Page 18 of Marlowe Banks, Redesigned
“I pick it out. I don’t wear it. That’s a very deliberate career move.”
“Until someone offers you an acting gig.”
“As a waitress. With three lines, flat shoes, and a definitive enddate.” She flashed him aDrop itlook before continuing down the aisle, flinging shoes into the cart.
He hung back, turning the sandal over to study something on the sole. She left him to it. With the number of shoes Babs was expecting, Marlowe didn’t have time to discuss the finer points of fetish footwear with Angus. Still, he was there, hovering, making her feel like she should be paying him attention she didn’t have to spare. When he’d barely moved by the time she neared him one aisle over, she halted the cart.
“How many people work for you?” she asked.
He looked up from the marabou slipper he was now studying. “Like my agent?”
“Like anyone. Publicist, chef, maid.” She leaned forward for emphasis. “Driver.”
“You’re bored with me already?” He set down the shoe, flicking at the feathers.
“I appreciate everything you told me on the way here, but I think we covered it. I’ll give the situation some thought, and I won’t say yes without reading the fine print.”
He removed his aviators as his already serious expression pinched into a pronounced frown, one that forced a pair of deep creases between his brows.
“So that’s it?” he said. “Thank you, goodbye?”
“This can’t possibly be how you wanted to spend your day.”
“How do you know what I want to do?”
“Educated guess?”
“Or gross assumption?”
“How about educated assumption?”
“Educated how?” His chin tipped up, a gaining of ground, a hint of superiority.
Her chin remained precisely where it was. “By watching other people wait on you all the time. You don’t even get a cup of coffee without an entourage. Someone’s always nearby to do your bidding. You probably shop by sitting in a cozy chair, sipping cocktails with your feet kicked up while harried personal attendants display their wares for you.”
“Unfortunately none of those ‘attendants’ are qualified to select my costume.”
“I told you. I can get your jeans without you.”
“And miss the opportunity to take another jab at my imaginary lifestyle?”
She opened her mouth to reply. He raised a brow. She closed her mouth. For a long moment they held a look, edged with an already familiar sense of mutual challenge. When she didn’t contradict him—because, how?—he picked up a Lucite mule and turned it over as though it was the most intriguing thing ever.
“This doesn’t even bend,” he said.
Marlowe rolled her eyes and pushed the cart away, sensing she’d lost this battle and she should focus on the task at hand. While Angus poked around like a kid at a science exhibit, she filled the cart, texting with Cherry until they agreed on her selections. Then she met with the manager on duty to complete her purchase, requesting multiple sizes and by-end-of-day delivery so she wouldn’t tax her car’s limited baggage capacity.
As she slipped the extensive purchase order into her purse, the manager glanced at something over Marlowe’s shoulder, something that made her eyes widen in surprise.
“Is that who I think it is?” she asked.
Marlowe turned around to see Angus frowning at a high-heeled sneaker as though he couldn’t reconcile the decorative heel with theathletic style. She prepared a lie but he chose that moment to flash her a grin, one that was far too recognizable to deny.
“Yep,” she said to the manager. “That’s exactly who you think it is.”
“Oh, my god.” The woman’s jaw dropped open. “And are you the waitress?”
Marlowe flinched as Angus’s warnings echoed in her ears.Enough eyes on you. Part of the promotional machine. This is what you have to look forward to.
