This was the worst kind of person—someone who knew an opportunity when they saw one and wasn’t afraid of taking it. Someone like Dimple. If they were smart, they would hold on to whatever evidence they had even if she complied with all of their demands. And if they were bluffing, they would continue to do so until they’d extorted everything they possibly could from her.
Dimple listened to the hum of the air conditioner, counting down from ten and then thirty and then fifty. Just like she had following Irene’s fall, she painstakingly pieced herself back together. It wouldn’t do her any good if she looked as frantic as she felt.
She was able to catch the last few crew members before they left, but they were of no help. No one had noticed any strange visitors.
As she stepped outside again, the night breeze cooled Dimple’s sweat-slicked skin, inducing a shiver. In a sense, she was relieved. The way things were going so smoothly since Irene’s party had unnerved her. At least now it didn’t feel too good to be true.
This was nothing more than another decision to make.
Dimple followed the sidewalk to the back of the studio building, where she knew a phone booth sat. She remembered it because someone had spray-paintedsmileonto one side and it felt too ironicto be real. Up close, the chipped paint and cracked glass grounded it firmly in reality.
She gave the handle a curious tug, and the door swung wide open with only a modicum of effort. A cloud of dust exploded from within, and Dimple waited patiently for it to disperse before stepping inside. The glass was so dirty it was translucent, the threads of an abandoned cobweb swaying in one corner. Thankfully, the dial tone that graced her ears when she lifted the phone indicated that it was still in operation.
Dimple punched in the number from the note and waited with bated breath as the line rang once, twice, thrice. She looked around again to make sure no one was watching. Her blackmailer answered after the fourth ring.
“Hello?” They had the audacity to sound irritated.
“Hello,” Dimple replied. The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t pinpoint where she’d heardit.
“Who is this? I’m not interested in buying any—”
“Who do you think?” Dimple asked with a slight edge.
A pause. Then, “Oh. Dimple Kapoor.” In a tone of disbelief, as though they hadn’t been expecting her to call. Undeniably amateur, but she couldn’t hang up now. The fact that she’d responded to the threat was an admission of guilt in and of itself.
“How impolite of you not to introduce yourself,” Dimple commented.
“I’m just a waiter,” he said. “You probably don’t remember me, none of you do, but that’s fine. I remember you. Next time you push someone down the stairs, better make sure no one is watching.”
“I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to,” she replied smoothly.
“Really?” he asked, sounding amused. “Then why did you call?”
Dimple had no response for that, but she could practically hear him laughing at her. “What can I do for you?” she asked, her tone sickly sweet.
“I’ll be reasonable,” he said. “One hundred grand. If you can get me that much, I’ll delete the video and you’ll never hear from me again.”
The video.It was worse than she’d thought.
“Are you out of your mind?” Dimple hissed. “Who has that kind of money just lying around?”
“I’m not an idiot,” he said. “I know how much they’re paying you. It should be no problem.”
“And how would you propose I get such a large sum of money to you without raising several questions?”
“Leave that to me,” he said. “I’ll forward you the details and you handle the rest.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I won’t just send the evidence to the police, I’ll post it online too. Good luck beating those allegations.”
Dimple felt sick to her stomach. How would people react? Kind words turned cruel—or worse, apathetic. She’d never book a role again. Hell, she’d never see the light of day again, locked up in some criminal penitentiary. Now that she’d had a taste of fame, sweet on the tip of her tongue, the bitterness of obscurity was no longer palatable.
“I need time,” Dimple said.
“You have until tomorrow.” And the line went dead.
Chapter Eight
