Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Know Read Online Free Page A

can’t recall her name right now. But I know I know it, of course I know it. Everyone knows who she is! I just, well, don’t, uh, seem to know it right now.’
    She peered at me for a moment, her large brown eyes finally fixated on my now perspiring face. ‘Miranda Priestly,’ she near-whispered, with a mixture of reverence and fear. ‘Her name is Miranda Priestly.’
    Silence ensued. For what felt like a full minute, neither of us said a word, but then Sharon must have made the decision to overlook my crucial misstep. I didn’t know then that she was desperate to hire another assistant for Miranda, couldn’t know that she was desperate to stop this woman from calling her day and night, grilling her about potential candidates. Desperate to find someone, anyone, whom Miranda wouldn’t reject. And if I might – however unlikely – stand even the smallest chance of getting hired and thereby relieve her, well, then attention must be paid.
    Sharon smiled tersely and told me I was going to meet with Miranda’s two assistants.
Two
assistants?
    â€˜Why yes,’ she confirmed with an exasperated look. ‘Of course Miranda needs two assistants. Her current senior assistant, Allison, has been promoted to be
Runway
’s beauty editor, and Emily, the junior assistant, will be taking Allison’s place. That leaves the junior position open for someone!
    â€˜Andrea, I know you’ve just graduated from college and probably aren’t entirely familiar with the inner workings of the magazine world …’ She paused dramatically, searching for the right words. ‘But I feel it’s my duty, my
obligation
, to tell you what a truly incredible opportunity this is. Miranda Priestly …’ She paused again just as dramatically, as though she were mentally bowing. ‘Miranda Priestly is the single most influential woman in the fashion industry, and clearly one of the most prominent magazine editors in the world. The world! The chance to work for her, to watch her edit and meet with famous writers and models, to help her achieve all she does
each and every day
, well, I shouldn’t need to tell you that it’s a job a million girls would die for.’
    â€˜Um, yeah, I mean yes, that does sound wonderful,’ I said, briefly wondering why Sharon was trying to talk me into something that a million other people would die for. But there wasn’t time to think about it. She picked up the phone and sang a few words, and within minutes she’d escorted me to the elevators to begin my interviews with Miranda’s two assistants.
    I thought Sharon was starting to sound a bit like a robot, but then came my meeting with Emily. I found my way down to the seventeenth floor and waited in
Runway
’s unnervingly white reception area. It took just over a half hour before a tall, thin girl emerged from behind the glass doors. A calf-length leather skirt hung from her hips, and her unruly red hair was piled in one of those messy but still glamorous buns on top of her head. Her skin was flawless and pale, not so much as a single freckle or blemish, and it stretched perfectly over the highest cheekbones I’d ever seen. She didn’t smile. She sat next to me and looked me over, earnestly but with little apparent interest. Perfunctory. And then, unprompted and still having not introduced herself, the girl I presumed to be Emily launched into a description of the job. The monotone of her statements told me more than all of her words: she’d obviously gone through this dozens of times already, had little faith that I was any different from the rest, and as a result wouldn’t be wasting much time with me.
    â€˜It’s hard, no doubt about it. There will be fourteen-hour days, you know – not often, but often enough,’ she rattled on, still not looking at me. ‘And it’s important to understand that there will be no editorial work.