Summary: It's been 3 years since Andy left Miranda in Paris. They haven't seen each other since that day on the street. Miranda followed Andy's stories from the Mirror, until they just up and disappeared…in fact, it seemed to Miranda that her former assistant just up & vanished, until she looked smacked dab into those brown eyes that seemed to gaze back at her, bringing all those feelings she thought she had gotten rid of….the only bad thing was, Andy was on the cover of a fashion magazine, and it wasn't Miranda's.
Emily arrived early, hell she always arrived early better to get everything done she had to get completed before her boss arrived. That was just one of the many things that made her good at her job. She was the first assistant training yet again another number two. The new girl was more competent than the last one, but she was no Six. Emily felt irritated for even thinking about her, since it had now been over three years since Andy up and left her boss in Paris, and that in and of itself pissed her off. She growled to herself for even going there.
Christine came out of Miranda's office just in time to see Emily's eyes grow wide as she checked her text message. "Oh bloody hell…she's early." She snapped her fingers at the new assistant. "Get everything ready, and then go get her coffee!" she ordered.
The blonde exhaled a nervous breath and scurried about the room to get everything ready for the Editor in Chief before she walked in. Hearing the snapping of fingers caught her attention. "Go," Emily said under her breath.
Christine grabbed her bag and went down the opposite way to go fetch Miranda's coffee. Emily kinked her neck to the side and gathered a quick breath as she ran down the hall with pen and paper in hand to meet up with the boss.
"Oh, there you are." Miranda's voice was its usual calm, sharp self as she shoved the book into her first assistant's arms. "We need to get that next generation of Ralph Lauren in for the new spread on the fragrance page. Also, move the meeting with Anne Klein from eleven to nine, and if that is a problem, switch that with Kate Spade. Also, remind my ex-husband that he still needs to give me back the keys to my house in the Hamptons. Oh, and remind Rachel that the jewelry mockup with Baume and Mercier will not do." she clarified just in time as she walked into her office. "Where is my coffee?"
Emily rolled her eyes but kept her voice calm. "It will be here shortly."
Miranda moved to her chair and pulled out the paper. "That's all," she said flatly, placing her reading glasses on her nose.
Emily walked back to her desk and called Christine. "Where are you?"
"Be there in five," she heard, then hung up and lightly massaged her head.
"Oh, I love my job," she whispered, and began to switch the appointments around. Not more than four minutes had passed when a loud groan was heard coming from Miranda's office and a magazine went flying across the room.
"Oh no," Emily grimaced. In all the years she had for worked for Miranda Priestley, she had never seen her boss throw a magazine across the room, and she was uncertain what to do. She was still in a daze and forgot to warn the new blonde assistant, who went barreling through the doors to deliver Miranda's coffee.
Emily finally blinked and bounced around her desk in time to see Christine place the Starbucks cup on the Editor's desk. She was sure Miranda was going to choke her with the icy cold glare she received, but the older woman didn't say a word, as she just continued to move around the office in a huff. Emily hadn't seen her this agitated since that annoying brunette had worked here and walked in on her and Stephen. Emily waited exactly one minute, and when she didn't see any change in Miranda, she went back to finish what she was doing when….
"Emily," Miranda voiced, and just from the tone Emily knew she meant her. Fear skipped in her chest as she walked back into the office. Miranda waited with pursed lips and then as calmly as ever pointed to where she had thrown the magazine that was in a mess on the other side of the room. "Go pick that up for me."
Emily's brow furrowed from what Miranda was asking, but she had been asked to do worse, so she just did what she was told. She carefully kneeled to retrieve it and that's when she saw her… and just like that panic engulfed its way up her throat, threatening to squeeze it off all together. Closing her eyes, she wearily stood back up. Maybe she didn't actually see the cover, Emily thought as she turned around to face Miranda. I'm going to kill Christine for putting it on her desk.
Miranda watched her intently as she clutched the magazine. "Nothing to say?" her voice clipped.
