Tickle Tantrum Part 2/?
Title: Tickle Tantrum
Part 2
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Rating: Um, PG 13 maybe?
Disclaimer: See Part 1.
A/N1 Thanks to my very own Lady Wife for being a darling and beta reading this, course I did some effective bribing with coffee and teacakes, heheh.
A/N 2 Miriam Haskell is a real jewellery designer who worked in New York in the early and mid 20th century. Her work was considered quite avant garde and the company still exists today under different ownership but still producing some of her designs. My idea about her and her successors not working with carnelian is entirely made up. Here’s a link to learn more. http://www.house-of-francheska.co.uk/vintagehaskell.htm
Andy had become adept at juggling dozens of bags of clothing samples and trays of coffee and moving at a respectable pace at the same time. Today she dashed through the late afternoon New York traffic at break neck speed, almost as if the hounds of hell were snapping at her heels. The irony of the situation was that far from fleeing from hell, she was in fact headed back to the very heart of Hades, currently located on the 18th floor of the Elias Clarke building.
In her current rush to get back with Miranda’s coffee and the fruits of her dozen or more errands, she hit the revolving door so fast she spun into the foyer like a mini cyclone, and sprinted for the elevators. With a final burst of speed she lunged between the already closing doors slamming her shoulder into the far wall of the car, just managing to keep the tray of piping hot coffees level and only dropping 2 of the 8 bags she carried.
“Very nice Six, quite athletic really, what do you do for an encore, a cartwheel?” Nigel smirked at her as he picked up the two fallen bags.
“Hmmm, that was so funny I forgot to laugh Nigel.” The harried brunette struggled to straighten up as best she could, and held out her left hand shoving three more bags into the older man’s arms.
“Just for that, you can take these into Miranda, the black bag should get you a really interesting response. The Miriam Haskell necklace and broach collection is all turquoise not carnelian, and I do mean all of the collection. Apparently, Ms Haskell never worked with carnelian, she hated it because it reminded her too much of the colour of blood, and as Mr Fialkoff prides himself on staying true to the original designer, he never uses carnelian either.”
Nigel’s face paled and his eyes grew large as he gaped at Andy in disbelief and outright terror.
“Tell me you’re kidding. Please just tell me you’re punishing me for my bitchiness and....” he trailed into silence as Andy shook her head looking every bit as grim as Nigel felt.
“Shit. How the hell did this happen? She’s going to... the whole 4 page spread is... all the backdrops... the whole edition is...we’re due to shoot next week!” He shook his head, “Shit!”
“Yes, I agree, shit! And we’re the ones who are going to end up shovelling it.” She set her remaining bags down and began fixing her flustered appearance. “And this happened Nigel, because our new, three weeks into the job, accessories Editor either doesn’t know how to do her job, or more likely was too damned petrified to tell Miranda she couldn’t have the colour she wanted for the Haskell spread. Mr Fialkoff assures me that he was very clear when she was making the arrangements, that the only original collection currently available was Haskell’s 1932 Studies in Turquoise grouping. What the hell was the woman thinking?!”
Andy had spat this out through gritted teeth and then picked up the bags at her feet as she prepared to enter the Dragon’s den, certain that she and Nigel would be the next fair maidens to be burnt to a crisp by the flames of the Beast of Runway.
“I’ve already called and told Francesca that she should notify her next of kin, because Miranda isn’t just going to fire her, she’s going to dismember her and probably you, me and Emily into the bargain!”
With that grim prediction still ringing in the air, the elevator doors opened and Andy and Nigel froze in their tracks at the sight of Miranda marching straight for the elevator at high speed and with fire in her eyes. The two hapless employees looked at each other, their thoughts a perfect mirrored terror, “She knows already! Shit!”
Without a word spoken, Miranda yanked Nigel through the doors, grabbed the bags and tray of coffees out of Andy’s hands and literally threw them at the floundering man just before the elevator doors slid shut hiding the now drenched, coffee coloured and hopping up and down in pain fashion director from view.
Inside the descending car Andy stared wide eyed with terror as she started to stutter out, “M...Mi...Mir...Miranda, I kn...know it w...wi...will...”
