Monica Star spotted Delina and smirked. She strutted over, her heels clicking aggressively on the terrazzo floor.
"Delina! I thought you retired to be a trophy wife," Monica sneered. "Running out of allowance?"
"Just taking a sabbatical, Monica. Unlike your acting skills, which seem to have retired permanently," Delina retorted.
A few other actresses in the waiting room stifled giggles.
Monica glared. Her face flushed. "I'm the lead for this. Director Harvey and I are... close."
She let the implication hang in the air. The "Casting Couch."
The assistant opened the door. "Monica Star, you're up."
Monica winked at Delina. "Watch and learn, sweetie."
Delina sat down. She closed her eyes. She focused on the room beyond the heavy door.
Her mind pushed through the wall. She sensed the sleazy, greasy energy of Director Harvey. She felt Monica's desperate ambition.
She visualized Monica losing control.
Suggestion: You are invincible. You can say anything.
Inside the room, Monica started her lines.
Suddenly, she stopped. Delina heard it through the wall.
"This script is garbage, Harvey," Monica said loudly.
Delina heard Harvey's muffled confusion. "Excuse me?"
"And stop staring at my chest, you old pervert!" Monica's voice rose to a shriek.
Delina pushed harder. Escalate.
A crash. A chair being thrown.
"Do you know who I am? I could ruin you with a single phone call! This whole studio will burn before you ever disrespect me again!" Monica screamed.
The door flew open. Security guards dragged a kicking, screaming Monica out.
"You'll never work in this town again!" Harvey bellowed from inside, his face purple.
Monica was hauled past Delina. She looked wild-eyed, confused, as if waking from a dream.
"Next! Delina Ballard!" the assistant called. She looked terrified.
Delina stood up. She smoothed her skirt.
She walked into the office. Director Harvey was adjusting his tie, looking shaken.
"Sorry about that, Delina. Crazy women," he muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead.
Delina sat gracefully. "Shall we begin, Director? Strictly professional."
She performed the monologue. She channeled the cold of the rain, the pain of the crash, the betrayal of her sister.
Harvey stared at her. He was stunned into silence.
"You... you got the part," he stammered. "The Lead is yours."
Delina smiled. "Thank you. But I want the Supporting Villain role. Not the Lead."
Harvey blinked. "But... why?"
"Because villains have more fun," she said.
