed the outfit.
She hoped it wasn’t too reminiscent of those GAP ads from a few years back, but any Audrey was classic Audrey.
A quick trip on the C train to 8th Ave and 14th put Andy only a few blocks away from James’ place. It was as she remembered it; very posh, and very gay. The thought made Andy grin. Perhaps she belonged here a little more than she used to.
She did the obligatory single knock before stepping inside. The music was loud, but she didn’t have to ask anyone who James was this time, so she searched until she spotted him near the bar. When he saw her, he shook his head and chuckled. “As I live and breathe. Welcome back, Andy.”
“Hi James. Thanks for having me.”
“It’s a pleasure. And might I say, you look dazzling.” He looked her over. “Let’s see that cape. I like it. Where’d you find it?”
“You don’t want to know,” she said, truthfully. The garment had come from a touristy consignment shop on Broadway, and Doug had helped her add the lining herself.
“Have a drink, and maybe I can convince you to tell me.”
“Probably not, but I’m glad you like it.”
“Let me find Nigel for you…” He searched the crowd, and tugged her along as guests happily made way. “There we go. Hey,” he said, interrupting another conversation between Nigel and a few gangly models.
“Jesus, there she is.” He paused to look at her, struck by something. “What the hell happened to you?”
Andy’s face fell. “What is it?”
“You’re more gorgeous now than when you left Runway. That’s obscene.” He kissed both her cheeks and looked closely. “Seriously. What happened?”
Andy shook her head. “Nothing.”
He grasped her chin between thumb and forefinger and turned it back and forth. “Have you had plastic surgery? Are you taller?”
She chuckled. “I hope not.”
“Well, whatever it is suits you. I didn’t even notice that you’re not dressed up. But I do like the cape.”
“Thanks, Nigel. You look wonderful. Nice suit.”
“Handmade, just for me,” he preened, turning around so she could get the full effect. Andy saw James grin. “Sometimes it pays to work for the designer.”
“With the designer. We’re partners,” James insisted, and Andy wondered if there was more to Nigel’s story than he was letting on. From the look of him, he was infatuated, and James might be too. She wouldn’t have pegged them as a pair, but love was strange. Obviously.
James left them alone to catch up. Andy talked about the paper, her recent arrest, and her award. Nigel talked about Runway, Miranda, and work, all of which were far more interesting to Andy than her own stories. She found out that Miranda had been out socially with a handful of well-to-do men since the divorce, but that she’d been careful to stay out of the press. She also found out that three of the six assistants that Miranda had fired this year had been dead ringers for Andy.
Andy found that idea both thrilling and creepy.
“We all knew she was looking for another you, but they never lived up to the legend. It was sad, really. They were far more suited to Runway than you ever were.”
“Hey, I did all right,” Andy insisted.
“After a while,” he reasoned. “But these girls wanted to be there. You were just passing through.”
“I suppose.”
“Regardless, Emily finally found a good replacement, and they’ve done well.” He glanced over Andy’s shoulder. “And speak of the devil, there she is.”
“Who, Emily?” Andy asked.
“No, Miranda.”
Andy whipped her head around, and the rest of her followed after a moment, since her feet weren’t working properly. Andy smiled hugely, feeling as though her head would split open if she got any happier. A luminous Miranda glided toward them, and as Andy took in her ensemble, her eyes grew wide.
She was wearing an outfit that matched Andy’s almost exactly. More tailored and expensive, of course, but it looked… planned.
“Goodness,” Nigel breathed, dumbstruck. “Great minds, and all that.”
“I’ll say,” she mumbled.
Miranda kissed him twice. “Hello, dearest,” she said, her voice betraying far more affection than Andy expected.
“I didn’t think you’d be here. Emily sent your regrets.”
“Oh, I made some time, for you,” she added. “I’ve missed you terribly.” Finally, Miranda turned to Andy. “Hello, Andrea,” she said. Andy waited, and was rewarded when Miranda leaned forward to kiss her cheek. It wasn’t an air kiss, despite Miranda’s fresh coat of lipstick.
This was it, Andy thought. Her head was definitely going to split open. “Hi.” The sensation of those soft lips lingered on Andy’s skin; she wondered if there was a visible imprint of a perfect mouth left behind.
For a few minutes, Andy only half-listened to their conversation, about the new spring lines, and the upcoming holiday issue. She looked around, and felt smug when she noticed how many eyeballs were fastened on Miranda, in awe. Or terror, she supposed, but the claws were sheathed tonight. They watched Andy too, whispering to each other. She wished she knew what they were saying.
Nigel offered to retrieve some champagne for them, which Miranda graciously accepted. When they were alone, Andy, to her utter misery, could find absolutely nothing to say. A full minute passed.
“The soccer game has been rescheduled for this Sunday,” Miranda said without looking at her.
“Oh?” Andy squeaked.
“Perhaps you could… attend.”
Andy glanced in her direction. “Sure,” she said. Unaccountably tense, she dug her nails into her curled palms and searched for a topic of conversation. Would she ever relax around this woman? “I love your, uh, shoes,” she finally said.
Miranda’s lips turned down, yet it was still a smile. “Are you overworked, Andrea? Your conversation skills have taken a marked downturn.”
