the devil wears prada | Page 3

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

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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

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stitched-up belly and told me to drive very, very carefully because the dog was �experiencing some
discomfort.� 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 comfort 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 comment 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 become permanent features on the