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Title: It’s All Relative (Chapter 20/Continuing)
Author: hawkbehere (hawkbehere@yahoo.com)
Rated: PG
Summary: Hawk meanders. Readers become restless, gather pitchforks and other implements of destruction. But wait! The beginning of the Sachs/Priestly family get-together!
Disclaimer: I have no rights in the DWP universe.
A/N. Hugs and kisses from my entire family to you, Martha, my dear. We all love you so much. As always, I thank my beta Mercurychkita. Any remaining errors are mine.
***
Although adjustment to life in the Priestly/Sachs household went swimmingly well, a month into the arrangement the girls learned a couple of stiff lessons about eavesdropping they never forgot. Indeed, these lessons made both rush past any conversation they weren’t supposed to hear for the rest of their lives.
Caroline had been doing a popcorn run for her and Cassidy’s movie, when she’d heard her mother and Andy talking softly to each other in the kitchen. She immediately slowed down, crept forward and leaned in just enough that she could see her mom and Andy, who were standing, arms wrapped around each other and kissing. Caroline rolled her eyes. She watched Andy pull away and chuckle as she said, “Someone needs to get to bed soon.”
Her mother said, “Absolutely. I can’t wait to be inside you, darling. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”
“Mmmmm. Sounds fantastic and I’ll be returning that favor—really hard.”
Caroline didn’t really understand what that meant but something about it made her think Eww! Except she immediately realized she’d said it. Out loud. Because her mom whipped her head around and sprang back from Andy like she’d been burned.
Caroline quailed at the look on her mother’s face, which had turned bright red. Andy’s had, too, for that matter and she felt her own face burning.
Andy looked at Miranda and could see the woman was as mortified as she was. But she knew that mortification and Miranda mixed together was a recipe for an anger that would be coolly stated but could be nearly abusive. Before Miranda could say a word, she put a gentle hand on her arm and turned her attention to Caroline.
Caroline had never seen her mom look so angry and had never seen Andy look angry, period. But Andy looked really, really mad now. Even Andy’s voice was weird and different. “I believe I’ve heard your mother tell you and Cassidy many times that eavesdropping is impolite.”
Caroline nodded.
“You’re not to say one word about the private conversation you just spied on us to overhear.”
“But I didn’t spy—not real—“
“You did. And you know you did. Don’t you dare make it worse by lying.”
Caroline started to tear up, but because she was her mother’s daughter, that made her angry. “So what? You were the ones who were talking about—“
“Not ONE MORE WORD.” Andy’s voice was shockingly loud. She strode toward Caroline and the girl backed up one step. “We don’t sneak around listening to you and Cassidy, do we?”
Caroline blinked.
“Do we?”
The girl’s voice was small. “No. I guess not.”
“You know not.”
Caroline looked at the floor and said, “I guess so.”
She felt Andy touch her shoulder and looked up to see the woman make the lightest movement of her head, that was clearly meant to reference her mom, “And I can bet I know what you’re thinking. I’m not your mother. You’re right. That’s why you’re getting off easy, Caroline. Don’t expect the same treatment next time. Tell Cassidy that we’d better not have to have this conversation again. Apologize to your mother.”
Caroline looked past Andy and said, “I’m sorry mom. I won’t do it again.”
Her mom’s mouth was a tight, white line and when she only nodded her response, Caroline knew that Andy was right. Her mom was really too angry to speak. She scurried out of the room.
Andy turned and tried to pull Miranda into a hug but she pulled away sharply, hissing, “Not here. Obviously.”
Andy didn’t relent, just backed Miranda into the counter and hugged her. “Yes here,” she whispered, “this is our home and we can hug anywhere we want.”
She felt Miranda’s arms tighten around her, “But she heard us—“
Andy laughed, “Talking about something she’d be happier off not having heard. So she’s squicked. Sorry, sweetie, and I know it’s harder for you because you’re her mom. But I’m just thinking tough shit for Caroline. We’re not doing anything wrong.”
Miranda looked into her eyes for a long moment and when Andy felt her relaxing into her arms, she said, “She’s not scarred for life, sweetie. Let’s just forget it.”
***
Easier said than done, Andy discovered when she’d rushed home early a few days later because Magdalena had had to leave early. As she walked toward the kitchen, she smiled as she heard the girls’ voices. Her smile disappeared when she heard Caroline saying “You think Andy does that to mom? That’s just disgusting!”
Cassidy answered, “I told you, Car—don’t use that word. But I…it’s weird, yeah.”
Andy walked into the kitchen and said, “What’s disgusting?”
Absurdly enough, Cassidy scrambled to grab a kitchen towel lying on the table and covered what they’d been looking at. Caroline, trying to regain her composure and the upper hand, scowled at Andy for one moment and said, “You were spying on us!”
Andy laughed. “I was not. I closed the front door as loudly as always and clomped down the hall just like normal but you guys were talking as loud as parrots. So—let’s hear it. What disgusting thing am I doing to your mom?”
Off the girls’ hesitation, Andy hinted, “I think it’s what’s under the towel.”
Neither of the girls moved or answered, so Andy removed the towel, only to see a book opened to a graphic illustration of cunnilingus. She slammed the towel back down and said, “OhmyGod!” She closed the book under the towel and then looked at the title, The Joy of Lesbian Sex.
“OhmyGod,” she said again, more breathlessly. “Where’d you get this?”
Caroline, who was still a bit pissed at Andy about being called on her eavesdropping days earlier, said, “What makes you think it’s not mom’s?”
One look into Caroline’s insolent eyes made Andy answer more frankly than, perhaps, she should have, “Because your mother doesn’t need a manual to know how to love me.”
All of them blushed at the same time and Andy reminded herself that she was the adult. She took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m not mad or anything. Promise. I just need to know where you got this.”
Cassidy kept her eyes on the table and said, “Ann Fisher has two moms and she brought it from her house because she saw you and mom in the tabloids and said we should look at it.”
“She did, huh?” Andy sank into a seat at the table, hating Ann Fisher. “She brought it to school?”
“Yeah. Ann said the book would explain stuff so we wouldn’t have to talk to mom about it.”
Andy rubbed her temples and realized she couldn’t even be angry with Miranda about not having the lesbian sex talk with her kids. Because how would she broach that topic? Miranda, of all people?
She sighed and said, “Okay. That totally makes sense. I understand.”
Cassidy looked up, “You do?”
“Yeah, sure. Who wants to talk to their mom about that stuff? You guys know how a man and woman can make a baby, right?”
“Duh,” Caroline said disdainfully, before continuing, haltingly, “but we didn’t know…what two girls do…or even why you’d want to do it.”
Andy scratched her head. “I know you’ve looked at this book and you’ve gotten a few ideas but I’m not going to talk about the specifics about anything your mom and me share. But don’t think it’s because it’s disgusting or gross or anything like that.”
She had the girls’ rapt attention, “It’s very special and very private. Just between your mom and me and a part of our relationship that will never be anyone’s business but ours. So I won’t talk about it and your mom won’t either. I can tell you that people have sex for many different reasons and that some of them aren’t healthy or good for them. We can talk about those things another time.”
Andy propped her head on one hand, “But sex between people who are really in love, like me and your mom, is a perfectly normal and beautiful way to express our love for one another. When you’re grown-ups and you fall in love, whether it’s with a man or a woman, you’ll know what I mean. Promise. Does that make sense?”
Both girls nodded.
“If you have more questions, you can always ask me or your mom. We’ll never get mad at you for asking. Really. And I know it’ll squick you, but I’ll probably talk to you more about sex stuff in the future. Just know it’s really totally normal to have questions about it, okay?”
Both girls nodded again, then Cassidy was brave enough to ask, glancing at the book under the towel, “Does mom have to know?”
“Sorry, but yep.”
“Aw, man!”
Andy smiled at Caroline, “I know. But there’s no way you’re taking that book back to school in a backpack—you’re lucky it wasn’t confiscated by one of your teachers.”
“Mom’s gonna be pissed.”
“Language, Caroline.”
“Oh please, Andy—you say worse every day.”
Andy huffed, because it was so true. “You’re right. I’ll work on that. Seriously, though, I’ll have to get your mom to call Ann Fisher’s mom.”
“But that’ll get Ann in trouble!”
“Cass? If one of your teachers found that book in school, it would get you all in a world of trouble, wouldn’t it?”
“I guess so.”
“Don’t worry—your mom will be cool about it.”
“How do you know?”
Andy smiled at Caroline and just said, “Because.”
As Andy left the room, Caroline said, “That was so embarrassing it sucked more than anything maybe ever.”
“I know, right? And we are so screwed,” Cassidy replied as she buried her face in her hands.
***
Miranda, once Andy had recounted the gist of the story and the woman had looked at the book in the privacy of their bedroom, was not really all that cool about it.
“My children were looking at this?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t believe the—what is that woman thinking leaving a book like this where her child could read it?”
“Maybe she’s one of those ultra-permissive moms who believe their kids should know and see everything from an early age.”
“Or a blathering fool, in other words.”
