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第50章

时尚女魔头 穿普拉达的恶魔 英文原版-第50章


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  and that being a size six does not put me in the plus…size category。 
  So I guess the short answer is; not much。

  “Well; Mr。 Tomlinson; not too much。 I work a lot。 And I guess when 
  I’m not working I hang out with my best friend; or my boyfriend。 Try 
  to see my family。”I used to read a lot; I wanted to say;but I’m too 
  tired now。 And sports have always been a pretty big part of my life; 
  but there wasn’t time anymore。

  “So; you’re twenty…five; right?” He non…sequitured。 I couldn’t even 
  imagine where he was going with this one。

  “Uh; no; I’m twenty…three。 I only graduated last May。”

  “Ah…hah! Twenty…three; huh?” He looked like he was trying to decide 
  whether to say something or not。 I braced myself。 “So tell Mr。 T。; 
  what do twenty…three…year…olds do in this city for fun? Restaurants? 
  Clubs? That sort of thing?” He smiled again; and I wondered if he 
  really needed the attention as much as he appeared to: there was 
  nothing sinister behind his interest; just a seemingly driving need 
  totalk 。

  “Um; well; all sorts of things; I guess。 I don’t really go to clubs; 
  but bars and lounges and places like that。 Go out for dinner; see 
  movies。”

  “Well; that sounds like a lot of fun。 Used to do that kind of stuff; 
  too; when I was your age。 Now it’s just a lot of work events and 
  fund…raisers。 Enjoy it while you can; Andy。” He winked like a dorky 
  father would。

  “Yeah; well; I’m trying;” I managed。Please leave; please leave; 
  please leave; I willed; staring longingly at the bagel that was just 
  calling my name。 I get three minutes of peace and quiet a day; and 
  this man was stealing all of it。

  He opened his mouth to say something; but the doors swung open and 
  Emily stomped in。 She was wearing her headphones and moving to the 
  music。 I watched her mouth drop open when she saw him standing 
  there。

  “Mr。 Tomlinson!” she exclaimed; yanking off her headphones and 
  tossing her iPod in her Gucci tote。 “Is everything OK? Nothing’s 
  wrong with Miranda; is it?” She looked and sounded genuinely 
  concerned。 An A…plus performance: always the perfectly attentive; 
  unfailingly polite assistant。

  “Hello there; Emily。 Nothing wrong at all。 Miranda will be here 
  shortly。 Mr。 T。 just came by to drop off her things。 How are you 
  doing today?”

  Emily beamed。 I wondered if she actually enjoyed his presence。 “Just 
  fine。 Thanks so much for asking。 And you? Did Andrea help you with 
  everything?”

  “Oh; she sure did;” he said; throwing smile number 6;000 in my 
  direction。 “I wanted to go over a few things about my brother’s 
  engagement party; but I realize that it’s probably a little early 
  for that; right?”

  For a moment I thought he meant too early in the morning and I 
  almost shouted “Yes!” but then I realized that he meant it was too 
  early in the planning to discuss details。

  He turned back to Emily and said; “You’ve got yourself a great 
  junior assistant here; don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely;” Emily managed through clenched teeth。 “She’s the 
  best。” She grinned。

  I grinned。

  Mr。 Tomlinson grinned with extra wattage; and I wondered if he had a 
  chemical imbalance; perhaps hypomania。

  “Well; Mr。 T。 had better be on his way。 It’s always lovely chatting 
  with you girls。 Have a nice morning; both of you。 Good…bye now。”

  “’Bye; Mr。 Tomlinson!” Emily called as he rounded the corner in the 
  hallway on his way to reception。

  “Why were you so rude to him?” she asked as she pulled the flimsy 
  leather blazer off; only to reveal a flimsier chiffon scoop…neck 
  that was laced all the way up the front like a corset。

  “So rude? I helped him unload her stuff and I talked to him before 
  you got here。 How is that rude?”

