Page 78 of Marlowe Banks, Redesigned
“Too ambitious.”
“Claim some privacy.”
“Ignored the obvious.”
“All of those people”—she nodded toward the paparazzi as they funneled toward the trailhead—“when you werejustat that gala with Tanareve.”
“We told reporters we weren’t together.”
“And they believed you?”
His jaw twitched as he gave her hand a gentle tug.
“Walk right past,” he said by way of answer. “Don’t say a word.”
With Edith straining at the leash and Angus determined to face the cameras, Marlowe let herself get led into a sea of flashing lights and overlapping voices.How long has this been going on? Does Tanareve know?Something vile about a casting couch. Something less vile about love. Demands for answers.Your fans need to know.
Angus pushed through it all with a clenched jaw, opening his passenger door for Marlowe. She climbed in and let Edith leap onto her lap. He skirted the car and got in, muttering, “No comment,” before slamming the door. As he pulled out of the parking space, the crowd eased away from the car, gradually giving way while still filming and shouting questions. Marlowe clung to Edith, burying her face against the dog’s neck until the car was out of the winding roads and heading south on Highway 1.
Angus kept his eyes on the road, every muscle tense. Edith climbed into the back seat with some effort. Marlowe got out her phone. It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for. A quick search for #IShipTheWaitress on Twitter pulled up a photo of her sitting on Angus’s lap, his hand hovering near her breast while he toyed with her neckline, her dress spread over his hips in a way that suggested she wasn’t just sitting on his lap. The original tweet was posted through a popular gossip site with the captionLooks like this ship has sailed. The teens must’ve sold their photos, and sold them fast. The retweets and comments were a mixed bag of shock, smugness for predicting what had now been “proven,” a smattering of enthusiasm, and a lot of condemnation. As with the dance photo, people had all sorts of words for Marlowe, few of them kind.
“Stop reading that trash,” Angus said.
“My friends can see this. My parents can see this. The people I’m trying to get work from can see this.” She kept scrolling. Anotherphoto was already up. The two of them ducking into the car, set next to a photo of Tanareve in tears.Gordon Ditches Hughes for Secret Rendezvous with Waitress. Hughes Shattered.“It’s all so fast.”
“The gossip market’s competitive. Everyone wants to be first to break a story.”
“But there is no story. Just two people who like each other having a picnic.”
He shot her a quick sideways glance, one that reminded her how naïve that thinking was. She’d known what might happen. She just let herself forget.
By the time Angus pulled into the studio parking lot, Marlowe already had texts from her friends in New York, from Cherry, and even from her mom asking what in the hell was going on. The story must’ve gone especially viral if her mom had seen it, informed by whatever friend or coworker had stumbled across it. One picnic. Two hours outside a gated space. Five minutes without the armor of hats and sunglasses. That was all it took, and any hope for privacy or control was wrenched away.
Angus turned off the ignition but he didn’t say anything. The sweet smiles and gentle laughter of the morning were gone, replaced by a hard edge Marlowe had seen before, during their screen test, at their first shoot when she’d questioned his intentions, and at the nightclub before their dance. She understood that edge now, the reasons he shut himself off and pushed people away. What other choice did he have? But still…
“It’s too much,” she said.
“I know.”
“I can’t.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded, closed his eyes, shook his head. “I know that, too.”
She bit her lip, fought back tears. “Maybe if we’d—”
“It would’ve happened eventually. I never should’ve pretended it wouldn’t.”
“I don’t know how to—”
“You don’t have to. You were clear about that. I pushed too hard.”
“You didn’t. We both wanted—”
“You should go.” He turned the key in the ignition, locked his gaze straight ahead.
