“LET GO OF HER, YOU BITCH!” the loud voice yelled. Isabelle chuckled at the figure who came to save the day, giving her a profound look of disdain.
“Mind your own business,” she spat, looking at her from top to bottom analytically, with her hand still holding onto Susan’s hair.
“Are you deaf? I said you should let go. Don’t make me do this the hard way,” Joan threatened, fighting the urge to do what she felt like doing at the moment. She overheard their conversation when she hung up on her call, and a scream for help followed. Recognizing Susan’s voice, she ran in the direction of the commotion, only to see her being bullied by a no-name actress.
“Leave her,” Joan pressed on with reasoning, though she had a better way to deal with the issue, she refrained. Isabelle refused to heed her, pulling Susan’s hair aggressively with a face masked with a sinister smile. Her PA was helplessly watching everything; it had always been hard to tame her.
“I hate people like this,” Joan muttered under her breath as she stepped forward. Susan’s scalp was stinging from her grip, bearing the pain. Seeing Susan’s scalp in pain and Isabelle smiling in satisfaction, Joan couldn’t stay still, doing nothing but talking to the woman who apparently wasn’t ready to listen or release Susan.
“One last time, let go of her,” she warned, but it was fruitless. Then she dashed from her position and gave Isabelle a lash on the cheek without holding back.
Isabelle jerked from the slap, rubbing her cheek appalled for a split second before recovering. “HOW DARE YOU!” By this time, she had involuntarily released Susan. Susan landed on the floor and quickly walked to Joan’s side, exhaling in relief. “She deserves it.”
“YOU,” Isabelle was on the brink of exploding. She furiously stomped her feet on the ground, moving to retaliate, but Joan dodged before she could successfully smack her face. She continued to follow her trail to get back at her. Susan, watching from the sideline, was impressed by Joan’s flexibility to squirm away from each strike Isabelle hurled at her. It was like they were playing a game of cat and mouse.
Huffing, Isabelle desperately tried to pound on Joan, but she escaped her again, not showing an ounce of exhaustion on her face. Isabelle’s PA, seeing how easily Joan was dealing with Isabelle, couldn’t help but praise. ‘Man, this girl is good.’ Making Isabelle pant and huff without much effort was something to compliment. The Isabelle she knew, who always got her way with everything, was struggling to land a slap on a woman like her.
“I’ll make you pay, you hear me,” Isabelle said furiously, walking to the elevator with her PA following behind her.
“Thank you. You’re quite nimble for that body you got there,” Susan commented, amused by the small entertainment she pulled off a few moments ago.
Joan smiled. “I learned karate when I was a kid.”
“Thank God you learned that; who would have saved me today,” they both laughed, walking to their respective rooms.
8 p. m. was the set time for dinner with Director Tim; George arrived first before everyone else, and then Director Tim and Ivy as they both met at the elevator and came down together.
“Good evening,” George greeted Ivy with a smile, swaying his long legs beneath the exquisite table.
Ivy returned the smile tersely and sat beside Director Tim. “Isabelle hasn’t come down yet. What’s the importance of the dinner without all the main cast present?” Director Tim frowned; she was the first person he informed before the others.
“We can start without her; it’s no big deal,” George didn’t see the harm of eating without her. It was just a simple friendly dinner with the director.
Director Tim’s phone rang, and he excused himself, leaving Ivy and George alone at the dining table.
“So how have you been?” George kickstarted the conversation, giving Ivy the same look she hated.
Ivy didn’t respond immediately; she swirled her spoon, twisting her lips, annoyed by his pestering. “Good.”
“Well, um…”
“This conversation is boring,” Ivy blurted out, gazing at him, and George understood, so he willingly kept his mouth shut. Director Tim returned and sat back on his seat. “Her personal assistant said she’s hurt. I really don’t understand how. She didn’t tell me the details.”
Ivy frowned, ‘Hurt? If she’s hurt, then how will she film tomorrow? Did she bump into an accident on her way here?’
“Did you ask how she got hurt, perhaps?”
“I did, but she hung up on me,” Director Tim replied. He wanted nothing to affect filming the next day, but it seems one of the cast was hurt without knowing how.
“It might not be serious, Director Tim, so don’t worry too much,” Ivy said, sensing his worry through his wrinkled forehead to calm him down. Director Tim, being who he was, wanted everything to go perfectly as planned. He wanted nothing to stop it from going as planned. Though he believed he would surely meet Isabelle on set in the morning.
The dinner ended, with a few conversations between the trio. As Ivy was about to enter the elevator to the third floor, she saw George following behind her. “Our room is on the same floor, so don’t think I’m stalking you,” he chuckled. Ivy didn’t pay him any attention until they reached the floor, and she stepped out of the elevator in the direction of her room.
“Good night,” she ignored him once again, walking away.
George cleared his throat awkwardly, cocking his head at her back view. “Goodnight.” No reply. “She is playing hard to get.”
Ivy went straight to her room and saw several missed calls from *Hubby.* She didn’t take her phone along, as it was just a short dinner. She dialed his number to return the call, but there was no answer. She dialed it again, still the same.
“He must be busy.” Then she remembered back at the hotel, at their honeymoon to be precise her lonely honeymoon. How she ignored his calls and what happened after. He was repeating the same thing.
She sighed, “he can be a headache sometimes.” She waited for an hour before calling him back. This time he answered.
“Ignoring my calls again.”
“I’m sorry; I was having dinner, and I left my phone…”
“Save me the explanation,” he cut her off.
“I just needed to confirm where you are.” Ivy smiled, ‘caring husband.’
“At St Lucas Hotel.”
He hung up immediately after she replied. ‘What’. She frowned looking at her phone in disbelief. Unknowingly to Ivy, there were two special men hovering around her.