I didn’t realize she was genuinely asking until the driver checked us out in the rearview mirror. Neither of us had made a move to get out of the car.
“And you care about that because…”
Constance glanced at her. “We should cut the bullshit. We don’t have much time anyway.”
“You’re right,” Marnie said. “I think the three of us could help each other. I need to prove to my boss that I can get better publicity for the movie. So I can, at the very least, keep my job and… Well, that’s the gistof it.”
“And I,” Constance said, “need someone like you. A rising star who gets photographed to death inmyoutfits. A lot of designers sent me their clothes for the festival and I need a hot body to wear them, but it can’t be just anyone.”
I looked from one to the other. “I’m notexactlygetting photographed to death.”
“Not yet,” Marnie said, nonplussed. “That’s where I come in.”
“How?”
I opened the car door. The evening chill gave me goosebumps.
“You deserve better than this,” Marnie said.
Not an answer, but not something I could disagree with either. We’d just walked into the lobby, and she looked pointedly at our surroundings, that god-awful lighting, the stained carpet.
“Odetta Olson’s suite is five times bigger than our three rooms combined,” Marnie said.
“I hate this place,” I said.
“This shithole is bringing us down,” Constance said.
“You’re right. Let’s get out of here,” Marnie said.
I shook my head. “I’m not wearing this dress for one more second.”
“There’s a solution for that,” Constance said.
She took us to her room, which was filled with piles of clothes, bags, and shoes, all neatly organized by color and style. There was barely enough space for the three of us to stand there.
The air smelled like salt and grease. The trashcan was full of empty packets of various types of chips. Marnie went to lean against the far wall and crossed her arms against her chest while Constance rummaged through the clothes.
“People give you this stuff?” I asked, incredulous.
“No onegivesanything to anyone,” she said, still facing a stack of shoe boxes. “It’s an exchange of services.”
“You’re gonna need to go to five events a day. Minimum,” Marnie said, referring to the sheer volume of outfits Constance had in her possession. “We’ll get you into the good ones, trust me.”
A few minutes later, Constance laid on the bed a colorful outfit made of beaded shorts with a matching crop top, both adorned with an intricate floral motif in pink, blue, and yellow. It was summery and cool. Not anything I would have picked, but I found myself excited to try it on.
“If you don’t like it, I’ll come up with something else,” Constance said. “You’re the client here.”
“You know I can’t afford you?”
Marnie jumped in. “If we do this right, this will all pay off in the end. For everyone.”
There was something about Marnie that made it feel like she was automatically in charge.
Constance kneeled down by the safe and poked inside for a while. She extracted a gold bangle and a pair of earrings that she laid down on top of the outfit, then swiftly locked the door again.
“Is that Clapard?” Marnie asked, sounding impressed.
Constance nodded, then looked away.
