Author Note:

So this here is my first True Jackson, VP fanfiction, and apparently only the second attempt at one to be posted here on the site, so yay :)

I'm already a huge Max/Amanda shipper as weird as that may be...

Any fans of the show may be interested in joining a fan community. If so, the link will be posted in my profile. It's a work in progress right now, so it's kinda ugly (the community that is).

For those new to my stories, I am first and foremost a dialogue writer. I'm most comfortable when writing scripts, but seeing as those aren't an allowed format on this site, I just make up for it with lots of dialogue and lack of really in-depth descriptions. Sorry if this bothers you, but please, do not criticize me for it if you leave a review. You've been warned, and it won't make me change my writing style. I don't want to be rude by any means. I just don't like getting reviews that say I'm not a good writer because I didn't describe in detail what everyone is wearing and what the room looks like and so on.

Disclaimers: I most certainly do not own ANYTHING but an imagination when it comes to True Jackson, VP. One line borrowed in part from Gone With The Wind and in part from an old friend who used to say it in this variation all the time.

The following takes place following the events of the episode Telling Amanda, therefore, this will most definitely contain spoilers.

If The Super Stylish Shoe Fits

Amanda had never imagined when True had convinced Max into asking them about their weekend plans, that her weekend would start off so strangely. Not only did she lose her boyfriend, she'd ended up at the 15 year old VP's house eating a disgusting piece of pie and then regurgitating it onto said ex-boyfriend as he stood outside the building the Jacksons lived in. Chad had been trying to get Amanda to take him back, but even if it had been unintentional, Amanda couldn't have thought of a better response than vomit even if she'd tried. It had been a cruelly ironic day to say the least.

Now as she settled into her high rise flat, she couldn't help but feel a little alone, and still slightly sick from True's mysterious pie. While Chad might have gotten what he'd deserved, and although True had been spot on about the qualities exemplified in her own father, it didn't change the fact that Amanda was alone again. She almost wished she'd at least gotten a little more time with Chad before finding out the truth. Then again, it would have only made the break up hurt more, she reasoned with herself.

"I deserve better," she told herself as she settled into her chaise and sipped on some hot tea she hoped would soothe her stomach. "I'm worth it." She held the cup a little bit away from her lips and sighed. "So why is it so hard?" It's just so hard to find a man who drives a nice car, knows how to dress and makes a lot of money. That's what she had said to True when they had talked about it earlier. Amanda made a small hmph sound. "If I deserve it, then isn't that the best?"

She had a hard time wrapping her mind around it all. After all, didn't everyone just generally measure success based on money? And as a fashion designer, there was absolutely no way she could handle a man who couldn't even dress himself. The last thing she wanted was to take on that kind of project. It would be cute if she were younger, but she wanted a man committed not only to taking care of her needs but being able to take care of his own, self-upkeep included. As for a nice car, she supposed maybe she could settle for a slightly less expensive model if it meant getting a class-act guy in exchange.

Sighing again, she took another sip before setting the cup down and turning on the television. As usual, she turned it to the Style! network. She didn't need to keep up with the latest trends, but she sometimes enjoyed seeing some of the cover stories of people she went to fashion school with. Sure enough, she saw a familiar face right away. "Madison Malone," Amanda shook her head as she remembered working with her on a few projects.

"And what keeps InFashion's top protege busiest these days," the host's voice got louder as Amanda turned up the volume slightly.

"Well, when I'm not running all over the place like a chicken with my head cut off, I just like to spend time with my wonderful husband, Matt. In our free time, we hardly leave each others' side," Madison said on the screen as they showed a picture of her and her handsome husband.

"And finding free time together is easier said than done since Matt is InFashion's go to photographer, which is how the two met last January," the host returned to the screen. "And if Madison's schedule wasn't busy enough, it might just get a little more hectic for the famous Miss Madison. She wouldn't divulge it to us, but rumor has it, Madison and Matt are expecting their own little protege."

"Okay, well, that definitely didn't help," Amanda wasn't sure if she was too happy to hear about Madison Malone's wonderful husband and growing family. "Kids might not be my thing, but...ugh! It's just not fair," she groaned in frustration. She reached for her remote when something else caught her attention.

"In our next interview, we caught up with Mad Style's Max Madigan," the host said.

"Max? I didn't know he had an interview spot scheduled," Amanda turned it up even louder. She usually knew Max's schedule, so this must have been an on the spot. Looking at the location, she saw that her suspicions were confirmed.

"I know, I know. Most days I'm in the office and too busy for these kind of things," Max answered the reporter.

"And it seems being cooped up in the office isn't the only drawback for one of the most successful CEO's of fashion," the host continued narrating the interview. "It seems like Mr. Madigan doesn't have time for romance either."

"A relationship? Hmm, as far as I know, there's nothing going on between me and anyone at the moment," Max said with his famous chuckle. "I guess you can't believe everything you read in the tabloids. I guess there's not too many women out there who wants an old fogey like me."

"Oh, Max, seriously? Fogey?" Amanda rolled her eyes a little, used to her boss' lameness but still feeling embarrassed for his reputation just a little.

