Page 35 of Marlowe Banks, Redesigned
“They won’t mind if you convince them it won’t be a problem.”
“Convincing people isn’t my strength.”
“Nonsense. All that untapped acting talent shouldn’t go to waste.” Babs offered up a smile that wasjustcredible enough to prevent Marlowe from treating her comment like the dig that it was. It was one of Babs’s greatest talents. One among many.
While Marlowe petted Edith’s silky ears, Babs explained that the new scenes involved two dozen background players and three of the leads. Whitman and Janie could wear pieces pulled from prior looks, but Kamala would fall into a pond and get soaked. Since the shot would require several takes, several identical costumes were also needed. The initial outfit—a crisp black wrap blouse and pair of dark denim pedal pushers—had already been shopped and fit. Fortunately the items came from a chain store, though they’d been modified to make them less recognizable. Now Marlowe had to track down as many doubles as possible by end of day so the stitchers and dyers could make them all match and the clothes would be ready to shoot by Monday. Marlowe wondered how anyone working in film and TV had a personal life, but she didn’t ask. Instead,she took down the necessary information, leashed up Edith Head, and promised to do her best.
Cherry walked her out into the parking lot.
“You holding up?” she asked as Edith made use of the nearest flowerbed.
“Hungover. Tired. Freaked out. Desperately want to crawl into a hole. You?”
An irrepressible grin broke over Cherry’s face. “Same. Totally.”
Marlowe laughed. “If I didn’t like you so much, I might say something really unpleasant right now. But I’m happy you’re happy.”
Cherry’s grin somehow managed to widen. “Thanks. I’m happy I’m happy, too. And stop freaking out. No matter what’s going on with Tanagus or Angareve or whatever people are calling them these days, it’ll blow over. It always does.”
Marlowe spun in a circle, unwinding the leash that was wrapped around her legs.
“Ever notice telling someone not to freak out never makes them freak out less?”
“Yeah, but telling you thousands of people probably hate you now seems worse.”
“Excellent point.”
They exchanged a hug before Cherry went back inside and Marlowe found a shady spot where she tied up Edith Head and called around to every branch of Luscious Popsicle in drivable distance, asking them to check their inventory and hold the blouses and pedal pushers for her. She found seven stores that had at least one of the pieces and she was determined to hit them all before closing. As she mapped out a route, her phone approximated that the trip would take her eight hours, and that didn’t count time spent in the stores or dealing with the dog. If she was lucky, she’dget home around eight or nine, after her local Laundromat had closed. The day was going to exhaust her, especially with that article plaguing her.
Though maybe she could sneak in one more stop…
Chapter Fifteen
Tanareve flung her arms around Marlowe’s shoulders, drawing her into an enthusiastic hug, which appeared to be her standard greeting. Her thick chestnut hair brushed against Marlowe’s nose, smelling of pear or guava or some other fancy fruit. She wore a cute rayon romper that looked like something she’d just tossed on, even though it probably cost several hundred dollars. Ditto for her hoop earrings and embroidered espadrilles.
“Sweet dog,” she said. “And I’m so glad you texted.”
“You are?” Marlowe tugged on Edith Head’s leash, narrowly preventing the dog from stealing a scone off a nearby table. They were at a small sidewalk café near Rodeo Drive. Marlowe had asked if Tanareve could chat at some point that afternoon. Tanareve responded with the time and place. Marlowe confirmed and worked the café into her route. Now here they were, and Marlowe’s bigNothing happenedspeech no longer seemed quite so pressing. “I thought you might be upset about last night.”
“Because you left without saying goodbye?”
“Um… no.” Marlowe hooked Edith’s leash to a chair and sat down opposite Tanareve. The dog fussed and spun in circles, refusingto settle until Marlowe pulled up another chair and let Edith hop up. Then she found the article and showed Tanareve.
“Oh, lord. They’re at it again.” Tanareve flapped a dismissive hand. “You can’t take this stuff seriously, though they’re getting better at Photoshop. That last photo was taken years ago. I can’t even remember what I was mad about. Funny. It really does look like I’m wearing the same dress.” She passed Marlowe’s phone back with an easy smile.
Marlowe examined the shots more closely. Sure enough, in the pic of Tanareve yelling at Angus, her dress was slightly different, though the color match was spot-on.
“Then you didn’t fight last night?” she asked.
“I gave him grief for being a grouch, but that’s nothing new. You should’ve known him when he was a teenager. Total brooder. I’d take him to a party and he’d spend the whole night examining bookshelves or parked in a corner discussing some obscure branch of philosophy with people who were way too stoned to do anything but blink at him. God! And the staring! The guy can still examine a saltshaker for, like, half an hour. I’ve called him out on the habit but he swears he has no idea he’s doing it.”
A waiter came by and asked Marlowe to remove the dog from the chair. Tanareve intervened. As recognition dawned, the waiter shifted from scolding to fawning, offering to bring the dog a bowl of water. He left without asking if Marlowe wanted anything.
She leaned onto her elbows, ready to wither onto the tabletop after nursing high anxiety for the last few hours while driving all over L.A. and dragging Edith Head in and out of stores with stringent No Pets policies. Also, hangovers had serious staying power.
“So you and Angus are still together?” she asked, daring to hope.
“Like,togethertogether?”
