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Forged in Fire: Chapter 4
Tina’s New York apartment felt lonelier than it ever had before. After spending the day refereeing highly paid actors and coaxing them into working together, she felt more like a kindergarten teacher than a movie producer. Her feet hurt from walking around in heels all day and as the door to the apartment shut behind her, she realized she was hungry. Though it was approaching midnight eastern standard time, and she’d just come from dinner, having to placate an artist during the evening meal had meant she’d had little time to actually eat the food on her plate.
Dropping her shoes near the front door, she grimaced as her aching bare fit walked across the hardwood. She flipped on a few lights and plopped down on the tan-colored sofa in her living room. She lay back on the couch and stared at the photos of Bette she’d had installed on her walls. All remnants of her life with Henry had been shuttered. In his place was the beauty of the woman who owned her heart. Staring into the smiling face and chocolate brown eyes, the hazel pools watered. She’d been gone three days and Tina’s heart was aching for the woman she loved.
Traveling for work and being away from Henry had been like being on vacation. But being away from Bette and falling into a cold, empty bed was more like torture. She hadn’t spoken to her girlfriend at all that day and as she formed her lips to tell Siri to call Bette, another call came through on her ear pods.
The ringtone was that of her assistant/secretary, Pamela Caldwell. “What’s wrong, Pam?” she answered.
Pam was short and petite with a raspy voice and short, curly hair. Her black eyes were sharp and she was often intense by nature. “Why do you assume something’s wrong?” asked Pam.
“Because you’re calling me so late. You know better than to call me late. If you’re doing so, it’s because something is wrong.”
“Well, you win clairvoyant of the day. Yes, we have a minor hiccup.”
Tina sighed; her eyes closed. Her head was resting against the arm of her couch, her feet on the other end, crossed at the ankles. “And that hiccup is?”