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时尚女魔头 穿普拉达的恶魔 英文原版-第77部分

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  explain this phenomenon?” she asked。

  Of course I could explain it; just not to her。 On the rare 
  occasion that Miranda was in her office alone; she sometimes 
  picked up the phone when it rang。 Naturally callers were so 
  shocked to hear her voice on the other end that they promptly 
  hung up。 No one was actually prepared tospeak with her when 
  they called; since the likelihood of being put through was 
  next to nil。 I’d gotten dozens of e…mails from editors or 
  assistants informing me—as if I didn’t know—that Miranda was 
  answering the phone again。 “Where are you guys???” The 
  panicked missives would read; one after another。 “She’s 
  answering her own phone!!!!”

  I mumbled something about how I; too; received hang…ups every 
  now and then; but Miranda had already lost interest。 She was 
  peering not at me but at my cup of soup。 Some of the creamy 
  green fluid was dripping slowly down the side。 Her gaze turned 
  to one of disgust when she realized I was not only holding 
  something edible; but that I had clearly planned to consume it 
  as well。

  “Dispose of that immediately!” she barked from fifteen feet 
  away。 “The smell of it alone is enough to make me ill。”

  I dropped the offending soup in the garbage can and gazed 
  wistfully after the lost nourishment before her voice jerked 
  me back to reality。

  “I’m ready for the run…throughs!” she screeched; settling back 
  into her chair more easily now that the food she’d spotted 
  atRunway had been discarded。 “And the moment we’re through 
  here; call the features meeting。”

  Each word caused another adrenaline surge; since I was never 
  sure what exactly she’d be requesting; I was never sure if I’d 
  be able to handle it or not。 Since it was Emily’s job to 
  schedule the run…throughs and the weekly meetings; I had to 
  race over to her desk and check her appointment book。 In the 
  three o’clock slot she had scribbled:Sedona Shoot run…through; 
  Lucia/Helen 。 I jabbed Lucia’s extension and spoke as soon as 
  she picked up the phone。

  “She’s ready;” I stated; like a military mander。 Helen; 
  Lucia’s assistant; hung up without saying a word; and I knew 
  she and Lucia were already halfway to the office。 If they 
  didn’t arrive within twenty to twenty…five seconds; I would be 
  sent out to hunt them down and remind them in person—just in 
  case they might have forgotten—that when I’d called thirty 
  seconds before and said that Miranda was ready right then; I 
  meant rightthen 。 Generally this was a mere annoyance; yet 
  another reason why the enforced footwear of spiky stilettos 
  made life even more miserable。 Running through the office; 
  frantically searching for someone who was most likely hiding 
  from Miranda was never fun; but it was only really miserable 
  when that person happened to be in the bathroom。 Whatever one 
  does in a men’s or ladies’ room; however; is no excuse for not 
  being available at the exact moment your presence is expected; 
  and so I had to charge right in—sometimes checking underneath 
  the stalls for recognizable footwear—and politely ask in 
  whatever humiliated way I could manage that they finish up and 
  head to Miranda’s office。 Immediately。

  Luckily for everyone involved; Helen arrived within seconds; 
  pushing an overflowing; off…kilter wheeled rack in front of 
  her and pulling another behind her。 She hesitated briefly 
  outside Miranda’s French door before she received one of 
  Miranda’s imperceptible nods and then dragged the racks 
  through the thick carpeting。

  “This is all of it? Two racks?” Miranda asked; barely looking 
  up from the copy she was reading。

  Helen was clearly surprised at being addressed; since; as a 
  rule; Miranda didn’t speak to other people’s assistants。 But 
  Lucia hadn’t shown up with her own racks yet; so there was 
  little choice。

  “Um; uh; no。 Lucia will be here in just a moment。 She has the 
  other two。 Would you like me to; uh; begin showing you what 
  we’ve called in?” Helen asked nervously as she pulled her 
  ribbed tank top down over her prairie skirt。

  “No。”

  And then: “Ahn…dre…ah! Find Lucia。 By my watch it’s three 
  o’clock。 If she’s not prepared; then I have better things to 
  do than sit here and wait for her。” Which wasn’t exactly true; 
  since it appeared she hadn’t yet stopped reading copy and it 
  was now only approximately thirty…five seconds since I’d made 
  the initial phone call。 But I wasn’t about to point this out。

