Yearling - AUGUST 2008
The Jellyroll of Trouble comes bearing a new treat. This solo endeavor comes as a result of just the absolute weirdest thought derailment ever. It is, at its most fundamental, an overview of the nature of...friendship.
Disclaimer: The Devil Wears Prada does not belong to me. No infringement intended, no money being made. The building belongs to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. I'm just redecorating. When finished, I will tear down the new curtains and fancy artwork, but leave the festive paint…
Rating: T
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Mirandy
AN: This story disregards the novel completely, utilizing only the movie as its base.
*** *** *** *** ***
Yearling
By Ruari
AUGUST 2008
“A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.”
~ Anon.
*** *** *** *** ***
Miranda Priestly looked down at the layouts presented to her and mentally groaned. Her features tightened, her lips thinned, and her voice dropped to its lowest register as she whispered, “This is a deplorable effort and completely unacceptable.” She lifted her gaze and glanced around the conference room. “No one leaves until it is fixed.” Her gaze gutted several of her underachieving employees as she contemplated which to fire.
*** *** ***
It was really rather difficult to anger Andy Sachs. And that was a trait about herself for which Andy was quite proud. But even the most kind-hearted soul has a breaking point.
One could consider Andy’s shattered as of approximately three o’clock in the afternoon on the third Friday in August. The remnants of her temper lay in scattered pieces about her overflowing desk; fallen soldiers to her ire.
From: emily.charlton@usrunway.com
To: asachs@nymirror.com
Sent: Friday, August 15, 2008 01:29 PM
Subject: cancellation
Your dinner with Miranda is cancelled. She simply hasn’t the time for you.
Sincerely,
Emily Charleton
First Assistant to Miranda Priestly
Runway Magazine
Andy’s outrage seethed within her like a white-hot flame. Her first impulse was to shoot a scathing reply to both Emily and Miranda, announcing her displeasure at being cast aside as though she were no more than the editor’s manicurist or facialist. She rolled her eyes, knowing that in all actuality, Miranda probably wouldn’t dare miss one of those appointments.
And in all honesty, Andy wasn’t angered by the cancellation itself. Having first hand knowledge of the crazy schedule the editor kept, she rather expected such from Miranda on occasion. She actually found it rather odd that it’d taken almost three months for the editor to cancel on one of their outings. No, that didn’t really bother her all that much. It was the delivery method of the cancellation that so thoroughly…Pissed. Her. OFF.
Rather than go with her initial reaction, however, Andy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She then took many minutes to mentally go over what she knew of Miranda Priestly. It didn’t take her all that long to come to some sad, yet unsurprising, realizations. Yes, this friendship “faux pas” was Miranda’s fault.
And, no. It wasn’t.
Andy sank back into her chair in defeat, her anger leaving as quickly as it came. One can’t justifiably blame someone for committing a hurtful act if that someone simply didn’t know any better. In that respect, Miranda was very much a small child, one who couldn’t learn from her mistakes if she was never allowed to make any. Andy chuckled ruefully upon realizing this was, more than likely, the first of many the older woman was bound to make if they were to make a real go of this friendship-thing.
And, of course, Andy was bound to make some of her own.
*** *** ***
A few minutes past eight that same evening found Andy Sachs striding briskly toward a showdown, heels echoing resolutely across the deserted foyer of Elias Clarke’s ground floor. Armed with a double-barrel shotgun of dessert and coffee, Andy waved nonchalantly to security---as though she had every right to be there. Her performance earned her a return wave and access to an elevator heading skyward.
When the doors opened, she was somewhat surprised to see a number of employees still wandering about. She paused, unseen, in front of the bank of elevators and watched a trio of disgruntled minions emerge from the hallway to Miranda’s offices, scurrying out as though their heels were afire. Nigel, poor, beleaguered Nigel, sauntered after them, rubbing his brow as though he had a headache. Andy made a mental note to get in touch with the fashion editor at a later date before quickly cutting down that same short hallway toward the editor’s outer office. She wanted to laugh out loud, though, when Miranda’s second assistant jumped out from behind her desk to stop her, whispering harshly, “You can’t go in there!”
