She wore a silk robe the color of a bruised plum, untied. The city lights painted silver-blue stripes across her skin. She wasn't waiting, exactly. She had told herself that hours ago. But the glass of chilled Chardonnay on the marble sill was sweating through its second refill, and her phone had buzzed twice with messages she hadn't opened.
"Great rushes this morning. Can't wait to see tonight's footage." – The Director.
Siri let the robe fall to the floor. She took the service elevator down, her bare feet silent on the concrete garage floor. When she slid the side door open, Elias was already there, the engine a low growl. ForPlayFilms 23 08 01 Siri Dahl Midnight Tryst ...
That was the thing about Siri. Every role she took, every ForPlayFilms script they handed her, she poured something real into it—something she couldn't say in daylight. And Elias was the only one who ever watched closely enough to see the difference between the character and the crack in her voice.
"Look down."
Then, the third buzz.
"Had to lose the driver." He nodded toward a black sedan idling two blocks away. "Your director likes to know where his actors go." She wore a silk robe the color of a bruised plum, untied
"You should go," she said. "Before they notice."