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looking forward to each having theirown copy； as I had requested。 I
need you to explain why my orders weren’t followed。”
This wasn’t happening。 This couldn’t be happening。 I was definitely
dreaming now； living some sort of alternate…universe existence where
anything resembling rationality and logic were suspended
indefinitely。 I wouldn’t even let myself consider the absurdity of
what was unfolding。
“Miranda； I do recall that you requested two copies； and I ordered
two；” I stammered； hating myself yet again for pandering。 “I spoke
to the girl at Scholastic and am quite sure that she understood that
you needed two copies of the book； so I can’t imagine—”
“Ahn…dre…ah； you know how I feel about excuses。 I’m not particularly
interested in hearing yours now。 I expect something like this will
never happen again； correct？ That’s all。” She hung up。
I stood there for what must have been five full minutes； listening
to the squawking off…the…hook sound with the receiver pressed
against my ear。 My mind raced； full of questions。 Could I kill her？
I wondered； considering the probability of getting caught。 Would
they automatically assume it was me？ Of course not； I
concluded—everybody； at least atRunway； had a motive。 Do I really
have the emotional wherewithal to watch her die a long； slow；
agonizingly painful death？ Well； yes； that much was for sure—what
would be the most enjoyable way to snuff out her wretched existence？
I slowly replaced the receiver。 Could I really have misunderstood
her message when I listened to it earlier？ I grabbed my Cell Phone
and replayed the messages。“Ahn…dre…ah。 It’s Mir…ahnda。 It’s nine in
the morning on Sunday in Pah…ris and the girls have not yet received
their books。 Call me at the Ritz to assure me that they will arrive
shortly。 That’s all。” Nothing was really wrong。 She may have
received one copy instead of two； but she deliberately gave me the
impression that I’d made a tremendous； career…ending mistake。 She’d
called with no concern that her nineA 。M。 call would have reached me
at threeA 。M。； on my most perfect weekend in months。 She’d called to
drive me a little crazier； push me a little bit harder。 She’d called
to dare me to defy her。 She’d called to make me hate her that much
more。
7
Lily’s New Year’s party was good and low…key； just a lot of paper
cups of champagne at Lily’s place with a bunch of people from
college and some others they managed to drag along。 I was never a
big fan of the holiday。 I don’t remember who first called it
“Amateur Night” （I think it was Hugh Hefner）； saying that he went
out the other 364 days a year； but I tend to agree。 All that forced
drinking and merry…making did not a good time guarantee。 So Lily had
stepped up and thrown a little party to save us all the 150 tickets
to some club or； even worse； any sort of ridiculous thoughts of
actually freezing in Times Square。 We’d each brought a bottle of
something not too poisonous； and she had passed out noisemakers and
glittery tiaras； and we got quite drunk and happy and toasted in the
New Year on her rooftop overlooking Harlem。 Although we’d all had
way too much to drink； Lily was pretty much nonfunctional by the
time everyone else had left。 She had already thrown up twice； and I
was scared to leave her alone in the apartment； so Alex and I had
packed her a bag and dragged her in the cab with us。 We all stayed
at my place； Lily on the futon in the living room； and went out for
a big brunch the next day。
I was glad the whole holiday thing was over。 It was time to get on
with my life and get started—really started—on my new job。 Even
though it felt like I’d been working for a decade； I was technically
just beginning。 I had a lot of hope that things would improve once
Miranda and I started working together day to day。 Anyone could be a
cold…hearted monster over the phone； especially someone who was
unfortable with vacations and being so far away from work。 But I
was convinced that the misery of that first month would give way to
a whole new situation； and I was excited to see how it would all
unfold。
It was a little after ten on a cold and gray January 3； and I was
actually happy to be at work。 Happy！ Emily was gushing about some
guy she met at a New Year’s party in LA； some “superhot；
up…and…ing songwriter” who had promised to e visit her in New
York in the next couple weeks。 I was chatting with the associate
beauty editor who sat down the hall； a really sweet guy who’d
graduated from Vassar and whose parents didn’t yet know—even despite
the college choice and the fact that he was abeauty editor at
afashion magazine—that he did； in fact； sleep with guys。
“Oh； e with me； please？ It’ll be so fun； I promise。 I’ll
introduce you to some real hotties； Andy； you’ll see。 I have some
gorgeous straight friends。 Besides； it’sMarshall ’s party—it’s got
to be great；” James crooned； leaning against my desk as I checked my
e…mail。 Emily was chattering away happily on her side of the suite；
detailing her rendezvous with the long…haired singer。
“I would； you know I would； but I’ve had these plans with my
boyfriend tonight since before Christmas；” I said。 “We’ve been
planning on going out to a really nice dinner together for weeks；
and I canceled on him last time。”
“So see him after！ e on； it’s not every day you get a chance to
meet the single most talented colorist in the civilized world； is
it？ And there will be loads of celebrities and everyone will look
gorgeous； and； well； I just know it’ll be the most glamorous party
of the week！ Harrison and Shriftman is putting it on； for
chrissake—you can’t beat that。 Say yes。” He squinted his