“I think you just need to call her and say you’ll be sending it back to her.”
“Oh, I will.”
Andy kissed Miranda’s cheek and said, “Be nice, honey. The kids meant no harm. And no harm was done. I took care of your sex talk for you—and that was no fun, believe me. Be nice for me.” Miranda glowered at her but, after a moment, pinched her cheek gently.
Andy listened to the ensuing conversation—not that she was eavesdropping, she snickered to herself, since Miranda was in plain sight and hearing.
After a few minutes, she was amused to hear Miranda say, “Oh, I assure you, I’m not ashamed of anything that goes on in my household. I’m merely saying that, as a parent, I feel quite strongly that my 11-year-old children should not be exposed to illustrations and descriptions of sexuality of any kind. I do understand your child was only trying to assist mine, no matter how misguided, and hope that she’ll suffer no punishment for what I’m sure was kindly intended on her part.” Miranda smirked when Andy winked at her. “I’ll send the book by messenger to your home. Yes. Thank you.”
***
The girls were waiting for their doom when Andy came down for dinner. Their mom could not have been more nonchalant as she appeared a few minutes after Andy had finished heating and serving the dinner Magdalena had left for them.
Cassidy ginned up the courage to ask, “Everything okay, Mom?”
Miranda smiled at Andy, then at her girls, “Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Andy winked at the girls.
The next day, the twins were amazed when Ann Fisher seemed friendly, untroubled and presented with all limbs attached. They’d already loved and trusted Andy but this was the day they began to realize they might have their first and only step-parent. As Stephen never had been. And Cecelia never would be. They both hugged Andy extra tight that evening before they went to bed.
***
Six weeks later, Serena walked into Miranda’s office completely unannounced, because the newest, incompetent Emily2 was manning the desk and Emily had probably taken off for the loo. Miranda looked up from a trade magazine and lifted an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Emily has suggested that you may need a new second assistant. I know a person who could do the job very well.”
Miranda removed her glasses and perused Serena’s slim perfection, as she always did. “Go on.”
“Her name is Martha Fonseca. She’s my second cousin.”
“Ah.”
“She’s Brazilian but fully documented. She’d do a superlative job and could interview tomorrow.”
Miranda waved her hand, “Then bring her in—HR will send her up, I’m sure.”
“No. They won’t.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because she’s not a Runway model.”
Miranda glared at Serena, pointedly, “Only a few people are.”
“Just so. She looks nothing like me or anyone here.”
Sensing an advantage, Miranda removed her glasses and relaxed into her chair, “And what’s in this arrangement for me?”
Serena knew any favor she asked of Miranda would come to this. “Besides getting a competent second assistant?”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll model for one—one—fashion spread.”
Miranda’s smile was that of a crocodile. “Very well.” She smiled at Serena’s expression, “Why the long face? I could make you a star.”
“I don’t want to be a star or a model. I want my cousin to have a job.”
“The latter impulse I understand. The former I don’t.”
“I’m sure you don’t. Ask Andy. Perhaps she could explain it to you.”
Miranda looked momentarily as if she’d just seen a tennis ball fly by her. A perfect ace. She nodded curtly. “Send your cousin to me. That’s all.”
Serena turned and smiled as she did so. Advantage, Serena.
***
Serena had told Emily she was bringing her cousin in for an interview but the Englishwoman could scarcely believe the person in front of her. Martha was nothing like anyone at Runway. Even Emily could admit she had a beautiful face and eyes but she was certainly far shorter and plumper than anyone she’d ever encountered at Runway—in fact in the entire Elias Clarke building.
Good Lord. What had Serena been thinking?
“Yes. Right. Martha is it?”
“Yes, Martha Fonseca.”
When Emily announced the woman, Miranda looked up and her eyes widened. Good Lord. What had Serena been thinking?
“Good morning, Miranda Priestly,” the woman said, stepping forward and placing her resume on the woman’s desk, “I am Martha Fonseca, your new second assistant.”
Miranda’s expression hardened, “That remains to be determined. What do you know about Runway?”
She looked at the resume as Martha rattled off a rather impressive exposition about the magazine, its history, and its present day numbers, including demographics, ad revenue and stock analysis.
Miranda looked her over and said as icily as she could, “And yet you have no sense of style. No knowledge of fashion.”
Martha was entirely unfazed. She looked down at her clothes and giggled, “No. I do not. I’m here to help you with the phones and run errands. I can do that. But if you need me to teach you about fashion, I’m sorry to say I can’t do that.”
Well.
That was unexpected. Miranda looked into Martha’s eyes and saw only kindness. They were warm and brown, so like Wanda’s and her Andy’s. She made a snap decision. The woman couldn’t possibly be worse than her current Emily2.
“Very well. Fire the current second assistant if you want a desk.”
“Thank you, Miranda.”
“That’s all.”
It took only two hours to question this decision.
Miranda called out Emily’s name and Emily shooed Martha in, hissing, “She means you—move it.”
After taking Miranda’s instructions, Martha said, “Very good. I have it all. And Miranda? My name is not Emily. It is Martha. It won’t be so hard for you to remember because it is like your name. They both start with an M and there’s an R in the middle and they both end in A. Martha! See? It’s so easy.” She beamed at Miranda and left the office.
Miranda resisted the urge to thump her head on the desk. She hadn’t hired another Wanda Castillo. She’d hired another Magdalena Vargas.
***
At that moment, the first Magdalena Vargas was finishing preparations for what she considered the Sachs’ family encroachment on her territory. She’d known they’d said they’d be coming sometime but, suddenly, that sometime had come. She’d made her peace with Andy’s moving in. There was, after all, nothing she could do about it and even she had to admit, to herself, that Miranda and the girls were happier.
Although they were happier and everything was going well, Miranda was nervous about this visit and was going to great pains to act as if she weren’t, which always meant everyone suffered. Magdalena had even found herself feeling sorry for Andy. It was one thing to have to deal with Miranda’s household demands but to have to spend her whole life with her, as well?
Ah ah ah, she thought to herself. One thing to feel sorry for Andy, but Miranda had brought the suddenness of this visit on herself—and all because of that one photo.
***
That photo.
It had started with Miranda’s asking Andy to attend a very high-profile charity event at MOMA, the first they’d officially attend as a couple. Although they’d kept their silence, those in the public who were interested and followed the tabloids knew exactly what was going on in the Priestly-Sachs household. Andy felt a thrill go through her when Miranda had invited her as they were readying themselves for bed.
Andy eyed her and asked, “You think we’re ready for that kind of exposure?”
Miranda shrugged and paused as she put toothpaste on her toothbrush, “We’re completely exposed already. Everyone knows we live together, go to dinner and the girls’ events together. We hold hands in the street. It’s the worst kept secret in Manhattan, Andrea.”
Andy wrapped her arms around Miranda as the woman brushed her teeth, resting her head on her back, “I’d love to go with you, sweetheart.”
She looking up and smiled at the sight of Miranda’s frothy smile reflected in the mirror.
“And honey, if I’m going with you? I’ll do the assistant thingy, okay? I’ll brush up on who everyone is and—“
“You don’t have to do that. I have a—“
“You have what? A harem? Why do you need two women when you have me?”
***
Nigel had been very…Nigel about it all. He’d been stunned by Miranda’s inviting Andy and even more stunned that she’d asked him to help dress the young woman for the event. “Alright Miranda,” he said coolly, without lifting a brow during a private late-night session in the Closet, “what is her dress supposed to say about the evening?”
“What is it supposed to say?” Miranda repeated. She hesitated and then reasserted herself. She knew exactly what he was talking about. “Why do you think the people in that room will imagine I’m living with this younger woman?”
He looked Andy over and said, “Indeed.”
She shrugged and smirked. “Why not a dress that fulfills their expectations?”
“Mmmm. If you think so.”
“I do.”
“So. An exhibition of pulchritude?”
“Bordering on it. Keep it tasteful.”
Andy looked from Miranda to Nigel and back again, “I’m in the room, too, you guys. And I don’t know if I like being on…display or making an appearance, like I’m just something to look at.”
Nigel turned to the racks of gowns and said as he flipped through them, “Yes, yes, yes. Display. Appearance. Where are we, again, Andy?”
Andy thought for a moment and said, with a much smaller voice, “The Closet at Runway.”
“Bingo. Didn’t you learn anything here? Fashion is always, always, always intentional. I believe Miranda’s intention is to show no shame in her choice of a partner and to throw it in their faces a bit.” He looked at Miranda, “Correct me if I’m wrong, of course.”
She nodded, “Just so, Nigel.”
Andy volleyed back, “Well I’m just saying—I don’t think I’m all that pulchritudinous.”
That got her got a twin ‘you egghead’ smirk from them. Andy slumped into a chair as she waited to find out what the Queen and Dauphin of international fashion would choose for her.
***
They made their choice and it was something, alright. Another vintage Valentino. As they readied themselves for the evening, Andy caught Miranda glancing both at her and her very prominently displayed décolletage. It wasn’t scandalous or vulgar but it was a display. As Miranda clasped a necklace Andy truly didn’t want to know the price of around her neck, she smiled. “You’re a vision, Andrea.”
