Page 6 of Marlowe Banks, Redesigned
“Sorry about the lunch.” Marlowe caved in on herself, a habitshe was trying but failing to stem. “I’ll get the receipts done today. I promise. I’ll take the samples home with me tonight and return with them sorted and labeled tomorrow. I’ll also bring you chopsticks from catering before I head to set.” She stepped up to Cherry’s desk and grabbed a thick accordion file that contained the paperwork she had to complete.
Cherry finally looked up from her screen. A grin instantly broke across her face.
“Wow! Look at you, sassy, sexy waitress girl!” She leapt from her chair and gave Marlowe a full appraisal. “Way to sneak a great haircut onto the company dime.”
Marlowe tipped her head side to side, letting her ponytail swing.
“I didn’t realize they’d want to cut it when I volunteered, but Patrice said my usual style only worked if I was playing Rapunzel or a Pre-Raphaelite drowning victim.”
Babs let out a derisive little snort while Cherry snuck Marlowe a quick eye-roll.
“Your brows are stellar. And you should get the number on that lipstick.”
“Good grief!” Babs huffed from halfway down the trailer. “No one needs their ego stroked simply for having the right measurements to carry a pot of coffee.”
“Sorry,” Marlowe said again, this time with slightly less caving. “It really did seem like the easiest solution. It’s one day. Everything will be back to normal tomorrow.”
“Whatever.” Babs flicked a hand as she stood andclick-click-clicked her way to the door. “I’ll go get my own chopsticks. You’re obviously too busy admiring yourself.”
Marlowe stepped forward, ready to halt Babs with yet another apology, but Cherry set a hand on her wrist and shook her head,mouthingLet her go. Marlowe cringed, uncomfortable neglecting her boss’s request, but she trusted Cherry’s judgment. She also suspected that even if she got the chopsticks, Babs would find another way to prove she wasn’t doing her job. Earlier that day, all of the necessary parties had quickly approved Marlowe’s casting, whisking out waivers for her to sign and shuffling her to hair and makeup, but Babs had been prickly from the first suggestion.
“Ignore her,” Cherry said once Babs was long gone. “She’s jealous that you’re getting attention instead of stuck behind a laptop or in a car all day. She’ll get over it.”
“Let’s hope so.” Marlowe nodded at the laptop that’d held Cherry’s rapt gaze. “Everything okay? You seemed worried when I got here. Not another catastrophe?”
“Just the usual drama. Nothing you need to see.” Cherry slammed the laptop shut and practically sat on it, so obviously attempting to mask it from view, she might as well have taped a giantWhatever you do, don’t look heresign on it.
Marlowe couldn’t help but laugh. “You do realize that now Ihaveto see?”
“Okay, fine. But promise me you won’t take it seriously.” Cherry waited for Marlowe’s nod before opening the laptop. The screen showed Angus’s Instagram account, with a photo of him from the hips up, posing in his dampened T-shirt. The hem of his shirt rode up as though his hand justhappenedto get caught in the fabric, revealing several inches of his sculpted abs. His stance was casual, his expression pensive, while the whole image was carefully filtered to look like a high-end cologne ad.
“Guess I shouldn’t feel so bad about soaking him if he got eight thousand likes out of it.” Marlowe shrugged, unsure what Cherry had been so protective about. She skimmed a few comments, mostof which were written in emojis, some more suggestive than others. Then her eyes snagged on the caption.Wardrobe Malfunction.Innocuous enough on the surface, but Cherry had hidden the post for good reason.
“Clever,” Marlowe said flatly.
“More like plausibly deniable assholery,” Cherry amended.
Marlowe slumped against her side, fully aware of what she meant. “Wardrobe” referred to their department and the malfunction was clearly Marlowe’s. Spectacular. In a matter of minutes, she’d gone from Helper Girl to Malfunctioning Wardrobe Girl. If she kept up the good work, by evening she might get promoted to Vaguely Dismissible Nincompoop or maybe just That Clumsy but Largely Forgettable Person with the Hair.
She reread the caption, trying to convince herself it was innocent, but combined with the memory of Angus’s pointed ire, it felt just as condescending on the second read.
“It was only a T-shirt,” she said. “And nothing saysI humbly accept your apologylike immediately shaming someone on social media.”
Cherry reached for the laptop and pivoted the screen out of Marlowe’s view.
“It’s not really about you. He’s seizing a chance to show off the Great Gordon Chisel-fest.” She peeked at the screen and scoffed. “Man muscles are so overrated.”
“Eight thousand people—and counting—would argue otherwise.” Not wanting to belabor the subject, Marlowe stepped away to gather everything she needed for work: the accordion file, a department laptop, a thick stack of scratch paper, two rolls of tape, a handful of spare file folders, and a giant shopping bag filled with Babs’s unsorted receipts. Still, her mind buzzed. Truthfully, shewasn’t convinced that a well-toned male body was overrated. She understood the stream of heart-eyed emojis beneath Angus’s photo, but his post reminded her too much of her relationship with Kelvin. Small mistakes had so often led to such large doses of shame. How did guys do that? And why?
Cherry held open the trailer door, eyeing Marlowe suspiciously as she passed.
“You promised you wouldn’t take it seriously,” she said.
“I’ll let it go as fast as I can.” Marlowe shifted the bag and tightened her hold on the files, hoping to avoid two accidents in one day. “And you? You hanging in there?”
“I’ll make it through the day.” Cherry straightened Marlowe’s collar where it had bunched up under her purse strap. “You’re a lifesaver for doing this. Any plans Friday?”
“Let me check my busy social calendar.” She shifted slightly while looking at nothing in particular. “Imagine that. I’m wide open.”
