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husband’s assistant； who informed me that； as far as she knew； the
couple owned a top…of…the…line black Lincoln Navigator and some sort
of small green Porsche。 Yes！ I had my first lead。 One quick phone
call to the Porsche dealership on Eleventh Avenue revealed that yes；
they had just finished touching up the paint and installing a new
disc…changer in a green Carrera 4 Cabriolet for a Ms。 Miranda
Priestly。 Jackpot！
I ordered a Town Car to take me to the dealership； where I turned
over a note I’d forged with Miranda’s signature that instructed them
to release the car to me。 No one seemed to care whatsoever that I
was in no way related to this woman； that some stranger had cruised
into the place and requested someone else’s Porsche。 They tossed me
the keys and only laughed when I’d asked them to back it out of the
garage because I wasn’t sure I could handle a stick shift in
reverse。 It’d taken me a half hour to get ten blocks； and I still
hadn’t figured out where or how to turn around so I’d actually be
heading uptown； toward the parking place on Miranda’s block that her
housekeeper had described。 The chances of my making it to 76th and
Fifth without seriously injuring myself； the car； a biker； a
pedestrian； or another vehicle were nonexistent； and this new call
did nothing to calm my nerves。
Once again； I made the round of calls； but this time Miranda’s nanny
picked up on the second ring。
“Cara； hey； it’s me。”
“Hey； what’s up？ Are you on the street？ It sounds so loud。”
“Yeah； you could say that。 I had to pick up Miranda’s Porsche from
the dealership。 Only； I can’t really drive stick。 But now she called
and wants me to pick up someone named Madelaine and drop her off at
the apartment。 Who the hell is Madelaine and where might she be？”
Cara laughed for what felt like ten minutes before she said；
“Madelaine’s their French bulldog puppy and she’s at the vet。 Just
got spayed。 I was supposed to pick her up； but Miranda just called
and told me to pick the twins up early from school so they can all
head out to the Hamptons。”
“You’re joking。 I have to pick up a fuckingdog with this Porsche？
Without crashing？ It’snever going to happen 。”
“She’s at the East Side Animal Hospital； on Fifty…second between
First and Second。 Sorry； Andy； I have to get the girls now； but call
if there’s anything I can do； OK？”
Maneuvering the green beast to head uptown sapped my last reserves
of concentration； and by the time I reached Second Avenue； the
stress sent my body into meltdown。It couldn’t possibly get worse
than this； I thought as yet another cab came within a quarter…inch
of the back bumper。 A nick anywhere on the car would guarantee I
lose my job—that much was obvious—but it just might cost me my life
as well。 Since there was obviously not a parking spot； legal or
otherwise； in the middle of the day； I called the vet’s office from
outside and asked them to bring Madelaine to me。 A kindly woman
emerged a few minutes later （just enough time for me to field
another call from Miranda； this one asking why I wasn’t back at the
office yet） with a whimpering； sniffling puppy。 The woman showed me
Madelaine’s stitched…up belly and told me to drive very； very
carefully because the dog was “experiencing some disfort。” Right；
lady。 I’m driving very； very carefully solely to save my job and
possibly my life—if the dog benefits from this； it’s just a bonus。
With Madelaine curled up on the passenger seat； I lit another
cigarette and rubbed my freezing bare feet so my toes could resume
gripping the clutch and brake pedal。Clutch； gas； shift； release
clutch； I chanted； trying to ignore the dog’s pitiful howls every
time I accelerated。 She alternated between crying； whining； and
snorting。 By the time we reached Miranda’s building； the pup was
nearly hysterical。 I tried to soothe her； but she could sense my
insincerity—and besides； I had no free hands with which to offer a
reassuring pat or nuzzle。 So this was what four years of diagramming
and deconstructing books； plays； short stories； and poems were for：
a chance to fort a small； white； batlike bulldog while trying not
to demolish someone else’s really； really expensive car。 Sweet life。
Just as I had always dreamed。
I managed to dump the car at the garage and the dog with Miranda’s
doorman without further incident； but my hands were still shaking
when I climbed into the chauffeured Town Car that had been following
me all over town。 The driver looked at me sympathetically and made
some supportive ment about the difficulty of stick shifts； but I
didn’t feel much like chatting。
“Just heading back to the Elias…Clark building；” I said with a long
sigh as the driver pulled around the block and headed south on Park
Avenue。 Since I rode the route every day—sometimes twice—I knew I
had exactly eight minutes to breathe and collect myself and possibly
even figure out a way to disguise the ash and sweat stains that had
bee permanent features on the Gucci suede。 The shoes—well； those
were beyond hope； at least until they could be fixed by the fleet of
shoemakersRunway kept for such emergencies。 The ride was actually
over in six and a half minutes； and I had no choice but to hobble
like an off…balance giraffe on my one flat； one four…inch heel
arrangement。 A quick stop in the Closet turned up a brand…new pair
of knee…high maroon…colored Jimmy Choos that looked great with the
leather skirt I grabbed； tossing the suede pants in the “Couture
Cleaning” pile （where the basic prices for dry cleaning started at
seventy…five dollars per item）。 The only stop left was a quick visit
to the Beauty Closet； where one of the editors there took one look
at my sweat…streaked makeup and whipped out a trunk full of fixers。
Not bad；I thought； looking in one of the omnipresent full…length
mirrors。 You might not even know that mere minutes before I was
hovering precariously close to murdering myself and everyone around
me。 I strolled confidently into the assistants’ suite outside
Miranda’s office and quietly took my seat； looking forward to a few
free minutes before she returned from lunch。
“And…re…ah；” she called from her starkly furnished； deliberately
cold office。 “Where are the car and the puppy？”
I leaped out of my seat and ran as fast as was possible on plush
carpeting while wearing five…inch heels and stood before her desk。
“I left the car with the garage attendant and Madelaine with your
doorman； Miranda；” I said； proud to have pleted both tasks
without killing the car； the dog； or myself。
“And why would you do something like that？” she snarled； looking up
from her copy ofWomen’s Wear Daily for the first time since I’d
walked in。 “I specifically requested that you bring both of them to
the office； since the girls will be here momentarily and we need to
leave。”
“Oh； well； actually； I thought you said that you wanted them to—”
“Enough。 The details of your inpetence interest me very little。
Go get the car and the puppy and bring them here。 I’m expecting
we’ll be all ready to leave in fifteen minutes。 Understood？”
Fifteen minutes？ Was this woman hallucinating？ It would take a
minute or two to get downstairs and into a Town Car； another six or
eight to get to her apartment； and then somewhere in the vicinity of
three hours for me to find the puppy in her eighteen…room apartment；
extract the bucking stick shift from its parking spot； and make my
way the twenty blocks to the office。
“Of course； Miranda。 Fifteen minutes。”
I started shaking again the moment I ran out of her office；
wondering if my heart could just up and give out at the ripe old age
of twenty…three。 The first cigarette I lit landed directly on the
top of my new Jimmys； where instead of falling to the cement it
smoldered for just long enough to burn a small； neat hole。Great； I
muttered。That’s just fucking great。 Chalk up my total as an even
four grand for today’s ruined merchandise—a new personal best。 Maybe
she’d die before I got back； I thought； deciding that now was the
time to look on the bright side。 Maybe； just maybe； she’d keel over
from something rare and exotic and we’d all be released from her
wellspring of misery。 I relished a last drag before stamping out the
cigarette and told myself to be rational。You don’t want her to die；
I thought； stretching out in the backseat。Because if she does； you
lose all hope of killing her yourself。 And thatwould be a shame。
2
I knew nothing when I we