  “Well; you didn’t say good…bye; for one thing。 And you have that 
  look on your face。”

  “That look?”

  “Yes; that look of yours。 The one that tells everyone just how far 
  above this you are; just how much you hate it here。 That may fly 
  with me; but it won’t with Mr。 Tomlinson。 He’s Miranda’shusband ; 
  and you just can’t treat him like that。”

  “Em; don’t you think he’s a little; I don’t know 。 。 。 weird? He 
  never stops talking。 How can he be so nice when she’s such a 。 。 。 
  so not as nice?” I watched as she glanced inside Miranda’s office to 
  make sure that I’d set the newspapers correctly。

  “Weird? Hardly; Andrea。 He’s one of the most prominent tax attorneys 
  in Manhattan。”

  It wasn’t worth it。 “Never mind; I don’t even know what I’m saying。 
  What’s going on with you? How was your night?”

  “Oh; it was good。 I went shopping with Jessica for gifts for her 
  bridesmaids。 Everywhere—Scoop; Bergdorf’s; Infinity; everywhere。 And 
  I tried on a bunch of stuff to get some idea for Paris; but it’s 
  still really too early。”

  “For Paris? You’re going to Paris? Does that mean you’ll leave me 
  alone with her?” I hadn’t meant to say the last part out loud; but 
  it had slipped。

  Again; a look like I was crazy。 “Yes; I’ll be going to Paris with 
  Miranda in October; for the spring ready…to…wear shows。 Each year 
  she takes her senior assistant to the spring shows so she can see 
  what it’s really like。 I mean; I’ve been to; like; a million at 
  Bryant Park; but the European shows are just different。”

  I did a quick calculation。 “In October; as in seven months from now? 
  You were trying on clothes for a trip seven months from now?” I 
  hadn’t meant for it to sound as harsh as it did; and Emily 
  immediately got defensive。

  “Well; yes。 I mean; obviously I wasn’t going to buy anything—so many 
  of the styles will have changed by then。 But I just wanted to start 
  thinking about it。 It’s a really huge deal; you know。 Stay in 
  five…star hotels; go to the craziest parties ever。 And my god; you 
  get to go to the hottest; most exclusive fashion shows in 
  existence。”

  Emily had already told me that Miranda went to Europe three or four 
  times a year for the fashion shows。 She always skipped London; like 
  everyone did; but she went to Milan and Paris in October for spring 
  ready…to…wear; in July for winter couture; and in March for fall 
  ready…to…wear。 Sometimes she’d hit resort; but not always。 We’d been 
  working like crazy to get Miranda prepared for the shows ing up 
  at the end of the month。 I’d wondered briefly why she wasn’t 
  planning on bringing an assistant。

  “So why doesn’t she take you to all of them?” I decided to just go 
  for it; even though the answer was sure to entail a lengthy 
  explanation。 I was excited enough that Miranda would be out of the 
  office for two whole weeks (she spent one in Milan and one in Paris) 
  and was giddy at the thought of getting rid of Emily for a week of 
  that。 Visions of bacon cheeseburgers and nonprofessionally ripped 
  jeans and flats—oh hell; maybe even sneakers—filled my head。 “Why 
  just in October?”

  “Well; it’s not like she doesn’t have help over there。 Italian and 
  FrenchRunway always send some of their assistants for Miranda; and 
  most of the time the editors help her themselves。 But it’s at spring 
  RTW that she throws a huge party; the annual kick…off party that 
  everyone says is the biggest and best at all the shows; all year 
  long。 I’ll only go for the week while she’s in Paris。 So obviously 
  she would only trustme to help her there。” Obviously。

  “Mmm; sounds like it’ll be a great time。 So that means I just hold 
  down the fort here; huh?”

  “Yeah; pretty much。 But don’t think that it’ll be a joke。 That will 
  probably be the hardest week of all because she needs a lot of 
  assistance when she’s away。 She’ll be calling you a lot。”

  “O

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