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ABCs of DWP (U to Z) II
Miranda supposed that she should have taken offense at the innuendos that were swirling around the City. Yet she had gotten so used to the epithets that the 'news' rags would choose to bring out, that she no longer thought to even feel any urge to respond and suggest that she was paying attention to what was being said.
It wasn't until the speculation ran over Andrea Sachs like a freight train at full speed that Miranda realized her anger had been misplaced. Although the cardinal rule was to not speak to the press if there was no comment to be made, this did not mean that they would let the salacious chatter stand as the truth. It was time to begin clawing back the normalcy that the gossips felt entitled to point and laugh at; no one was being hurt by this relationship, and Miranda refused to let strangers dictate her life.
Nobody ever asked why Miranda disliked freesias with such strength that the flowers were not only banned on sight but neither of her assistants were permitted to wear fragrances that carried any semblance of the floral signature. Miranda never sought to explain that the first time she had been introduced to Jacqueline Follet, the woman had been wearing a floral fragrance with a note of freesia. Miranda knew the underlying message that Jacqueline flaunted it was worn by those that were young or young at heart.
It was almost enough to twist the soul, knowing that once more Irv Ravitz was trying to usurp her position as Editor-in-Chief of Runway and replace her with another one of his minions; maybe it wasn't Jacqueline Follet this time, but always he'd emphasize the need for someone younger and more 'in touch' with the readership. Sometimes Miranda wondered if Irv bothered to even read the demographics reports that passed his desk. It was time to put him out of his misery; this constant scheming was a distraction, and it was no longer amusing to watch Irv squirm.
A mimeograph machine might have given a near perfect copy of the original print, but second assistants never could match up to the repute of the first, no matter how close imitation might have seemed to be flattery. What Emily hadn't learned was a replacement for herself did not need to be a clone. Someone entirely opposite to her was fine, they needed only to be competent to have satisfied Miranda's requirements. Miranda didn't require an office full of drones no matter how much they had professed to love Runway.
Wanting the unattainable was like pushing against the tide tiring and futile in more ways than one. He accepted that moving out East would bring changes new opportunities for both of them, and at least they'd be sharing the same space (although further away from the less than approving glare of Mr. Sachs).
What he didn't know was his own limits on change; nothing had prepared him for this evolution from someone who was pretty to someone who was beautiful. It wasn't just the clothing (although the lingerie was a bonus), but the attitude changes Fashion had taken his idealistic girlfriend and had charged her ambitions. New York City had seduced this girl and made her into someone he didn't recognize anymore.
He wanted his Andy back, but just like the receding tides, the high water mark was already fading and he could never be sure that his memories were not doing the same.
There was no appeal in something that was easily offered the sheer ease of it all made her wonder when the other shoe would drop and the demands begin. There was a piquant charm to this new assistant not quite obstinate, but certainly determined to succeed. It'd be interesting to see how long it would take before even she would have to surrender to Miranda's iron-will.
Who could have known that in winning that capitulation, she would end up losing her heart?
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