Лорен Вайсбергер – Revenge Wears Prada: The Devil Returns (страница 1)
Revenge Wears Prada
Lauren Weisberger
Table of Contents
1. as long as she lived
2. learning to love the hamptons: 2009
3. you’re walking, sister
4. and it’s official!
5. i’d hardly call it dating
6. writing the obit doesn’t make it true
7. boys will be boys
8. no david’s bridal, no baby’s breath, no dyeable shoes of any kind
9. virgin piñas all around
10. one half of a robe made for two
11. more or less famous than beyoncé?
12. trumped-up harassment charges plus a straitjacket or two
13. i could easily be dead by then
14. miranda priestly all but called you gorgeous
15. i’m here to tell you that not not-trying is trying
16. give him a test drive
17. james bond meets
18. stop talking and step away
19. ceviche and snakeskin: a night of terror
20. a shipping container of botox
21. in your own best interest
22. details, details
23. cougar mama to a golden-bronze man-boy
24. that’s all
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Lauren Weisberger
Copyright
About the Publisher
The rain fell in sideways sheets, cold and relentless, the winds whipping it in every direction, making an umbrella, slicker, and rain boots nearly useless. Not that Andy had any of those things. Her two-hundred-dollar Burberry umbrella had refused to open and finally snapped when she tried to force it; the cropped rabbit jacket with the oversize collar and no hood cinched fabulously around her waist but did nothing to stop the bone-chilling cold; and the brand-new stacked suede Prada pumps cheered her with their poppy fuchsia color but left the better part of her foot exposed. Even her skinny leggings left her legs feeling naked, the wind making the leather feel as protective as a pair of silk stockings. Already the fifteen inches that had blanketed New York were beginning to melt into a slushy gray mess, and Andy wished for the thousandth time that she lived anywhere but here.
As if to punctuate her thought, a taxi barreled through a yellow light and blared its horn at Andy, who had committed the grievous crime of trying to cross the street. She restrained herself from offering him the finger – everyone was armed these days – and instead gritted her teeth and hurled mental curses his way. Considering the size of her heels, she made decent progress for the next two or three blocks. Fifty-Second, Fifty-Third, Fifty-Fourth … it wasn’t too far now, and at least she’d have a moment or two to warm up before beginning the race back to the office. She was consoling herself with the promise of a hot coffee and maybe, just maybe, a chocolate chip cookie, when suddenly, somewhere, she heard
Where was it coming from? Andy glanced around, but her fellow pedestrians didn’t seem to notice the sound, which was growing louder every second.
She would not answer. Could not. Andy took a deep breath, hit ‘ignore,’ and tossed the phone back into her bag. It started ringing again almost immediately. Andy could feel her heart begin to beat faster, and it got more and more difficult to fill her lungs.
Which is exactly what Andy did, right there in the pool of hell that had accumulated between the street and the curb. She stood, flamingo-like, perched gracefully on one submerged foot, holding the other one rather impressively above the watery mess for a good thirty or forty seconds, weighing her options. Around her, people gave her and the slushy little lake wide berth, only those with knee-high rubber boots daring to tromp directly through the middle. But no one offered her a hand and, realizing that the puddle had a large enough perimeter that she couldn’t jump to escape in any one direction, she steeled herself for another shock of cold and placed her left foot beside her right. The icy water rushed up her legs and came to a stop on her lower calf, subsuming both fuchsia shoes and a good five inches of leather pant, and it was all Andy could do not to cry.
Her shoes and leggings were ruined; her feet felt like she might lose them to frostbite; she had no option for extricating herself from the mess except continuing to slog through it; and all Andy could think was,
There wasn’t time to dwell on her misery, though, because as soon as she made it to the curb and stopped to evaluate the damage, her phone rang again. It had been ballsy – hell, downright reckless – to ignore the first call. She simply couldn’t do it again. Dripping, shivering, and near tears, Andy tapped the screen and said hello.
‘Ahn-dre-ah? Is that you? You’ve already been gone for an eternity. I’ll ask you only one time. Where. Is. My. Lunch? I simply won’t be kept waiting like this.’
‘I’m so sorry, Miranda. It’s really horrid out right now, and I’m trying my best to—’
‘I’ll expect you back here
No matter that the icy water trapped in her shoes was squishing around her toes in the most disgustingly imaginable way, or that it had been hard enough to walk in those heels when they were dry, or that the sidewalks were growing slicker by the second as the rain started to freeze: Andy began to run. She sprinted as best she could down one block and had only one more to go when she heard someone calling her name.
She would recognize that voice anywhere. But what was Max doing there? He was away that weekend, upstate somewhere, for a reason she couldn’t quite remember. Wasn’t he? She stopped and turned, searching for him.
And then she spotted him. Her fiancé, with his thick dark hair and piercing green eyes and rugged good looks, was sitting astride an enormous white horse. Andy didn’t particularly like horses ever since she’d fallen from one in second grade and shattered her right wrist, but this horse looked friendly enough. Never mind that Max was riding a white horse in midtown Manhattan in the middle of a blizzard – Andy was so ecstatic to see him, she didn’t even think to question it.
He dismounted with the ease of a practiced rider, and Andy tried to remember if he’d ever mentioned playing polo. In three long strides he was at her side, enveloping her in the warmest, most delicious embrace imaginable, and she felt her whole body relax as she collapsed into him.
‘My poor baby,’ he murmured, paying neither the horse nor the staring pedestrians any mind. ‘You must be freezing out here.’
The sound of a phone – that phone – rang out between them, and Andy scrambled to answer it.
‘Ahn-dre-ah! I don’t know what part of “immediately” you don’t understand, but—’
Andy’s whole body was shaking as Miranda’s shrill voice drilled into her ear, but before she could move a single muscle, Max plucked the phone from her fingertips, tapped ‘end’ on the screen, and tossed it with perfect aim directly into the puddle that had previously claimed Andy’s feet. ‘You’re done with her, Andy,’ he said, wrapping a large down comforter around her shoulders.
‘Ohmigod, Max, how could you do that? I’m so late! I haven’t even made it to the restaurant yet, and she’s going to kill me if I’m not back there with her lunch in—’
‘Shhh,’ he said, touching two fingers to Andy’s lips. ‘You’re safe now. You’re with me.’
‘But it’s already ten after one, and if she doesn’t—’
Max reached both hands under Andy’s arms and lifted her effortlessly into the air before gently depositing her sidesaddle on top of the white horse, whose name, according to Max, was Bandit.