Page 41 of Marlowe Banks, Redesigned
“Got it.” He stood and brushed off his butt, maybe to draw attention to it, but probably not. “Can I at least leave you my jacket?”
“Better not. Besides, if she knows I’m cold and miserable, she’s less likely to give me grief about her dinner.” Marlowe remained seated, drooping against Edith.
Angus backed away. “Seriously. I mean it. Check out that place I recommended.”
“I will.” She smiled up at him. It was a weak effort but a sincere one. “Thanks for talking. And for being honest. Especially about the color gray. Total shocker.”
“See you around, Marlowe like the detective.”
“See you around, Angus not like the beef.”
He grinned at that. Goddamn, he was pretty. A thought that drifted away as quickly as it arose.
In the next moment, he was gone. His timing was good, since Babs and Cherry showed up only a few minutes later. Cherry was full of apologies. Babs mostly inquired about the state of her dog. When Marlowe handed off the food and apologized for “forgetting the spring roll,” Babs assured her it didn’t matter since she’d changed her mind about what she wanted and ordered delivery over an hour ago.
Straining for patience, Marlowe described the clothes she’d purchased, confirmed she wouldn’t be needed tomorrow, and drove home with loud, angry music that kept her awake. She kicked off her sneakers and stripped off her shirt on the way to the shower, not wasting a single second. She was peeling off her jeans when she turned the knob on the tub, only to have it creak and groan as the faucet produced precisely two drops of water.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” Marlowe moaned to the ceiling.
After trying her kitchen tap with the same predictable results, she recalled Angus’s recommendation. It was probably a luxury spa that would cost an entire week’s salary, but she was ready to splurge if it meant she could wash her hair and her clothes. Also: working blinds.
She found her phone and checked Angus’s entry. It didn’t include the name of a business. Only his name, a phone number, and a street address. She plugged the address into a map app, which opened up to an exclusive residential neighborhood in Bel Air. Suspecting the neighborhood didn’t have a public spa or hotel, but curious enough to pursue the matter one step further, Marlowe texted to inquire about the possibility of booking a room.
Chapter Seventeen
Half an hour after booking her room for the night, Marlowe pulled into a curving driveway in the hills of Bel Air, just north of the L.A. Basin. She announced herself using a little speaker box beside the driveway. A moment later, a pair of wrought-iron gates swung open, allowing her to drive through and park in front of Angus’s house.
She gaped as she got out of her car, taking in the façade. The house was made almost entirely of glass, two long, low stories, stacked like a pair of askew books with Japanese-inspired details in dark wood and white marble. Shades had been drawn in the upper floor but the ground level was open all the way through to the other side, revealing a sparsely furnished living room, another wall of windows, and an unobstructed view of the night sky. Angus didn’t actually live in a house or even in a mansion. He lived in a magical skybox.
Marlowe was hauling her laundry bag from her trunk when Angus stepped out through the front door and joined her by her car.
“You found the place okay?” he asked.
“Your directions were great. Also, GPS.”
“Right. Good.” He tugged at a tie on the ski hat she was wearing. “You can lose the disguise now. This is a safe zone.”
Marlowe removed her hat and tossed her sunglasses into it. She’d considered the precautions excessive when he’d suggested them earlier that night, but she’d complied, dredging out a vintage pair of cat-eye sunglasses and the only hat she could find in her closet. It was densely knitted in a snowflake pattern with earflaps, tasseled ties, and a bushy pom-pom. Hardly L.A. chic. Still, she was grateful she’d worn both the hat and the glasses when she’d passed a trio of black SUVs parked about half a mile back. The SUVs were no big deal, but the people sitting inside them, snapping photos of passing cars, were less innocuous. The last thing Marlowe needed was another round of public speculation about her supposed love affair with a guy who was simply loaning her a bed and a shower.
She blinked up at the house again. “You really live here, right? This isn’t a hoax where I find out you’re house-sitting when a snooty producer chases us out the door while my laundry’s still in the dryer?”
“Your laundry will be safe. Though we should let the butler handle it from here.” Angus took the bag from her and swung it over his shoulder. “Jeeves!” he called toward the open door. “Mind coming to lend a hand?”
Marlowe rooted herself to the driveway. “Your butler’s name is Jeeves?”
Angus laughed as he spun toward her. “You bought that?”
She sucker-punched his arm. “Jerk.”
“Guilty as charged, but you knew that already.” He headed inside with her following close behind, eyes wide in unconcealed astonishment. “I don’t have a butler. Though I’ve been known to hire a yard crew, a housekeeper, and a pool guy.”
“Yeah, well, we all have a pool guy.” She shook her head in an eye-roll kind of way, unsure how to take Angus’s lifestyle in stride. She’d grown up middle class, so she wasn’t without privilege, butshe’d been scraping by ever since she graduated from college and started supporting herself. None of her friends lived even remotely like this. Most of them were trying to make it as artists while working odd jobs to cover bills and eke out student-loan payments. They didn’thirehousekeepers. Theywerehousekeepers.
Angus showed Marlowe to the laundry room, a tidy, spa-like space complete with glass jars of fancy-looking soaps and perfectly rolled towels nestled in cozy nooks. The room was in the corner of a basement level that also included a home gym and a private guest suite, both of which faced out to a glittering pool in the backyard.
“I left a clean T-shirt and some boxers on the bed,” Angus said. “In case you need something to sleep in. Towels and toiletries are in the bathroom. I know you’re exhausted so I’m going to leave you to it. This floor’s all yours. Make yourself at home. Sleep as late as you like. I’ll try to stay quiet so I don’t wake you.”
“Thanks. Really. This is insanely nice of you.”