Andy smiled. “I’m your vision.”
Miranda kissed her shoulder, “That you are, my love. But never imagine I don’t know the difference between the visions I create, and a vision that was ready-made and one I know I’m lucky to wake up with every day.”
Andy felt tears welling in her eyes.
Miranda patted her arm. “No no. None of that. The cardinal rule. No matter what, remember your mascara.”
Andy laughed. “Right. First thing’s first!”
“Absolutely.”
“Sweetheart, we haven’t exactly discussed how we’re presenting ourselves tonight and—“ This had been on Andy’s mind since the invitation and she’d gotten a change of subject every time she’d brought it up in the meantime.
“We’re presenting ourselves as ourselves, Andrea. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Andy nodded and said, hesitantly, “O…kay. But what does that mean?”
Miranda sniffed as she placed an earring in one ear, “For once, could you not just follow my lead?”
Andy’s mouth dropped open, “For once!? I can’t believe you just said that to me. I have been doing nothing but since I’ve known—“
Miranda waved a languorous hand, “Yes, yes. All that. Don’t you think I know you’ve been scheduling me—and the rest of my life, apparently,” she turned and scorched Andy with her eyes, “from the very minute we met?”
It was hard, Andy thought, when you were fair-skinned, to hide the fact that your lover had sort of just basically unzipped your zipper. She watched Miranda smirk as she added her other earring, eyeing the flush on her face and chest.
“I’ll say it again, Andrea. Incarnadine suits you.”
“You’re so in trouble later.”
“We’ll see.”
***
Andy was so nervous she felt like she was going to throw up in the car during the relatively short ride to MOMA. Only Miranda’s presence and Roy’s smiling face in the rearview kept her centered.
When they stepped out of the car, Miranda took her hand and smiled that fake bullshit smile Andy knew so well. But what wasn’t fake was the warmth of the woman’s hand in hers and the fact that she was making this very public declaration. So Andy smiled, as well.
She’d gotten used to the paparazzi in her time with Miranda, but this was almost blinding. What she’d never really gotten used to was watching Miranda during this sort of circus. The sobriquet Ice Queen did actually suit her. Miranda looked as if nothing about the surreal quality of the scene touched her at all and that it was merely her due. Of course it was. But Andy knew she could never feel that way. As if Miranda had read her mind, she squeezed Andy’s hand and glanced at her with real affection, triumph and pride. Andy stood up straighter and smiled, genuinely smiled, for the cameras.
***
After ten minutes spent in the party, Miranda whispered, “If I’d known your presence would have saved my having to actually talk to these people, I’d have brought you ten years ago.”
“If you’d brought me ten years ago, they’d have been gossiping about the fact I was fifteen.”
Miranda actually nearly choked on her champagne and laughed. “Touché, darling.”
As they moved through the room, people finally began to approach Miranda for the requisite fake air kiss and inconsequential talk.
The other guests accepted their introductions to Andy with varying degrees of aplomb. Andy didn’t actually get a sense of hostility from anyone, just a sense of not knowing how to act-ness about it all. Meeting Miranda Priestly’s female lover who was half her age—what was the etiquette for that?
She appreciated the efforts made. Everyone was perfectly cordial, but Andy knew, too well, these events were not held as a meeting of friends. Nearly every person in the room had some private or business stake in the success or destruction of the others. This was the water Miranda swam in—and it was perfectly natural to her. It was not natural to Andy. She felt her anxiety ebb and flow as she met people she knew despised Miranda or whom Miranda despised.
She was happy to be with Miranda, but parties like this were an obligation, not anything to take pleasure in.
Andy was taking a sip of champagne and thinking miserable thoughts when Miranda said, “Ah. Mavis.”
Andy looked and confirmed the face from the pictures she’d studied, “Mavis Devereaux.”
Miranda waved at her from across the room. “Yes. Look at her. Never worked a day in her life…well, let me amend that. Getting a ne’er do well multi-millionaire to marry her must have entailed some sort of labor. She’s a complete viper—and, besides you, the only true friend I have in this room.”
Andy was startled, “Really? You never mention her.”
“Of course not, darling. We realized immediately how much we liked each other and, being the sort of women we both are, knew only distance and never seeing each other could preserve that.”
As she watched Mavis make her way slowly through the room toward her, Miranda whispered, “Look at her. In full regalia. Her bust is like the prow of a battleship.”
“Stop it.”
“Is it not?”
“Well…maybe.”
“Make yourself scarce for a moment, darling, or she’ll embarrass you in some way. It’s a specialty of hers.”
Andy moved toward the bar and picked up a glass of champagne, watching Mavis and Miranda exchange cordial greetings.
***
After they warmly greeted each other, Mavis said, “I’m sorry I didn’t meet your…
“My…Andrea? Later perhaps.”
They glanced at each other, then at the crowd, both of them knowing that not a soul would be brave enough to approach them while they were together. “So, Miranda. A girl?”
“A woman. Yes.”
Mavis downed her glass of champagne and waved at a waiter for another as they continued to survey the room. “General consensus from the vultures? Not bad.”
“Not bad?”
“Don’t get your hackles up. We can all see she’s a ravishing beauty and I’m completely certain you meant for us to. I mean not bad, generally.” Mavis smiled at a passing guest even as she said, “Is this a passing thing?”
“No. It’s a permanent thing.”
Mavis smiled at the waiter who handed her a new glass of champagne. “Really? Then perhaps you’d better look into that.”
Miranda followed the wave of the woman’s hand and saw Andy talking to Christian Thompson.
***
Oh fuck, just what she needed, Andy thought. “Hi, Christian. How are you?” She smiled and quickly pulled out of the kiss he’d planted on her cheek, which he noticed.
“Very well, thanks.” He tapped his glass on hers, “Keeps you on a short leash, does she, Miranda Girl?”
Although he was smiling, his eyes weren’t all that kind and Andy realized his feelings were probably raw for a number of reasons. All of which he’d brought on himself, so fuck him, she thought as she looked at the malevolent gleam in his expression. She lay her hand on her necklace and made a point of feeling around her neck. “Mmmm. Nope. No leash.”
“Just a collar, then? It’s a really nice one.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Miranda’s voice surprised them both. “But it’s a beautiful necklace, not a collar. I’m surprised you don’t know the difference. Or perhaps you’re unfamiliar with the word, Christian?”
“Good evening, Miranda.”
“Until now, it has been, yes.”
Andy could feel the warmth of Miranda’s hand through the fabric of her dress and was a bit surprised. Although Miranda had touched Andy’s arm or kept her hand on the small of her back all evening, she hadn’t done this. Miranda’s hand, she realized, wasn’t…technically on her ass. It was on the side of her hip but low enough that the ass/hip boundary was probably two inches apart. It was on the hip side but this was a decidedly possessive touch, a sexually possessive touch.
Andy glanced at Miranda and lifted an eyebrow. “Wow. Hi there.”
Miranda smirked at her, “Hello, darling. I just came over to see if you needed a hand.” Andy burst into laughter and Miranda beamed at her. Christian had completely disappeared for both of them.
And this was the picture that hit The Post the next day—a laughing Andy and a smiling Miranda whose hand was firmly planted on her lover’s…hip.
***
The next day brought a stifled, “Oh. My. God.”
Serena looked up from her coffee. “What’s that, Em? Someone sank the Lusitania?”
“They are both trying to kill me. I swear it.”
Serena took the paper and looked at the photo, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Well, that’s technically her hip, isn’t it?”
“It’s her ass, Serena, and we both know it.”
“I think it’s her hip.”
“The PRESS thinks it’s her ass. That’s all that matters! I swear to God, when I see Miranda, I’m going to…” At this point Emily sputtered to a stop.
Serena smiled as she sipped her coffee, “Yes, English. Tell me what you’re going to do to Miranda.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed because she had no real answer. She finally said, “Fuck you.”
“Okay. If you must.”
“I don’t know why I put up with you.”
Serena stood and hugged Emily, “Because I remind you to take deep breaths, darling. Everything will be fine. But does that other offer stand?”
Emily laughed.
***
At about the same time Wanda and Carlo were looking at The Post in consternation as Juan Carlo trudged into the kitchen to join them. With a child’s typical prescience about parents, he immediately asked, “Is something wrong?”
“No, son. Nothing.”
Juan Carlo saw the paper on the table and he knew. “Something about Ms. Miranda and Andy?”
They nodded and pushed the paper toward him. He looked at the picture and the headline and his eyes filled with tears.
Before his parents could say anything, he waved at the paper and explained, “This is stupid and I know it. But Caroline and Cassidy? The other kids say very bad things to them at our school.” He wiped his eyes and gave them a watery smile, “It only means they will make fun of us and no one will eat lunch with us for a few days. It will blow over. It always does,” he said, parroting the Priestly twins’ explanation of life in the media.
Carlo touched his son and said, “This doesn’t have to be your battle, Juan Carlo.”
