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时尚女魔头 穿普拉达的恶魔 英文原版-第10部分

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  only then did it budge。 When it did begin to move; it slid slowly at 
  first; prompting me to push ever harder。 But as soon as it picked up 
  some momentum; the glass behemoth whipped around; hitting me from 
  behind and forcing me to trip over my feet and shuffle visibly to 
  remain standing。 A man behind the security desk laughed。

  “Tricky; eh? Not the first time I seen that happen; and won’t be the 
  last;” he chortled; fleshy cheeks jiggling。 “They getcha good here。”

  I looked him over quickly and decided to hate him and knew that he 
  would never like me; regardless of what I said or how I acted。 I 
  smiled anyway。

  “I’m Andrea;” I said; pulling a knit mitten from my hand and 
  reaching over the desk。 “Today’s my first day of work atRunway 。 I’m 
  Miranda Priestly’s new assistant。”

  “And I’m sorry!” he roared; throwing his round head back with glee。 
  “Just call me ‘Sorry for You’! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hey; Eduardo; check 
  this out。 She’s one of Miranda’s newslaves ! Where you from; girl; 
  bein’ all friendly and shit? Topeka fuckin’ Kansas? She is gonna eat 
  you alive; hah; hah; hah!”

  But before I could respond; a portly man wearing the same uniform 
  came over and with no subtlety whatsoever looked me up and down。 I 
  braced for more mocking and guffaws; but it didn’t e。 Instead; he 
  turned a kind face to mine and looked me in the eyes。

  “I’m Eduardo; and this idiot here’s Mickey;” he said; motioning to 
  the first man; who looked annoyed that Eduardo had acted civilly and 
  ruined all the fun。 “Don’t make no never mind of him; he’s just 
  kiddin’ with you。” He spoke with a mixed Spanish and New York 
  accent; as he picked up a sign…in book。 “You just fill out this here 
  information; and I’ll give you a temporary pass to go upstairs。 Tell 
  ’em you need a card wit your pitcher on it from HR。”

  I must have looked at him gratefully; because he got embarrassed and 
  shoved the book across the counter。 “Well; go on now; fill ’er out。 
  And good luck today; girl。 You gonna need it。”

  I was too nervous and exhausted at this point to ask him to explain; 
  and besides; I didn’t really have to。 About the only thing I’d had 
  time to do in the week between accepting the job and starting work 
  was to learn a little bit about my new boss。 I had Googled her and 
  was surprised to find that Miranda Priestly was born Miriam 
  Princhek; in London’s East End。 Hers was like all the other orthodox 
  Jewish families in the town; stunningly poor but devout。 Her father 
  occasionally worked odd jobs; but mostly they relied on the 
  munity for support since he spent most of his days studying 
  Jewish texts。 Her mother had died in childbirth with Miriam; and it 
  washer mother who moved in and helped raise the children。 And were 
  there children! Eleven in all。 Most of her brothers and sisters went 
  on to work blue…collar jobs like their father; with little time to 
  do anything but pray and work; a couple managed to get themselves 
  into and through the university; only to marry young and begin 
  having large families of their own。 Miriam was the single exception 
  to the family tradition。

  After saving the small bills her older siblings would slip her 
  whenever they were able; Miriam promptly dropped out of high school 
  upon turning seventeen—a mere three months shy of graduation—to take 
  a job as an assistant to an up…and…ing British designer; helping 
  him put together his shows each season。 After a few years of making 
  a name for herself as one of the darlings of London’s burgeoning 
  fashion world and studying French at night; she scored a job as a 
  junior editor at the FrenchChic magazine in Paris。 By this time; she 
  had little to do with her family: they didn’t understand her life or 
  ambitions; and she was embarrassed by their old…fashioned piety and 
  overwhelming lack of sophistication。 The alienation from her family 
  was pleted shortly after joining FrenchChic when; at twenty…four 
  years old; Miriam Princhek became Miranda Priestly; shedding her 
  undeniably ethnic name for one with more panache。 Her rough; 
  cockney…girl British accent was soon replaced by a carefully 
  cultivated; educated one; and by her late twenties; Miriam’s 
  transformation from Jewish peasant to secular socialite was 
  plete。 She rose quickly; ruthlessly; through the ranks of the 
  magazine world。