  “No need; Miranda; I’m right here;” sang a breathless Lucia; 
  herself pushing and pulling racks past me just as I stood to 
  begin the search。 “So sorry。 We were waiting for one last coat 
  from the YSL people。”

  She arranged the racks; which were organized by clothing type 
  (shirts; outerwear; pants/skirts; and dresses) in a 
  half…circle in front of Miranda’s desk and gave the signal for 
  Helen to leave。 Miranda and Lucia then went through each item; 
  one by one; and bickered over its place or lack thereof in the 
  uping fashion shoot that was to take place in Sedona; 
  Arizona。 Lucia was pushing for an “urban cowgirl chic” look; 
  which she thought would play out perfectly against a backdrop 
  of the red…rock mountains; but Miranda kept announcing snidely 
  that she’d prefer “just chic;” since “cowgirl chic” was 
  clearly an oxymoron。 Maybe she’d had her fill of “cowgirl 
  chic” at B…DAD’s brother’s party。 I managed to tune them out 
  until Miranda called my name; this time ordering me to call in 
  the accessories people for their run…through。

  Immediately I checked Emily’s book again; but it was just as I 
  thought: there was no accessories run…through scheduled。 
  Praying that Emily had simply forgotten to put it in the book; 
  I called Stef and told her Miranda was ready for the Sedona 
  run…through。

  No such luck。 They weren’t scheduled for their run…through 
  until late afternoon the following day; and at least a quarter 
  of the things they needed hadn’t been delivered yet from their 
  PR panies。

  “Impossible。 Can’t do it;” announced Stef; sounding much less 
  confident than her words implied。

  “Well; what the hell do you expect me to tell her?” I 
  whispered back。

  “Tell her the truth: the run…through wasn’t supposed to take 
  place until tomorrow and a lot of the stuff isn’t here。 I 
  mean; seriously! Right now we’re still waiting for one evening 
  bag; one clutch; three different fringed purses; four pairs of 
  shoes; two necklaces; three—”

  “OK; OK; I’ll tell her。 But wait by the phone and pick up if I 
  call you back。 And if I were you; I’d get ready。 I’m betting 
  she doesn’t really care when it was scheduled for。”

  Stef hung up on me without another word and I approached 
  Miranda’s doors and waited patiently for her to acknowledge 
  me。 When she looked in my general direction and waited; I 
  said; “Miranda; I just spoke with Stef and she said that since 
  the run…through wasn’t scheduled until tomorrow; they’re still 
  waiting for quite a few items。 But they should all be here 
  by—”

  “Ahn…dre…ah; I simply cannot visualize how these models will 
  look in these clothes without shoes or bags or jewelry and by 
  tomorrow I’ll be in Italy。 Tell Stef I want her to give me a 
  run…through of whatever she’s got and be prepared to show me 
  photos of whatever isn’t here yet!” She turned back to Lucia 
  and together they returned to the racks。

  Conveying this to Stef gave new meaning to “don’t shoot the 
  messenger。” She freaked。

  “I cannot fucking pull a run…through together in thirty 
  seconds; do you understand me? It’s fucking impossible! Four 
  of my five assistants aren’t here; and the only one who is 
  here is a plete fucking idiot。 Andrea; what the fuck am I 
  going to do?” She was hysterical; but there wasn’t much room 
  for negotiation。

  “OK; great then;” I said sweetly; eyeing Miranda; who had a 
  knack of hearing everything。 “I’ll tell Miranda you’ll be 
  right here。” I hung up before she dissolved into tears。

  I wasn’t surprised to see Stef arrive two and a half minutes 
  later with her one fucking idiot accessories assistant; a 
  fashion assistant she’d borrowed; and James; also borrowed 
  from beauty; all looking terrified as they carried oversize 
  wicker baskets。 They stood cowering by my desk until Miranda 
  gave another imperceptible nod; at which point they all 
  shuffled forward for the genuflection exercises。 Since Miranda 
  obviously refused to leave her office—ever—she required that 
  all the overflowing racks of clothes and carts full of shoes 
  and baskets brimming over with accesso
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