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considered spitting in the drink but was able to restrain myself。
Next； I pulled a small china plate from the overhead bin and dumped
out the greasy meat and the oozing Danish； wiping my hands on her
dirty dry cleaning； which was hidden beneath my desk so she couldn’t
see it hadn’t been picked up yet。 I was theoretically supposed to
clean her plate each day in the sink in our mock…up kitchen； but I
just couldn’t bring myself to bother。 The humiliation of doing her
dishes in front of everyone prompted me to wipe it down with tissues
after each meal and scrape off any leftover cheese with my
fingernails。 If it was really dirty or had been sitting for a long
time； I’d open a bottle of the Pellegrino we kept by the case and
dump a little bit on。 I figured she should be thankful I wasn’t
using a spritz or two of desk cleaner。 I was reasonably sure that I
had reached a new moral low—what was worrisome was that I’d sunk to
it so naturally。
“Remember； I want my girls smiling；” she was saying into the phone。
I could tell from her tone she was talking to Lucia； the fashion
director who’d be in charge of the uping Brazil shoot； about how
the models should appear。 “Happy； lots of teeth； clean healthy
girls。 No brooding； no anger； no frowning； no dark makeup。 I want
them shining。 I mean it； Lucia： I will accept nothing less。”
I set the plate on the edge of her desk and placed the latte and the
napkin with all necessary accessories next to it。 She didn’t look at
me。 I paused for a moment to see if she’d hand me a pile of papers
off her desk； things to fax or find or file； but she ignored me and
I walked out。 Eight…thirtyA 。M。 I’d been awake now for three full
hours； felt like I’d already worked for twelve； and could finally
sit down for the very first time all morning。 Just as I was logging
on to Hotmail； anticipating some fun e…mails from people on the
outside； she walked out。 The belted jacket cinched her already tiny
waist and plemented the perfectly fitted pencil skirt she wore
beneath it。 She looked dynamite。
“Ahn…dre…ah。 The latte is ice cold。 I don’t understand why。 You were
certainly gone long enough！ Bring me another。”
I inhaled deeply and concentrated on keeping the look of hatred off
my face。 Miranda set the offending latte on my desk and flipped
through the new issue ofVanity Fair that a staffer had set on the
table for her。 I could feel Emily watching me and knew her look
would be one of sympathy and anger： she felt bad that I had to
repeat the hellish ordeal all over again； but she hated me for
daring to be upset about it。 After all； wouldn’t a million girls die
for my job？
And so with an audible sigh—something I’d perfected lately； so it
was just enough Miranda could hear but not nearly enough she could
ever call me on it—I once again put on my coat and willed my legs to
move toward the elevators。 It was going to be another long； long
day。
The second coffee run in twenty minutes went much more smoothly； the
lines at Starbucks had thinned a little and Marion had e on duty。
She herself got to work on a tall latte as soon as I walked in the
door。 I didn’t bother overspending on a larger order this time
because I was too desperate to just get back and sit down； but I did
addventi cappuccinos for both Emily and me。 Just as I was paying for
the coffee； my phone rang。 Goddamn it to hell； this woman was
impossible。 Insatiable； impatient； impossible。 I hadn’t been gone
for more than four minutes； she couldn’t possibly be freaking out
yet。 Again； I balanced my tray in one hand and pulled my phone from
my coat pocket。 I’d already decided that such behavior on her part
warranted my having another cigarette—if just to hold up her Coffee
a few minutes longer—when I saw that it was Lily calling from her
Home phone。
“Hey； bad time？” she asked； sounding excited。 I looked at my watch
and saw that she should’ve been in class。
“Um； sort of。 I’m on my second Coffee run； which is really great。
I’m really； really enjoying myself； just in case you were wondering。
What’s up？ Don’t you have class now？”
“Yeah； but I went out with Pink…Shirt Boy again last night and we
each drank a few too many margaritas。 Like； eight too many。 He’s
still passed out here； so I can’t just leave him。 But that’s not why
I’m calling。”
“Yeah？” I was barely listening； since one of the cappuccinos was
starting to leak and I had the phone wedged in between my neck and
my shoulder as I used my one free hand to pluck a cigarette from the
box and light it。
“My landlord had the nerve to knock on my door at eight o’clock this
morning to tell me that I’m being evicted；” she said with not a
little bit of glee in her voice。
“Evicted？ Lil； why？ What are you going to do？”
“It seems they finally caught on that I’m not Sandra Gers and that
she hasn’t lived here in six months。 Since she’s technically not
family； she wasn’t allowed to pass down the rent…controlled
apartment to me。 I knew that； of course； so I’ve just been saying
I’m her。 I don’t really know how they found out。 But whatev； it
doesn’t really matter； because now you and I can live together！ Your
lease with Shanti and Kendra is just month by month； right？ You
subletted because you had no place to live； right？”
“Right。”
“Well； now you do！ We can get a place together； anywhere we like！”
“That’s great！” It sounded hollow to my ears even though I was
genuinely excited。
“So you’re up for it？” she asked； her enthusiasm sounding a bit
dampened。
“Lil； definitely。 Honestly； it’s an awesome idea。 I don’t mean to