  She spent ten years at the helm of FrenchRunway before Elias 
  transferred her to the number…one spot at AmericanRunway; the 
  ultimate achievement。 She moved her two daughters and her rock…star 
  then husband (himself eager to gain more exposure in America) to a 
  penthouse apartment on Fifth Avenue at 76th Street and began a new 
  era atRunway magazine: the Priestly years; the sixth of which we 
  were nearing as I began my first day。

  By some stroke of dumb luck; I would be working for nearly a month 
  before Miranda was back in the office。 She took her vacation every 
  year starting a week before Thanksgiving until right after New 
  Year’s。 Typically; she’d spend a few weeks at the flat she kept in 
  London; but this year; I was told; she had dragged her husband and 
  daughters to Oscar de la Renta’s estate in the Dominican Republic 
  for two weeks before spending Christmas and New Year’s at the Ritz 
  in Paris。 I’d also been forewarned that even though she was 
  technically “on vacation;” she’d still be fully reachable and 
  working at all times; and therefore; so should every single other 
  person on staff。 I was to be appropriately prepped and trained 
  without her highness present。 That way; Miranda wouldn’t have to 
  suffer my inevitable mistakes while I learned the job。 Sounded good 
  to me。 So at 7:00A 。M。 on the dot; I signed my name into Eduardo’s 
  book and was buzzed through the turnstiles for the very first time。 
  “Strike a pose!” Eduardo called after me; just before the elevator 
  doors swept shut。

  Emily; looking remarkably haggard and sloppy in a fitted but 
  wrinkled sheer white T…shirt and hypertrendy cargo pants was waiting 
  for me in the reception area; clutching a cup of Starbucks and 
  flipping though the new December issue。 Her high heels were placed 
  firmly on the glass coffee table; and a black lacy bra showed 
  obviously through the pletely transparent cotton of her shirt。 
  Lipstick; smeared a bit around her mouth by the Coffee cup; and 
  unbed; wavy red hair that spilled down over her shoulders made 
  her look as though she’d spent the last seventy…two hours in bed。

  “Hey; wele;” she muttered; giving me my first official up…down 
  look…over by someone other than the security guard。 “Nice boots。”

  My heart surged。 Was she serious? Or sarcastic? Her tone made it 
  impossible to tell。 My arches ached already and my toes were jammed 
  up against the front; but if I’d actually been plimented on an 
  item of my outfit by aRunway …er; it might be worth the pain。

  Emily looked at me a moment longer and then swung her legs off the 
  table; sighing dramatically。 “Well; let’s get to it。 It’sreally 
  lucky for you that she’s not here;” she said。 “Not that she’s not 
  great; of course; because she is;” she added in what I would soon 
  recognize—and e to adopt myself—as the classicRunway Paranoid 
  Turnaround。 Just when something negative about Miranda slips out 
  from a Clacker’s lips—however justified—paranoia that Miranda will 
  find out overwhelms the speaker and inspires an about…face。 One of 
  my favorite workday pastimes became watching my colleagues scramble 
  to negate whatever blasphemy they’d uttered。

  Emily slid her card through the electronic reader; and we walked 
  side by side; in silence; through the winding hallways to the center 
  of the floor; where Miranda’s office suite was located。 I watched as 
  she opened the suite’s French doors and tossed her bag and coat on 
  one of the desks that sat directly outside Miranda’s cavernous 
  office。 “This is your desk; obviously;” she motioned to a smooth; 
  wooden; L…shaped Formica slab that sat directly opposite hers。 It 
  had a brand…new turquoise iMac puter; a phone; and some filing 
  trays; and there were already pens and paper clips and some 
  notebooks in the drawers。 “I left most of my stuff for you。 It’s 
  easier if I just order the new stuff for myself。”

  Emily had just been promoted to the position of senior assistant; 
  leaving the junior assistant position open for me。 She explained 
  that she would spend two years as Miranda’s senior assistant; after 
  which she’d be skyrocketed to an amazing fashion position atRunway 。 
  The three…year assistant program she’d be pleting was the 
  ultimate guarantee of going places in the fas
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