then　you’re　on　your　own。”
  “OK；　thanks。　Any　idea　when　it’ll　be　finished　tonight？”
  “Nope。　Changes　every　night。　You’d　really　have　to　ask　the　art
  department。”
  The　Book　was　finally　ready　on　the　earlier　side；　at　eight…thirty；　and
  after　I’d　retrieved　it　from　an　exhausted…looking　art　assistant；
  Emily　and　I　walked　down　to　59th　Street　together。　Emily　was　holding
  an　armful　of　freshly　dry…cleaned　clothes　on　hangers；　encased　in
  plastic；　and　she　explained　to　me　that　dry　cleaning　always
  acpanied　the　Book。　Miranda　would　bring　her　dirty　clothes　to　the
  office；　where；　as　my　luck　would　have　it；　it　was　my　job　to　call　the
  cleaners　and　let　them　know　we　had　a　pickup。　They　would　send　someone
  to　the　Elias…Clark　building　immediately；　pick　up　the　clothes；　and
  return　them　in　perfect　condition　a　day　later。　We　stored　them　in　our
  office　closet　until　we　could　either　hand　them　off　to　Uri　or　take
  them　to　her　apartment　ourselves。　My　job　was　getting　more
  intellectually　stimulating　by　the　minute！
  “Hey；　Rich！”　Emily　called　brightly；　fakely；　to　the　pipe…chomping
  dispatcher　I’d　met　my　first　day。　“This　is　Andrea。　She’ll　be　taking
  the　Book　every　night；　so　make　sure　she　gets　a　good　car；　OK？”
  “Will　do；　Red。”　He　pulled　the　pipe　out　of　his　mouth　and　motioned
  toward　me。　“I’ll　take　good　care　of　Blondie　over　here。”
  “Great。　Oh；　and　can　you　have　another　car　follow　us　to　Miranda’s？
  Andrea　and　I　are　going　separate　places　after　we　drop　off　the　Book。”
  Two　massive　Town　Cars　pulled　up　just　at　that　moment；　and　the　mammoth
  driver　in　the　first　car　barreled　out　of　the　front　seat　and　opened
  the　back　door　for　us。　Emily　climbed　in　first；　immediately　whipped
  out　her　Cell　Phone；　and　called　out；　“Miranda　Priestly’s　apartment；
  please。”　He　nodded　and　threw　the　car　in　gear　and　we　were　off。
  “Is　it　always　the　same　driver？”　I　asked；　wondering　how　he　knew　where
  to　go。
  She　motioned　me　to　be　quiet　as　she　left　a　message　for　her　roommate。
  She　then　said；　“No；　but　there　are　only　so　many　drivers　who　work　for
  the　pany。　I’ve　had　them　all　at　least　twenty　times；　so　they　know
  their　way　by　now。”　She　went　back　to　her　dialing。　I　looked　behind　us
  and　saw　the　second　empty　Town　Car　carefully　mimicking　our　turns　and
  stops。
  We　pulled　up　in　front　of　a　typical　Fifth　Avenue　doorman　building：
  immaculate　sidewalk；　well…kept　balconies；　and　what　looked　like　a
  gorgeous；　warmly　lit　lobby。　A　man　in　a　tuxedo　and　hat　immediately
  came　to　the　car　and　opened　the　door　for　us；　and　Emily　got　out。　I
  wondered　why　we　weren’t　just　going　to　leave　the　Book　and　the　clothes
  with　him。　As　far　as　I　understood—and　it　wasn’t　a　lot；　especially
  when　it　came　to　this　strange　city—that’s　what　doormen　were　for。　As
  in；　that’s　their　job。　But　Emily　pulled　a　leather　Louis　Vuitton　key
  chain　from　her　Gucci　logo　tote　and　handed　it　to　me。
  “I’ll　wait　here。　You　take　the　stuff　up　to　her　apartment；　Penthouse
  A。　Just　open　her　door　and　leave　the　book　on　the　table　in　the　foyer
  and　hang　the　clothes　on　the　hooks　by　the　closet。　Notin　the　closet；by
  the　closet。　And　then　just　leave。　Whatever　you　do；　don’t　knock　or
  ring　the　doorbell。　She　doesn’t　like　to　be　disturbed。　Just　let
  yourself　in　and　out　and　be　quiet！”　She　handed　me　the　tangle　of　wire
  hangers　and　plastic　and　opened　her　Cell　Phone　again。All　right；　I　can
  handle　this。　Why　so　much　drama　for　a　book　and　some　pants？
  The　elevator　man　smiled　kindly　at　me　and　silently　pressed　the　PH
  button　after　turning　a　key。　He　looked　like　a　battered　wife；　dejected
  and　sad；　as　though　he　couldn’t　fight　any　longer　and　had　just　made
  peace　with　his　unHappiness。
  “I’ll　wait　here；”　he　said　softly；　staring　at　the　floor。　“You
  shouldn’t　be　more　than　a　minute。”
  The　carpet　in　the　hallways　was　a　deep　burgundy　color；　and　I　almost
  toppled　over　when　one　of　my　heels　got　stuck　in　the　loops。　The　walls
  were　papered　in　a　thick；　cream…colored　fabric　that　had　tiny　cream
  pinstripes　running　the　length；　and　there　was　a　suede　cream　bench
  pushed　against　the　wall。　The　French　doors　directly　in　front　of　me
  said　PH　B；　but　I　swiveled　and　saw　identical　doors　with　PH　A。　It　took
  every　ounce　of　restraint　not　to　ring　the　bell；　but　I　remembered
  Emily’s　warning　and　slid　the　key　in　the　lock。　It　clicked　right　away；
  and　before　I　could　fix　my　hair　or　wonder　what　was　on　the　other　side；