sound negative； it’s just that it’s sleeting and I’m standing
outside and I have burning hot Coffee running down my left arm 。 。
。”Beep…beep。 The other line rang； and even though I almost burned my
neck with the lit end of the cigarette while trying to pull my phone
away from my ear； I was able to see that it was Emily calling。
“Shit； Lil； it’s Miranda calling。 I’ve got to run。 But congrats on
getting evicted！ I’m so excited for us。 I’ll call you later； OK？”
“OK； I’ll talk to—”
I had already clicked over and mentally prepared myself for the
barrage。
“Me again；” Emily said tightly。 “What the hell is going on？ It’s a
fucking Coffee； for chrissake。 You forget that I used to do your
job； and I know it doesn’t take that long to—”
“What？” I said loudly； holding a few fingers over the microphone on
the receiver。 “What’d you say？ I can’t hear you。 Well； if you can
hear me； I’ll be back in just a minute！” And I clicked my phone shut
and buried it deep in my pocket。 And even though I had at least half
a Marlboro left； I dropped it on the sidewalk and ran back to work。
Miranda deigned to accept this slightly warmer latte and even gave
us a few moments of peace between ten and eleven； when she sat in
her office with the door closed； cooing to B…DAD。 I’d officially met
him for the first time the week before； when I’d dropped the Book
off that Wednesday night around nine。 He had been removing his coat
from the closet in the foyer and spent the next ten minutes
referring to himself in the third person。 Since that meeting； he had
paid me extra…special attention when I let myself in each night；
always taking a few minutes to ask about my day or pliment me on
a job well done。 Naturally； none of these niceties seemed to rub off
on his wife； but at least he was pleasant to be around。
I was just about to begin calling some of the PR people to see about
getting a few more decent clothes to wear to work when Miranda’s
voice shook me from my thoughts。 “Emily； I’d like my lunch。” She had
called from her office to no one in particular； since Emily could
mean either of us。 The real Emily looked at me and nodded； and I
knew it was OK to move。 The number for Smith and Wollensky was
programmed into my desk phone； and I recognized the voice on the
other end as the new girl。
“Hey； Kim； it’s Andrea from Miranda Priestly’s office。 Is Sebastian
there？”
“Oh； hi； um； what did you say your name was again？” No matter that I
called at the exact same time； twice a week； and had already
identified myself—she always acted as though we’d never spoken。
“From Miranda Priestly’s office。 AtRunway 。 Listen； I don’t mean to
be rude”—yes； actually； I do—“but I’m kind of in a hurry。 Could you
just put Sebastian on？” If anyone else had answered I would’ve been
able to just tell that person to put in an order for Miranda’s
usual； but since this one was too dumb to be trusted； I had learned
to ask for the manager himself。
“Um； OK； let me check and see if he’s available。”Trust me； Kim； he’s
available。 Miranda Priestly is his life。
“Andy； dear； how are you？” Sebastian breathed into the phone。 “I
hope you’re calling because our favorite fashion editor would like
some lunch today； yes？”
I wondered what he’d say if I told him； just once； that it wasn’t
Miranda who was looking for lunch； but me。 After all； this wasn’t
exactly a takeout joint； but they made a special exception for the
queen herself。
“Oh； yes； indeed。 She was just saying how much she was in the mood
for something delicious from your restaurant； and she also said to
send her love。” If under threat of death or dismemberment Miranda
wouldn’t have been able to identify the name of the place that made
her lunch each day； never even mind the name of its daytime manager；
but he always seemed so happy when I said something like this。 Today
he was so excited he giggled。
“Fab！ That’s just fabulous！ We’ll have it ready for you as soon as
you get here；” he called with fresh excitement in his voice。 “Can’t
wait！ And give her my love； too； of course！”
“Of course I will。 See you soon。” It was exhausting to stroke his
ego so enthusiastically； but he made my job so much easier it was
well worth it。 Every day that Miranda didn’t have lunch out； I
served her the same meal at her desk； and she leisurely ate it
behind closed doors。 I kept a supply of china plates in the bins
above my desk for this purpose。 Most were samples sent by designers
whose new “Home” lines had just e out； although some I just took
directly from the dining room。 It would have been too annoying to
have to keep stock of things like gravy trays and steak knives and
linen napkins； though； so Sebastian was always sure to provide those
with the meal。
And once again I shrugged on my black wool coat and jammed my
cigarettes and phone in the pocket and headed outside； into a late
February day that seemed to get only grayer as it progressed。
Although it was just a fifteen…minute walk to the restaurant on 49th
and Third； I considered calling for a car but thought better of it
when I felt the clean air in my lungs。 I lit a cigarette and drew
the smoke in； when I exhaled； I wasn’t sure if it was smoke or cold
air or irritation； but it felt damn good。
Dodging the aimlessly meandering tourists had bee easier。 I used
to stare in disgust at pedestrians on Cell Phones； but given my
hectic days； I’d bee a walking talker。 I pulled my cell out and
called Alex’s school where； according to my fuzzy recollection； he
could possibly be eating his lunch in the faculty lounge at that
moment。
It rang twice before I heard a high…pitched； pinc