“Yes it does. They’re my friends. I go where they go, isn’t that right, papi?”
Carlo tousled his son’s hair as he looked into his wife’s eyes and said, “Absolutely.” Evidently they were doing something right with the boy.
***
“Oh for God’s sake.” Caroline tossed the paper to Cassidy and poured herself a half-cup of coffee. That was all her mom would allow her and only rarely. She decided she deserved it as she topped it off with milk.
Cassidy snickered at the picture and said, “Pour me some too. Mom will have a hard time blaming us for coffee after this.”
“After what?”
That their mother was a force of nature who seemed to be able to put out a force field of ‘Here I Come’ was something that was a fact of life. That she could go into almost stealth mode and just appear they’d never quite adjusted to.
And here she was.
Caroline handed Cassidy her coffee and shoved The Post toward their mother. “Good morning!”
Miranda looked at the picture and the headline, “Priestly Keeps a Hand on the Assets.”
She took a deep breath before Andy also materialized and looked at what held Miranda’s attention.
“Holy shit!”
“Language, Andy,” Caroline said somewhat gleefully.
“Okay. You’re right. Sorry, Car.”
Andy read the story, which was purple prose. Geesh. “Well! So that’s what’s on the menu today.”
“This week—or until the press lets it go.” Miranda replied.
Andy kissed Miranda on the side of the head and said, “For the record, girls, she was touching my hip—not my asset.”
***
Andy’s mother did not think it was Andy’s hip and was nearly apoplectic. Richard talked her down from the ledge of making a call right away but soon she mustered on. “She’s making Andy look cheap!”
“How’s that?”
“Her touching her that way.”
“The way one lover touches another. Audrey, you really haven’t faced the fact they’re lovers.”
“I’ve faced it—I don’t like it.”
“Why? Exactly? You’re not homophobic and I know it.”
Audrey paused and said, after some thought, “This can’t be real—she’s twice our daughter’s age and wealthy and just using Andy for…entertainment or something.”
“Then let’s visit them and see.”
“Fine—you set it up.”
Which was how Andy found herself on the phone with her father arranging a visit she really didn’t want.
***
Miranda was firing off instructions to Martha the first Monday after ‘the photo.’ The young woman had turned out to be marvelously adept at her job and she scribbled and nodded, as usual.
“That’s all.”
“Oh! I forgot to tell you something.”
Miranda waited.
Martha looked down at her own body and giggled, “I don’t have such a slender waist, but Miranda? If you put your hand up here,” Martha demonstrated mid-waist—“and not here.” She placed her hand on her hip, “People don’t get the wrong idea. See? It’s so easy.” She smiled beatifically, turned and left.
Miranda blinked her eyes and drummed her fingers on her desk. Alright. If that’s how fate was going to treat her? Fine.
“Emily? And my Emily, for God’s sake.”
Emily always shuddered a bit at Miranda’s using a possessive anywhere near her name but rushed into the office.
“Give Martha the key. She can bring the book. Try to explain she’s not to march around the premises giving orders. If you can."
***
The night before the visit, Cassidy quietly approached Andy in her mother’s study, where she was finishing a story.
“Andy?”
“Yeah Cass?”
“Is your family going to like us?”
“Of course, honey. Why would you ask?”
“No. Look at me—are they going to like us?”
Andy looked into Cassidy’s somber eyes and understood the question, “You mean are they going to like your mom?”
Cassidy nodded.
“Honestly? I don’t know.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“But Cassidy? You know what? I don’t care. I love your mother and you and Caroline and Patricia and you’re my family so I don’t care. Whatever they think or feel or say isn’t going to change that.”
Cassidy scowled and Andy could see she was trying not to cry. “You promise?”
Andy pulled the girl into her arms, “I will never leave you guys. Never.”
Cassidy sniffed as she pulled away and said, stiffly, “That’s good I guess.”
Andy grinned at her. The girl was just like her mother.
***
Andy wondered whether there was any hotter place in hell than in LaGuardia airport waiting for her family. As she waited, she felt a sheen of flop sweat because she was really conflicted about the limo that Miranda had demanded she and Roy take to the airport. Miranda had waved a hand and said, “How else to fit five people in a car?”
“I can ride in the front with Roy.”
“Nonsense. It’s not done.”
Of course it was done, Andy thought, outside of Miranda’s world. But the woman’s money made these things possible. Miranda was adamant that Andy consider their joint resources completely equal and had added the younger woman to every account she had. Andy found herself still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she was now, for all intents and purposes, a wealthy woman. Who had a limo and driver at her disposal. Which was both true and weird.
She bit her lower lip. So much had changed. When she’d worked at Runway, she’d always toned down her clothing when she went home, because she hadn’t wanted to seem like a clacker. Now? At home, she schlubbed around and Miranda sniffed occasionally, to Andy’s delight, but the woman put up with it. In public, unless she were going somewhere that demanded the informal, Andy always dressed for her woman and had decided not to be ashamed of that. She looked sexily fierce today, and knew it.
When her family approached, looking for her, she was holding a sign that said, “Sachs?”
Sam was the first to see her and rushed to hug her, picking her up off the ground. He shook her playfully, “Who are you? What have you done with my sister?”
She kissed his cheek and said, “You’re such a goofball, Sammy.”
He released her and replied, “I know, but you look fucking HOT. And you’re my sister—that ‘s really not fair.”
“Perv. I’m testing you, baby boy.”
He grinned at her, “Okay. Fine. Incest provoked but thwarted!”
She bumped foreheads with him happily as their parents joined them.
Andy hugged her parents and watched as her mother assessed her, “You look…different, Andy.”
Andy laughed, “Of course I do. I live with the woman who dresses the world. She dresses me, too.”
“Really? Does that mean she makes you wear what she wants?”
Andy blinked. Okay. Bound to happen. “No. She loves me in whatever I’m wearing. It means I like dressing to please my sweetheart. And let’s face it—I look great so no problem, right?”
Her father hastily assented, “You really do.”
“Thanks, Dad. Roy’s waiting on us.”
“Who’s Roy?”
“Our driver.”
Sam smirked before their mother said, “You have a driver?”
Andy decided not to take the bait. “Of course we do. This is New York. A driver, a car, a cab or the subway. We can afford a driver.”
Audrey replied, coldly, “She has enough money for a driver.”
“We have enough, Mom. You’ll have to get used to that. This is entirely ‘we’ from now on.”
They stepped out of the airport to find Roy, who winked at Andy as she introduced them but loaded their bags without comment.
As they piled into it, Andy could see her parents were a bit nonplussed and that Sam was totally loving it. Lucky bastard. She wasn’t. She sort of wanted to evaporate. They were heading straight for lunch with Miranda at Nobu, because it was cool but not as ostentatious as the older woman might have sprung for, given her own devices.
On the way to the restaurant, Miranda called to apologize, saying she’d be ten minutes late, which made Andy’s heart ache a bit. Miranda must be horrifically nervous if she was apologizing for being late.
When they arrived the host hastened to greet her and air kissed her cheeks, “Andy, it’s been too long.”
She smiled and said, “I agree. These are my parents and my brother.”
He led them to the best table in the house and said, “We’re delighted to have you, Andy. You and your family.
“Miranda should be here any time.”
He almost bowed. “Of course.”
The server, Charles, approached them immediately, gave them their menus and asked for drink orders.
Because Andy knew her family, she said, “Charles, we’d all love water with lemon but do you remember that sake that Miranda loved so much the last time we were here?”
“The Daiginjo?”
“I think so.”
“I know so.”
Andy smiled, “I think we’d enjoy that.”
As they perused the menu, she said, “We should all have the Chef’s Choice—that’s always fantastic.”
Sam looked and snickered, “But dude, that’s so mad expensive.”
Andy grinned at him, “You’re not paying for it. My treat.”
Her mother sniped, “She’s paying for it,” even as Richard covered her hand and said, “Audrey, please.”
Andy counted to five before responding quietly, “Mom? I am in a committed relationship with a woman who shares everything with me. I can afford this. I have joint access to her bank accounts and we have joint credit cards. I really hoped you’d come to see how happy I am, not to judge my family.”
Audrey took a deep breath, feeling her husband’s warm hand on hers. “Of course, I’m sorry.”
Sam tried to break the tension, “So, Andronicus Rex, do we need to keep an eye out for Miranda?”
“Nope,” she said, looking at the menu. “You’ll know the minute she walks in.”
“How’s that?”
“The barometric pressure in the room will change.”
Sam looked at her for a few seconds and said, “You’re serious aren’t you?”
“Oh yeah. Watch. You’ll feel it.”
And sure enough, Sam did feel it. Something in the room changed, really changed. The volume of noise in the restaurant dropped audibly. Sam looked at Andy as she smiled and leapt to her feet. She’d been asleep when Miranda had kissed her before leaving for a very early meeting. But she wasn’t surprised to see that Miranda had changed the setting on her fashion phaser from stun to kill. Miranda looked ferociously hot and every eye in the room was on her as she walked toward the table.
