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shredder。 My head ached from a bination of hangover and
anxiety； causing my empty stomach to protest with threatening
waves of nausea。 I was standing in the very back of the room
with assorted C…list reporters and others who didn’t rank high
enough to warrant a seat； keeping one eye on Miranda and the
other scoping out the least humiliating places to be sick if
the need arose。You remind me of myself when I was your age。
You remind me of myself when I was your age。 You remind me of
myself when I was your age 。 The words kept reverberating over
and over； keeping tune to the steady and persistent pounding
of my forehead。
Miranda managed not to address me for nearly an hour； but
after that she was off and running。 Even though I was standing
in the same room she was； she called my Cell Phone to request
a Pellegrino。 From that moment on； the phone rang in ten… to
twelve…minute increments； each request sending another shock
of pain directly to my head。Brrring。 “Get Mr。 Tomlinson on his
air phone on the jet。” （B…DAD didn’t answer on his air phone
when I tried calling it sixteen times。）Brrring。 “Remind all
theRunway editors in Paris that just because they’re here does
not mean they can neglect their responsibilities at Home—I
want everything in by original deadline！” （The couple ofRunway
editors I had gotten in touch with at their various hotels in
Paris had simply laughed at me and hung up。）Brrring。 “Get me a
regular American turkey sandwich immediately—I’m tiring of all
this ham。” （I walked more than two miles in painful boots and
with an upset stomach； but there was no turkey to be found
anywhere。 I’m convinced she knew； since she’d never once
before asked for a turkey sandwich while in America—even
though； of course； they’re available on every street
corner。）Brrring。 “I expect dossiers prepared on the three best
chefs you’ve found thus far to be waiting in my suite by the
time we return from this show。” （Emily hacked and whined and
bitched but promised that she’d fax over whatever information
she had on the candidates so far and I could make them into
“dossiers。”）Brrring！ Brrring！ Brrring！ You remind me of myself
when I was your age 。
Too nauseated and crippled to watch the parade of anorexic
models； I ducked outside for a quick cigarette。 Naturally； the
moment I flicked on my lighter； my Cell Phone shrilled again。
“Ahn…dre…ah！ Ahn…dre…ah！ Where are you？ Where the hell are you
right now？”
I tossed out my still unlit cigarette and raced back inside；
my stomach churning so violently that I knew I would be
sick—it was just a matter of when and where。
“I’m right in the back of the room； Miranda；” I said； sliding
through the door and pressing my back against the wall。 “Right
to the left of the door。 Do you see me？”
I watched as she swiveled her head back and forth until her
eyes finally rested on mine。 I was about to hang up the phone；
but she was still stage whispering into it。 “Don’t move； do
you hear me？ Do not move！ One would think that my assistant
would understand she’s here to assist me； not to gallivant
around outside when I need her。 This is unacceptable；
Ahn…dre…ah！” By the time she’d made it to the back of the room
and positioned herself in front of me； a woman in a glimmering
floor…length silver gown with an empire waist and slight flare
was sashaying through the reverent crowds； and the music
switched from some sort of bizarre Gregorian chants to all…out
heavy metal。 My head began pounding almost in tune to the
change in music。 Miranda didn’t stop hissing when she reached
me； but she did； finally； flip her Cell Phone closed。 I did
the same。
“Ahn…dre…ah； we have a very serious problem here。You have a
very serious problem。 I just received a call from Mr。
Tomlinson。 It seems Annabelle brought it to his attention that
the twins’ passports expired last week。” She stared at me； but
all I could do was concentrate on not throwing up。
“Oh； really？” was all I could manage； but that clearly wasn’t
the right response。 Her hand tightened around her bag and her
eyes began to bulge with anger。
“Oh； really？”she mimicked in a hyena…like howl。 People were
beginning to stare at us。 “Oh； really？ That’s all you have to
say？ ‘Oh； really？’ ”
“No； uh； of course not； Miranda。 I didn’t mean it like that。
Is there something I can do to help？”
“Is there something I can do to help？”she mimicked again； this
time in a whiny child’s voice。 If she had been any other
person on earth； I would have reached out and slapped her
face。 “You damn well better believe it； Ahn…dre…ah。 Since
you’re clearly unable to stay on top of these things in
advance； you’ll need to figure out how to renew them in time
for their flight tonight。 I will not have my own daughters
miss this party tomorrow night； do you understand me？”
Did I understand her？ Hmm。 A very good question indeed。 I was
thoroughly unable to understand how it was my fault that her
ten…year…olds had expired passports when they； theoretically；
had two parents； a stepfather； and a full…time nanny to
oversee such things； but I also understood it didn’t matter。
If she thought it was my fault； it was。 I understood that she
would never understand when I told her that those girls were
not getting on that plane tonight。 There was virtually nothing
I couldn’t find； fix； or arrange； but securing federal
documents while in a foreign country in less than three hours
was not happening。 Period。 She had finally made her very first
request of me in a full year that I could not
acmodate—regardless of how much she barked or demanded or
intimidated； it was not happening。You remind me of myself when
I was your age 。
Fuck her。 Fuck Paris and fashion shows and marathon games of
“I’m so fat。” Fuck all the people who believed that Miranda’s
behavior was justified because she could pair a talented
photographer with some expensive clothes and walk away with
some pretty magazine pages。 Fuck her for even thinking that I
was anything like her。 And most of all； fuck her for being
right。 What the hell was I standing here for； getting abused
and belittled and humiliated by this joyless she…devil？ So
maybe； just maybe； I； too； could be sitting at this very same
event thirty years from now； acpanied only by an assistant
who loathes me； surrounded by armies of people who pretend
they like me because they have to。
I yanked out my Cell Phone and punched in a number and watched
as Miranda became increasingly more livid。
“Ahn…dre…ah！” she hissed； much too ladylike to ever make a
scene。 “What do you think you’re doing？ I’m telling you that
my daughters need passports immediately； and you decide it’s a
good time to chat on your phone？ Are you under the very
mistaken impression that’s why I brought you to Paris？”
My mother picked up on the third ring； but I didn’t even say
hello。
“Mom； I’m getting on the next flight I can。 I’ll call you when
I get to JFK。 I’m ing Home。” I clicked the phone shut
before she could respond and looked up to see Miranda； who
appeared genuinely surprised。 I felt a smile break through the
headache and nausea when I realized that I’d rendered her
momentarily speechless。 Unfortunately； she recovered quickly。
There’s a small chance I wouldn’t have gotten fired if I’d
immediately pleaded and explained and lost the defiant
attitude； but I couldn’t seem to muster one single； tiny shred
of self…control。
“Ahn…dre…ah； you realize what you’re doing； do you not？ You do
know that if you simply leave here like this； I’m going to be
forced—”
“Fuck you； Miranda。Fuck you 。”
She gasped audibly while her hand flew to her mouth in shock；
and I felt not a few Clackers turn to see what the motion
was。 They’d begun pointing and whispering； themselves as
shocked as Miranda that some nobody assistant had just said
that—and none too quietly—to one of the great living fashion
legends。
“Ahn…dre…ah！” She grabbed my upper arm with her clawlike hand；
but I wrenched it out of her grip and plastered on an enormous
smile。 I also figured it’d be an appropriate time to stop
whispering and let everyone in on our little secret。
“So sorry； Miranda；” I announced in a normal voice that for
the first time since I’d landed in Paris wasn’t shaking
uncontrollably； “but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to
the party tomorrow。 You understand don’t you？ I’m sure it’ll
be lovely；