few　weeks—that　I　play　along。　It　seems　he　had　a　never…ending　supply
  of　annoying　tunes　that　he　loved　to　sing；　and　he　wouldn’t　let　me
  through　the　turnstiles　until　I　acted　them　out。　The　day　before　was
  “I’m　Too　Sexy。”　As　he　sang；“I’m　too　sexy　for　Milan；　too　sexy　for
  Milan；　New　York　and　Japan；”　I　had　to　walk　down　the　lobby’s　imaginary
  runway。　It　could　be　fun　when　I　was　in　a　decent　mood。　Sometimes　it
  even　made　me　smile。　But　it　was　my　very　first　day　with　Miranda；　and　I
  couldn’t　be　late　getting　her　things　set　up；　I　just　couldn’t。　I
  wanted　tohurt　him　for　holding　me　up　as　everyone　else　breezed　past
  the　security　desk　in　the　turnstiles　on　each　side　of　me。
  “If　they　don’t　give　me　proper　credit；　I　just　walk　away…ay；”I
  muttered；　allowing　the　words　to　stretch　and　fade；　just　like　Madonna。
  He　raised　his　eyebrows。　“Where’s　the　enthusiasm；　girlfriend？”
  I　thought　I’d　do　something　violent　if　I　heard　his　voice　again；　so　I
  dropped　my　bag　of　papers　on　the　counter；　threw　both　arms　up　in　the
  air　and　thrust　my　hips　to　the　left；　while　pursing　my　lips　into　a
  dramatic　pout。“A　material！　A　material！　A　material！　A　material　。　。　。
  WORLD！”　I　all　but　screamed；　and　he　cackled　and　clapped　andwhoosh　！
  He　buzzed　me　through。
  Mental　note：　Discuss　with　Eduardo　when　and　where　it　is　appropriate
  to　make　a　plete　ass　of　me。Once　again；　I　dove　onto　the　elevators
  and　raced　past　Sophy；　who　kindly　opened　the　doors　to　the　floor
  without　my　even　asking。　I　even　remembered　to　stop　in　one　of　the
  minikitchens　and　put　some　ice　in　one　of　the　Baccarat　goblets　we　kept
  in　a　special　cabinet　over　the　microwave　just　for　Miranda。　Glass　in
  one　hand；　newspapers　in　another；　I　peeled　around　the　corner　and
  smashed　directly　into　Jessica；　a。k。a。　Manicure　Girl。　She　looked　both
  annoyed　and　panic…stricken。
  “Andrea；　are　you　aware　that　Miranda　is　on　her　way　to　the　office？”
  she　asked；　looking　me　up　and　down。
  “Sure　am。　I’ve　got　her　newspapers　right　here　and　her　water　right
  here；　and　now　I　just　need　to　get　them　back　to　her　office。　If　you’ll
  excuse　me　。　。　。”
  “Andrea！”　she　called　as　I　ran　past　her；　an　ice　cube　flying　out　of
  the　glass　and　landing　outside　the　art　department。　“Remember　to
  change　your　shoes！”
  I　stopped　dead　in　my　tracks　and　looked　down。　I　was　wearing　a　pair　of
  funky　street　sneakers；　the　kind　that　weren’t　designed　to　do　anything
  but　look　cool。　The　rules　of　dress—unspoken　and　otherwise—were
  obviously　relaxed　when　Miranda　was　away；　and　even　though　every
  single　person　in　the　office　looked　fantastic；　each　was　wearing
  something　they　would　swear　up　and　down　that　they’d　never；　ever　wear
  in　front　of　Miranda。　My　bright　red；　mesh　sneakers　were　a　prime
  example。
  I　had　broken　a　sweat　by　the　time　I　made　it　back　to　our　suite。　“I’ve
  got　all　the　papers　and　I　bought　the　magazines；　too；　just　in　case。
  The　only　thing　is；　I　don’t　think　I　can　wear　these　shoes；　can　I？”
  Emily　tore　the　headset　from　her　ear　and　flung　it　down　on　her　desk。
  “No；　of　course　you　can’t　wear　those。”　She　picked　up　the　phone；
  dialed　four　digits；　and　announced；　“Jeffy；　bring　me　a　pair　of
  Jimmy’s　in　a　size　。　。　。”　She　looked　at　me。
  “Nine　and　a　half。”　I　pulled　a　small　bottle　of　Pellegrino　out　of　the
  closet　and　filled　the　glass。
  “Nine　and　a　half。　No；　now。　No；　Jeff；　I’m　serious。　Right　now。　Andrea
  is　wearingsneakers　for　chrissake；red　sneakers；　and　She’s　going　to　be
  here　any　minute。　OK；　thanks。”
  It　was　then　I　noticed　that　in　the　four　minutes　I’d　been　downstairs；
  Emily　had　managed　to　switch　her　faded　jeans　to　leather　pants　and　her
  own　funky　sneakers　to　open…toe　stilettos。　She’d　also　cleaned　up　the
  entire　office　suite；　sweeping　the　contents　of　both　our　desks　into
  drawers　and　stashing　all　of　the　ining　gifts　that　hadn’t　yet　been
  transferred　to　Miranda’s　apartment　in　the　closet。　She　had　slicked　on
  a　fresh　coat　of　lip　gloss　and　added　some　color　to　her　cheeks　and　was
  presently　motioning　for　me　to　get　moving。
  I　grabbed　the　bag　of　newspapers　and　shook　them　out　in　a　pile　on　the
  lightbox　in　her　office；　a　sort　of　underlit　table　where　Emily　said
  Miranda　would　stand　for　hours　on　end　and　examine　film　that　had　e
  in　from　photo　shoots。　But　it　was　also　where　she　liked　her　papers
  arranged；　and　once　again；　I　consulted　my　legal　pad　for　the　correct
