husband’s　assistant；　who　informed　me　that；　as　far　as　she　knew；　the
  couple　owned　a　top…of…the…line　black　Lincoln　Navigator　and　some　sort
  of　small　green　Porsche。　Yes！　I　had　my　first　lead。　One　quick　phone
  call　to　the　Porsche　dealership　on　Eleventh　Avenue　revealed　that　yes；
  they　had　just　finished　touching　up　the　paint　and　installing　a　new
  disc…changer　in　a　green　Carrera　4　Cabriolet　for　a　Ms。　Miranda
  Priestly。　Jackpot！
  I　ordered　a　Town　Car　to　take　me　to　the　dealership；　where　I　turned
  over　a　note　I’d　forged　with　Miranda’s　signature　that　instructed　them
  to　release　the　car　to　me。　No　one　seemed　to　care　whatsoever　that　I
  was　in　no　way　related　to　this　woman；　that　some　stranger　had　cruised
  into　the　place　and　requested　someone　else’s　Porsche。　They　tossed　me
  the　keys　and　only　laughed　when　I’d　asked　them　to　back　it　out　of　the
  garage　because　I　wasn’t　sure　I　could　handle　a　stick　shift　in
  reverse。　It’d　taken　me　a　half　hour　to　get　ten　blocks；　and　I　still
  hadn’t　figured　out　where　or　how　to　turn　around　so　I’d　actually　be
  heading　uptown；　toward　the　parking　place　on　Miranda’s　block　that　her
  housekeeper　had　described。　The　chances　of　my　making　it　to　76th　and
  Fifth　without　seriously　injuring　myself；　the　car；　a　biker；　a
  pedestrian；　or　another　vehicle　were　nonexistent；　and　this　new　call
  did　nothing　to　calm　my　nerves。
  Once　again；　I　made　the　round　of　calls；　but　this　time　Miranda’s　nanny
  picked　up　on　the　second　ring。
  “Cara；　hey；　it’s　me。”
  “Hey；　what’s　up？　Are　you　on　the　street？　It　sounds　so　loud。”
  “Yeah；　you　could　say　that。　I　had　to　pick　up　Miranda’s　Porsche　from
  the　dealership。　Only；　I　can’t　really　drive　stick。　But　now　she　called
  and　wants　me　to　pick　up　someone　named　Madelaine　and　drop　her　off　at
  the　apartment。　Who　the　hell　is　Madelaine　and　where　might　she　be？”
  Cara　laughed　for　what　felt　like　ten　minutes　before　she　said；
  “Madelaine’s　their　French　bulldog　puppy　and　she’s　at　the　vet。　Just
  got　spayed。　I　was　supposed　to　pick　her　up；　but　Miranda　just　called
  and　told　me　to　pick　the　twins　up　early　from　school　so　they　can　all
  head　out　to　the　Hamptons。”
  “You’re　joking。　I　have　to　pick　up　a　fuckingdog　with　this　Porsche？
  Without　crashing？　It’snever　going　to　happen　。”
  “She’s　at　the　East　Side　Animal　Hospital；　on　Fifty…second　between
  First　and　Second。　Sorry；　Andy；　I　have　to　get　the　girls　now；　but　call
  if　there’s　anything　I　can　do；　OK？”
  Maneuvering　the　green　beast　to　head　uptown　sapped　my　last　reserves
  of　concentration；　and　by　the　time　I　reached　Second　Avenue；　the
  stress　sent　my　body　into　meltdown。It　couldn’t　possibly　get　worse
  than　this；　I　thought　as　yet　another　cab　came　within　a　quarter…inch
  of　the　back　bumper。　A　nick　anywhere　on　the　car　would　guarantee　I
  lose　my　job—that　much　was　obvious—but　it　just　might　cost　me　my　life
  as　well。　Since　there　was　obviously　not　a　parking　spot；　legal　or
  otherwise；　in　the　middle　of　the　day；　I　called　the　vet’s　office　from
  outside　and　asked　them　to　bring　Madelaine　to　me。　A　kindly　woman
  emerged　a　few　minutes　later　（just　enough　time　for　me　to　field
  another　call　from　Miranda；　this　one　asking　why　I　wasn’t　back　at　the
  office　yet）　with　a　whimpering；　sniffling　puppy。　The　woman　showed　me
  Madelaine’s　stitched…up　belly　and　told　me　to　drive　very；　very
  carefully　because　the　dog　was　“experiencing　some　disfort。”　Right；
  lady。　I’m　driving　very；　very　carefully　solely　to　save　my　job　and
  possibly　my　life—if　the　dog　benefits　from　this；　it’s　just　a　bonus。
  With　Madelaine　curled　up　on　the　passenger　seat；　I　lit　another
  cigarette　and　rubbed　my　freezing　bare　feet　so　my　toes　could　resume
  gripping　the　clutch　and　brake　pedal。Clutch；　gas；　shift；　release
  clutch；　I　chanted；　trying　to　ignore　the　dog’s　pitiful　howls　every
  time　I　accelerated。　She　alternated　between　crying；　whining；　and
  snorting。　By　the　time　we　reached　Miranda’s　building；　the　pup　was
  nearly　hysterical。　I　tried　to　soothe　her；　but　she　could　sense　my
  insincerity—and　besides；　I　had　no　free　hands　with　which　to　offer　a
  reassuring　pat　or　nuzzle。　So　this　was　what　four　years　of　diagramming
  and　deconstructing　books；　plays；　short　stories；　and　poems　were　for：
  a　chance　to　fort　a　small；　white；　batlike　bulldog　while　trying　not
  to　demolish　someone　else’s　really；　really　expensive　car。　Sweet　life。
  Just　as　I　had　always　dreamed。