  I　was　standing　in　a　large；　airy　foyer　and　smelling　the　most　amazing
  scent　of　lamb　chops。　And　there　she　was；　delicately　bringing　a　fork
  to　her　mouth　while　two　identical；　black…haired　little　girls　yelled
  at　each　other　across　the　table　and　a　tall；　rugged…looking　man　with
  silver　hair　and　a　broad；　face…enpassing　nose　read　a　newspaper。
  “Mum；　tell　her　that　she　can’t　just　walk　in　my　room　and　take　my
  jeans！　She　won’t　listen　to　me；”　one　of　them　pleaded　of　Miranda；
  who’d　set　down　her　fork　and　was　taking　a　sip　of　what　I　knew　to　be
  Pellegrino　with　a　lime；　from　theleft　side　of　the　table。
  “Caroline；　Cassidy；　enough。　I　simply　don’t　want　to　hear　it　anymore。
  Tomas；　bring　out　some　more　mint　jelly；”　she　called。　A　man　I　presumed
  to　be　the　chef　hurried　into　the　room　holding　a　silver　bowl　on　a
  silver　serving　platter。
  And　then　I　realized　that　I’d　been　standing　there　for　nearly　thirty
  seconds；　observing　them　all　having　dinner。　They　hadn’t　seen　me　yet；
  but　would　as　soon　as　I　moved　toward　the　hall　table。　I　did　so
  gingerly　but　felt　them　all　turn　to　look。　Just　as　I　was　about　to
  offer　some　sort　of　greeting；　I　remembered　making　a　gigantic　ass　out
  of　myself　at　our　first　meeting　earlier　today；　stammering　and
  stumbling　like　an　idiot；　and　I　kept　my　mouth　shut。Table；　table；
  table　。　There　it　was。Deposit　book　on　table　。　And　now　for　the
  clothes。　I　looked　around　frantically　for　the　place　I　was　supposed　to
  hang　the　dry　cleaning；　but　I　couldn’t　focus。　The　dinner　table　had
  grown　silent；　and　I　could　feel　them　all　watching　me。　No　one　said
  hello。　It　didn’t　seem　to　bother　the　girls　that　there　was　a　perfect
  stranger　standing　in　their　apartment。　Finally；　I　saw　a　small　coat
  closet　tucked　away　behind　the　door；　and　I　managed　to　get　every
  twisted；　slippery　hanger　on　the　rod。
  “Not　in　the　closet；　Emily；”　I　heard　Miranda　call　out；　slowly；
  deliberately。　“On　the　hooks　that　are　provided　for　this　exact
  occasion。”
  “Oh；　um；　hi　there。”Idiot！　Shut　up！　She’s　not　looking　for　a　response；
  just　do　what　she　says！　But　I　couldn’t　help　it。　It　was　just　too　weird
  that　no　one　had　said　hello　or　wondered　who　I　might　be；　or　in　any　way
  acknowledged　that　someone　had　just　let　herself　into　their　apartment
  and　was　prowling　around。　AndEmily？　Was　she　kidding？　Blind？　Could　she
  really　not　tell　that　I　was　not　the　girl　who’d　worked　for　her　for
  over　a　year　already？　“I’m　Andrea；　Miranda。　I’m　your　new　assistant。”
  Silence。　All…pervasive；　unbearable；　never…ending；　deafening；
  debilitating　silence。
  I　knew　I　shouldn’t　keep　talking；　knew　that　I　was　digging　my　own
  grave；　but　I　just　couldn’t　help　myself。　“Um；　well；　sorry　about　the
  confusion。　I’ll　just　put　these　on　the　hooks；　like　you　said；　and　let
  myself　out。”Stop　narrating！　She　doesn’t　give　a　shit　what　you’re
  doing。　Just　do　it　and　get　out　。　“OK；　then；　have　a　nice　dinner。　Nice
  meeting　all　of　you。”　I　turned　to　leave　and　realized　that　not　only
  was　the　mere　act　of　talking　ridiculous；　but　I　was　also　saying　stupid
  things。Nice　to　meet　you？　I　hadn’t　been　introduced　to　a　single　one　of
  them。
  “Emily！”　I　heard　just　as　my　hand　reached　the　doorknob。　“Emily；　let
  this　not　happen　tomorrow　night。　We’re　not　interested　in　the
  interruption。”　And　the　doorknob　turned　itself　in　my　hand　and　I　was
  finally　in　the　hallway。　The　entire　thing　had　taken　less　than　a
  minute；　but　I　felt　like　I’d　just　swum　the　entire　length　of　an
  Olympic…size　pool　without　ing　up　for　air。
  I　slumped　onto　the　bench　and　took　long；　controlled　breaths。　That
  bitch！　The　first　time　she　called　me　Emily　could’ve　been　a　mistake；
  but　the　second　was　undoubtedly　deliberate。　What　better　way　to
  belittle　and　marginalize　someone　than　to　insist　on　calling　them　the
  wrong　name；　after　you’ve　refused　to　so　much　as　acknowledge　their
  presence　in　your　own　Home？　I　knew　I　was　the　lowest…ranking　life…form
  at　the　magazine　already—as　Emily　hadn’t　yet　lost　an　opportunity　to
  impress　upon　me—but　was　it　really　so　necessary　for　Miranda　to　make
  sure　I　was　aware　of　it；　too？
  It　wouldn’t　have　been　outside　the　realm　of　reality　to　sit　there　all
  night　and　shoot　mental　bullets　at　the　PH　A　doors；　but　I　heard　a
  throat　clearing　and　looked　up　to　find　the　sad　little　elevator　man
  watching　the　floor　and　patiently　waiting　for　me　to　join　him。
  ?