Revenge Wears Prada Read Online Free PDF Page A

take a running inventory of all the poor decisions I’d made and all the ways I was deficient as a person.”
    Max smiled. “Sounds like a blast.”
    “I just sort of figured, life is hard enough, you know? I don’t need my supposed recreational drug use making me unhappy.”
    “Very fair point.” He took a drag off his cigarette.
    “And you?”
    Max appeared to think about this for a minute, almost as though he were debating which version of the story to tell her. Andy watched his strong Harrison jaw clench, his dark brows knit. He looked so much like the newspaper pictures of his father. When his eyes met hers, he smiled again, only this time it was tinged with sadness. “My father died recently. The public explanation was liver cancer, but it was really cirrhosis. He was a lifelong alcoholic. Extraordinarily functional for a large part of it—if you can call being drunk every night of your life functional—but then the last few years, with the financial crisis and some tough business fallout, not as much. I drank pretty heavily myself startingin college. Five years out it was getting out of control. So I went cold turkey. No drinking, no drugs, nothing but these cancer sticks, which I just can’t seem to kick . . .”
    Now that he mentioned it, Andy had noticed that Max only drank sparkling water during dinner. She hadn’t thought much about it, but now that she knew the story, part of her wanted to reach out and hug him.
    She must have gotten lost in her own thoughts because Max said, “As you can imagine, I’m a really great time at parties lately.”
    Andy laughed. “I’ve been known to disappear without saying good-bye just so I can go home and watch movies in my sweatpants. Drinking or not, you’re probably a better time than I.”
    They chatted easily for another few minutes while they finished their cigarettes, and after Max led her back to the group, she found herself trying to catch his attention and convince herself that he was nothing more than a player. He was remarkably good-looking; Andy couldn’t deny that. Usually she was allergic to the bad boys, but tonight she thought she saw something vulnerable and honest. He hadn’t needed to confide in her about his father or admit to his drinking problem. He had been surprisingly forthright and totally down-to-earth, which were two qualities Andy found immensely appealing. But even Emily thinks he’s bad news, Andy reminded herself, and considering her friend was married to one of the biggest party boys in Manhattan, that was saying something. When Max said good-bye a little after midnight with a chaste cheek kiss and a perfunctory “Nice to meet you,” Andy told herself it was for the best. There were plenty of great guys out there, and there was no need to get stuck on a jerk. Even if he was adorable and seemed perfectly sweet and genuine.
    Emily appeared in Andy’s room the next morning at nine, already looking gorgeous in miniature white shorts, a batik-print blouse, and sky-high platform sandals. “Can you do me a favor?” she asked.
    Andy draped an arm across her face. “Does it involve getting out of bed? Because those margaritas crushed me last night.”
    “Do you remember talking to Max Harrison?”
    Andy opened an eye. “Sure.”
    “He just called. He wants you, me, and Miles to go to his parents’ place for an early lunch, to talk numbers for The Plunge. I think he’s serious about investing.”
    “That’s fantastic!” Andy said, not sure if she meant it more for the invitation or the news about the funding.
    “Only Miles and I are having brunch with his parents at the club. They just got back this morning and they’re raring to go. We’ve got to leave in fifteen minutes and there’s no getting out of it—trust me, I tried. Can you handle Max on your own?”
    Andy pretended to consider this. “Yeah, I guess so. If you want me to.”
    “Great, it’s decided then. He’ll pick you up in an hour. He said to bring a