TBC very, very soon.
Author: hawkbehere (hawkbehere@yahoo.com)
Rated: PG
Summary: Hawk meanders. Readers become restless, gather pitchforks and other implements of destruction. But wait! The beginning of the Sachs/Priestly family get-together!
Disclaimer: I have no rights in the DWP universe.
A/N. Hugs and kisses from my entire family to you, Martha, my dear. We all love you so much. As always, I thank my beta Mercurychkita. Any remaining errors are mine.
***
Although adjustment to life in the Priestly/Sachs household went swimmingly well, a month into the arrangement the girls learned a couple of stiff lessons about eavesdropping they never forgot. Indeed, these lessons made both rush past any conversation they weren’t supposed to hear for the rest of their lives.
Caroline had been doing a popcorn run for her and Cassidy’s movie, when she’d heard her mother and Andy talking softly to each other in the kitchen. She immediately slowed down, crept forward and leaned in just enough that she could see her mom and Andy, who were standing, arms wrapped around each other and kissing. Caroline rolled her eyes. She watched Andy pull away and chuckle as she said, “Someone needs to get to bed soon.”
Her mother said, “Absolutely. I can’t wait to be inside you, darling. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”
“Mmmmm. Sounds fantastic and I’ll be returning that favor—really hard.”
Caroline didn’t really understand what that meant but something about it made her think Eww! Except she immediately realized she’d said it. Out loud. Because her mom whipped her head around and sprang back from Andy like she’d been burned.
Caroline quailed at the look on her mother’s face, which had turned bright red. Andy’s had, too, for that matter and she felt her own face burning.
Andy looked at Miranda and could see the woman was as mortified as she was. But she knew that mortification and Miranda mixed together was a recipe for an anger that would be coolly stated but could be nearly abusive. Before Miranda could say a word, she put a gentle hand on her arm and turned her attention to Caroline.
Caroline had never seen her mom look so angry and had never seen Andy look angry, period. But Andy looked really, really mad now. Even Andy’s voice was weird and different. “I believe I’ve heard your mother tell you and Cassidy many times that eavesdropping is impolite.”
Caroline nodded.
“You’re not to say one word about the private conversation you just spied on us to overhear.”
“But I didn’t spy—not real—“
“You did. And you know you did. Don’t you dare make it worse by lying.”
Caroline started to tear up, but because she was her mother’s daughter, that made her angry. “So what? You were the ones who were talking about—“
“Not ONE MORE WORD.” Andy’s voice was shockingly loud. She strode toward Caroline and the girl backed up one step. “We don’t sneak around listening to you and Cassidy, do we?”
Caroline blinked.
“Do we?”
The girl’s voice was small. “No. I guess not.”
“You know not.”
Caroline looked at the floor and said, “I guess so.”
She felt Andy touch her shoulder and looked up to see the woman make the lightest movement of her head, that was clearly meant to reference her mom, “And I can bet I know what you’re thinking. I’m not your mother. You’re right. That’s why you’re getting off easy, Caroline. Don’t expect the same treatment next time. Tell Cassidy that we’d better not have to have this conversation again. Apologize to your mother.”
Caroline looked past Andy and said, “I’m sorry mom. I won’t do it again.”
Her mom’s mouth was a tight, white line and when she only nodded her response, Caroline knew that Andy was right. Her mom was really too angry to speak. She scurried out of the room.
Andy turned and tried to pull Miranda into a hug but she pulled away sharply, hissing, “Not here. Obviously.”
Andy didn’t relent, just backed Miranda into the counter and hugged her. “Yes here,” she whispered, “this is our home and we can hug anywhere we want.”
She felt Miranda’s arms tighten around her, “But she heard us—“
Andy laughed, “Talking about something she’d be happier off not having heard. So she’s squicked. Sorry, sweetie, and I know it’s harder for you because you’re her mom. But I’m just thinking tough shit for Caroline. We’re not doing anything wrong.”
Miranda looked into her eyes for a long moment and when Andy felt her relaxing into her arms, she said, “She’s not scarred for life, sweetie. Let’s just forget it.”
***
Easier said than done, Andy discovered when she’d rushed home early a few days later because Magdalena had had to leave early. As she walked toward the kitchen, she smiled as she heard the girls’ voices. Her smile disappeared when she heard Caroline saying “You think Andy does that to mom? That’s just disgusting!”
Cassidy answered, “I told you, Car—don’t use that word. But I…it’s weird, yeah.”
Andy walked into the kitchen and said, “What’s disgusting?”
Absurdly enough, Cassidy scrambled to grab a kitchen towel lying on the table and covered what they’d been looking at. Caroline, trying to regain her composure and the upper hand, scowled at Andy for one moment and said, “You were spying on us!”
Andy laughed. “I was not. I closed the front door as loudly as always and clomped down the hall just like normal but you guys were talking as loud as parrots. So—let’s hear it. What disgusting thing am I doing to your mom?”
Off the girls’ hesitation, Andy hinted, “I think it’s what’s under the towel.”
Neither of the girls moved or answered, so Andy removed the towel, only to see a book opened to a graphic illustration of cunnilingus. She slammed the towel back down and said, “OhmyGod!” She closed the book under the towel and then looked at the title, The Joy of Lesbian Sex.
“OhmyGod,” she said again, more breathlessly. “Where’d you get this?”
Caroline, who was still a bit pissed at Andy about being called on her eavesdropping days earlier, said, “What makes you think it’s not mom’s?”
One look into Caroline’s insolent eyes made Andy answer more frankly than, perhaps, she should have, “Because your mother doesn’t need a manual to know how to love me.”
All of them blushed at the same time and Andy reminded herself that she was the adult. She took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m not mad or anything. Promise. I just need to know where you got this.”
Cassidy kept her eyes on the table and said, “Ann Fisher has two moms and she brought it from her house because she saw you and mom in the tabloids and said we should look at it.”
“She did, huh?” Andy sank into a seat at the table, hating Ann Fisher. “She brought it to school?”
“Yeah. Ann said the book would explain stuff so we wouldn’t have to talk to mom about it.”
Andy rubbed her temples and realized she couldn’t even be angry with Miranda about not having the lesbian sex talk with her kids. Because how would she broach that topic? Miranda, of all people?
She sighed and said, “Okay. That totally makes sense. I understand.”
Cassidy looked up, “You do?”
“Yeah, sure. Who wants to talk to their mom about that stuff? You guys know how a man and woman can make a baby, right?”
“Duh,” Caroline said disdainfully, before continuing, haltingly, “but we didn’t know…what two girls do…or even why you’d want to do it.”
Andy scratched her head. “I know you’ve looked at this book and you’ve gotten a few ideas but I’m not going to talk about the specifics about anything your mom and me share. But don’t think it’s because it’s disgusting or gross or anything like that.”
She had the girls’ rapt attention, “It’s very special and very private. Just between your mom and me and a part of our relationship that will never be anyone’s business but ours. So I won’t talk about it and your mom won’t either. I can tell you that people have sex for many different reasons and that some of them aren’t healthy or good for them. We can talk about those things another time.”
Andy propped her head on one hand, “But sex between people who are really in love, like me and your mom, is a perfectly normal and beautiful way to express our love for one another. When you’re grown-ups and you fall in love, whether it’s with a man or a woman, you’ll know what I mean. Promise. Does that make sense?”
Both girls nodded.
“If you have more questions, you can always ask me or your mom. We’ll never get mad at you for asking. Really. And I know it’ll squick you, but I’ll probably talk to you more about sex stuff in the future. Just know it’s really totally normal to have questions about it, okay?”
Both girls nodded again, then Cassidy was brave enough to ask, glancing at the book under the towel, “Does mom have to know?”
“Sorry, but yep.”
“Aw, man!”
Andy smiled at Caroline, “I know. But there’s no way you’re taking that book back to school in a backpack—you’re lucky it wasn’t confiscated by one of your teachers.”
“Mom’s gonna be pissed.”
“Language, Caroline.”
“Oh please, Andy—you say worse every day.”
Andy huffed, because it was so true. “You’re right. I’ll work on that. Seriously, though, I’ll have to get your mom to call Ann Fisher’s mom.”
“But that’ll get Ann in trouble!”
“Cass? If one of your teachers found that book in school, it would get you all in a world of trouble, wouldn’t it?”
“I guess so.”
“Don’t worry—your mom will be cool about it.”
“How do you know?”
Andy smiled at Caroline and just said, “Because.”
As Andy left the room, Caroline said, “That was so embarrassing it sucked more than anything maybe ever.”
“I know, right? And we are so screwed,” Cassidy replied as she buried her face in her hands.
***
Miranda, once Andy had recounted the gist of the story and the woman had looked at the book in the privacy of their bedroom, was not really all that cool about it.
“My children were looking at this?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t believe the—what is that woman thinking leaving a book like this where her child could read it?”
“Maybe she’s one of those ultra-permissive moms who believe their kids should know and see everything from an early age.”
“Or a blathering fool, in other words.”
