Lucia/Helen 。 I jabbed Lucia’s extension and spoke as soon as
she picked up the phone。
“She’s ready；” I stated； like a military mander。 Helen；
Lucia’s assistant； hung up without saying a word； and I knew
she and Lucia were already halfway to the office。 If they
didn’t arrive within twenty to twenty…five seconds； I would be
sent out to hunt them down and remind them in person—just in
case they might have forgotten—that when I’d called thirty
seconds before and said that Miranda was ready right then； I
meant rightthen 。 Generally this was a mere annoyance； yet
another reason why the enforced footwear of spiky stilettos
made life even more miserable。 Running through the office；
frantically searching for someone who was most likely hiding
from Miranda was never fun； but it was only really miserable
when that person happened to be in the bathroom。 Whatever one
does in a men’s or ladies’ room； however； is no excuse for not
being available at the exact moment your presence is expected；
and so I had to charge right in—sometimes checking underneath
the stalls for recognizable footwear—and politely ask in
whatever humiliated way I could manage that they finish up and
head to Miranda’s office。 Immediately。
Luckily for everyone involved； Helen arrived within seconds；
pushing an overflowing； off…kilter wheeled rack in front of
her and pulling another behind her。 She hesitated briefly
outside Miranda’s French door before she received one of
Miranda’s imperceptible nods and then dragged the racks
through the thick carpeting。
“This is all of it？ Two racks？” Miranda asked； barely looking
up from the copy she was reading。
Helen was clearly surprised at being addressed； since； as a
rule； Miranda didn’t speak to other people’s assistants。 But
Lucia hadn’t shown up with her own racks yet； so there was
little choice。
“Um； uh； no。 Lucia will be here in just a moment。 She has the
other two。 Would you like me to； uh； begin showing you what
we’ve called in？” Helen asked nervously as she pulled her
ribbed tank top down over her prairie skirt。
“No。”
And then： “Ahn…dre…ah！ Find Lucia。 By my watch it’s three
o’clock。 If she’s not prepared； then I have better things to
do than sit here and wait for her。” Which wasn’t exactly true；
since it appeared she hadn’t yet stopped reading copy and it
was now only approximately thirty…five seconds since I’d made
the initial phone call。 But I wasn’t about to point this out。
“No need； Miranda； I’m right here；” sang a breathless Lucia；
herself pushing and pulling racks past me just as I stood to
begin the search。 “So sorry。 We were waiting for one last coat
from the YSL people。”
She arranged the racks； which were organized by clothing type
（shirts； outerwear； pants/skirts； and dresses） in a
half…circle in front of Miranda’s desk and gave the signal for
Helen to leave。 Miranda and Lucia then went through each item；
one by one； and bickered over its place or lack thereof in the
uping fashion shoot that was to take place in Sedona；
Arizona。 Lucia was pushing for an “urban cowgirl chic” look；
which she thought would play out perfectly against a backdrop
of the red…rock mountains； but Miranda kept announcing snidely
that she’d prefer “just chic；” since “cowgirl chic” was
clearly an oxymoron。 Maybe she’d had her fill of “cowgirl
chic” at B…DAD’s brother’s party。 I managed to tune them out
until Miranda called my name； this time ordering me to call in
the accessories people for their run…through。
Immediately I checked Emily’s book again； but it was just as I
thought： there was no accessories run…through scheduled。
Praying that Emily had simply forgotten to put it in the book；
I called Stef and told her Miranda was ready for the Sedona
run…through。
No such luck。 They weren’t scheduled for their run…through
until late afternoon the following day； and at least a quarter
of the things they needed hadn’t been delivered yet from their
PR panies。
“Impossible。 Can’t do it；” announced Stef； sounding much less
confident than her words implied。
“Well； what the hell do you expect me to tell her？” I
whispered back。
“Tell her the truth： the run…through wasn’t supposed to take
place until tomorrow and a lot of the stuff isn’t here。 I
mean； seriously！ Right now we’re still waiting for one evening
bag； one clutch； three different fringed purses； four pairs of
shoes； two necklaces； three—”
“OK； OK； I’ll tell her。 But wait by the phone and pick up if I
call you back。 And if I were you； I’d get ready。 I’m betting
she doesn’t really care when it was scheduled for。”
Stef hung up on me without another word and I approached
Miranda’s doors and waited patiently for her to acknowledge
me。 When she looked in my general direction and waited； I
said； “Miranda； I just spoke with Stef and she said that since
the run…through wasn’t scheduled until tomorrow； they’re still
waiting for quite a few items。 But they should all be here
by—”
“Ahn…dre…ah； I simply cannot visualize how these models will
look in these clothes without shoes or bags or jewelry and by
tomorrow I’ll be in Italy。 Tell Stef I want her to give me a
run…through of whatever she’s got and be prepared to show me
photos of whatever isn’t here yet！” She turned back to Lucia
and together they returned to the racks。
Conveying this to Stef gave new meaning to “don’t shoot the
messenger。” She freaked。
“I cannot fucking pull a run…through together in thirty
seconds； do you understand me？ It’s fucking impossible！ Four
of my five assistants aren’t here； and the only one who is
here is a plete fucking idiot。 Andrea； what the fuck am I
going to do？” She was hysterical； but there wasn’t much room
for negotiation。
“OK； great then；” I said sweetly； eyeing Miranda； who had a
knack of hearing everything。 “I’ll tell Miranda you’ll be
right here。” I hung up before she dissolved into tears。
I wasn’t surprised to see Stef arrive two and a half minutes
later with her one fucking idiot accessories assistant； a
fashion assistant she’d borrowed； and James； also borrowed
from beauty； all looking terrified as they carried oversize
wicker baskets。 They stood cowering by my desk until Miranda
gave another imperceptible nod； at which point they all
shuffled forward for the genuflection exercises。 Since Miranda
obviously refused to leave her office—ever—she required that
all the overflowing racks of clothes and carts full of shoes
and baskets brimming over with accessories must be schlepped
to her。
When the acc