"Well, that 'old fogey' is also one of the best dressed, best paid guys in New York," the host wrapped up the segment with more commentating, "Not to mention a class act. So I'm sure there's some ladies out there who'd love to have their hands on his heart...or maybe just on the wheel of Mr. Madigan's brand new luxury car."

"You know you've reached the top when you finally buy that car you always dreamed of having as a kid," Max said to the reporter, a big smile on his face. "Hey, maybe you'd like a ride in it or something?"

"Really?" the reporter's astonished and excited voice could be heard from behind the camera.

"See, now that's definitely a class act. That wraps up this edition of..." the host's voice faded out quickly as Amanda pressed the off button on her remote. She now sat on the edge of her seat, her jaw hanging ever so slightly as her mind tried to process everything she'd heard.

"He...he...he bought a new car?" She finally brought herself to speak. "He didn't tell me he bought a new car," she thought out loud, glad for the privacy of her own home. "I mean, not that I guess it's any of my business. But he usually tells me stuff like that and what am I saying? I'm just an employee." She paused, mulling it all over through her mind again. "Just an employee," she repeated as she dropped backwards in the chaise a little emphatically. She closed her eyes as her thoughts began to spin. Suddenly she couldn't wait for Monday as this weekend was shaping out to be the longest weekend of her life.

Amanda laid there in the chaise, unable to move as the clock slowly changed and as the night hours dwindled. Unable to shake any of her confusion or get any sleep, she finally opened her eyes and sat up. As she looked around, she realized her flat was feeling even lonelier than it had before. "That's it. Pull yourself together, Amanda," she scolded herself. Without giving it much thought, she quickly changed and freshened up and then headed out into the early morning air. She was certainly glad it was the city that never sleeps, or she'd feel just a little bit weird being out and about at nearly 5 in the morning on a Saturday.

Amanda reached her destination: her Mad Style office. If anything could get her mind off of the day before, it would be work. She grabbed the many assignments she'd shirked less than 24 hours earlier, back when she'd been happy and seemingly heading in the right direction in the romance department.

She chose the first assignment she saw and began sketching out what Max's latest design called for. From there she began cutting out the pattern and laying out her needed materials. And after about an hour and a half had gone by, she stood looking at her almost finished product as it rested on the mannequin. She bit her pencil and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she studied the dress really closely. "I just don't know," she finally said out loud. "It just doesn't feel right." She sighed and backed up slowly towards her desk, almost in defeat.

"You're right, there does seem to be a little something missing doesn't there?" Amanda jumped, startled by the unexpected voice. She looked to see Max standing in the door way. "Max?"

"Sorry to startle you, Amanda. I guess I was having too much fun watching you work on my design," Max said as he came into the office to inspect the dress more closely for himself. "I know how much I enjoy watching my star designers at work."

"How long have you been standing there?" Amanda asked in confusion, not sure what to think of the situation.

"Only about five or ten minutes I guess," Max answered, still looking over the dress. "Amanda, tell me, what do you think this dress needs?"

"Well..." Amanda spoke carefully. "It's a great design to start out with, but..." she thought carefully as she looked at the original sketch she'd drawn based on Max's detailed description. "I would have to say that maybe...a bright yellow fabric along the neckline to accentuate the v maybe?"

"Huh," Max muttered as he grabbed a piece of yellow fabric and held it against the dress. "You know what, I think that's the ticket. Something bold but conservative. I like it."

"Thanks, Max, but it's your design and..." Amanda didn't want to take too much credit, especially since the entire circumstance was still slightly awkward.

"No, no, no. It's a Mad Style design. So that means all of us," Max corrected as he worked on cutting out the fabric to add the final suggested detail.

"So, how did you know I was even here?" Amanda asked, her curiosity finally getting the best of her.

"To be honest, I didn't," Max confessed. "I was here already and actually on my way out when I passed by and saw you working. I guess it's silly being here so early on a Saturday," Max handed her the fabric to hold onto while he worked on sewing it in. "So what about you?"

"Me? Oh, well, I guess you could say I couldn't sleep," Amanda answered vaguely as she fed a little more of the fabric for Max to continue sewing. "So I thought a little work would be good for me. I know, pretty pathetic."

"Well, I don't think I could say that," Max said with the sewing needle between his lips. He cut a few stray strands before continuing. "It's actually the reason I came in. Something about work helps clear the mind." Max heard Amanda agree with a mmhmm and a sigh. He stopped what he was doing and looked at Amanda with a concerned expression. "How thoughtless of me. I didn't even ask if you were doing okay."

"Excuse me?" Amanda was now more confused than before.

"Well, I heard some of the drones in the elevator gossiping about you and your boyfriend," Max tried to explain delicately, but wasn't doing a very good job of it.

"Already?" Amanda huffed. She had counted on being all the big buzz at the water cooler come Monday. "Why am I even surprised?"

"So it's true?" Max didn't want to overstep but he couldn't deny that he was curious.

"Yes, it's true. The guy was a creep to put it mildly. And believe me, it's taking every ounce of control I have to keep it mild," Amanda answered.