Miranda raised her finger stopping the young woman’s frantic spluttering. Glaring her intent to have silence, she put on her sunglasses and turned to face the doors. Arriving on the ground floor but barely waiting for the doors to fully open, the fashion diva swept into the lobby with a decidedly wobbly Andy following in her wake.
Roy was waiting with the town car and the back door held open, as Miranda slid into the back seat she hissed out two words.
“My lawyers.”
And then she slammed the door closed, wrenching it from the man’s hands without preamble. The bewildered driver looked at Andy with questioning eyes.
“I don’t know Roy, I don’t know what’s happened, but whatever it is, it’s bad.” The man nodded his head and followed Andy to the other side of the car, opening her door for her at the same time as his own.
Andy slid in and across the seat so that she was as close to Miranda as she could be without actually touching the older woman. She had an inkling that if Miranda spoke at all, it was likely to be almost sub-vocal given her current mood and being beside the editor meant she wouldn’t be able to get much from trying to read her lips. She watched in her peripheral vision as Miranda removed her glasses and set them in her lap as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. As unobtrusively as possible Andy pulled her pad and pen from her bag and waited.
***
Miranda had burst from her office five minutes after receiving a call from her soon to be ex-husband, informing Emily she would be gone for the rest of the day and that Roy had better be waiting for her by the time she got downstairs. On instinct Emily had already headed to the coat closet the moment she’d seen Miranda in the doorway and turned back just in time to feel Miranda grab her bag and start moving down the hallway.
Emily remained frozen in front of her desk holding Miranda’s coat as she watched her boss quickly recede from view, moving almost faster than she thought was humanly possible in four inch Prada heels. A moment later she was jolted from her paralysis by a shouting sound coming from the direction of the elevators. Looking up, she fell back onto her desk at the apparition of the brown splotched and dripping man that appeared in front of her dropping several slightly damp bags at her feet.
“What the bloody hell happened to you?” the red head asked as she hurried Nigel into the kitchenette and handed him a towel.
“Thanks,” came out in muffled tones as Nigel scrubbed his face and then the front of his shirt. Looking at the back of his left hand he saw the red mark where some of Miranda’s scalding hot latte had splashed onto unprotected skin and went to the sink to run some cold water over the injury. When his hand was numb he wrapped it in a clean dish towel and sat down heavily in the empty chair behind him, squirming a little at the feel of his damp trousers clinging to his thighs.
Emily, who had brought the bags with her, was carefully checking their contents to make sure nothing had been damaged, as she laid them out on the table. When she got to the black Haskell Studios bag she saw that one of the jewellery boxes had a liberal splash of brown across the lid and carefully opened it to see if any coffee had seeped inside. Seeing the ornate turquoise necklace her eyes snapped to Nigel in horrified question.
“Nigel, this is turquoise!”
“I know. They all are, and Haskell doesn’t do any carnelian work. None, nada, zip, zilch.”
Emily sat down opposite the damp man and sighed, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Is this why you’re covered in what I assume is Miranda’s Starbuck’s order?” she asked as she fiddled with the offending piece of jewellery.
“No I don’t think so, I only found out about the screw up from Andy in the elevator, before we got to this floor and she hadn’t told Miranda yet. When the doors opened, Miranda was just...well just there, in all her glorious fury. She pulled me out of the way and then grabbed the coffee and bags from Andy and threw them at me before the doors closed. What the hell happened here?”
Rolling her eyes, Emily snapped, “How the hell would I know, I haven’t been able to hear a bloody word the woman has said for the past 4 days! I swear she’s not actually saying anything, she’s just moving her lips, trying to torture me!”
She looked at Nigel who was blinking in surprise at her vehemence, sighing yet again she continued.
“All I know is that Stephen called and five minutes later she was on a ruddy rampage! She didn’t even take her coat and I haven’t got a damned clue about where she’s gone!”
Nigel reached over and patted her hand, “I’m sure Andy will let us know where she is as soon as she can manage it. I’m guessing that as security hasn’t been in touch that Miranda didn’t murder her in the elevator.”
Emily snorted and quite suddenly gave a slight, almost lady like belch. Blushing so that her cheeks could have blended in with the rich red hair on her head, she hastily covered her mouth as a second tiny burp escaped. Nigel blinked in surprise and looked quizzically at the woman silently asking a question. She blushed even deeper and banged her head onto the table in despair.
