strange text

She frowned, glancing at the clock. It was late. Too late for visitors. Tossing the makeup wipe into the trash, she stood and walked to the door, opening it just enough to see who it was.

"Penny?" she was surprised.

"Who else? You didn't think I'd let you end the day without a debrief, did you?" Penny grinned as she leaned against the doorframe.

Heather sighed but stepped aside, letting her in. Penny breezed past her, dropping her bag onto the couch and flopping down like she owned the place. "You were phenomenal today, Hellfire," Penny said, using the nickname she'd given Heather years ago. And Heather hated the nickname.

What kind of weird nickname is 'Hellfire'? She said she gave her the nickname because of her temper.

"Seriously, you obliterated Lauren. She didn't stand a chance."

Heather grabbed a makeup wipe and returned to the mirror. Cleaning the mascara under her eyes.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

Pam didn't seem to notice the lack of enthusiasm.

"I mean, the way you just walked onto that stage and owned it? Everyone was talking about it. Even the sponsors were clapping. And you know they never clap for anyone."

Heather hummed in response. Her focus was still on the mirror.

"And Lauren?" Penny continued "She looked like she was about to combust. You know, everyone thinks she walks on water. Hell, she thinks she walks on water. But you? You drowned her today, Hell. Absolutely drowned her."

Heather turned away from the mirror, tossing the used wipe into the trash. "Thanks," she said again, her voice flat.

Penny frowned. She finally noticed Heather's lack of energy.

"Okay, what's going on with you? You're acting weird."

Heather hesitated. But then grabbed her phone from the counter. She handed it to Penny, the text still showing on the screen.

"What the hell is this?" her eyebrows shoot up.

"I don't know," Heather said, crossing her arms. "It came through right after the audition."

"It's weird. You should trace it."

Before Heather could think, Penny was already dialing the number.

"Penny, no!" Heather lunged forward, snatching the phone back before the call could connect. "I don't want to engage."

Penny raised an eyebrow, leaning back on the couch.

"You don't want to engage, or you don't want to admit that a part of you does want to know?"

Heather stayed silent. The shine in her eyes didn't argue.

"That's what I thought." she smirked.

Heather rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Hell. You're curious. You can't tell me you're not." she laughed.

Another knock sounded at the door.

"What now?" Heather groaned.

Penny jumped up to answer it. It was Lily. One of the makeup artists from the set.

"Hey, I brought your jacket. You left it in the dressing room," Lily said, holding up the forgotten item.

"Thanks," Heather took it from her.

Lily stepped inside, her eyes immediately landing on Penelope, who was still holding Heather's phone.

"What's going on?"

"Hell here got a weird text. Check it out." She grinned. She held up the phone like it was a trophy.

She repeated the nickname like she wanted everyone to know about it.

Lily read the message.

"It's probably one of those industry creeps," she said bluntly. "You know, the ones who like to mess with actresses. They think they're untouchable." her expression darkened.

"You think so?"

Penny waved a hand dismissively. "Lily's being dramatic. It's probably just some big shot trying to make an impression."

"I'm not being dramatic," Lily shot back. "I've seen this kind of thing before. They act all mysterious, then they try to..."

"Okay, okay," Penny interrupted, clamping a hand over Lily's mouth. "We get it. Creeps exist. But let's not freak Hell out, alright?"

Heather sighed. "I'm exhausted. Can we not do this right now?"

"Alright, alright. Get some rest, Hell. You earned it today." she nodded.

As Penny and Lily headed for the door, Heather sank onto the couch, her head resting against the back cushion. She closed her eyes, trying to push the day out of her mind.

Her phone buzzed again.

She opened her eyes. Grabbed the phone. The same number. A new message.

"Hello, Miss Heather. Let's meet. Tomorrow. 2 PM. The Terrace. I would love to see you, Miss Remington.-J.Calloway."

Heather frowned. The name didn't ring a bell.

She stared at the message for a while. Whoever this was, she didn't care about them. Then she blocked the number.