  I　managed　to　dump　the　car　at　the　garage　and　the　dog　with　Miranda’s
  doorman　without　further　incident；　but　my　hands　were　still　shaking
  when　I　climbed　into　the　chauffeured　Town　Car　that　had　been　following
  me　all　over　town。　The　driver　looked　at　me　sympathetically　and　made
  some　supportive　ment　about　the　difficulty　of　stick　shifts；　but　I
  didn’t　feel　much　like　chatting。
  “Just　heading　back　to　the　Elias…Clark　building；”　I　said　with　a　long
  sigh　as　the　driver　pulled　around　the　block　and　headed　south　on　Park
  Avenue。　Since　I　rode　the　route　every　day—sometimes　twice—I　knew　I
  had　exactly　eight　minutes　to　breathe　and　collect　myself　and　possibly
  even　figure　out　a　way　to　disguise　the　ash　and　sweat　stains　that　had
  bee　permanent　features　on　the　Gucci　suede。　The　shoes—well；　those
  were　beyond　hope；　at　least　until　they　could　be　fixed　by　the　fleet　of
  shoemakersRunway　kept　for　such　emergencies。　The　ride　was　actually
  over　in　six　and　a　half　minutes；　and　I　had　no　choice　but　to　hobble
  like　an　off…balance　giraffe　on　my　one　flat；　one　four…inch　heel
  arrangement。　A　quick　stop　in　the　Closet　turned　up　a　brand…new　pair
  of　knee…high　maroon…colored　Jimmy　Choos　that　looked　great　with　the
  leather　skirt　I　grabbed；　tossing　the　suede　pants　in　the　“Couture
  Cleaning”　pile　（where　the　basic　prices　for　dry　cleaning　started　at
  seventy…five　dollars　per　item）。　The　only　stop　left　was　a　quick　visit
  to　the　Beauty　Closet；　where　one　of　the　editors　there　took　one　look
  at　my　sweat…streaked　makeup　and　whipped　out　a　trunk　full　of　fixers。
  Not　bad；I　thought；　looking　in　one　of　the　omnipresent　full…length
  mirrors。　You　might　not　even　know　that　mere　minutes　before　I　was
  hovering　precariously　close　to　murdering　myself　and　everyone　around
  me。　I　strolled　confidently　into　the　assistants’　suite　outside
  Miranda’s　office　and　quietly　took　my　seat；　looking　forward　to　a　few
  free　minutes　before　she　returned　from　lunch。
  “And…re…ah；”　she　called　from　her　starkly　furnished；　deliberately
  cold　office。　“Where　are　the　car　and　the　puppy？”
  I　leaped　out　of　my　seat　and　ran　as　fast　as　was　possible　on　plush
  carpeting　while　wearing　five…inch　heels　and　stood　before　her　desk。
  “I　left　the　car　with　the　garage　attendant　and　Madelaine　with　your
  doorman；　Miranda；”　I　said；　proud　to　have　pleted　both　tasks
  without　killing　the　car；　the　dog；　or　myself。
  “And　why　would　you　do　something　like　that？”　she　snarled；　looking　up
  from　her　copy　ofWomen’s　Wear　Daily　for　the　first　time　since　I’d
  walked　in。　“I　specifically　requested　that　you　bring　both　of　them　to
  the　office；　since　the　girls　will　be　here　momentarily　and　we　need　to
  leave。”
  “Oh；　well；　actually；　I　thought　you　said　that　you　wanted　them　to—”
  “Enough。　The　details　of　your　inpetence　interest　me　very　little。
  Go　get　the　car　and　the　puppy　and　bring　them　here。　I’m　expecting
  we’ll　be　all　ready　to　leave　in　fifteen　minutes。　Understood？”
  Fifteen　minutes？　Was　this　woman　hallucinating？　It　would　take　a
  minute　or　two　to　get　downstairs　and　into　a　Town　Car；　another　six　or
  eight　to　get　to　her　apartment；　and　then　somewhere　in　the　vicinity　of
  three　hours　for　me　to　find　the　puppy　in　her　eighteen…room　apartment；
  extract　the　bucking　stick　shift　from　its　parking　spot；　and　make　my
  way　the　twenty　blocks　to　the　office。
  “Of　course；　Miranda。　Fifteen　minutes。”
  I　started　shaking　again　the　moment　I　ran　out　of　her　office；
  wondering　if　my　heart　could　just　up　and　give　out　at　the　ripe　old　age
  of　twenty…three。　The　first　cigarette　I　lit　landed　directly　on　the
  top　of　my　new　Jimmys；　where　instead　of　falling　to　the　cement　it
  smoldered　for　just　long　enough　to　burn　a　small；　neat　hole。Great；　I
  muttered。That’s　just　fucking　great。　Chalk　up　my　total　as　an　even
  four　grand　for　today’s　ruined　merchandise—a　new　personal　best。　Maybe
  she’d　die　before　I　got　back；　I　thought；　deciding　that　now　was　the
  time　to　look　on　the　bright　side。　Maybe；　just　maybe；　she’d　keel　over
  from　something　rare　and　exotic　and　we’d　all　be　released　from　her
  wellspring　of　misery。　I　relished　a　last　drag　before　stamping　out　the
  cigarette　and　told　myself　to　be　rational。You　don’t　want　her　to　die；
  I　thought；　stretching　out　in　the　backseat。Because　if　she　does；　you
  lose　all　hope　of　killing　her　yourself。　And　thatwould　be　a　shame。
  2
  I　knew　nothing　when　I　we