“Emily? Did you actually eat something today?”
“Yes.”
“What did you eat?”
“About a thousand dollars,” the red head mumbled into the table top. Nigel nudged her until she raised her head and looked at him.
“A thousand dollars worth of what?” he asked, concern and confusion lacing his voice.
“A thousand dollars worth of, ‘state of the art aural augmentation,’ what else?”
Nigel blinked, “Um, right, in English please, it is your native language after all.”
Blushing furiously Emily explained her cryptic statement in a truly weary voice.
“I couldn’t stand her experiment in ‘mime’ communication any further, so I bought a hearing aid.”
“A hearing aid? As in grandma check your batteries kind of hearing aid?”
Emily nodded and continued, “I knew I couldn’t let Miranda actually see it, so I found one that goes in the ear, not behind it. It was about the size of a dime and flesh coloured so you can’t see it when it’s in. It arrived this morning and I was just about to put it in when Miranda was suddenly there in front of my desk.” She made a face before continuing, “I hadn’t heard her calling me and she’d come out to see where I was.”
“Annnd?”
“She demanded to know what I had in my hand that was so captivating that I hadn’t heard her shouting for me.”
Nigel couldn’t help the incredulous snort he let loose at Emily’s uncanny imitation of her boss’ words and tone.
“And what did you do?”
Emily not only blushed, she let out a small despairing groan.
“Come on, spill.”
“I... I ... I told her it was a vitamin pill.”
Nigel’s eyebrow rose, “And she believed you?”
Emily put her head back on the table and mumbled her reply.
“What? What did you say?”
She turned her head and glared at him before repeating herself.
“She did when I swallowed it in front of her.”
Nigel’s howl of laughter echoed off the walls and Emily thumped her head on the table chanting, “I hate my life, I hate my life.”
***
As the car made its way through the early rush hour traffic, the only sounds Andy was aware of were the near silent hum of the engine, the muffled sounds of the New York streets and her own rapid heartbeat. As she continued to listen however, she became aware of Miranda’s breathing, the woman was taking short staccato breaths, almost sipping the air in through her slightly parted lips. Andy wasn’t sure how she knew it, but she realised that Miranda was actively trying to keep herself calm. At the same time she realised that this had nothing to do with the Haskell shoot at all, something had happened, something that was testing the older woman’s control to its limits. Andy chanced another glance and found herself staring into blue eyes clouded with rapidly swirling emotions, anger, hurt, frustration, fear, sorrow and for just an instant panic. Without thought Andy reached out and covered Miranda’s hand with her own, gently squeezing it in sympathy but remaining silent.
Miranda looked down at their joined hands for several seconds and as she did so, her breathing evened out and became calmer and less forced. Giving a barely perceptible squeeze of her own, she removed her hand and placed it in her lap. She looked up at Andy, a bewildered expression on her face before she turned her head forward, and then glancing out the window, she put her glasses back on as the car slowed to a halt. Not a word had yet been uttered by either of them.
Miranda gathered her bag and waited for Roy to come round and open the door, she spoke quietly, but audibly as Andy wrote out her instructions.
“I need you to contact James’ mother and arrange for the girls to stay with her for the next two weeks, possibly three. They will need to leave this evening. Contact Cara and tell her that I need her to pack their things and accompany them to Connecticut this evening. Get them on the 7:30 train and see to it there’s a car to pick them up in New Haven. Inform James where the girls will be, I don’t want him to hear it from his mother first. Contact my PR rep, Leslie and tell her I will see her at 12pm tomorrow morning, my office not my home. Roy will take you back now and return for me at 7pm. I may have to cancel my morning appointments on Monday, make what preparations you can for that eventuality, I will be able to confirm any changes when you deliver the Book this evening.” She paused, looked at Andy for a moment and then continued, “That’s all.”
Roy opened the door and Miranda moved to get out, at the last minute she turned not looking at Andy she whispered as quietly as she had over the previous weeks, “Thank you.” And then she was gone and the car door was closed.
Belatedly realising that her jaw was hanging open Andy shut her mouth and fell back against the seat as she watched Miranda cross the sidewalk and enter the building. As Roy pulled into traffic Andy’s thoughts were highly fanciful, “Who knew Dragons could be polite?”
*******