“Why not? I don’t hear anyone, so I know she’s not in a meeting.” Andy refused to whisper, especially since she knew from recent conversations with Miranda that the editor heard nearly everything that took place in her offices.
“You don’t have an appointment, so you most definitely aren’t going in. Especially after a day like today. Who are you?” the emaciated blonde abrasively demanded.
The journalist smirked. “Andy Sachs.” Andy choked back a laugh when she saw instant name recognition show in widened eyes. “Who are you?”
Emily, Jr. straightened her back and snootily announced, “I’m Miranda’s second assistant. I take care of her, anticipate her needs.”
“Really,” Andy drawled. “How is it you haven’t anticipated that she’s in dire need of coffee? Good grief, Emily. She’s been here for over twelve hours, and it’s been three since you last fetched her any.” Andy mentally thanked the barista across the street for that accurate information as she watched in satisfaction as a rush of embarrassment and fear swept over the assistant’s face and neck.
“How would you know what she needs? And my name is Anna.” The woman glared at Andy, animosity rolling off her in waves.
Andy lifted a brow in amusement. “It was once my job to know, and I’ll bet that’s not what Miranda calls you,” she murmured.
Their conversation came to an immediate halt upon hearing the soft, low tones emanate from the inner office.
“Andrea.”
The brunette smiled, turned, and entered the lion’s den, leaving Anna standing alone with her mouth agape.
*** *** ***
Andy shut the door behind her and approached the woman staring her down from across the gleaming surface of her desk. From months and months of practice, as both assistant and friend, Andy was able to discern bemusement, frustration, and fatigue in those smooth features but, thankfully, no anger.
She set the tray of coffees on the desk before silently pulling two wrapped pastries from a plain paper sack. She unwrapped one and leaned slightly over the glass to set it and one of the coffees before the equally silent editor. She then placed a cellophane-encased plastic fork next to the dessert before taking the remaining coffee and pastry and settling into one of the chairs in front of Miranda’s desk.
Miranda’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you my guilty secret,” she muttered.
Andy smiled. “Eat up, Miranda. Best baklava in the city.”
Several minutes passed before Miranda again broke the silence. “Not to say I didn’t find your conversation with my assistant amusing, but why are you here?” she inquired softly before placing a dainty morsel of pastry in her mouth. Her eyes closed for a nanosecond as the rich flavors assaulted her taste buds.
“A couple reasons, actually.” Andy smirked as she watched Miranda experience culinary ecstasy. “But why do you think I’m here?”
Miranda slowly took another tiny bite before gently waving her fork in the air. “I cancelled on you.”
Andy enjoyed her own bit of baklava before responding equally softly. “Hmm, yes. You did.” She took a sip of coffee before continuing. “But I don’t actually care that you cancelled.”
Glacial blue eyes narrowed in reaction. “You don’t say.”
Brown eyes twinkled with something very close to affection. “I do say.”
Miranda also took a moment to enjoy a mouthful of scalding coffee. “Then I ask again, why are you here?”
“You could say I took exception to the way you chose to cancel on me.” Andy leaned forward to set her coffee on Miranda’s desk. At the thoughtful expression on the editor’s face, she finally elaborated completely. “It probably would’ve taken the same amount of time it took you to tell Emily to contact me for you to just e-mail me yourself.” Andy shrugged her shoulders slightly. “You made me feel like an appointment, Miranda. No more important than a manicure or lunch with Patrick.”
And, indeed, Miranda could see the hurt the younger woman was attempting to hide behind a cloak of indifference. She sighed quietly in remorse. Before she could apologize, however, Andrea continued speaking.
