The choking breath in her throat made it difficult to swallow. It was hard trying to keep her emotions in check even when she knew Kim was right. Might be time for drastic action and if this was what the studio insisted upon, she had little choice but to do as they said.
She may as well do what she did best; find the positive in any situation, if even possible this time. With a tissue, Delilah dabbed at the tears, trying not to trail mascara down her cheeks. “Fine then, if that’s the deal, I have no choice. I'll go home and pack. Can you keep an eye on the flat for me, please? And if anything changes, please call me right away.” She looked around the office and stood, reaching to take the envelope Kim handed her. “Thanks, Kim. I know you have my best interests at heart. I'll do everything I can to come up with something they’ll like.”
“Don’t forget the gala dinner tomorrow night,” Kim reminded her.
“You know how much I hate those events… Everyone showing off and pretending to like everyone else, when all they’re doing is climbing the social ladder.”
“The fact you are now a recognized face and so popular is because of these very occasions, Delilah. Part of the business, as you well know. Make sure you pretty yourself up and stun the crowds. You know they’ll be there shouting for your attention. Give them what they want—it’s only one night. Then you are scot free to holiday and revive.”
“Fine, but I want it on record that I have serious doubts about this idea of an Outback tour, Kim. I don’t think this will help me at all, although I’ll give it all I’ve got.” She scrunched up the damp tissue in her hands, fingernails digging into her palms.
“I know you will and you might surprise yourself, love. Take it in the spirit it was given and come back fresh.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be precious. Guess I’m a bit annoyed at the whole bus tour idea and getting stuck in the Outback when I have so much work to get through.” Delilah turned to the door and walked out without looking back.
* * *
She sat on her white leather couch with the television on and a glass of chilled Chablis on the coffee table. Giving in to her curious nature, Delilah worked the edge of the envelope Kim had given her open and then tipped the contents onto her lap. The color brochure showed a Greyhound bus parked beside a huge red mountain.
Seriously, are they kidding? That’s not a holiday. That’s torture on a grand scale. Six weeks on a tour bus was not going to do it for her writer’s block—that much she could guarantee. She threw the brochure down on the cream carpet and stood, kicking off her bright red Jimmy Choo's before padding barefoot on the polished wooden floor to the kitchen. With a glass of wine in her hand, Delilah opened the freezer door, and stared at the contents. She selected a meal of salmon and wild rice, popped it in the microwave, and angrily punched the timer, her long nails clicking against the control panel.
Tenting it in the remotest parts of Australia—regardless of how flash they might profess to be—is not going to happen. No damned way.
When the microwave beeped, Delilah took the meal out and placed it on a tray with a fork and napkin before walking back into the lounge. She kicked the brochure under the elegant coffee table and sat down, then hit the volume button on the remote. With an irritated huff, she sat back against soft cushions to watch the news while she ate her solitary meal.
“Another croc attack in the Northern Territory has the locals spooked. Attempts to bait the huge monster have so far failed. In the latest attack, an elderly man fishing on his own at the river mouth has gone missing, bringing the number to three lives lost in the last four months. His dog was found wandering close to his camp site and police have now launched an all-out search for the beast the locals have dubbed King Kroc.”
“Oh yay…and I'm going camping up there.” Delilah stabbed a piece of salmon and swore. “I'm sure I could achieve the desired effect by going somewhere nice and civilized like the Maldives. Cheap bastards. Fancy sending me on a bloody bus tour. Just wait until this contract runs out. I'll show them they aren't the only studio worth working for.”
The next evening, Delilah caught a cab to Darling Harbour where the studio held the annual get-together for actors, staff, and media. Bright lights flashed madly as she exited the taxi onto the red carpet. “This way, Miss Connors.” The security staff waited to help her and held the press at bay until she was ready for photo opportunities.
She smoothed down her dress and clutched her gold purse in her hand before smiling in the direction of the cameras. These occasions always made her feel inadequate or an imposter even though they shouldn’t have. She’d earned her reputation by sheer determination and hard work. It might have cost her dearly, but at the time she thought she was doing the right thing. Being a writer had seemed like her dream job. She could sit in her office still in her pyjamas if that was how she wanted to work. There was never anyone to see her when she was writing. It was a solitary position that suited her reserved nature just fine. But being on a show like this made her palms sweat. It was all so fake and pretentious, with everyone pushing past the next person to climb the social ladder.
So long as Delilah had her comforts of home, she could leave this part of her life behind. May as well play this for all I’m worth since
