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was fitting that B…DAD had picked the most annoyingly optimistic
song ever written to entertain callers when they were put on hold。
“Andy； is that you； sweetheart？” He asked quietly in his deep；
distinguished voice。 “Mr。 Tomlinson is going to think you’re
avoiding him。 It’s been ages since I’ve had the pleasure of speaking
with you。” A week and a half； to be precise。 In addition to his
blindness； deafness； and dumbness； Mr。 Tomlinson had the added
irritating habit of constantly referring to himself in the third
person。
I took a deep breath。 “Hello； Mr。 Tomlinson。 Miranda asked me to let
you know that lunch is at one today at Le Cirque。 She said that
you’d—”
“Sweetheart；” he said slowly； calmly。 “Enough with all that
plan…making for just a second。 Give an old man a moment of pleasure
and tell Mr。 Tomlinson all about your life。 Will you do that for
him？ So tell me； dear； are you happy working for my wife？” Was I
happy working for his wife？ Hmm； let’s see here。 Are little baby
mammals squealing with glee when a predator swallows them whole？Why
of course； you putz； I’m deliriously happy working for your wife。
When neither of us is busy； we give each other mud masks and gossip
about our love lives。 It’s a lot like a slumber party among friends；
if you must know。 The whole thing is just one big laugh riot 。
“Mr。 Tomlinson； I love my job and I adore working for Miranda。” I
held my breath and prayed that he’d give it up。
“Well； Mr。 T。 is just thrilled that things are working out。”Great；
asshole； but are youthrilled？
“Sounds great； Mr。 Tomlinson。 Have a great lunch；” I cut him off
before he inevitably asked about my weekend plans； and hung up。
I sat back in my chair and gazed across the office suite。 Emily was
engrossed in trying to reconcile another one of Miranda’s 20；000
American Express bills； her highly waxed brow furrowed in
concentration。 The Harry Potter project loomed ahead of me； and I
had to get moving on it immediately if I ever wanted to get away
this weekend。
Lily and I had planned a movie marathon weekend。 I was exhausted
from work and she was stressed out from her classes； so we’d
promised to spend the whole weekend parked on her couch and subsist
solely on beer and Doritos。 No Snackwells。 No Diet Coke。 And
absolutely no black pants。 Even though we talked all the time； we
hadn’t spent any real time together since I’d moved to the city。
We’d been best friends since eighth grade； when I first saw Lily
crying alone at a cafeteria table。 She’d just moved in with her
grandmother and started at our school； after it became clear that
her parents weren’t ing Home any time soon。 They’d taken off a
few months before to follow the Dead （they’d had her when they were
both nineteen and were more into bong hits than babies）； leaving her
behind to be watched over by their whacked…out friends at the
mune in New Mexico （or as Lily preferred； the “collective”）。 When
they hadn’t returned almost a year later； Lily’s grandmother took
her from the mune （or as Lily’s grandmother preferred； the
“cult”） to live with her in Avon。 The day I found her crying alone
in the cafeteria was the day her grandmother had forced her to chop
off her dirty dreadlocks and wear a dress； and Lily was not happy
about it。 Something about the way she talked； the way she said；
“That’s so Zen of you；” and “Let’s just depress；” charmed me； and
we immediately became friends。 We’d been inseparable through the
rest of high school； had roomed together for all four years at
Brown。 Lily hadn’t yet decided whether she preferred MAC lipstick or
hemp necklaces and was still a little too “quirky” to do anything
totally mainstream； but we plemented each other well。 And I
missed her。 Because with her first year as a graduate student and my
being a virtual slave； we hadn’t seen a whole lot of each other
lately。
I couldn’t wait for the weekend。 My fourteen…hour workdays were
registering in my feet； my upper arms； my lower back。 Glasses had
replaced the contacts I’d worn for a decade because my eyes were too
dry and tired to accept them anymore。 I smoked a pack a day and
subsisted solely on Starbucks （expensed； of course） and takeout
sushi （further expensed）。 I’d begun losing weight already。 The
weight I’d lost from the dysentery had returned briefly； but after
my stint atRunway it had begun to disappear again。 Something in the
air there； I suppose； or perhaps it was the intensity with which
food was eschewed in the office。 I’d already weathered a sinus
infection and had paled significantly； and it had been only four
weeks。 I was only twenty…three years old。 And Miranda hadn’t even
been in the office yet。 Fuck it。 I deserved aweekend 。
Into this mix leaped Harry Potter； and I wasnot pleased。 Miranda had
called this morning。 It took only a few moments for her to outline
what she wanted； although it took me forever to interpret it。 I
learned quickly that in the Miranda Priestly world； it was better to
do something wrong and spend a great deal of time and money to fix
it than to admit you didn’t understand her convoluted and heavily
accented instructions and ask for clarification。 So when she mumbled
something about getting the Harry Potter books for the twins and
having them flown to Paris； intuition alone told me this was going
to interfere with my weekend。 When she hung up abruptly a few
minutes later； I looked to Emily with panic。
“What； oh； what； did she say？” I moaned； hating myself for being too
scared to ask Miranda to repeat herself。 “Why can I not understand a
single word that woman utters？ It’s not me； Em。 I speak English；
always have。 I know she does it to personall