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时尚女魔头 穿普拉达的恶魔 英文原版-第44部分

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  particularly ridiculous。 I have to run。 Caroline just smashed one of 
  Miranda’s Stila lipsticks into the bathroom mirror for no apparent 
  reason。”

  “Our lives rock; don’t they? We’re the coolest girls。 Anyway; thanks 
  for the heads up。 Talk to you later。”

  “OK; ’bye。”

  I glanced over the memo while I waited for B…DAD’s arrival。 It was a 
  request to the board of trustees of the Metropolitan Museum of Art 
  from Miranda。 She was asking permission to throw a dinner party in 
  one of the galleries in March for her brother…in…law; a man I could 
  tell she absolutely despised but who was; unfortunately; family。 
  Jack Tomlinson was B…DAD’s younger and wilder brother; and he’d just 
  announced he was leaving his wife and three children and marrying 
  his masseuse。 Although he and B…DAD were both quintessential East 
  Coast prep school aristocracy; Jack had shed his Harvard persona in 
  his late twenties and moved to South Carolina; where he’d 
  immediately made a fortune in real estate。 Judging from everything 
  Emily had told me; he’d morphed into a first…class Southern boy; a 
  real straw…chewin’; tobacco…spittin’ hick; which of course appalled 
  Miranda; the epitome of class and sophistication。 B…DAD had asked 
  Miranda to organize an engagement party for his baby brother; and 
  Miranda; blinded by love; had no choice but to oblige。 And if she 
  had to do something; then she sure as hell was going to do it right。 
  And right was at the Met。

  Dear Honored Members; blah; blah; blah; would like to request 
  permission to host a fabulous little soiree; blah; blah; blah; will 
  be hiring only the finest caterers; florists; and band; of course; 
  blah; blah; blah; would wele your input; blah; blah。 Making sure 
  one last time that there were no glaring errors; I quickly forged 
  her name and called for a messenger to e pick it up。

  The knock on the office suite door—which I kept closed this early in 
  the morning since no one was in yet anyway—came almost immediately; 
  and I was impressed with their turnaround time; but the door swung 
  open to reveal B…DAD; who was sporting a grin much too enthusiastic 
  for pre…eightA。M 。

  “Andrea;” he sang; immediately walking over to my desk and smiling 
  so genuinely it made me feel guilty for not liking him。

  “Good morning; Mr。 Tomlinson。 What brings you here so early?” I 
  asked。 “I’m sorry to tell you that Miranda’s not in yet。”

  He chuckled; his nose twitching like a rodent’s。 “Yes; yes; she 
  won’t be in until after lunch; or so I believe。 Andy; it really has 
  been too long since you and I caught up。 Tell Mr。 T。 now: How is 
  everything?”

  “Here; let me take those;” I said; pulling the monogrammed duffel 
  full of Miranda’s dirty clothes that she’d given him to give to me。 
  I also relieved him of the beaded Fendi tote bag that had surfaced 
  again recently。 It was a one…of…a…kind tote that had been 
  hand…beaded in an elaborate crystal design just for Miranda from 
  Silvia Venturini Fendi; as a thank…you for all of her support; and 
  one of the fashion assistants had put its value at just under ten 
  grand。 But I noticed today that one of the skinny leather handles 
  had broken loose yet again; even though the accessories department 
  had returned it to Fendi for hand…stitching two dozen times already。 
  It was intended to hold a delicate ladies’ wallet; perhaps 
  acpanied by a pair of sunglasses or maybe; if absolutely 
  necessary; a small Cell Phone。 Miranda didn’t really care about 
  that。 She had currently crammed in an extra…large bottle of Bulgari 
  perfume; a sandal with a broken heel that I was probably supposed to 
  get fixed; the blotter…size Hermès daily planner that weighed more 
  than an entire laptop; an oversize spiked dog collar that I thought 
  either belonged to Madelaine or was for an uping fashion shoot; 
  and the Book I had delivered to her the night before。 I would have 
  hocked a bag worth ten thousand dollars and paid my rent for a year; 
  but Miranda preferred to use it as a trash receptacle。

  “Thank you; Andy。 You really are a big help to everyone。 So Mr。 T。 
  would sure like to hear more about your life。 What’s going on?”

