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Avoiding the inevitable

Chapter 2

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

After hanging up her coat in the closet of the anteroom at Runway, Andy hurried back towards the elevator, reaching it just in the nick of time with her usual mega-watt, face-splitting smile as the metal doors opened and Miranda, the editor-in-chief of Runway magazine, walked through them with her stately stiletto powerwalk. She carelessly pushed the Book into Andy’s arms and began ranting off the days’ instructions as Andy meticulously writes them down on her notepad, always following two steps behind the older woman.   

When they reached the anteroom, Andy picked the center-of-the-sun hot Starbucks coffee cup up from her desk just in time, avoiding a disaster of it tumbling down onto the marble floor and inevitably staining hundreds of dollars worth of Miranda’s coat and bag as Miranda flung them carelessly onto the desk. Andy hurried along into the inner office, placing the coffee on the glass desk, and continued writing down the rest of her errands. Before Miranda could dismiss her in her usual disinterested and conceited way, Andy spoke up trying not to look as smug and sound as haughty as she was feeling.  

“The Calvin Klein samples have already been delivered to Nigel whose sifting through them as we speak and will bring those you might deem acceptable once he’s done with them. The models for the Bethesda shoot have arrived at the airport right on schedule and I should be receiving an update any minute now that they’ve arrived at their destination.”   

At exactly that moment, Andy’s cellphone pinged, scanning the contents of the text with laser-like speed. “I can confirm that the models have arrived at the location and are being prepped as we speak to begin the shoot. Donatella has confirmed tomorrow's lunch meeting. The budget reports you’ve asked for shall be here within the hour. I’ve already sent flowers to Donna Karen to congratulate her on the birth of her grandchild, and I’ll bring the run-through forward by an hour since you canceled lunch with Irv, which means you can leave the office in time to be home for dinner, and Patrick’s already holding on line one.”  

Andy looked up to meet Miranda’s eyes then, trying but failing to keep the challenge out of her tone. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Miranda?”    

Seated behind her desk, Miranda took off her reading glasses and ran the end of one of its arms across her bottom lip as she perused Andy from top to bottom, and then up again.  

Staring back into the hazel eyes of her assistant, Miranda spoke softly, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “You’ve become quite the conceited, cheeky, little lapdog, haven’t you, Andréa?”   

Andy frowned in indignation. “I-”   

“No, no.” Miranda  interrupted  as she wagged her finger. “That wasn’t a question. Merely stating the obvious.”   

Andy bit down on the tip of her tongue. She knew better than to respond, knowing it was foolish and unwise to challenge Miranda. And yet, she wanted to show that she was no longer that easily cowered or affected by the cruel remarks. So, she steadfastly kept her gaze locked with Miranda’s disdainful narrowing eyes.   

As Andy continued to stare in the icy-sharp, scrutinizing gaze of her boss for the longest time to date, she unconsciously started to sink into the cold blue depth. The hypnotizing pattern of the heavy downpour against floor-to-ceiling windows slightly drowned out the sound of her blood rushing in her ears. Her skin started to tingle as if an electrical current seemed to vibrate in the space between the two women. When the hair on her arms and the back of her neck started to rise, the loud sound of booming thunder permeated her senses, jolting Andy out of her stupor. Blinking several times, she focused back on Miranda to see a look on her face that had never been there before, but in less than a second, the indecipherable look was schooled back into one of indifference as if it were never there, to begin with.   

“That’s all,” Miranda said, putting her glasses back on and looking down at the papers spread out on her desk.  

Feeling puzzled, Andy went to sit behind her desk. Over time and meticulous effort, she’d become well-versed in the instruction manual that is Miranda Priestly. She could efficiently read every mood and thought by a mere slight movement in Miranda’s facial features or by a subtle change in the tone of her always controlled soft voice. It left her quite unnerved to have been glared at with such a fierce, cold, and penetrating gaze, but for the first time in a long time, not exactly understanding what it meant other than the basic scrutinization.   

However perplexed Andy felt right now about the strange ordeal, she felt rather proud she hadn’t cowered and backed down. It would not have done to challenge a predator right in the eye to only turn your vulnerable back on it and consequently becoming its prey. She no longer was the naïve, fresh out of college, ignorant school girl when she first started her tenure at Runway nearly a year ago. She had matured and grown confident in herself and in her abilities to perform. Ironically, Andy realized that it was mostly thanks to Miranda that she had grown so much as an independent and capable person.  

