Page 68 of Marlowe Banks, Redesigned
“Do you remember your last words to me in New York?” She waited as his brow furrowed and he shook his head. “You said, ‘You’ll never find someone else as good as me.’ You were wrong. I did find someone.”
Kelvin reeled, scrunching up his face in disbelief.
“Who? That guy in the club photo?”
“No.” She backed up to give him plenty of room to pass. “Me.”
He pursed his lips, staring long and hard into her eyes. She held her ground, standing tall, unflinching, until he walked out. As soon as he cleared the front step, she shut and locked the door. Then she sank to the floor and bawled her eyes out.
Chapter Twenty-six
Saturday morning, long after Marlowe had exhausted her snooze alarm well past any actual snoozing, she picked crusted tears from her lashes and rolled over to check her phone. Her group thread with her friends had several insistent texts urging her to call as soon as she was awake. She’d texted last night to let them know Kelvin had shown up and she’d kicked him out. Her friends were three hours ahead and all asleep at the time, but they were on stand-by now as soon as she was upright. She loved them for that, and for a hundred other things, besides. Her mom had also texted, pushing for an answer about the marathon, and her dad had texted to reschedule their next chat. Again.
She set aside her phone and squinted up at her window. Bright sunlight poured through the bent sections of her mangled blinds, as usual, forming oddly angled stripes across the beige bedding. She never thought she’d miss rain and snow, but the endless perfect weather in L.A. felt like a bar Marlowe’s mood couldn’t live up to. Knowing that, and feeling she’d earned the right to wallow for a day, she drew the covers over her head. She threw them off again when her phone buzzed. And didn’t stop.
Cherry: Wes turned in new pages
Cherry: We have an added scene to shoot Monday
Cherry: Lola Lankarani’s making a guest appearance
Cherry: She only wears pink
Cherry: She’s very particular about which pink
Cherry: I have her approved Pantone color samples
Cherry: Yes, I’m serious
Cherry: Babs needs us to shop options
Cherry: It’ll be faster with two of us
Cherry: How soon can you get a rental car?
Cherry: Do you need a ride?
Cherry: I’m in your neighborhood
Cherry: Just need an address
Cherry: Want coffee?
Cherry: Treats?
Marlowe watched the texts appear, one right after another. If Cherry had fit them all into a single send, Marlowe might’ve been able to ignore it, remaining horizontal and brain-fogged for several hours to come. Instead, Cherry continued sending questions and increasingly urgent pleas for a reply. Eventually Marlowe caved.
Marlowe: Can’t work today. Sorry
Cherry: Where are you?
Marlowe: In bed
Cherry: Are you sick?
Marlowe typedyes, deleted it, typed it again, and decided Cherry deserved the truth. Through a rapid text exchange, Marlowe explained what had happened last night. With a few choice expletives, Cherry requested an address and promised to arrive withintwenty minutes, coffee and full-gluten, full-sugar treats in hand. And so she did.
“We have half an hour,” she said as she flew past Marlowe into the kitchen, goodies in hand. “You’re going to tell me everything. I’m going to will seven plagues on Bench Boy. Then you’re showering and getting dressed and we’re going shopping.”