Emily tried to swallow again, but it seemed her mouth had suddenly gone dry. "I will get on Christine for doing that. I'm sorry; it won't happen again." She turned to leave.
"Emily," Miranda's tone was harsher. "That's not quite what I was referring to."
Frozen to her spot, Emily felt her head fall forward. God I'm dead and it's all her fault. That thought filtered through as she turned back around. "No?" she questioned lightly.
Miranda pulled a calming breath through her nostrils. "How long have you known?"
"Um," Emily took a step closer. "About?" I am sooooo dead.
Miranda just coolly took a seat back in her chair and quietly waited for her assistant to give her an answer. Knowing she was busted, Emily finally relented. "Awhile now," she finally conceded.
"Hmmm," Miranda hummed, her face impassive. "You knew, and yet this is the first time it was brought to my attention."
"We all thought it would be best you didn't know," Emily squeaked.
Miranda stared at her first assistant for a moment. "So I am the only idiot here who didn't know?"
Shit shit shit….I love my job. "We just thought….."
Miranda interrupted by putting a hand up. "No, no," she breathed. "I want to know why she is on the cover of our biggest rival instead of Runway. We could have had an inside track, could we not?"
Emily gulped. "We didn't think you would…"
Miranda cut her off again and wagged a perfectly manicured finger at her. "No, no, don't think, just do it. Rectify this, and do it quickly."
Emily nodded and turned around to leave when that voice that haunts her in her sleep added. "Or don't bother coming back."
Miranda watched Emily leave until the younger woman was out of sight. She couldn't believe it; she couldn't believe what she had seen. Had she been living in the dark for the last three years? How had she not known? The last she had seen Andrea Sachs was that day long ago on the street when the brunette had waved at her. She had read her former assistant's work in the Mirror, but it had been years since Andrea's last article. It was like she had dropped off the face of the planet, but apparently she was living in California. "What the fuck happened to journalism?"
Sensing the anxiety in her chest start to eat its way at her, she bent over in the chair and began a breathing exercise to try to calm herself down… one she hadn't used in years. Exhaling a long breath, she rubbed at her temples. "She's a fucking actress? An actress? Stupid girl! Where does she fucking get off doing that?" she breathed quietly to herself.
Just as she was finally feeling a tad bit better, she faintly heard her name. "Miranda?"
Nigel cautiously walked into Miranda's office. He was unaware of the situation because Emily wasn't at her desk, and his brow dip in confusion at seeing the editor in chief bent over her knees and sucking in deep breaths of air. "Um," he pointed back out the door. "Is this a bad time?"
Miranda swallowed the bile that seemed to want to suddenly make its presence and pulled her head back up to glare at her employee. "Did you know as well?"
Nigel's eyes went wide and he clearly had no idea what so ever to what Miranda was talking about. "Know?" he asked, turning his head to the side knowing full well that you never ask Miranda Priestly a god damn thing.
Miranda was always calm, cool and collected; it was what gave her that larger than life persona. She didn't have to yell to get her point across, rather it was the indirect way she did it that made everyone quiver. So when she groaned loudly in frustration and jumped out of her chair, Nigel felt as if he was going to wet his pants. "She made the cover of Vogue, and you didn't feel the need to inform me?" she stated clearly, even though Nigel knew her tone was under duress.
Now catching on, he understood why Miranda was bent over in her chair, because right now he wished he was as she tried to suck in a breath. Damn you, Six. "Okay, I get that I should have told you, but tell me this….. would you have believed me… well, before it hit Vogue?"
Miranda stood tall as she gazed out of the window. "I thought she wanted to be a damn journalist?" she huffed, and Nigel wondered if he was actually supposed to respond to that. Just when he opened his mouth, his boss cut him off.
"Well, so much for my reference, and…" she faded off as she turned back to him. "Since I know that you two have been keeping in touch all this time, you will set up an interview with her."
