Jenika Marion Novels & Stories

I say, carefully. “I know.” She flips through the menu like she owns the place. “Someone might think we like each other,” I joke, watching her closely. Marion looks up. Her lips curve into something razor-edged. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Shit. “I didn’t, I mean…” She leans in, cutting me off. Her perfume is subtle but heady, something warm and expensive. “Jude, I need you to arrange meetings with these companies,” she says, slipping a small folder

She held back her appetite and scolded herself mentally. Just a little more pride, Maria. Food doesn't control you. "Yes, let's." Mrs. Jones agreed, her eyes still glued to the table as though she could read on it a map of a lost treasure. Clankings of silver wares and Chinas. The food showed no reduction. Maria noticed how little their appetites were and she marched it, dipping in and out of the dishes her forks as she remembered late nights of more canned beans back in Spain. Cannes beans equaled loss of appetite, maybe that was what she needed.

Lana's rejection cast a palpable sense of disappointment over everyone. Unable to suppress her curiosity any longer, Marion finally asked, "Could you please share what exactly happened?" Marion had withdrawn from all social interactions since the birth of Reagan, dedicating herself entirely to caring for him at the postpartum care center. Consequently, she remained oblivious to any events that might have unfolded outside during this time, including the incident involving someone impersonating Lana and her alleged involvement with various men. Mandy quickly filled her in on the details, leaving Marion stunned and speechless.