“I’ll admit it. My immediate reaction to Emily’s e-mail was pretty negative.” Andrea rolled her eyes at the understatement. “It was only after I sat and thought about it for a few minutes that I realized I received that e-mail for one of two possible reasons.”
Miranda eyed the brunette in wary fascination, unsure where the verbose, young journalist was heading. She wasn’t sure she was up to having her psyche dissected by this woman again. “Those being?”
Andy smiled gently as she casually gathered the trash from her dessert and absently stuffed it into the sack from whence it came. “Well,” she began quietly, conscious of Miranda’s assistant lurking just outside the door. “First, you simply aren’t used to cancelling or changing your own dates, meetings, appointments. You’ve had assistants performing that task for you for so long you may have completely forgotten that occasionally there is a need for a more “personal” touch. It’s been my experience, there are only two people you speak with personally regarding any change in plans: Caroline and Cassidy.”
Miranda could do no more than tip her head in acknowledgement. It was eerily frightening how well this young woman read her. She cleared her throat. “And the other?”
Andy met Miranda’s gaze and murmured, “You didn’t want to disappoint me.”
Miranda closed her eyes, making a mental note at how thoroughly exhausting this “having a friend” thing was. She opened them to see Andrea staring at her in tender bemusement, her brow lifted in question. “What?”
“Well? Which is it?”
Miranda rolled her eyes and huffed. “Option C: both A and B.” She sighed before continuing. “I’m sorry, Andrea.”
“Well, like I said, I wasn’t upset about the cancellation. I’m used to you, Priestly. I know better than most what your schedule entails and the trials you go through here on a daily basis. I may be disappointed that I’ll miss spending hard-to-come-by time with a good friend, but I won’t be disappointed in you.” Andy’s eyes twinkled once again. “But don’t send Emily or Emily to do your dirty work anymore. It’s against the rules.”
And that got a genuine smile from the editor. “No badge today?”
Andy snorted ungracefully. “No way, lady!” She shook her head at the older woman, touched by the look on her face, one that was as close to affectionate as Andy had ever seen on the woman. “Meh, maybe I’ll throw you a bone tomorrow. And I’ll forgive you this time on one condition.”
Miranda let her head fall back. “What condition is that?”
Andy leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “You just have to tell me how Emily reacted when you told her to e-mail me!”
Miranda chuckled quietly. “Oh, no. Not tonight. I won’t be able to do it justice when I’m this tired. But I promise to do so at a later date.” She rolled her head to squint at her friend. “It was truly magnificent!”
Andy rested her chin in her palm. “I can only imagine. Ok, you have a reprieve.”
The editor lifted a brow and waited.
Andy rolled her eyes. “Yes, you’re forgiven.”
Minutes passed in harmonious silence before Miranda groaned. “Ugh. What a miserable day.”
Andy hummed in agreement. “I saw all the guys still wandering around out there when I snuck in.”
“Sheer incompetence.” She raised her head and glared across the desk. “Complete and utter incompetence.”
Andy gifted the older woman with one of her mischievous smiles as she leaned back in her chair. “So…”
The editor lips twitched in amusement at the look on the brunette’s face. “Yes?”
Andy’s smile widened even more, her nose crinkling as she suppressed her laughter. “Why don’t you tell me all about Miranda and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.”
And in the outer office, Miranda’s second assistant wasn’t sure what she was actually hearing, but she was absolutely certain it wasn’t the editor laughing.
*** *** ***
Andy was unaccountably warmed by the feeling evoked when Miranda said to her, with seemingly heartfelt regard, “Thank you for the coffee break, Andrea.” So when she took her leave, she was actually feeling significantly less bitchy and infinitely more charitable than she was prior to her meeting with her friend.
Evidently, even the most willful of small children were teachable.
Therefore, Andy took a moment to stop at the second assistant’s desk on her way out. She leaned over slightly and murmured gently, “Remember, Anna, I was you. Please don’t give me that attitude again.”
That said, and with a genuine smile, she left as quietly as she arrived.