“I think you just need to call her and say you’ll be sending it back to her.”
“Oh, I will.”
Andy kissed Miranda’s cheek and said, “Be nice, honey. The kids meant no harm. And no harm was done. I took care of your sex talk for you—and that was no fun, believe me. Be nice for me.” Miranda glowered at her but, after a moment, pinched her cheek gently.
Andy listened to the ensuing conversation—not that she was eavesdropping, she snickered to herself, since Miranda was in plain sight and hearing.
After a few minutes, she was amused to hear Miranda say, “Oh, I assure you, I’m not ashamed of anything that goes on in my household. I’m merely saying that, as a parent, I feel quite strongly that my 11-year-old children should not be exposed to illustrations and descriptions of sexuality of any kind. I do understand your child was only trying to assist mine, no matter how misguided, and hope that she’ll suffer no punishment for what I’m sure was kindly intended on her part.” Miranda smirked when Andy winked at her. “I’ll send the book by messenger to your home. Yes. Thank you.”
***
The girls were waiting for their doom when Andy came down for dinner. Their mom could not have been more nonchalant as she appeared a few minutes after Andy had finished heating and serving the dinner Magdalena had left for them.
Cassidy ginned up the courage to ask, “Everything okay, Mom?”
Miranda smiled at Andy, then at her girls, “Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Andy winked at the girls.
The next day, the twins were amazed when Ann Fisher seemed friendly, untroubled and presented with all limbs attached. They’d already loved and trusted Andy but this was the day they began to realize they might have their first and only step-parent. As Stephen never had been. And Cecelia never would be. They both hugged Andy extra tight that evening before they went to bed.
***
Six weeks later, Serena walked into Miranda’s office completely unannounced, because the newest, incompetent Emily2 was manning the desk and Emily had probably taken off for the loo. Miranda looked up from a trade magazine and lifted an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Emily has suggested that you may need a new second assistant. I know a person who could do the job very well.”
Miranda removed her glasses and perused Serena’s slim perfection, as she always did. “Go on.”
“Her name is Martha Fonseca. She’s my second cousin.”
“Ah.”
“She’s Brazilian but fully documented. She’d do a superlative job and could interview tomorrow.”
Miranda waved her hand, “Then bring her in—HR will send her up, I’m sure.”
“No. They won’t.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because she’s not a Runway model.”
Miranda glared at Serena, pointedly, “Only a few people are.”
“Just so. She looks nothing like me or anyone here.”
Sensing an advantage, Miranda removed her glasses and relaxed into her chair, “And what’s in this arrangement for me?”
Serena knew any favor she asked of Miranda would come to this. “Besides getting a competent second assistant?”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll model for one—one—fashion spread.”
Miranda’s smile was that of a crocodile. “Very well.” She smiled at Serena’s expression, “Why the long face? I could make you a star.”
“I don’t want to be a star or a model. I want my cousin to have a job.”
“The latter impulse I understand. The former I don’t.”
“I’m sure you don’t. Ask Andy. Perhaps she could explain it to you.”
Miranda looked momentarily as if she’d just seen a tennis ball fly by her. A perfect ace. She nodded curtly. “Send your cousin to me. That’s all.”
Serena turned and smiled as she did so. Advantage, Serena.
***
Serena had told Emily she was bringing her cousin in for an interview but the Englishwoman could scarcely believe the person in front of her. Martha was nothing like anyone at Runway. Even Emily could admit she had a beautiful face and eyes but she was certainly far shorter and plumper than anyone she’d ever encountered at Runway—in fact in the entire Elias Clarke building.
Good Lord. What had Serena been thinking?
“Yes. Right. Martha is it?”
“Yes, Martha Fonseca.”
When Emily announced the woman, Miranda looked up and her eyes widened. Good Lord. What had Serena been thinking?
“Good morning, Miranda Priestly,” the woman said, stepping forward and placing her resume on the woman’s desk, “I am Martha Fonseca, your new second assistant.”
Miranda’s expression hardened, “That remains to be determined. What do you know about Runway?”
She looked at the resume as Martha rattled off a rather impressive exposition about the magazine, its history, and its present day numbers, including demographics, ad revenue and stock analysis.
Miranda looked her over and said as icily as she could, “And yet you have no sense of style. No knowledge of fashion.”
Martha was entirely unfazed. She looked down at her clothes and giggled, “No. I do not. I’m here to help you with the phones and run errands. I can do that. But if you need me to teach you about fashion, I’m sorry to say I can’t do that.”
Well.
That was unexpected. Miranda looked into Martha’s eyes and saw only kindness. They were warm and brown, so like Wanda’s and her Andy’s. She made a snap decision. The woman couldn’t possibly be worse than her current Emily2.
“Very well. Fire the current second assistant if you want a desk.”
“Thank you, Miranda.”
“That’s all.”
It took only two hours to question this decision.
Miranda called out Emily’s name and Emily shooed Martha in, hissing, “She means you—move it.”
After taking Miranda’s instructions, Martha said, “Very good. I have it all. And Miranda? My name is not Emily. It is Martha. It won’t be so hard for you to remember because it is like your name. They both start with an M and there’s an R in the middle and they both end in A. Martha! See? It’s so easy.” She beamed at Miranda and left the office.
Miranda resisted the urge to thump her head on the desk. She hadn’t hired another Wanda Castillo. She’d hired another Magdalena Vargas.
***
At that moment, the first Magdalena Vargas was finishing preparations for what she considered the Sachs’ family encroachment on her territory. She’d known they’d said they’d be coming sometime but, suddenly, that sometime had come. She’d made her peace with Andy’s moving in. There was, after all, nothing she could do about it and even she had to admit, to herself, that Miranda and the girls were happier.
Although they were happier and everything was going well, Miranda was nervous about this visit and was going to great pains to act as if she weren’t, which always meant everyone suffered. Magdalena had even found herself feeling sorry for Andy. It was one thing to have to deal with Miranda’s household demands but to have to spend her whole life with her, as well?
Ah ah ah, she thought to herself. One thing to feel sorry for Andy, but Miranda had brought the suddenness of this visit on herself—and all because of that one photo.
***
That photo.
It had started with Miranda’s asking Andy to attend a very high-profile charity event at MOMA, the first they’d officially attend as a couple. Although they’d kept their silence, those in the public who were interested and followed the tabloids knew exactly what was going on in the Priestly-Sachs household. Andy felt a thrill go through her when Miranda had invited her as they were readying themselves for bed.
Andy eyed her and asked, “You think we’re ready for that kind of exposure?”
Miranda shrugged and paused as she put toothpaste on her toothbrush, “We’re completely exposed already. Everyone knows we live together, go to dinner and the girls’ events together. We hold hands in the street. It’s the worst kept secret in Manhattan, Andrea.”
Andy wrapped her arms around Miranda as the woman brushed her teeth, resting her head on her back, “I’d love to go with you, sweetheart.”
She looking up and smiled at the sight of Miranda’s frothy smile reflected in the mirror.
“And honey, if I’m going with you? I’ll do the assistant thingy, okay? I’ll brush up on who everyone is and—“
“You don’t have to do that. I have a—“
“You have what? A harem? Why do you need two women when you have me?”
***
Nigel had been very…Nigel about it all. He’d been stunned by Miranda’s inviting Andy and even more stunned that she’d asked him to help dress the young woman for the event. “Alright Miranda,” he said coolly, without lifting a brow during a private late-night session in the Closet, “what is her dress supposed to say about the evening?”
“What is it supposed to say?” Miranda repeated. She hesitated and then reasserted herself. She knew exactly what he was talking about. “Why do you think the people in that room will imagine I’m living with this younger woman?”
He looked Andy over and said, “Indeed.”
She shrugged and smirked. “Why not a dress that fulfills their expectations?”
“Mmmm. If you think so.”
“I do.”
“So. An exhibition of pulchritude?”
“Bordering on it. Keep it tasteful.”
Andy looked from Miranda to Nigel and back again, “I’m in the room, too, you guys. And I don’t know if I like being on…display or making an appearance, like I’m just something to look at.”
Nigel turned to the racks of gowns and said as he flipped through them, “Yes, yes, yes. Display. Appearance. Where are we, again, Andy?”
Andy thought for a moment and said, with a much smaller voice, “The Closet at Runway.”
“Bingo. Didn’t you learn anything here? Fashion is always, always, always intentional. I believe Miranda’s intention is to show no shame in her choice of a partner and to throw it in their faces a bit.” He looked at Miranda, “Correct me if I’m wrong, of course.”
She nodded, “Just so, Nigel.”
Andy volleyed back, “Well I’m just saying—I don’t think I’m all that pulchritudinous.”
That got her got a twin ‘you egghead’ smirk from them. Andy slumped into a chair as she waited to find out what the Queen and Dauphin of international fashion would choose for her.
***
They made their choice and it was something, alright. Another vintage Valentino. As they readied themselves for the evening, Andy caught Miranda glancing both at her and her very prominently displayed décolletage. It wasn’t scandalous or vulgar but it was a display. As Miranda clasped a necklace Andy truly didn’t want to know the price of around her neck, she smiled. “You’re a vision, Andrea.”
