New Fic: The Kid Stays in the Picture, Deleted Scenes
The Kid Stays in the Picture
The Extras.
And now, for your enjoyment, the DELETED SCENES, starring Andy and Miranda.
---
ANDY.
This party better not suck, Andy thought. Nigel owes me.
Not that she had anything better to do. Work was her life nowadays. Although in theory she could have spent her Friday night working, she tried not to do so most weekends. She'd been at The Mirror a while, and it was going well. She got good assignments, got paid every two weeks, and wrote about things that were important to her.
She did not write about fashion. She did not care about fashion.
And most of all, she did not care about Miranda Priestly.
Bitch.
Andy really hadn't expected Miranda to treat her well after she quit in Paris. She expected to be blacklisted, or otherwise abused within the industry. But the fact that Miranda refused to even acknowledge her existence was a slap in the face. And the fact that Andy's replacement was already so visibly in Miranda's pocket made it a thousand times worse. She'd seen their picture in the paper twice already, and it had barely been six weeks! Andy hadn't gotten to go anywhere with Miranda for at least three months when she started the job.
Miranda didn't give two shits about her. Therefore Andy didn't give two shits either. Miranda could drop dead for all she cared.
Bitch.
But Miranda wasn't on her mind tonight, really. This party was going to be about her and Nigel catching up, and maybe seeing some of the other assistants whom she'd made friends with over the past ten months or so. Hopefully none of them would mention Miranda.
Andy had to admit this whole set up was a little bizarre though. A gorgeous suite at the St. Regis, and it was completely empty? Maybe everyone was down in the bar, and they were on their way up. Nigel had insisted that they'd be arriving shortly, but it still felt kind of odd.
He seemed nervous. Maybe he had the hots for someone who was going to be at the party.
The view was gorgeous from the room, and Andy spent a few minutes gazing down on the street. It soothed her to watch the cars make their way slowly down Fifth among the shimmering holiday lights and falling snow.
When Andy heard the sound of the door opening, she turned around to hear Nigel say, "Be right back."
And then Andy held her breath, because Miranda was in the room, and Nigel vanished behind the door.
Miranda, who looked beautiful in that color, and wore Andy's favorite Fred Leighton necklace tonight, as luck would have it. Her white hair fell enticingly across her brow.
Miranda looked as stunned as Andy felt at that moment.
"What?" Miranda said.
"I don't know," Andy replied.
There was a strange sound at the door, and Andy moved toward it. She tried the doorjamb, which did not budge. "It's locked," she said.
"From the outside?" Miranda hissed. "Don't be an idiot."
Andy stepped back. "Fine, you try," she said angrily.
Miranda tried. She tried again. The door didn't open. Andy banged on the hard wood with her fist, shouting, "HEY!"
Miranda shook the door knob furiously now. "Nigel has my bag," she muttered. "Dammit."
Andy glanced toward the table. "You're not serious." She bolted across the room and grabbed her coat, searching for the small clutch that held her cellphone. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit." She ran back to the door and kicked it, not caring about the fact that her shoe left a mark along white paint. "Nigel, you are DEAD TO ME!" she shouted through the door.
Miranda started smacking the door with an open hand, but it didn’t budge. Andy quickly went looking for a phone in the room, flustered when she didn't find one. "There are no phones in this whole place!" she exclaimed, confused.
Abandoning her post at the door, Miranda joined her in the search. "I found the jacks, but no phones. Clearly this was planned," she said.
"Yeah." Andy's shoulders slumped before she jerked up straight. "I had no idea this was coming, by the way. I wasn't involved."
Miranda turned toward Andy then and tilted her head. "I wouldn't think you were. I know you want nothing to do with me."
Andy blinked at her, shocked. "Please. We both know that's the other way around."
With a sigh, Miranda gave up. She sat on a luxurious settee and leaned on one arm. "Andrea, you left Runway behind when you walked away in Paris. My behavior wasn't up to your pristine standards. There's no need to suggest otherwise."
Shaking her head, Andy just stared. "How can you say that to me? You're impossible to please! And I know what I did, which was stupid and irresponsible, deserves some kind of punishment, but to pretend I don't even exist is a low blow even for you, Dragon Lady."
There was a pause. "What are you going on about?"
Finally, Andy gave up her search as well, and sat on the sofa across from Miranda. "The reference my editor wanted. You know, when you said I never worked at Runway."
Miranda sniffed. "I did nothing of the sort."
"God, you don't have to lie, I got the job anyway. Thanks to Nigel."
"Andrea, I did not receive a request for a reference."
"Miranda, I was sitting right there when Greg called. He wanted me to coach him when he talked to you."
With a laser sharp glare, Miranda asked, "And what, pray tell, did I say to this charming fellow who needed coaching for a simple conversation?"