"I see," Max said simply. He went back to sewing the last bit of fabric to the dress. "Well, it might not be any of my business, but it sounds like he's the one who missed out," Max added without looking up from his work.

Amanda wasn't sure how to respond. It felt rather unusual discussing her personal life with her boss. "Thank you," was all she could manage.

"And I mean it," Max assured her as he made the last snip and stood back to look at the newly finished product. "This is amazing," he turned and looked at her, "and so are you. You're a very talented woman and you deserve the best."

"True mentioned that last night," Amanda nodded. She didn't make eye contact for a moment, but then did as she added, "You know, I'll probably regret admitting this, but I was wrong. Yesterday, I told True I was sorry you had ever invited her into my world. But she really came through."

"Don't worry, Amanda, your secret nicety is safe with me," Max promised with a smile and a wink.

There was an awkward silence between them as they both acted like they were more interested in the dress than their conversation. Finally, Amanda couldn't take it anymore and had to break it somehow, "So how's the new car?"

"Hmm?" Max raised his eyebrows so that they could clearly be seen above the rim of his glasses. "How'd you know?"

"I saw your little interview on t.v.," she answered with a mischievous grin. "Wasn't too bad of an interview for an 'old fogey.'"

"Oh, that," Max gave a hearty laugh. "It's funny you should mention that. It's part of the reason I couldn't sleep. I couldn't get that silly interview out of my thoughts after watching it back last night."

"Really?" Amanda didn't quite understand what would bother him so much that he couldn't sleep.

"I know it's just an interview, but I don't know. I started thinking about it," Max shook his head discontentedly. "Be honest, did I come across as shallow or was it just how the host interpreted it? I mean, is all that there is to me? Money? Style? A nice car?"

"Well...I...I..." Amanda stuttered. She wasn't sure how to respond to her boss' ironic question. She didn't want to hesitate too long for fear of sounding insincere after the nice things he'd said to her about her break up with Chad. And then suddenly it came to her. "You're forgetting class act," she said quickly. "You may have all those things, but you're better off because you have class, Max."

"You really think so, Amanda?" Max was still doubtful.

"I know so," she smiled, easing his mind. "And believe me, it's a rare and wonderful thing. And for that, I'm lucky to know you."

"Thank you," Max responded. He then gulped inaudibly and took somewhat of a deep breath. "You know, a thought has just occurred to me. Neither one of us should be here. We should both be out enjoying our weekend. How would you like to test drive my new car?"

Amanda caught her breath, as she'd been looking at the design again, and had never in a million years expected the question to come out of Max's mouth. She looked at him in disbelief. "Your car?"

"Yeah, it's a sleek silver with a soft pink leather interior. Custom made," Max nodded.

"That sounds like a perfect color pallette," Amanda smiled as she pictured it.

"I thought so," Max nodded again. He then cleared his throat nervously. "I also thought that maybe we could take a drive. Maybe hit some of the hot fashion shows around town or down the coast or wherever," Max offered as he closed the gap between them just a little. "You know, give the water cooler something other than your break up to buzz about."

"And what about the tabloids?" she asked a little flirtatiously in reference to the interview.

"That is a thought," Max played along. "Well, I know how much they love printing all those lies, but maybe this time they'll finally get the story straight. Hope they won't be too disappointed. So what do you say?"

"And here I thought it was hard to find a rich, well dressed man who drives a nice car," she said turning her head slightly and biting her lip. Max looked at her curiously, not realizing it wasn't just a joke about his interview, but also her own realization that what Amanda had been looking for was now standing right in front of her. "Let's go disappoint those idiot reporters," she finally said with a big smile as she turned her gaze back towards him.

"But first..." she wrapped her arms around Max's neck and caught him with a surprise kiss, but it didn't take long for him to return the affection. As they broke the kiss, Amanda grabbed her purse almost nonchalantly, leaving Max in a daze. "Sorry, just didn't want the first kiss to be on camera," she said coyly before going and standing in the doorway.

Max laughed as he processed what she'd said. "Quick thinking, Amanda. I like it. And before I forget, I need you to take down a quick memo for me." Amanda gave a blank expression, but grabbed a notepad and pen off of her assistant's desk nonetheless. "On Monday, I want you to make sure the press team knows that this dress here will be previewed as a one of a kind Madigan-Cantwell design. The first of hopefully many. But this one...I don't think this one's for sell."

Amanda had stopped writing about midway. She dropped the pen and notepad in complete disbelief. Max looked at her and they shared a delighted squeal. "And to think all of this because True asked a silly question," she shook her head in amusement. Max held out his arm and she took it as they headed for the elevator. "But you do know the tabloids will say I'm just using you to get my name on the label," she joked.

"Maybe," Max nodded slightly. "But frankly my dear, I don't give a..."

"Max!"

"What? I was going to say hoot. Honest," Max replied innocently and Amanda knew by now he was telling the truth.

"Oh, Max," Amanda rolled her eyes once again at his lameness as they boarded the elevator and she pushed the button for the ground level. However, her eyes quickly closed instead as he initiated another kiss.

"One for the road," Max said cleverly as the elevator door closed.

THE END