*** *** *** *** ***
AUGUST 2008
“A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.”
~ Anon.
(September)
Disclaimer: The Devil Wears Prada does not belong to me. No infringement intended, no money being made. The building belongs to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. I'm just redecorating. When finished, I will tear down the new curtains and fancy artwork, but leave the festive paint…
Rating: T
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Mirandy
AN: This story disregards the novel completely, utilizing only the movie as its base.
*** *** *** *** ***
Yearling
By Ruari
AUGUST 2008
“A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.”
~ Anon.
*** *** *** *** ***
Miranda Priestly looked down at the layouts presented to her and mentally groaned. Her features tightened, her lips thinned, and her voice dropped to its lowest register as she whispered, “This is a deplorable effort and completely unacceptable.” She lifted her gaze and glanced around the conference room. “No one leaves until it is fixed.” Her gaze gutted several of her underachieving employees as she contemplated which to fire.
*** *** ***
It was really rather difficult to anger Andy Sachs. And that was a trait about herself for which Andy was quite proud. But even the most kind-hearted soul has a breaking point.
One could consider Andy’s shattered as of approximately three o’clock in the afternoon on the third Friday in August. The remnants of her temper lay in scattered pieces about her overflowing desk; fallen soldiers to her ire.
From: emily.charlton@usrunway.com
To: asachs@nymirror.com
Sent: Friday, August 15, 2008 01:29 PM
Subject: cancellation
Your dinner with Miranda is cancelled. She simply hasn’t the time for you.
Sincerely,
Emily Charleton
First Assistant to Miranda Priestly
Runway Magazine
Andy’s outrage seethed within her like a white-hot flame. Her first impulse was to shoot a scathing reply to both Emily and Miranda, announcing her displeasure at being cast aside as though she were no more than the editor’s manicurist or facialist. She rolled her eyes, knowing that in all actuality, Miranda probably wouldn’t dare miss one of those appointments.
And in all honesty, Andy wasn’t angered by the cancellation itself. Having first hand knowledge of the crazy schedule the editor kept, she rather expected such from Miranda on occasion. She actually found it rather odd that it’d taken almost three months for the editor to cancel on one of their outings. No, that didn’t really bother her all that much. It was the delivery method of the cancellation that so thoroughly…Pissed. Her. OFF.
Rather than go with her initial reaction, however, Andy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She then took many minutes to mentally go over what she knew of Miranda Priestly. It didn’t take her all that long to come to some sad, yet unsurprising, realizations. Yes, this friendship “faux pas” was Miranda’s fault.
And, no. It wasn’t.
Andy sank back into her chair in defeat, her anger leaving as quickly as it came. One can’t justifiably blame someone for committing a hurtful act if that someone simply didn’t know any better. In that respect, Miranda was very much a small child, one who couldn’t learn from her mistakes if she was never allowed to make any. Andy chuckled ruefully upon realizing this was, more than likely, the first of many the older woman was bound to make if they were to make a real go of this friendship-thing.
And, of course, Andy was bound to make some of her own.
*** *** ***
A few minutes past eight that same evening found Andy Sachs striding briskly toward a showdown, heels echoing resolutely across the deserted foyer of Elias Clarke’s ground floor. Armed with a double-barrel shotgun of dessert and coffee, Andy waved nonchalantly to security---as though she had every right to be there. Her performance earned her a return wave and access to an elevator heading skyward.
When the doors opened, she was somewhat surprised to see a number of employees still wandering about. She paused, unseen, in front of the bank of elevators and watched a trio of disgruntled minions emerge from the hallway to Miranda’s offices, scurrying out as though their heels were afire. Nigel, poor, beleaguered Nigel, sauntered after them, rubbing his brow as though he had a headache. Andy made a mental note to get in touch with the fashion editor at a later date before quickly cutting down that same short hallway toward the editor’s outer office. She wanted to laugh out loud, though, when Miranda’s second assistant jumped out from behind her desk to stop her, whispering harshly, “You can’t go in there!”