Andy thought back, and was mildly embarrassed. "Nothing. You wouldn't talk to him. Your new assistant said you'd never heard of me."
Miranda looked almost surprised. "When was this?"
"Christ, Miranda, I don't know. I don't exactly keep a record of every conversation I have with you." Miranda waited, clearly anticipating an answer. "Oh, fine. It was a week after I got back from Paris."
Miranda stood then, going to the window to gaze down upon the city. "I wasn’t even in the city. I stayed in Europe longer than expected. I wasn’t planning--" She cut herself off and looked away. Tapping a finger on her chin, she said, "I'll speak to Annabelle. If I can ever find a phone."
Andy was incensed. "You're already calling her by her real name? Wow. You two really are best friends." Andy smashed her lips together, unable to believe she'd just said that.
An expression of gleeful curiosity spread across Miranda's face, and Andy wished she could smack it right off. "Best friends?"
"Just shut up," Andy said, getting off the sofa and going to the table. She shoved a stuffed mushroom in her mouth and washed it down with the rest of her champagne.
"Oh no, I simply must hear more. Ah, I’ve got it. The Post. Annabelle has attended a number of events with me recently. Is that what you mean?" Miranda laughed, and the sound danced down Andy's spine unpleasantly.
Andy ate two canapés in quick succession without even tasting them.
Miranda went on, her voice seductive. "She is very beautiful. Makes up for her lack of intelligence nicely."
Andy sneered. "Guess you didn't go for another smart fat girl."
"Unlike others I learn from my mistakes."
"Glad you found someone who could meet all your needs now that Stephen's gone."
Miranda's smile froze, and vanished. She stared at Andy.
Andy stared back. She blushed violently, unable to believe what she'd just said. Her mind blanked, like a computer monitor shorting out.
"Excuse me?"
Andy's face grew hotter, and she made a high pile of canapés on a small plate. She grabbed the open bottle of champagne and a glass and headed for the bathroom. If she could just get in and lock the door--
But she couldn't. Miranda was hot on her heels and followed her into the small, opulent space.
"I'd like to know what you're insinuating," Miranda demanded.
Andy poured a fresh glass of champagne and sat on the closed commode. "Oh whatever. It doesn't matter anyway. I don't care what you do, or who you do it with."
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were jealous, Andrea."
"Jealous? Ha!" She gulped at her drink. "Like I want to run around New York trailing behind you, carrying your coat and bag for the rest of my life. That's not me."
"But it was you. And you were exceptional at the job."
"It's not who I want to be."
Miranda moved closer, and Andrea got warmer. Why did she come into this tiny room again? "And Stephen. What does he have to do with this?"
Andy winced. "Not a thing."
"I believe you just suggested that Annabelle has taken Stephen's place in my bed."
"I didn't say that," Andy mumbled.
"But you thought it. Which is… enlightening. Ridiculous, but enlightening."
Andy felt relieved at the word "ridiculous." She didn't really think that Miranda was sleeping with Annabelle. But when she saw the second photo of them together on Page Six, a white hot rage had flooded Andy's body. It had been jealousy, and Andy was infuriated with herself that she cared. That Miranda, who was such an absolutely miserable human being, could still influence Andy from afar was too much to handle.
Miranda leaned over and went for one of the little canapés.
Andy jerked the plate out of her reach. "Get your own!"
That little satisfied smile reappeared. "My, Andrea, you really are angry with me. I find that rather gratifying."
Andy snorted. "You would."
---
MIRANDA.
Miranda leaned against the marble sink and watched Andy carefully. As much as she was loath to admit it, this entire convoluted affair was working out nicely. The tumult of emotion rolling across Andrea's beautiful face told quite a story, one that provided Miranda with just enough hope to lift her spirits in a most remarkable way.
Miranda knew she'd been a tyrant lately, but she'd seen no solution other than to wait the feeling out, and believe it would pass. That her yearning was for this girl, who now sat on a toilet seat eating chocolate tartlets and guzzling champagne, was somewhat embarrassing. But love was blind, as the saying went. Miranda had made three perfectly appropriate choices of husbands in the past; perhaps an inappropriate choice might work out for a change.
If she could convince Andrea to go along with it. That might be tricky.
"That young woman has not taken Stephen's place in my bed," Miranda said firmly. "Nor will she."
"Good for you," Andrea replied.
“Annabelle’s been trailing after me out of necessity. Emily couldn’t exactly be at my beck and call on crutches, of course.” The surprise on Andrea’s face was just what Miranda wanted to see. "Besides, I've already chosen my next conquest," Miranda said, and as that beautiful red mouth twisted in disgust, Miranda snagged a lemon tart off Andrea’s plate.
"I don't want to hear about it."
