Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Knowing, Chasing Harry Winston, Last Night at Chateau Marmont. Lauren Weisberger

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СКАЧАТЬ 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. And Emily? 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 coming 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.

      ‘Sorry,’ I said as I shuffled aboard.

      ‘No problem,’ he near-whispered, intently studying the wood-paneled floor. ‘It’ll get easier.’

      ‘What? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you—’

      ‘Nothing, nothing. Here you are, miss. Have a nice evening.’ The door opened to the lobby, where Emily was loudly chattering on her cell phone. She clicked it closed when she saw me.

      ‘How’d it go? No problem, right?’

      I thought about telling her what had transpired, wished fervently that she could be a sympathetic coworker, that we could be a team, but I knew I’d just be setting myself up for another verbal lashing. So not interested right now.

      ‘It was totally fine. No problems at all. They were eating dinner and I just left everything exactly where you said.’

      ‘Good. Well, that’s what you’ll do every night. Then just take the car home and you’re done. Anyway, have fun at Marshall’s party tonight. I’d definitely go, but I have a bikini wax appointment I just can’t cancel – do you believe they’re booked for the next two months? And it’s the middle of winter, too. It must be all the people who are going on winter vacations. Right? I just can’t understand why every woman in New York needs a bikini wax right now. It’s just so strange, but hey, what can you do?’

      My head pounded to the tempo of her voice, and it seemed that no matter what I did or how I responded, I was sentenced to forever listen to her talk about bikini waxes. It may have been better to have her scream at me about interrupting Miranda’s dinner.

      ‘Yeah, what can you do? Well, I’d better get going, I told James I’d meet him at nine and it’s already ten after. See you tomorrow?’

      ‘Yep. Will do. Oh, just so you know, now that you’re pretty much trained, you’ll still get in at seven, but I don’t come in until eight. Miranda knows – it’s understood that the senior assistant comes in later since she works so much harder.’ I almost lunged at her throat. ‘So just go through the morning routine like I taught you. Call me if you have to, but you should know the drill by now. ’Bye!’ She hopped into the backseat of the second car that was waiting in front of the building.

      ‘’Bye!’ I trilled, a giant fake smile plastered on my face. The driver made a move to get out of the car and open the door for me, but I told him I was fine to let myself into the backseat. ‘The Plaza, please.’

      James had been waiting for me on the stairs outside even though it couldn’t have been more than twenty degrees. He’d gone home to change and looked very, very skinny in black suede pants and a white ribbed tank top, which showed off his expertly applied midwinter bottle tan. I still looked appropriately amateurish in my Gap miniskirt.

      ‘Hey, Andy, how’d the Book dropping-off go?’ We waited in line to check our coats and I had immediately spotted Brad Pitt.

      ‘Ohmigod, you’re joking. Brad Pitt’s here?’

      ‘Yeah, well, Marshall does Jennifer’s hair, natch. So she must be here also. Really, Andy, maybe next time you’ll believe me when I tell you to stick with me. Let’s get a drink.’

      The Reese and Johnny spottings had come back to back, and by the time one A.M. rolled around, I’d had four drinks and was happily gabbing away with a fashion assistant from Vogue. We were discussing bikini waxes. Passionately. And it didn’t even bother me. Christ, I thought, as I weaved through the crowd looking for James, flashing a giant kiss-ass smile in the general direction of Jennifer Aniston when I passed by – this isn’t a half-bad party. But I was tipsy, I had to be at work again in less than six hours, and I hadn’t been home in nearly twenty-four, so when I spotted James making out with one of the colorists from Marshall’s salon, I was just about to duck out when I felt a hand in the small of my back.

      ‘Hey,’ said the gorgeous guy I’d spotted earlier lurking in the corner. I waited for him to realize that he’d approached the wrong girl, that I must’ve looked the same as his girlfriend from behind, but he just smiled even wider. ‘Not so talkative, are you?’

      ‘Oh, СКАЧАТЬ