  What’s going on?What’s going on?Hmm; well; let’s see here。 Really 
  not all that much; I suppose。 I spend most of my time trying to 
  survive my term of indentured servitude with your sadistic wife。 If 
  there are ever any free minutes during the workday when she’s not 
  making some belittling demand; then I’m trying to block out the 
  brainwash drivel that’s spoon…fed to me by her assistant in chief。 
  On the increasingly rare occasions that I find myself outside the 
  confines of this magazine; I’m usually trying to convince myself 
  that it really is OK to eat more than eight hundred calories a day 
  and that being a size six does not put me in the plus…size category。 
  So I guess the short answer is; not much。

  “Well; Mr。 Tomlinson; not too much。 I work a lot。 And I guess when 
  I’m not working I hang out with my best friend; or my boyfriend。 Try 
  to see my family。”I used to read a lot; I wanted to say;but I’m too 
  tired now。 And sports have always been a pretty big part of my life; 
  but there wasn’t time anymore。

  “So; you’re twenty…five; right?” He non…sequitured。 I couldn’t even 
  imagine where he was going with this one。

  “Uh; no; I’m twenty…three。 I only graduated last May。”

  “Ah…hah! Twenty…three; huh?” He looked like he was trying to decide 
  whether to say something or not。 I braced myself。 “So tell Mr。 T。; 
  what do twenty…three…year…olds do in this city for fun? Restaurants? 
  Clubs? That sort of thing?” He smiled again; and I wondered if he 
  really needed the attention as much as he appeared to: there was 
  nothing sinister behind his interest; just a seemingly driving need 
  totalk 。

  “Um; well; all sorts of things; I guess。 I don’t really go to clubs; 
  but bars and lounges and places like that。 Go out for dinner; see 
  movies。”

  “Well; that sounds like a lot of fun。 Used to do that kind of stuff; 
  too; when I was your age。 Now it’s just a lot of work events and 
  fund…raisers。 Enjoy it while you can; Andy。” He winked like a dorky 
  father would。

  “Yeah; well; I’m trying;” I managed。Please leave; please leave; 
  please leave; I willed; staring longingly at the bagel that was just 
  calling my name。 I get three minutes of peace and quiet a day; and 
  this man was stealing all of it。

  He opened his mouth to say something; but the doors swung open and 
  Emily stomped in。 She was wearing her headphones and moving to the 
  music。 I watched her mouth drop open when she saw him standing 
  there。

  “Mr。 Tomlinson!” she exclaimed; yanking off her headphones and 
  tossing her iPod in her Gucci tote。 “Is everything OK? Nothing’s 
  wrong with Miranda; is it?” She looked and sounded genuinely 
  concerned。 An A…plus performance: always the perfectly attentive; 
  unfailingly polite assistant。

  “Hello there; Emily。 Nothing wrong at all。 Miranda will be here 
  shortly。 Mr。 T。 just came by to drop off her things。 How are you 
  doing today?”

  Emily beamed。 I wondered if she actually enjoyed his presence。 “Just 
  fine。 Thanks so much for asking。 And you? Did Andrea help you with 
  everything?”

  “Oh; she sure did;” he said; throwing smile number 6;000 in my 
  direction。 “I wanted to go over a few things about my brother’s 
  engagement party; but I realize that it’s probably a little early 
  for that; right?”

  For a moment I thought he meant too early in the morning and I 
  almost shouted “Yes!” but then I realized that he meant it was too 
  early in the planning to discuss details。

  He turned back to Emily and said; “You’ve got yourself a great 
  junior assistant here; don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely;” Emily managed through clenched teeth。 “She’s the 
  best。” She grinned。

  I grinned。

  Mr。 Tomlinson grinned with extra wattage; and I wondered if he had a 
  chemical imbalance; perhaps hypomania。

  “Well; Mr。 T。 had better be on his way。 It’s always lovely chatting 
  with you girls。 Have a nice morning; both of you。 Good…bye now。”

  “’Bye; Mr。 Tomlinson!” Emily called as he rounded the corner in the 
  hallway on his way to reception。

  “Why were you so rude to him?” she asked as she pulled the flimsy 
  leather blazer off; only to reveal a flimsier chiffon scoop…neck 
  that was laced all the way up the front like a corset。

  “So rude? I helped him unload her stuff and I talked to him before 
  you got here。 How is that rude?”

  “Well; you didn’t say good…bye; for one thing。 And you have that 
  look on your face。”

  “That loo
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