  order。　First；　theNew　York　Times；　followed　by　theWall　Street　Journal；
  and　then　theWashington　Post　。　And　on　and　on　the　order　went　in　a
  pattern　I　couldn’t　distinguish；　each　placed　slightly　on　top　of　the
  one　before　it　until　they　fanned　out　across　the　table　in
  formation。Women’s　Wear　Daily　was　the　single　exception：　this　was　to
  be　placed　in　the　middle　of　her　desk。
  “She’s　here！　Andrea；　e　out　here！　She’s　on　her　way　up；”　I　heard
  Emily　hiss　from　the　outer　area。　“Uri　just　called　to　tell　me　he　just
  dropped　her　off。”
  I　putWWD　on　her　desk；　placed　the　Pellegrino　on　a　corner　of　her　desk
  on　a　linen　napkin　（which　side？　I　couldn’t　remember　which　side　it　was
  supposed　to　go　on）；　and　darted　from　the　office；　taking　one　last　look
  around　to　ensure　that　everything　was　in　order。　Jeffy；　one　of　the
  fashion　assistants　who　helped　organize　the　fashion　closet；　tossed　me
  a　shoe　box　with　a　rubber　band　around　it　and　bolted。　I　pulled　it　open
  immediately。　Inside　were　a　pair　of　Jimmy　Choo　heels　with　straps　made
  of　camel　hair　going　every　which　way　and　buckles　nestled　in　the
  middle　of　it　all；　probably　worth　around　eight　hundred　dollars。　Shit！
  I　had　to　get　these　on。　I　yanked　off　my　sneakers　and　my　now　sweaty
  socks　and　tossed　them　under　my　desk。　The　right　one　went　on　rather
  easily；　but　I　couldn’t　work　my　stubby　fingernail　to　free　the　buckle
  on　the　left　one　until—there！　I　pried　it　open　and　thrust　my　left　foot
  into　it；　watching　the　straps　bite　into　the　already　swollen　flesh。　In
  another　few　seconds　I　had　it　buckled　and　was　returning　to　an　upright
  sitting　position　just　as　Miranda　walked　in。
  Frozen。　I　was　absolutely　frozen　in　midmotion；　my　mind　working　fast
  enough　to　understand　how　ridiculous　I　must　look；　but　not　quite　fast
  enough　to　move。　She　noticed　me　immediately；　probably　because　she　was
  expecting　Emily　to　still　be　sitting　at　her　old　desk；　and　walked
  over。　She　leaned　on　the　counter　that　ran　over　my　desk；　leaned　over
  it　and　even　closer　to　me；　until　she　was　able　to　see　my　entire　body
  as　I　sat；　immobilized；　in　the　chair。　Her　bright　blue　eyes　moved　up
  and　down；　side　to　side；　all　over　my　white　button…down；　my　red
  corduroy　Gap　miniskirt；　my　now　buckled　camel…hair　Jimmy　Choo
  sandals。　I　felt　her　examine　every　inch　of　me；　skin　and　hair　and
  clothes；　her　eyes　moving　so　quickly　but　her　face　remaining　frozen。
  She　leaned　closer　still；　until　her　face　was　only　a　foot　from　mine
  and　I　could　smell　the　fantastic　aroma　of　salon　shampoo　and　expensive
  perfume；　so　close　that　I　could　see　the　very　fine　lines　around　her
  mouth　and　eyes　that　were　invisible　from　a　more　fortable　distance。
  But　I　couldn’t　look　too　long　at　her　face；　because　she　was　intently
  examining　mine。　There　wasn’t　the　slightest　indication　that　she
  recognized　that　a）　we　had；　in　fact；　met　before；　b）　I　was　her　new
  employee；　or　c）　I　was　not　Emily。
  “Hello；　Ms。　Priestly；”　I　squeaked　impulsively；　even　though　somewhere
  in　the　back　of　my　head　I　knew　that　she　hadn’t　uttered　a　word　yet。
  But　the　tension　was　unbearable；　and　I　couldn’t　help　but　barrel
  forward。　“I’m　so　excited　to　be　working　for　you。　Thank　you　so　much
  for　the　opportunity　to　。　。　。”Shut　up！　Just　shut　your　stupid　mouth！
  Talk　about　no　dignity。
  She　walked　away。　Finished　looking　me　up　and　down；　pushed　backward
  off　the　counter；　and　just　walked　away　while　I　was　stuttering
  mid…sentence。　I　could　feel　heat　ing　off　my　face；　a　flush　of
  confusion　and　pain　and　humiliation　all　wrapped　into　one；　and　it
  didn’t　help　that　I　could　feel　Emily　glaring　at　me。　I　pulled　my　hot
  face　upward　and　confirmed　that　Emily　was　indeed　glaring　at　me。
  “Is　the　Bulletin　updated？”　Miranda　asked　to　no　one　in　particular　as
  she　walked　into　her　office　and；　I　noticed　happily；　directly　to　the
  light　table　where　I’d　arranged　her　papers。
  “Yes；　Miranda。　Here　it　is；”　Emily　said　obsequiously；　racing　in
  behind　her　and　handing　her　the　clipboard　where　we　kept　all　of
  Miranda’s　messages　typed　as　they　e　in。
  I　sat　quietly；　watching　Miranda　move　deliberately　around　her　office
  in　the　picture　frames　that　hung　on　her　wall：　if　I　looked　at　the
  glass　instead　of　at　the　photos　themselves；　I　could　see　her
  reflection。　Emily　immediately　busied　herself　at　her　desk；　and
  silence　prevailed。Do　we　never　get　to　talk　to　each　other　or　anyone
  else　if　she’s　in　the　office？　I　wondered。　I