chapter 5

The next month.

            Jessi was about to barge in the dressing room when she heard some stuff fumbling onto the floor and the sounds were definitely coming from inside. She had no idea what was taking her mannequins so long to fit the wardrobe she’d handed to them half an hour ago. She’d already gotten two cups of frappe with extra cherries — just how the brute liked it, because the tower loved everything with the smell of coffee in it, and Pete had already told her twice to fetch the girls so they could start shooting. “Hey guys, showtime. Everything alright?”

            “Jess…”

            “Yeah?”

            “Need your help, doll,” Jenson shouted against the dressing room door.

            “Yeah?” She knocked on the door. “I’m here.”

            “Jess, Mr. Ross here needs help undressing.” Darren suppressed a laugh. And she could hear his phone screaming Words with Friends sound effects again.

            “Very funny— Uh…Jess? This suit’s really, I mean, really tight. Get me another one? Please?”

            “Cuffs too tight?”

            “Aye, and sleeves a bit short actually.” He wiggled his way out of the pants. Even the pants fit weird.

            “Sorry— I’ll get you another pair.”

            “Thanks a mil.”

            Minutes later, she was already checking him out by the huge dressing mirror. Jenson looked fine. The second pair of slacks suit him better. But she noticed he was paler than usual.

            “Those fit okay?”

            “Lot better. Thanks.” Jenson adjusted his tie and let her fix the cuffs, then his hair.

            “Hey, Sir, yours look rumpled already. Wait ‘til Pam sees you. Oh— and Mr. Vanderbilt’s been ringin’ me since I went back to get this. Can we go now, babe?” Jess gave Darren the sweetest of smiles. She knew he wasn’t feeling very well since yesterday.

            “One minute— Last word.”

            “Come on, Sammy. Showtime.”

            She went near the desk and grabbed Darren’s suit, which was sprawled beside his laptop. She stretched the whole thing while her left hand held the hanger and a pen. The suit was heavy enough; she couldn’t imagine having to wash his stash of clothes weekly. Gwen was one strong chick.

            “I carefully placed it there. Honest,” Darren mumbled, eyes still glued to the screen. This time, he was tweeting.

            She gave him a look. When he sat back to regard her, she showed him a wet spot on the right sleeve. Probably the frappe.

            Tall glass o’ water gave her a sheepish grin.

            By the mirror, Jenson was busy checking out his stubble. “I should probably shave. Again.”

            “Later, sport. Time to go.”

            “Can I have more of those wipes, please?”

            “I got some here in my pocket.” She tickled Darren on the nape, and he at last stood up. She helped him get into the clean-cut suit, before fixing his hair, too. He looked like he needed a haircut, so she decided to just tuck his bangs behind his ears. She was tiptoeing in the process, as usual. It wasn’t later when she noticed Darren’s eye squint. “What?”

            “You look particularly striking today… How’d that date last night go?”

            “Date?”

            “U.H. from Studio 4, huh.” Darren kept squinting and smirking at her.

            “Jack…”

            Jenson apologized. As if she’d tell them anything. Cody liked spilling juices on everybody, obviously. “If you call that a date.” Jessi grimaced and continued fixing his tie.

            “Ouch! And I thought Irish guys were your thing.” Darren chuckled, then looked away as though he was thinking of something. “How ‘bout Trey?”

            “Who? Jack, we’re going now,” she called out.

            “Aye, ma’am.”

            “Gwen’s cousin. Into real estate.” Darren grinned smugly again. “So? Whadd’ya say? Quite the charmer, very much single, owns a yacht…” Darren nodded with another hilarious expression.

            “You’re kidding.” She was now wiping his frappe-stained face with the alcohol-free wipes Gwen preferred. His ever-dutiful wife  had brought a bagful of them to set whenever she had the chance. But the other day, Jenson decided he liked the scented ones better. Thus he kept snagging her pack. “I’m working two jobs. I barely have time to cook myself a meal, pard.”

            “But…someone said they called up someone past midnight and still heard poppy house music. Would you mind explaining yourself, Ms. Kinley?” Darren grabbed the hanger and quickly pointed the edge to her chin.

            With an eye roll, she tried to pinch his dimple.

            “Ow!”

            “Let’s go, princess.” Out and about, Jenson was about to head for the door when she noticed his shoes weren’t quite right.

            “Princess, shoes.”

            He looked down. She caught the grin. Darren cackled.