“Why not? I don’t hear anyone, so I know she’s not in a meeting.” Andy refused to whisper, especially since she knew from recent conversations with Miranda that the editor heard nearly everything that took place in her offices.
“You don’t have an appointment, so you most definitely aren’t going in. Especially after a day like today. Who are you?” the emaciated blonde abrasively demanded.
The journalist smirked. “Andy Sachs.” Andy choked back a laugh when she saw instant name recognition show in widened eyes. “Who are you?”
Emily, Jr. straightened her back and snootily announced, “I’m Miranda’s second assistant. I take care of her, anticipate her needs.”
“Really,” Andy drawled. “How is it you haven’t anticipated that she’s in dire need of coffee? Good grief, Emily. She’s been here for over twelve hours, and it’s been three since you last fetched her any.” Andy mentally thanked the barista across the street for that accurate information as she watched in satisfaction as a rush of embarrassment and fear swept over the assistant’s face and neck.
“How would you know what she needs? And my name is Anna.” The woman glared at Andy, animosity rolling off her in waves.
Andy lifted a brow in amusement. “It was once my job to know, and I’ll bet that’s not what Miranda calls you,” she murmured.
Their conversation came to an immediate halt upon hearing the soft, low tones emanate from the inner office.
“Andrea.”
The brunette smiled, turned, and entered the lion’s den, leaving Anna standing alone with her mouth agape.
*** *** ***
Andy shut the door behind her and approached the woman staring her down from across the gleaming surface of her desk. From months and months of practice, as both assistant and friend, Andy was able to discern bemusement, frustration, and fatigue in those smooth features but, thankfully, no anger.
She set the tray of coffees on the desk before silently pulling two wrapped pastries from a plain paper sack. She unwrapped one and leaned slightly over the glass to set it and one of the coffees before the equally silent editor. She then placed a cellophane-encased plastic fork next to the dessert before taking the remaining coffee and pastry and settling into one of the chairs in front of Miranda’s desk.
Miranda’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you my guilty secret,” she muttered.
Andy smiled. “Eat up, Miranda. Best baklava in the city.”
Several minutes passed before Miranda again broke the silence. “Not to say I didn’t find your conversation with my assistant amusing, but why are you here?” she inquired softly before placing a dainty morsel of pastry in her mouth. Her eyes closed for a nanosecond as the rich flavors assaulted her taste buds.
“A couple reasons, actually.” Andy smirked as she watched Miranda experience culinary ecstasy. “But why do you think I’m here?”
Miranda slowly took another tiny bite before gently waving her fork in the air. “I cancelled on you.”
Andy enjoyed her own bit of baklava before responding equally softly. “Hmm, yes. You did.” She took a sip of coffee before continuing. “But I don’t actually care that you cancelled.”
Glacial blue eyes narrowed in reaction. “You don’t say.”
Brown eyes twinkled with something very close to affection. “I do say.”
Miranda also took a moment to enjoy a mouthful of scalding coffee. “Then I ask again, why are you here?”
“You could say I took exception to the way you chose to cancel on me.” Andy leaned forward to set her coffee on Miranda’s desk. At the thoughtful expression on the editor’s face, she finally elaborated completely. “It probably would’ve taken the same amount of time it took you to tell Emily to contact me for you to just e-mail me yourself.” Andy shrugged her shoulders slightly. “You made me feel like an appointment, Miranda. No more important than a manicure or lunch with Patrick.”
And, indeed, Miranda could see the hurt the younger woman was attempting to hide behind a cloak of indifference. She sighed quietly in remorse. Before she could apologize, however, Andrea continued speaking.
“I’ll admit it. My immediate reaction to Emily’s e-mail was pretty negative.” Andrea rolled her eyes at the understatement. “It was only after I sat and thought about it for a few minutes that I realized I received that e-mail for one of two possible reasons.”