Andy smiled. “I’m your vision.”
Miranda kissed her shoulder, “That you are, my love. But never imagine I don’t know the difference between the visions I create, and a vision that was ready-made and one I know I’m lucky to wake up with every day.”
Andy felt tears welling in her eyes.
Miranda patted her arm. “No no. None of that. The cardinal rule. No matter what, remember your mascara.”
Andy laughed. “Right. First thing’s first!”
“Absolutely.”
“Sweetheart, we haven’t exactly discussed how we’re presenting ourselves tonight and—“ This had been on Andy’s mind since the invitation and she’d gotten a change of subject every time she’d brought it up in the meantime.
“We’re presenting ourselves as ourselves, Andrea. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Andy nodded and said, hesitantly, “O…kay. But what does that mean?”
Miranda sniffed as she placed an earring in one ear, “For once, could you not just follow my lead?”
Andy’s mouth dropped open, “For once!? I can’t believe you just said that to me. I have been doing nothing but since I’ve known—“
Miranda waved a languorous hand, “Yes, yes. All that. Don’t you think I know you’ve been scheduling me—and the rest of my life, apparently,” she turned and scorched Andy with her eyes, “from the very minute we met?”
It was hard, Andy thought, when you were fair-skinned, to hide the fact that your lover had sort of just basically unzipped your zipper. She watched Miranda smirk as she added her other earring, eyeing the flush on her face and chest.
“I’ll say it again, Andrea. Incarnadine suits you.”
“You’re so in trouble later.”
“We’ll see.”
***
Andy was so nervous she felt like she was going to throw up in the car during the relatively short ride to MOMA. Only Miranda’s presence and Roy’s smiling face in the rearview kept her centered.
When they stepped out of the car, Miranda took her hand and smiled that fake bullshit smile Andy knew so well. But what wasn’t fake was the warmth of the woman’s hand in hers and the fact that she was making this very public declaration. So Andy smiled, as well.
She’d gotten used to the paparazzi in her time with Miranda, but this was almost blinding. What she’d never really gotten used to was watching Miranda during this sort of circus. The sobriquet Ice Queen did actually suit her. Miranda looked as if nothing about the surreal quality of the scene touched her at all and that it was merely her due. Of course it was. But Andy knew she could never feel that way. As if Miranda had read her mind, she squeezed Andy’s hand and glanced at her with real affection, triumph and pride. Andy stood up straighter and smiled, genuinely smiled, for the cameras.
***
After ten minutes spent in the party, Miranda whispered, “If I’d known your presence would have saved my having to actually talk to these people, I’d have brought you ten years ago.”
“If you’d brought me ten years ago, they’d have been gossiping about the fact I was fifteen.”
Miranda actually nearly choked on her champagne and laughed. “Touché, darling.”
As they moved through the room, people finally began to approach Miranda for the requisite fake air kiss and inconsequential talk.
The other guests accepted their introductions to Andy with varying degrees of aplomb. Andy didn’t actually get a sense of hostility from anyone, just a sense of not knowing how to act-ness about it all. Meeting Miranda Priestly’s female lover who was half her age—what was the etiquette for that?
She appreciated the efforts made. Everyone was perfectly cordial, but Andy knew, too well, these events were not held as a meeting of friends. Nearly every person in the room had some private or business stake in the success or destruction of the others. This was the water Miranda swam in—and it was perfectly natural to her. It was not natural to Andy. She felt her anxiety ebb and flow as she met people she knew despised Miranda or whom Miranda despised.
She was happy to be with Miranda, but parties like this were an obligation, not anything to take pleasure in.
Andy was taking a sip of champagne and thinking miserable thoughts when Miranda said, “Ah. Mavis.”
Andy looked and confirmed the face from the pictures she’d studied, “Mavis Devereaux.”
Miranda waved at her from across the room. “Yes. Look at her. Never worked a day in her life…well, let me amend that. Getting a ne’er do well multi-millionaire to marry her must have entailed some sort of labor. She’s a complete viper—and, besides you, the only true friend I have in this room.”
Andy was startled, “Really? You never mention her.”
“Of course not, darling. We realized immediately how much we liked each other and, being the sort of women we both are, knew only distance and never seeing each other could preserve that.”
As she watched Mavis make her way slowly through the room toward her, Miranda whispered, “Look at her. In full regalia. Her bust is like the prow of a battleship.”
“Stop it.”
“Is it not?”
“Well…maybe.”
“Make yourself scarce for a moment, darling, or she’ll embarrass you in some way. It’s a specialty of hers.”
Andy moved toward the bar and picked up a glass of champagne, watching Mavis and Miranda exchange cordial greetings.
***
After they warmly greeted each other, Mavis said, “I’m sorry I didn’t meet your…
“My…Andrea? Later perhaps.”
They glanced at each other, then at the crowd, both of them knowing that not a soul would be brave enough to approach them while they were together. “So, Miranda. A girl?”
“A woman. Yes.”
Mavis downed her glass of champagne and waved at a waiter for another as they continued to survey the room. “General consensus from the vultures? Not bad.”
“Not bad?”
“Don’t get your hackles up. We can all see she’s a ravishing beauty and I’m completely certain you meant for us to. I mean not bad, generally.” Mavis smiled at a passing guest even as she said, “Is this a passing thing?”
“No. It’s a permanent thing.”
Mavis smiled at the waiter who handed her a new glass of champagne. “Really? Then perhaps you’d better look into that.”
Miranda followed the wave of the woman’s hand and saw Andy talking to Christian Thompson.
***
Oh fuck, just what she needed, Andy thought. “Hi, Christian. How are you?” She smiled and quickly pulled out of the kiss he’d planted on her cheek, which he noticed.
“Very well, thanks.” He tapped his glass on hers, “Keeps you on a short leash, does she, Miranda Girl?”
Although he was smiling, his eyes weren’t all that kind and Andy realized his feelings were probably raw for a number of reasons. All of which he’d brought on himself, so fuck him, she thought as she looked at the malevolent gleam in his expression. She lay her hand on her necklace and made a point of feeling around her neck. “Mmmm. Nope. No leash.”
“Just a collar, then? It’s a really nice one.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Miranda’s voice surprised them both. “But it’s a beautiful necklace, not a collar. I’m surprised you don’t know the difference. Or perhaps you’re unfamiliar with the word, Christian?”
“Good evening, Miranda.”
“Until now, it has been, yes.”
Andy could feel the warmth of Miranda’s hand through the fabric of her dress and was a bit surprised. Although Miranda had touched Andy’s arm or kept her hand on the small of her back all evening, she hadn’t done this. Miranda’s hand, she realized, wasn’t…technically on her ass. It was on the side of her hip but low enough that the ass/hip boundary was probably two inches apart. It was on the hip side but this was a decidedly possessive touch, a sexually possessive touch.
Andy glanced at Miranda and lifted an eyebrow. “Wow. Hi there.”
Miranda smirked at her, “Hello, darling. I just came over to see if you needed a hand.” Andy burst into laughter and Miranda beamed at her. Christian had completely disappeared for both of them.
And this was the picture that hit The Post the next day—a laughing Andy and a smiling Miranda whose hand was firmly planted on her lover’s…hip.
***
The next day brought a stifled, “Oh. My. God.”
Serena looked up from her coffee. “What’s that, Em? Someone sank the Lusitania?”
“They are both trying to kill me. I swear it.”
Serena took the paper and looked at the photo, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Well, that’s technically her hip, isn’t it?”
“It’s her ass, Serena, and we both know it.”
“I think it’s her hip.”
“The PRESS thinks it’s her ass. That’s all that matters! I swear to God, when I see Miranda, I’m going to…” At this point Emily sputtered to a stop.
Serena smiled as she sipped her coffee, “Yes, English. Tell me what you’re going to do to Miranda.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed because she had no real answer. She finally said, “Fuck you.”
“Okay. If you must.”
“I don’t know why I put up with you.”
Serena stood and hugged Emily, “Because I remind you to take deep breaths, darling. Everything will be fine. But does that other offer stand?”
Emily laughed.
***
At about the same time Wanda and Carlo were looking at The Post in consternation as Juan Carlo trudged into the kitchen to join them. With a child’s typical prescience about parents, he immediately asked, “Is something wrong?”
“No, son. Nothing.”
Juan Carlo saw the paper on the table and he knew. “Something about Ms. Miranda and Andy?”
They nodded and pushed the paper toward him. He looked at the picture and the headline and his eyes filled with tears.
Before his parents could say anything, he waved at the paper and explained, “This is stupid and I know it. But Caroline and Cassidy? The other kids say very bad things to them at our school.” He wiped his eyes and gave them a watery smile, “It only means they will make fun of us and no one will eat lunch with us for a few days. It will blow over. It always does,” he said, parroting the Priestly twins’ explanation of life in the media.
Carlo touched his son and said, “This doesn’t have to be your battle, Juan Carlo.”