Completely ironic, indeed,  Andy mused before focusing back on her work.   

***   

Her strange but relatively good start of a morning rapidly deteriorated to one of the worse days she’s had so far. It seemed like the gloomy weather had the whole staff of Runway failing to meet Miranda’s wishes, or had problems and complications occurring around every corner, which they all handed off to Andy to remedy or rectify. Naturally, Miranda was left in an infernal mood because of all that went wrong, and of course, Andy was the main target to take the brunt of her malicious mood.   

And oh boy, Miranda certainly was in a nefariously good form today, much to Andy’s chagrin. Never once missing a perfectly timed beat, La Priestly was ready to strike with her softest but deadliest tone of voice. Very much like a snake inconspicuously hiding in the bushes ready to venomously strike at oblivious passing prey.   

By late afternoon, Andy was on the verge of tearing her hair out in frustration or coming dangerously close to throttling Miranda with her own hands in front of the entire staff of Runway. Not caring that she would be taken away by the men in white coats. If Miranda kept this up at the rate that she was currently doing, the asylum was exactly where Andy was bound to end up.  

It didn’t matter that Andy was able to solve every hindrance thrown her way, nothing that she did seemed to fall within the good graces of Miranda. Rectifying wrongs and continuing to accomplish every single task to the point of perfection, never with delay, sometimes even ahead of time, and yet nothing seemed to satisfy her mercurial boss. Slowly but surely, she felt the restraints on her temper cracking and wasn’t sure how much more she could take without giving in to the temptation of lashing out.   

Having closed her eyes and taking deep, calming breaths to reign in her temper after the latest scathing remark from her boss just a couple minutes before, the haughty, conceited voice of the Brit, Emily Charlton, Miranda’s first assistant reached her ears from the other side of the anteroom.   

“You finally about to have your mental breakdown now, Ahn-dray-yah? Should I go ahead and call the loony bin to see if they have an opening for you? Or have you perhaps consumed too many carbs during lunch that you’re regretting the extra pounds you no doubt must be feeling settling on those hips by now?”   

Andy’s eyes blazed open, instantly locking with green ones behind the other desk. If looks could kill, the redhead would’ve been buried six feet under by the murderous intensity in Andy’s gaze.    

Andy banged her fist onto her desk, rattling its contents as she snapped back through clenched teeth. “For fuck’s sake, Emily! Why don’t you for once in your miserable, condescending life just shut the fuck up? Or I’ll shove that stick that seems to be permanently stuck in your scrawny ass so far up into your esophagus that you won’t be able to swallow your daily portion of stinking cheese cubes down your throat. So, I’d better watch it if I were you!”   

Emily seemed horrifyingly taken aback, not having expected for Andy to retort back the way she did, if her mouth opening and closing is anything to go by. But on closer inspection, Emily’s gaze wasn’t directed at her but at something behind her. Andy didn’t have to think twice about who could be standing behind her at the entrance of the anteroom if the frightened look of the redhead was any indication. Andy closed her eyes once again, took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and turned her desk chair to face the wrath of La Priestly.   

Miranda was staring her down, eyes narrow and lips pursed. Andy knew this look. It had ended many careers and sent grown men crying, nearly wetting themselves back into their mothers’ arms. Andy didn’t know what to say, thinking she should apologize for her outburst, but truthfully didn’t want to. Why should everyone else get the privilege to tear someone down within the walls of Runway and not her? Luckily, she didn’t have to say anything at all.   

“Coffee.”   

That was all Miranda said as she continued on her path towards her office. Andy let out a sigh of relief and hurried towards the elevator, grateful for the much-needed little reprieve the coffee run would provide her. Once she exited the Elias-Cark lobby, she briefly entertained the thought of Miranda purposely doing her a favor to have a couple of minutes to herself to cool down and gather her wits, so she’ll be able to continue working without biting someone else’s head off for the remainder of the day. She snorted at herself for thinking such an inconceivable and ridiculous thought as she was entering the Starbucks across the street.  

Notes:

Aaaand, our Dragon Lady takes the stage everyone!

Poor Andy though, right?
Who else is feeling sorry for our brunette?