"Oh, but I so rarely get to discuss my love life with anyone, and you've too much pride to go running off to your paper with the story." Miranda took a bite of the heavenly tart, and leaned her head back in pleasure. "Now, he's much younger than I, not yet thirty, with dark hair, and lovely eyes, and he has the thickest natural eyelashes I've ever seen in my life." Miranda sighed dramatically. "A mouth to die for, legs that go on for days, and truly, an absolutely stunning chest." Miranda could not help but glance down Andrea's cleavage at that. That Westwood dress did enhance things so delightfully.
"I'll fucking kill Nigel," Andrea mumbled.
"He's also intelligent and ambitious, and I believe he has a wonderful career ahead of him. There's only one problem, really."
Andrea remained quiet.
"Up until very recently, I was unsure he cared about me. In fact, I was convinced he did not, and that it was a lost cause." Miranda chuckled. "I've been impossible at the office because of it. Made everyone's life wretched. I'm sure it's hard to imagine me being difficult to work with," Miranda added slyly.
"Ha," Andrea said, "Yeah." She sipped her champagne and pouted.
"But I discovered I was mistaken, that the object of my affection did in fact return my feelings. Isn't that wonderful?" Miranda hoped she wasn't laying it on too thick, but it was so, so hard to resist.
Putting her head in her hands, Andrea crumbled. "I know you're enjoying this, Miranda, but can you please go away? I'm out of sassy rejoinders."
Miranda eyed the thick rug near Andrea's feet. She knelt, and pulled Andrea's hands away from her face. "Oh, you stupid girl, can't you see it when it's staring you right in the face?" Andrea gazed out at her with dark, uncomprehending eyes. "It's you. Though I have no idea why."
Andrea blinked. "Me?"
"Mm." Miranda was drawn in by her, as she always had been. Nothing had changed over the last weeks, unless the magnification of her feelings counted.
Blinking again, Andrea reared back. "Wait a second. I'm your latest conquest?"
Miranda rolled her eyes. "Poetic license."
"And I return your feelings? How do you even know what my feelings are?"
Miranda was over the waiting. She grabbed Andrea by the ears to hold her still. "Andrea, I love you. Now stop arguing with me and tell me you feel the same."
Andrea held very still, until she began to move forward. Miranda melted, barely able to wait to taste the lips that had taunted her for so many months. But she was denied seconds later when Andrea climbed over her and strolled right out of the bathroom. Flustered, Miranda struggled to her feet and followed her. She realized Andrea was muttering to herself. "If I may interrupt your deep thoughts, what is wrong with you?"
Andrea turned on her, eyes wild. "Wrong with me? Wrong with me?" Her voice rose into a screech. "You think I'm just going to fall at your feet because you say you love me? You must be out of your mind!"
"I most certainly am not!" Miranda said, infuriated. "You clearly indicated how you felt about me. Jealous over my assistant-my vapid little assistant who can barely answer the phone without screwing something up!"
"You called me stupid! To my face!"
"I've called you worse behind your back," Miranda spat, wondering what had gotten into her, thinking that this girl could be anything but unreasonable.
"This love thing is really working out for you, sweetheart. No wonder all your marriages worked out so well."
"Don't be rude, Andrea. My affection doesn't grant permission to be insulting."
"Ditto. And don’t call me stupid. Next time you tell me you love me, why don't you try something a little nicer."
"As if there will be a next time. I won’t waste the effort if this is my reward. Let's pretend this never happened and move on with our lives, all right?"
Andrea, still holding a glass of champagne, threw it across the room. The shattering of the glass startled them both. "You're taking it back? There are no take backs!"
"Why do you care? You obviously don't feel the same." Miranda took a deep breath. She would kill Nigel herself before Andrea ever got to him.
"I never said I didn't," Andrea hissed. "I'm-I'm just-irritated as hell that you assumed. I didn't even have a chance to catch up."
"Oh?" She tried to keep the hope out of her voice.
"Um, I sort of… do."
Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Sort of," she said flatly.
"That is to say, yeah. I guess."
Unwilling to relent until Andrea said the words, Miranda crossed her arms and tapped her foot.
Nervously, Andrea brushed her hair behind her ear. She looked a little green. "I mean, I love you." She gasped a little after saying it. And smiled. "I love you."
"Well," Miranda said quietly, "I suppose that will have to do." But her heart was pounding, and her palms were sweating, and she felt something like joy bubbling up from a spring buried deep inside.
"Aren’t you going to kiss me now?" Andrea asked, eyes wide.
Miranda didn't smile, though she wanted to. "You're a little far away."
Andrea laughed then. "Oh no. You come over here. I'm not moving a muscle."
This girl was going to be trouble. But Miranda had known what she was in for since day one with Andrea. She would survive. Striding across the room, she opened her arms, and when Andrea stepped into them, everything else slid into place.
The end, again.