Delina sat in her car in the studio parking lot. She checked her makeup in the rearview mirror, ensuring the dark circles under her eyes were hidden.
She needed to reinforce the lie she told Florene. If Florene checked with Hiram, the whole charade would collapse.
She stared at Hiram's contact info on her screen. "H. Tyson (Do Not Call)."
She took a deep breath and hit dial.
It rang four times. She almost hung up.
"Speak," Hiram's voice answered. Low, impatient.
Background noise suggested he was in a boardroom. Papers shuffling, low murmurs.
"Hi... Honey," Delina forced the word out. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
Dead silence on the other end. The background noise in the boardroom stopped abruptly.
There was a long pause on the other end, so charged with silence that Delina could almost hear the gears turning in his mind. "Delina," he finally said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "What game are you playing?"
Delina suppressed a nervous laugh. "It's your wife, Delina."
"I know who it is," he countered, his voice dropping. "I don't know what this is."
"I just wanted to let you know I fired Mrs. Stone. She broke the Ming vase."
"You called my private line during a merger meeting to discuss a vase?"
"I also wanted to hear your voice," she added. She was testing the waters, pushing the boundaries of their cold war.
She heard a sharp snap on his end. A pen breaking?
"Are you in trouble?" His tone shifted instantly to alert. "Is someone with you?"
He assumed she was being coerced. He couldn't imagine she would call him affectionately of her own free will.
"No. I just... I'm changing things. Starting today," she said softly.
"We'll discuss this 'change' tonight," he said. His voice was dark, promising an interrogation.
"Don't wait up. I have an audition," she said breezily.
"Delina," he warned.
"Bye, Honey." She hung up. Her cheeks were burning.
She leaned back against the headrest, exhaling a long breath. She had poked the bear. But she needed him to be confused. Confusion meant he was paying attention.
She checked the time. The casting call for "Shadows of the City" was in twenty minutes.
She stepped out of the car, adjusting her sunglasses. Paparazzi were camping near the entrance, looking for scandals.
She walked past them, chin up, ignoring their shouts.
Inside the lobby, she spotted Monica Star. Her arch-rival was preening near the elevator, checking her reflection in the brass doors.