Miranda eyed the brunette in wary fascination, unsure where the verbose, young journalist was heading. She wasn’t sure she was up to having her psyche dissected by this woman again. “Those being?”
Andy smiled gently as she casually gathered the trash from her dessert and absently stuffed it into the sack from whence it came. “Well,” she began quietly, conscious of Miranda’s assistant lurking just outside the door. “First, you simply aren’t used to cancelling or changing your own dates, meetings, appointments. You’ve had assistants performing that task for you for so long you may have completely forgotten that occasionally there is a need for a more “personal” touch. It’s been my experience, there are only two people you speak with personally regarding any change in plans: Caroline and Cassidy.”
Miranda could do no more than tip her head in acknowledgement. It was eerily frightening how well this young woman read her. She cleared her throat. “And the other?”
Andy met Miranda’s gaze and murmured, “You didn’t want to disappoint me.”
Miranda closed her eyes, making a mental note at how thoroughly exhausting this “having a friend” thing was. She opened them to see Andrea staring at her in tender bemusement, her brow lifted in question. “What?”
“Well? Which is it?”
Miranda rolled her eyes and huffed. “Option C: both A and B.” She sighed before continuing. “I’m sorry, Andrea.”
“Well, like I said, I wasn’t upset about the cancellation. I’m used to you, Priestly. I know better than most what your schedule entails and the trials you go through here on a daily basis. I may be disappointed that I’ll miss spending hard-to-come-by time with a good friend, but I won’t be disappointed in you.” Andy’s eyes twinkled once again. “But don’t send Emily or Emily to do your dirty work anymore. It’s against the rules.”
And that got a genuine smile from the editor. “No badge today?”
Andy snorted ungracefully. “No way, lady!” She shook her head at the older woman, touched by the look on her face, one that was as close to affectionate as Andy had ever seen on the woman. “Meh, maybe I’ll throw you a bone tomorrow. And I’ll forgive you this time on one condition.”
Miranda let her head fall back. “What condition is that?”
Andy leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “You just have to tell me how Emily reacted when you told her to e-mail me!”
Miranda chuckled quietly. “Oh, no. Not tonight. I won’t be able to do it justice when I’m this tired. But I promise to do so at a later date.” She rolled her head to squint at her friend. “It was truly magnificent!”
Andy rested her chin in her palm. “I can only imagine. Ok, you have a reprieve.”
The editor lifted a brow and waited.
Andy rolled her eyes. “Yes, you’re forgiven.”
Minutes passed in harmonious silence before Miranda groaned. “Ugh. What a miserable day.”
Andy hummed in agreement. “I saw all the guys still wandering around out there when I snuck in.”
“Sheer incompetence.” She raised her head and glared across the desk. “Complete and utter incompetence.”
Andy gifted the older woman with one of her mischievous smiles as she leaned back in her chair. “So…”
The editor lips twitched in amusement at the look on the brunette’s face. “Yes?”
Andy’s smile widened even more, her nose crinkling as she suppressed her laughter. “Why don’t you tell me all about Miranda and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.”
And in the outer office, Miranda’s second assistant wasn’t sure what she was actually hearing, but she was absolutely certain it wasn’t the editor laughing.
*** *** ***
Andy was unaccountably warmed by the feeling evoked when Miranda said to her, with seemingly heartfelt regard, “Thank you for the coffee break, Andrea.” So when she took her leave, she was actually feeling significantly less bitchy and infinitely more charitable than she was prior to her meeting with her friend.
Evidently, even the most willful of small children were teachable.
Therefore, Andy took a moment to stop at the second assistant’s desk on her way out. She leaned over slightly and murmured gently, “Remember, Anna, I was you. Please don’t give me that attitude again.”
That said, and with a genuine smile, she left as quietly as she arrived.
*** *** *** *** ***
AUGUST 2008
“A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.”
~ Anon.
(September)