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Andy privately thought that it was a bit incongruous to launch your handbag and coat if you were the supposed queen of fashion. She didn’t understand how Miranda could have such blatant disregard for her garments and accessories as to fling them at a desk. It was her biggest pet peeve about Miranda at first, but it slowly bothered her less and less. Miranda herself had become somewhat likeable. Somewhere around Miranda telling her to go to Paris and returning from the most harrowing work trip ever, Miranda and Andy had come to an easy détente, which was convenient for Miranda and terrifying, at first, for Andy.
Miranda liked to joke. And she liked when Andy laughed at her jokes. It was a lucky thing that Andy like dry, witty humour and wasn’t prone to panic attacks like Emily was. That all being said, Miranda was still her boss, and wouldn’t let either of them forget that fact. Andy knew this because Miranda had called her the night before after midnight (interrupting her sleep, not that it mattered) telling her to be at the office at six thirty which actually meant six fifteen. It meant that Andy had to get up at five to be there on time. And for what? One of Miranda’s whims, no doubt.
So Andy did as she was told. She was up at five and had left her home at quarter to, was at Starbuck’s at five past six and in the office at twelve past. She put Miranda’s coffees on her desk, organised it for the imminent arrival of her boss and sometimes comedienne. She was sat at her desk booting up her computer and checking through emails when the distant ding! of the elevator rang out in the otherwise silent space. The click click of Miranda’s approach played next, a tempo familiar and entirely unique to the woman.
Andy turned to greet Miranda, “Good morning,” she said from her seat. Miranda hummed and took off her coat, walking in a statelier pace than before. If Andy hadn’t turned to watch the slow approach and witnessed what came next, she wouldn’t have believed it to have happened. As it were, Andy watched with muted shock as Miranda let her coat launch toward Emily’s desk. She watched it leap from Miranda’s grip and knew immediately that it wouldn’t make it. She watched as the delicate lapels of the coat scraped the top of Emily’s key board, then slumped to the floor in a heap of thousand of dollars of fur.
Andy does not know what to say.
Miranda does.
“Well,” she says, huffing a laugh that makes Andy look at her, “Let me just try that again.” Then she’s in her office, putting her purse down and turning to gather the coat and walking back to the doors to the outer offices.
This time, she struts like she on a catwalk toward her office. She turns to Andy, who still has not been able to utter a word, and winks before throwing her coat. Andy’s heart is in her throat as it lands on the edge of Emily’s desk and again, slumps to the floor in a defeated pile. Andy does laugh this time and Miranda purses her lips, but Andy can tell she’s not in trouble.
“As if you could do better,” Miranda sniffs, bending again to get her coat.
“Try me,” Andy says, resigning herself to the strange, playful mood Miranda is in, and standing with her hands out. Miranda arches a brow and gives her assistant the coat before stepping to the archway to her inner office. Andy goes to the edge of the carpet and walks toward Miranda, catching her eyes and winking before flinging the coat with grace and power. It lands right in the centre of Emily’s desk.
“And she sticks the landing,” Miranda quips. Andy grins and goes to her desk where her notepad is, taking note of all the things Miranda wants them to do on their early morning.
“… Tell Michael that we are not doing another river shoot. I’ve had enough of him drooling over the Hudson for this lifetime.”
“Yes, Miranda.”
“And tell my personal trainer to include more focus on upper body strength,” Miranda says, playfully disdainful. Andy cracks a smile.
“Yes, Miranda.”
“That’s all.”