Page 70 of Marlowe Banks, Redesigned
Cherry’s sleek brows shot up. “For a design gig?”
“Yeah. A good one. Off-Broadway. World premiere. Not sure if I’ll get it. The director’s interviewing other designers, but they’re tight on schedule, so I’ll hear soon.”
“That’s awesome.”
“Even though it would mean bailing on you for that film?”
“Are you kidding? I’d jump the assisting ship in a heartbeat if I got a chance like that.” Cherry plucked a last remaining crumb off the table. “Did the interview go okay?”
“Mostly, although—” Marlowe broke off when her phone buzzed on the table.
Cherry glanced at the screen, her expression darkening into an ice-cold glare.
“Please tell me you blocked him.”
“I did. Last night. Right after he left.”
“Whoa. Wait. What the—?” Cherry grabbed the phone.
Marlowe leapt forward and whisked it from Cherry’s hands.The text on the screen was from Angus.Can I see you tonight? I need to return your spare house keys. Jeeves says it’s bad manners to keep them indefinitely.The text was followed with a winky emoticon. Gut knotting, Marlowe lowered her phone and met Cherry’s stare.
“Why is Chisel MacStubble texting you?” Cherry asked.
“He only—I mean, we kind of—That is to say—”
“Holy shit.” Cherry’s jaw dropped open. “You had sex with him, didn’t you?”
Marlowe cringed. “We didn’ttechnicallyhave sex, but…”
“But you sucked his face off while he put his hands down your pants?”
“Something like that?” Marlowe sank into a chair and braced herself for a diatribe. To her surprise, no diatribe came. Instead, a slow smile stretched across Cherry’s face.
“Was it good?” she asked.
Marlowe’s eyes drifted toward the bedroom, the sofa, the living room floor, the faint rectangle on the wall where an owl painting was still missing.
“Yeah.” She nodded. “It was really good.”
“Was it just for the not-technically sex?”
Marlowe hesitated before shaking her head. Cherry’s smile faded. For a moment the two of them simply sat there, silently acknowledging Marlowe’s reluctant admission. Then Cherry’s eyes narrowed as though she’d just remembered something.
“Wasn’t he at that gala thingy with Tanareve last night?” she asked.
Marlowe nodded again, sliding further down in her chair.
Cherry took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Oh, lord,” she said. “You’re fucked now.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
By the time Marlowe and Cherry were sorting through pastel pantsuits at Ladies’ Choice—a bland atelier that catered to women of a certain age and financial bracket—Marlowe had explained the full situation to Cherry. No, Angus wasn’t dating Tanareve. No, he wasn’t looking for a quick fling. Yes, he’d asked Marlowe to be his date last night. Also yes, she wanted to stay as far away from celebrity fanfare as possible. Also,alsoyes, she really liked Angus and she wasn’t sure what to do about that.
“I’m such a chicken.” Marlowe flipped past boring but well-tailored suits in powder blue and minty green, searching for anything pink. “Being seen with him in public shouldn’t be that hard. So what if people think I’m ugly or slutty or that I don’t deserve him? Why can’t I focus on whatIwant and ignore what people say about me?”
Cherry scoffed from the next aisle over. “Because it would be alotof people. We’re talking about Angus Gordon, not some dude who’s lucky to get upper-balcony seats at the Emmys. Do you really wantTMZreporting what you had for dinner last night? OrAccess Hollywoodputting you on a worst-dressed list?OrPeoplemagazine blowing up your phone for your version of the breakup?” Cherry grimaced as Marlowe flashed her a look. “Sorry. I get it. He’s beautiful and amazing and you’d never break up. Whatever. You had some fun. Now leave him to do his thing while you go do yours.”