“Yes it does. They’re my friends. I go where they go, isn’t that right, papi?”
Carlo tousled his son’s hair as he looked into his wife’s eyes and said, “Absolutely.” Evidently they were doing something right with the boy.
***
“Oh for God’s sake.” Caroline tossed the paper to Cassidy and poured herself a half-cup of coffee. That was all her mom would allow her and only rarely. She decided she deserved it as she topped it off with milk.
Cassidy snickered at the picture and said, “Pour me some too. Mom will have a hard time blaming us for coffee after this.”
“After what?”
That their mother was a force of nature who seemed to be able to put out a force field of ‘Here I Come’ was something that was a fact of life. That she could go into almost stealth mode and just appear they’d never quite adjusted to.
And here she was.
Caroline handed Cassidy her coffee and shoved The Post toward their mother. “Good morning!”
Miranda looked at the picture and the headline, “Priestly Keeps a Hand on the Assets.”
She took a deep breath before Andy also materialized and looked at what held Miranda’s attention.
“Holy shit!”
“Language, Andy,” Caroline said somewhat gleefully.
“Okay. You’re right. Sorry, Car.”
Andy read the story, which was purple prose. Geesh. “Well! So that’s what’s on the menu today.”
“This week—or until the press lets it go.” Miranda replied.
Andy kissed Miranda on the side of the head and said, “For the record, girls, she was touching my hip—not my asset.”
***
Andy’s mother did not think it was Andy’s hip and was nearly apoplectic. Richard talked her down from the ledge of making a call right away but soon she mustered on. “She’s making Andy look cheap!”
“How’s that?”
“Her touching her that way.”
“The way one lover touches another. Audrey, you really haven’t faced the fact they’re lovers.”
“I’ve faced it—I don’t like it.”
“Why? Exactly? You’re not homophobic and I know it.”
Audrey paused and said, after some thought, “This can’t be real—she’s twice our daughter’s age and wealthy and just using Andy for…entertainment or something.”
“Then let’s visit them and see.”
“Fine—you set it up.”
Which was how Andy found herself on the phone with her father arranging a visit she really didn’t want.
***
Miranda was firing off instructions to Martha the first Monday after ‘the photo.’ The young woman had turned out to be marvelously adept at her job and she scribbled and nodded, as usual.
“That’s all.”
“Oh! I forgot to tell you something.”
Miranda waited.
Martha looked down at her own body and giggled, “I don’t have such a slender waist, but Miranda? If you put your hand up here,” Martha demonstrated mid-waist—“and not here.” She placed her hand on her hip, “People don’t get the wrong idea. See? It’s so easy.” She smiled beatifically, turned and left.
Miranda blinked her eyes and drummed her fingers on her desk. Alright. If that’s how fate was going to treat her? Fine.
“Emily? And my Emily, for God’s sake.”
Emily always shuddered a bit at Miranda’s using a possessive anywhere near her name but rushed into the office.
“Give Martha the key. She can bring the book. Try to explain she’s not to march around the premises giving orders. If you can."
***
The night before the visit, Cassidy quietly approached Andy in her mother’s study, where she was finishing a story.
“Andy?”
“Yeah Cass?”
“Is your family going to like us?”
“Of course, honey. Why would you ask?”
“No. Look at me—are they going to like us?”
Andy looked into Cassidy’s somber eyes and understood the question, “You mean are they going to like your mom?”
Cassidy nodded.
“Honestly? I don’t know.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“But Cassidy? You know what? I don’t care. I love your mother and you and Caroline and Patricia and you’re my family so I don’t care. Whatever they think or feel or say isn’t going to change that.”
Cassidy scowled and Andy could see she was trying not to cry. “You promise?”
Andy pulled the girl into her arms, “I will never leave you guys. Never.”
Cassidy sniffed as she pulled away and said, stiffly, “That’s good I guess.”
Andy grinned at her. The girl was just like her mother.
***
Andy wondered whether there was any hotter place in hell than in LaGuardia airport waiting for her family. As she waited, she felt a sheen of flop sweat because she was really conflicted about the limo that Miranda had demanded she and Roy take to the airport. Miranda had waved a hand and said, “How else to fit five people in a car?”
“I can ride in the front with Roy.”
“Nonsense. It’s not done.”
Of course it was done, Andy thought, outside of Miranda’s world. But the woman’s money made these things possible. Miranda was adamant that Andy consider their joint resources completely equal and had added the younger woman to every account she had. Andy found herself still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she was now, for all intents and purposes, a wealthy woman. Who had a limo and driver at her disposal. Which was both true and weird.
She bit her lower lip. So much had changed. When she’d worked at Runway, she’d always toned down her clothing when she went home, because she hadn’t wanted to seem like a clacker. Now? At home, she schlubbed around and Miranda sniffed occasionally, to Andy’s delight, but the woman put up with it. In public, unless she were going somewhere that demanded the informal, Andy always dressed for her woman and had decided not to be ashamed of that. She looked sexily fierce today, and knew it.
When her family approached, looking for her, she was holding a sign that said, “Sachs?”
Sam was the first to see her and rushed to hug her, picking her up off the ground. He shook her playfully, “Who are you? What have you done with my sister?”
She kissed his cheek and said, “You’re such a goofball, Sammy.”
He released her and replied, “I know, but you look fucking HOT. And you’re my sister—that ‘s really not fair.”
“Perv. I’m testing you, baby boy.”
He grinned at her, “Okay. Fine. Incest provoked but thwarted!”
She bumped foreheads with him happily as their parents joined them.
Andy hugged her parents and watched as her mother assessed her, “You look…different, Andy.”
Andy laughed, “Of course I do. I live with the woman who dresses the world. She dresses me, too.”
“Really? Does that mean she makes you wear what she wants?”
Andy blinked. Okay. Bound to happen. “No. She loves me in whatever I’m wearing. It means I like dressing to please my sweetheart. And let’s face it—I look great so no problem, right?”
Her father hastily assented, “You really do.”
“Thanks, Dad. Roy’s waiting on us.”
“Who’s Roy?”
“Our driver.”
Sam smirked before their mother said, “You have a driver?”
Andy decided not to take the bait. “Of course we do. This is New York. A driver, a car, a cab or the subway. We can afford a driver.”
Audrey replied, coldly, “She has enough money for a driver.”
“We have enough, Mom. You’ll have to get used to that. This is entirely ‘we’ from now on.”
They stepped out of the airport to find Roy, who winked at Andy as she introduced them but loaded their bags without comment.
As they piled into it, Andy could see her parents were a bit nonplussed and that Sam was totally loving it. Lucky bastard. She wasn’t. She sort of wanted to evaporate. They were heading straight for lunch with Miranda at Nobu, because it was cool but not as ostentatious as the older woman might have sprung for, given her own devices.
On the way to the restaurant, Miranda called to apologize, saying she’d be ten minutes late, which made Andy’s heart ache a bit. Miranda must be horrifically nervous if she was apologizing for being late.
When they arrived the host hastened to greet her and air kissed her cheeks, “Andy, it’s been too long.”
She smiled and said, “I agree. These are my parents and my brother.”
He led them to the best table in the house and said, “We’re delighted to have you, Andy. You and your family.
“Miranda should be here any time.”
He almost bowed. “Of course.”
The server, Charles, approached them immediately, gave them their menus and asked for drink orders.
Because Andy knew her family, she said, “Charles, we’d all love water with lemon but do you remember that sake that Miranda loved so much the last time we were here?”
“The Daiginjo?”
“I think so.”
“I know so.”
Andy smiled, “I think we’d enjoy that.”
As they perused the menu, she said, “We should all have the Chef’s Choice—that’s always fantastic.”
Sam looked and snickered, “But dude, that’s so mad expensive.”
Andy grinned at him, “You’re not paying for it. My treat.”
Her mother sniped, “She’s paying for it,” even as Richard covered her hand and said, “Audrey, please.”
Andy counted to five before responding quietly, “Mom? I am in a committed relationship with a woman who shares everything with me. I can afford this. I have joint access to her bank accounts and we have joint credit cards. I really hoped you’d come to see how happy I am, not to judge my family.”
Audrey took a deep breath, feeling her husband’s warm hand on hers. “Of course, I’m sorry.”
Sam tried to break the tension, “So, Andronicus Rex, do we need to keep an eye out for Miranda?”
“Nope,” she said, looking at the menu. “You’ll know the minute she walks in.”
“How’s that?”
“The barometric pressure in the room will change.”
Sam looked at her for a few seconds and said, “You’re serious aren’t you?”
“Oh yeah. Watch. You’ll feel it.”
And sure enough, Sam did feel it. Something in the room changed, really changed. The volume of noise in the restaurant dropped audibly. Sam looked at Andy as she smiled and leapt to her feet. She’d been asleep when Miranda had kissed her before leaving for a very early meeting. But she wasn’t surprised to see that Miranda had changed the setting on her fashion phaser from stun to kill. Miranda looked ferociously hot and every eye in the room was on her as she walked toward the table.
TBC very, very soon.
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