Andy swallowed. Nigel was maneuvering through the party guests on his way to the bar. Against her better judgment, she said, “Sometimes you make me nervous.”
“Mm,” Miranda hummed. “Things never change. I do tend to inspire anxiety in those around me.” She heaved a great sigh. “I don’t know why.”
At that, Andy laughed. The tension dissipated in a heartbeat, replaced by contentment being in Miranda’s presence, inside her circle. “Yeah, right. It’s not anxiety, though.”
“No?” Miranda said, glancing at her.
“No,” Andy replied. Though she’d intended to continue, explaining some half-formed idea about Miranda’s energy, and how it automatically put everyone on alert, Andy promptly forgot what she was going to say. In this light, with the candles and Japanese lanterns dancing around them, Miranda was astonishingly lovely. Her pale skin glowed, and her eyes seemed an unearthly, electric blue. Andy knew she was staring, but couldn’t turn away. “Wow,” she breathed.
“What?” The word was like a gunshot. “Have I spouted horns?”
Horrified at her slip, she froze. Miranda’s expression grew irritated, and that softness she’d been admiring vanished. “You’re just--” she began.
“What?”
She had to come up with something. Keep it simple. “You… look nice,” she said, cringing. Afraid she’d start to babble, she clamped her lips shut. But her mind continued. You’re beautiful. Gorgeous. Sexy. Stunning.
Miranda blinked once, then repeatedly, her eyelashes fluttering.
“Here we are.” Nigel’s voice broke their connection, and Andy was able to breathe again. She grabbed the champagne from his hand and dumped half of it down her throat. “My,” he exclaimed. “You haven’t become one of those sad, drunken reporters, have you? Because that would be a tragedy indeed,” he joked.
“No,” she croaked, looking anywhere but at Miranda. “Just thirsty.”
He turned toward Miranda. “So, James has expressed an interest in developing a menswear line, and I’d like to discuss it with you more formally, at the office when you have time. You know I trust you implicitly,” he said, and though he continued, Andy tuned him out.
Nice. She looks ‘nice.’ You’re supposed to be a writer, and you couldn’t come up with anything better? Pathetic. She’s going to tell you not to come over ever again, and not to dare show up at the soccer game.
Andy drowned herself in the champagne, finishing it quickly, and wondering how terrible it would be if she left. But only a few minutes later, Miranda apologetically told Nigel that she was so pleased to see him, but that she really had to get home to tuck the girls in. He thanked her profusely for coming, and waited as she turned to Andy. “Andrea,” she said, and something in her voice made Andy blush. “Sunday. I’ll expect you.”
Andy shivered. “Okay,” she said. There was no kiss goodbye this time, which was a relief. Too much adrenaline might give her a heart attack. Miranda strode off, and Andy couldn’t help but watch her elegant form as the crowd parted for her like the red sea.
When she turned back to Nigel, he was staring at her. “Heh,” she managed. “So, that was fun.”
His eyes widened. “Andy, you can’t be serious.”
“Serious?” She was so busted. “I’m never serious.”
“I mean it.” He moved closer, lowering his voice. “Everyone gets a crush on Miranda. Emily would lick her shoes on a daily basis if Miranda would allow it. The entire Runway staff would, probably including me, I’m sorry to say. But it’s not going to go anywhere. Ever.”
It was a splash of cold water over her head. “It’s not a crush,” she whined. “It’s friendly affection.” Andy cringed again.
“Bull. Don’t fall for her, kid. She’ll squash you into the ground if she gets a whiff of anything untoward. What are you doing Sunday?”
“Soccer game.”
Nigel sniffed. “I don’t know what she’s up to. Maybe your attention is flattering her, and god knows she loves that. But Andy,” he took her hand and looked intently into her eyes. “She is not a loving person. Remember that. She’ll float around you, and draw you in, but her flame is ice cold. It will burn you alive.”
It’s too late, Andy thought. I’m already on fire.
===
On Wednesday, the winds changed, and winter set in. Snow fell on the streets, far earlier in the season than expected, and Andy trudged miserably to work in her ugly hiking boots. For the rest of the week, her coffee was never hot enough in the mornings, and it made her bitter. Three times she snapped at Mark for innocuous comments, and her apologies were weak. He didn’t deserve to suffer for her unhappiness.
But Nigel’s comments had cut her deeply. He was right, she knew. It was a sad end to a beautiful dream she’d fallen into. The dream that Miranda would see inside her, and say she was unique, and extraordinary, and beautiful. Loved.
What a joke. Miranda was the same as she’d always been. Andy had awoken to the truth of that, and it was devastating. She felt lower than she had even on her worst day at Runway. She didn’t want to see Miranda on Sunday. An excuse formed in her mind, and on Friday morning, she scrawled out a note on Mirror stationery. The lovely ivory paper had gone in the trash in a moment of despair, and though Andy had rummaged for it hours later, it had already been removed.
Something’s come up--I have to work Sunday. Give the girls my regrets. Maybe I’ll see them another time.
Thanks, Andrea.
She summoned a courier and paid him out of her own pocket. She asked him not to wait for a reply.
===
Part VI