Chapter Ten
The Next Day
Charlotte
The sun streams through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the suite as Marilyn and I shuffle in, our movements heavy with the weight of the night before.
"I need coffee," I groan, my voice gravelly with exhaustion, my hair tousled from a night of passion.
Marilyn grunts in agreement, his own appearance mirroring mine. "I don't see how you can drink that sludge. What we both need is vitamin C to perk us up."
With practiced ease, Marilyn pours us each a tall glass of orange juice, pushing one into my hand. "Water makes it worse. For the next few days, we're drinking OJ Simpson and Gatorade," he declares, his tone laced with a hint of humor.
Taking a few sips of the refreshing juice, I can't help but wonder aloud, "Why did we do this to ourselves again?"
"Do you remember last night?" Marilyn whispers huskily in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine as memories of our passionate escapades flood my mind.
Flushed with embarrassment, I bury my face in Marilyn's shoulder, the heat rising to my cheeks. "That's why we did that to ourselves," he says with a chuckle, his breath warm against my skin. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Shaking my head, I reply, "I'm a bit sore, but I'll live."
"Good," Marilyn says, a mischievous glint in his eye as he playfully slaps my ass, eliciting a hiss of surprise from me. "We need to get going. Kelly set up brunch for everyone."
The mention of food causes my stomach to rumble in anticipation. "I could definitely eat," I admit, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips as I look up at Marilyn.
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Brunch is bustling with all my favorite people. After last night's escapades, I need a hefty meal to replenish what I've lost.
"So, I read this amazing script the other day..." I announce to everyone at the table.
Mom pauses mid-jam smear on her English muffin and shoots me a curious look. "What script? I don't remember seeing any scripts."
"It's called American Beauty," I reply, relishing every moment of her being out of the loop. "I think I might audition for it."
"You aren't even American, Lotty!" Kelly giggles.
I shake my head, retorting, "That's why it's called acting, Kels."
Feeling Marilyn's hand slide up my thigh under the table, I feel a flush rise to my cheeks.
"Blonde, blue eyes, long legs, beautiful face... Sounds all American to me," he says, squeezing the spot where he left his mark on me last night.
I shoot him a warning glance. Despite indulging in copious amounts of sex just hours ago, here he is, teasing me.
"I just think you should tell your manager before making a decision," Mom huffs with attitude.
Rolling my eyes, I reply, "I just did."
"What do you two have planned for the rest of the day?" Dad asks from across the table.
"You know what I really want to do?" Marilyn muses to himself, using his butter knife as a mirror.
"We're all waiting with bated breath, Manson," Dad quips, causing Kelly and me to laugh.
Unfazed, Marilyn declares, "I want to change my hair. I'm thinking cherry Kool-Aid red."
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