“But you seem a little distracted.”
Shoot. “Sorry about that.”
“I’d like to see a little more presence of mind tomorrow, okay?”
“Yes. Of course.”
She left the stage, a little shaken, but more determined than ever to talk to Zwick. As she walked through the corridor leading to the exit, she thought of her beloved mentor, Sifu.
The older woman, the one who had taken her from Empress to theatrical singer, a kind old woman who had turned her, saved her at the last minute when she had been thrown out of her prison cell and into a ditch left for dead, had told her of the issues set to hit the western coast of the United States. Sifu had warned of the guerilla activity that would very much resemble what had happened to her home country.
Was this country now set to suffer the same fate? The thought sent chills up the back of her neck. She reached for her throat, gently running her hands over her skin, trying to soothe the growing dread. She couldn’t let it happen again.
Questions about Zwick, Rhonda and the vampire jumped at her repeatedly, unanswered and frustrating.
“Excuse me, Miss. Got a minute?”
The deep male voice stopped her cold. Although she barely knew the man, she knew that voice. She turned to him. His large silhouette blocked out the light coming from behind him and left his face in the shadows.
“I know a talented woman like you must be very busy, but...”
Beyond recognizing his voice and that unmistakable silhouette, her vampire vision confirmed what she already knew.
“Mr.Zwick,” she said in her most formal tone. “What can I do for you, sir?”
He chuckled from deep in his belly as he came toward her. “No need to be so formal. Call me Karl.”
Formality was a manner of keeping one at arm’s length. It was a way of showing one respect, but it could also indicate a lack of familiarity. We’re not friends, her manner silently said.
“You seem to be doing quite well in these rehearsals,” he said after a prolonged silence.
“Thank you, sir. I’m doing my best.”
“You have the voice of an angel, the face of a goddess and the body of a...”
“I’m working very hard,” she cut in, uncomfortable under his praise.
“Yes. I can see that.” He looked at her, his eyes appraising her, his lips set in a straight, serious line. “In fact, I am so impressed with your talent and your work ethic that I am beginning to seriously consider you for a role in my next film.”
“I wasn’t aware that you were already working on a new project.”
“Oh, honey,” he said with a deep throaty laugh. “I’m always working on a new project. Look, why don’t you drop by later tonight and we’ll talk all about it.”
“Oh. Well...I was just about to go to the bar across the way to grab a bite...”
“Bar food? For a princess like you? No. No. I can’t have the star of my show eating at some cheesy bar. No. You’re a star, my dear. You deserve a fine gourmet meal, good wine and pleasant company, if I do say so myself.”
“You’re very kind,” she said, though it was far from what she felt.
He pulled out a business card and handed it to her. “Here. Come to my office, shall we say...seven o’clock.”
This was the opportunity she’d been waiting for. It would be the perfect time to bring up Rhonda Baker. Then again, the thought of being alone with him in his office gave her the creeps. Despite his expensive suit, expensive haircut, expensive shoes, and no doubt an expensive meal in mind, there was something cheap and lowly about him. As if the money he displayed hid something shameful.
“I’ll be there,” she said, forcing a pleasant smile.
*****
HOW DID ONE DRESS FORa dinner with a Hollywood mogul who wanted to cast her in his next project? If she’d had any idea at all of the type of role he had in mind for her, perhaps she could have dressed the part.
