Page 58 of Marlowe Banks, Redesigned
Someone shuffled in Marlowe’s peripheral vision. She snapped to attention and pulled back, both hands laid against Angus’s breastbone while she blinked at his chest and caught her breath. When she finally looked up, he was smiling at her, as Jake or as Angus, she couldn’t tell. The bright lights lit up his cheekbones and brought out the golden tones in his stubble. His hair, now tousled, shone bright.
“Copper pennies,” she said.
The skin beside his eyes crinkled as his smile widened.
“What about them?” he asked.
“Your hair. I finally figured it out. It’s the color of brand-new copper pennies.”
He tipped his forehead against hers, laughing softly.
“And cut!” Fritz called from his spot by the monitors.
Marlowe felt her entire body flush.
“I said that in front of everyone, didn’t I?” she asked.
Angus beamed at her. “Easily edited out and totally worth it.”
Despite Marlowe’s mortification, few people around her seemed to care that she’d broken character and shared a moment of real intimacy with Angus. Maybe it wasn’t as obvious as she thought, or maybe everyone was so accustomed to watching Angus kiss his costars, nothing about the scene seemed odd, even her unscripted assessment of his hair color. Wes, Fritz, and Alejandra dove into a discussion about what else they needed to capture—the end of the scene, of course, which Marlowe had completely botched, but also close-ups and transitions that would be edited together later. Makeup people scurried forward to reapply lipstick and fix any smudges. A girl with an apron full of combs and clips sat Angus down to force his waves back into submission. The lighting and sound crew was all business, rattling on about boom angles and volume settings. Angus was right. For everyone but Marlowe, capturing these last few minutes was a job. Only a job. And they were about to repeat it again, and again, and again. At least next time the kiss ended, she’d remember to stand up and say goodbye. Maybe.
Four hours later, Marlowe was back in the trailer, dressed in her own clothes and scrubbing the last of her makeup off in the sink. Cherry knocked and entered, bearing coffee and biscotti. She set them on the counter while Marlowe dried her face.
“I got you something else, too.” She handed Marlowe a glittery tube of fruity lip balm. “Figured you might need this about now.”
Marlowe gave Cherry a teasing shove but she opened the lip balm right away.
“That was insane,” she said as she applied the gel to her burning lips.
“You got through it, though. Two scenes down. Only one more to shoot, and all you’ll have to do is pine for him across the street and then duck into a church.”
Marlowe sank into a chair and drew the lid off her coffee, inhaling the sweet mocha-scented steam. She was exhausted from trying to get the scene right over and over while Fritz gave her new input after every take.The goodbye’s too sudden, the kiss starts too fast, I need to sense more conflict, take a longer pause, take a shorter pause, slow down the exit, stand up faster, look over your shoulder as you leave, scratch that, get away as fast as you can. It was all too much to process. But that very first kiss…
“Maria and I are grabbing drinks after work tonight,” Cherry said. “Wanna come? We can make it a group thing. Invite Ravi and Patrice. And anyone else you want?” Her voice rose at the end of her question, making her implication clear.
Marlowe hid a frown against the rim of her coffee cup, her mind in turmoil about what she wanted, and what she didn’t want, and how to untangle the two.
“I think I’ll head home and crash early,” she said. “God knows Babs will have ten days’ worth of work for me to fit into the rest of the week.”
“Probably, though at least we’ll be on wrap by the end of next week. With the actors gone, Babs won’t send you on more jealousy-induced errand marathons. Though holy shit! That bombshe dropped about her marriage? Guess she just wants the same opportunities as her ex. It’s so unfair that a woman who dates a much younger man is called a cougar while a man who dates a much younger woman is called a man. Also, spinster versus bachelor? Fuck the patriarchy.” Cherry’s phone buzzed. She checked the screen. “Speaking of Babs, duty calls.” She grabbed a cookie and backed against the trailer door. “By the way, I hope it’s okay if I wait until we wrap before I ask her about hiring you on for the girls’ rock camp film. I’m pretty sure she’ll say yes but watching you mash faces all day with her fantasy boy toy hasn’t put her in the best mood.”
Marlowe conceded the point with a nod and a look of understanding.
“No rush,” she said. “Besides, I’m having second thoughts about staying in L.A.”
“We scared you off that fast?”
“Of course not, but today’s conversation with the writers and producers cemented something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently. I liked having a voice, and seeing that voice affect the story being told.” She glanced at the Achebe script half-buried on the makeup counter. “I might be ready to try designing again.”
Cherry jammed the cookie between her teeth, stepping forward to high-five Marlowe before removing the cookie and brushing crumbs off her jacket.
“Happy to be your plan B,” she said. “And I don’t say that to all the girls.”
Marlowe laughed while nursing a little ache in her heart. She’d miss more than the tacos and the sunshine if she left L.A. Much,muchmore.
“Thanks,” she said. “And thanks again for being so awesome when I was freaking out earlier.”
“I will never be anything but awesome.” With another ear-to-ear smile and a few hummed bars of “Wind Beneath my Wings,” Cherry headed out.