"I don't…" Nigel went to say, but stopped. "Interview?" he choked. He knew that Andrea never did interviews, in fact all Vogue had published was a few pictures.
"She's a lead in a new movie if I read that right, so I want an exclusive interview and photo shoot set up as soon as possible," she demanded.
"She's filming in New Mexico, I don't think she…."
"I don't think I'm asking for too much," she pointed out and turned back to the window. "That's all," she added with finality.
Nigel bit the inside of his lip as he turned on his heel and walked down the hall whispering to himself. "Oh Andrea, why did you have to pick Anna Wintour of all people?"
"About time you answer." Nigel griped through the phone.
"Well, hello to you too."
"Oh don't give me that chipper voice; I am in no mood."
Andrea giggled. "Dragon Lady on the war path Nige?"
"Next time warn me if you are going to grace the cover of any magazine other than Runway?"
"Oh geez, really? Like she even cares."
"Cares? Really Six? Well, I guess you will be gracious and give us that interview," Nigel stated. The phone went silent and he had to look at the screen to make sure the call wasn't dropped. "You still there?"
"I don't give interviews, you know that."
"You will now, or it's my and Emily's head if you don't," he threatened as nicely as he could.
Andy didn't want to give an interview; she hated them so she always avoided them at costs. If she gave one to Runway, it would be her first exclusive interview ever. She was about to say no, yet again when a wicked smile graced her lips. "Okay fine," she said, and heard the relieved sigh fall out of Nigel's lips through the phone. "But…" she paused for moment. "On one condition."
"Oh, I don't think you are one to make demands on Miranda dear," he reminded her.
"Then no interview. Goodbye." She went to hang-up when she heard Nigel scream.
"God, you learned way too much when you worked here," he growled. "What do you want?"
Andrea paused a moment as a small smile split her lips, and if Nigel was standing next to her he would have seen the twinkle in her eyes. "Well hmmm…." she teased. "Actually, it's really quite simple," she relayed in a voice Nigel knew he had never heard before.
"Oh?" It was all he dared to say.
"I will give Runway my first exclusive interview ever, on the condition that Miranda come here in person and do it herself," she said evenly, and waited a few seconds.
"But…" Nigel gulped. He knew Miranda hadn't done one single interview since he had arrived at the company; that just was just unheard of. He wasn't given a chance to object when Andy spoke again.
"That's all," Andrea clipped in a singsong voice just before the line went dead.
Nigel griped the phone so hard he swore he heard the plastic crack. "God, I love my job."
"So?" Miranda voiced from her chair, as Nigel and Emily stood in front of her desk. The editor in chief hadn't even bothered to look up from her spreads, which just made her employees more nervous.
Nigel cleared his throat, and then again a second time, because apparently it still felt dry and scratchy, so much so he was sure at the moment he wouldn't even find his voice at all. "Yeah, well…" he began.
Miranda threw a finger up and waggled it back and forth. "No no….if this is bad news, then don't come back…remember?" she warned, and this time she finally looked up, peering over her glasses.
"She said she'd do the interview," he blurted.
Miranda's face was as stoic as ever for a few moments and then she looked down and continued to look over her work. "Good," she finally said, but after a few more moments of her employees still standing there, she huffed in annoyance. "That's all," she dismissed.
Nigel grimaced and cleared his throat a third time. "That's not all," he said quietly.
Now agitated, Miranda pushed the chair back, leaning against it as she eyed him curiously. "What do mean, that's not all?"
"She has made…"
Miranda interrupted him. "Oh, of course she has made demands. What the hell does that girl want?"
Nigel quietly exhaled a nervous breath. "Well…." Miranda snapped, clearly getting more agitated by the minute.
"She agreed to the interview, but only if the person who interviews her is…"
"Who does she want?"
Nigel looked at Emily, who gave him a nervous smile of encouragement, and he offered one to his boss. "You," he said simply, and the face Miranda made right in that moment was one he was sure he had never seen before. Great, leave it to Six to set the Devil herself off twice in one day.