Page 2 of Off Script

Alia’s incoming response snapped Jada out of her sullen reverie. Her bestie had the perfect comeback to the news.

Alia: Way to kill the mood, Mikayla :(

Mikayla: I just thought she should know!

Jada: Thanks, but all this means is I need a serious chocolate overload when I get home

Mikayla:Making brownies NOW to go with our rocky road supply!

Alia: SAVE ME SOME. I get off at eight

With the promise of brownie sundaes, Jada shook off her crappy day and headed home. Even if she didn’t have a starring role or a trustworthy boyfriend, she had her girls and a reliable sugar rush waiting for her.

—

The drive from her audition in Burbank to her Culver City apartment stretched by at its usual traffic-jammed pace. But when she stepped through the front door, the rich smell of double fudge brownies made up for it. Like a bloodhound, Jada picked up the scent and made her way to the kitchen. Thanks to Mikayla’s artistic flair, their apartment was decked out in vibrant colors and way too much pop-culture memorabilia. Of particular note were Mikayla’s beloved superhero Funko POP bobbleheads on the mantel and the Dr. Frank-N-Furter cutout Mikayla insisted on keeping in the entryway. In her own words, “Anyone who can’t handle Tim Curry being iconic doesn’t belong in this house.” Either way, the eclectic style paired with the more sophisticated hardwood floors and marble fixtures all screamed home to Jada.

Pausing in the kitchen’s doorway, Jada took in Mikayla standing at the stove, her Gordon Ramsay apron splattered with chocolate batter. Her colorful purple braids had been pulled back in a bun to keep them out of the way of her baking frenzy, and the end product looked deliciously unscathed.

“Perfect timing.” Mikayla beamed at her. Even with her fashionable hair and glowing mahogany skin, Mikayla’s smile was still her best feature. Her cousin’s exuberance lit up the room, immediately easing some of Jada’s tension.

“Damn straight,” Jada said, sinking into the high-backed stool at the kitchen island. She tapped one of the ceramic bowls Mikayla had laid out. “Sundae me. Stat.”

Mikayla gave her an admonishing look as she pulled the rocky road ice-cream carton from the freezer. “I knew the audition didn’t go as well as you claimed.”

“Unless you’re psychic, I don’t see how.” Jada avoided her cousin’s eyes as she cut a sizable brownie to dump in the bottom of her bowl. Truthfully, she shouldn’t have been surprised by the astute observation. When you’d grown up joined at the hip like they had, it was hard to hide anything. Mikayla was more like a nosy little sister than her cousin. The kind who would dig around in your room looking to borrow your clothes but then ended up reading your diary.

“While I am highly spiritually attuned, it’s not that. You may be an awesome actress, Jada, but you have a shitty poker face. Even your text persona radiates sweaty guilt when you tell a white lie.”

“Texts don’t sweat.” Jada corrected her as she dug into the ice cream. “And whatever. There will be other auditions. I should be focusing onLove Locketanyway. How’s that been going?”

While Jackie Fox may not have been a fan of Jada’s hairstyle for her upcoming role, it did epitomize her character, Lana, the quirky best friend and budding scientist. Filming didn’t start for her character for a few more days but Mikayla had managed to snag a costume production assistant job on the film. Well, with Jada’s help. Ren had been open to hiring Mikayla since they needed someone on short notice. But at Mikayla’s own conflicted expression, Jada’s stomach dropped.

“What happened?” she demanded.

“Nothing! Nothing that bad. It’s just . . . I don’t think Ren likes me very much. I feel like he watches me like a hawk. More than Val, my actual boss. He caught me talking during a take yesterday.”

“Mikayla!”

“It’s not a big deal! He corrected me, and now it’s over. I didn’t bring it up because I knew you were focused on your own stuff.”

“Still, you need to get along with everyone on set. This whole industry is about building connections.”

Jada frequently wavered between being impressed by Mikayla’s fearlessness and being horrified by her cousin’s c’est la vie attitude. It was one thing to switch from graduating from the Pratt Institute with an art degree to trying her hand at costume design (a move in line with Mikayla’s standard risk taking). It was another situation entirely to blow your first big job because of unprofessionalism, a.k.a. the scary, short-sighted side Jada could do without.

“Seriously, it turned out okay,” Mikayla went on. “Tristan stood up for me, actually.”

Jada shook her head at Mikayla’s adoring smile. Tristan Maxwell was the star of the movie, alongside his leading lady, Angela Collins. While he was a great actor, who got his start as a teenager on the popular family comedyGarcia Central, Jada doubted he was as chivalrous as Mikayla’s retellings of him. Like Daniel, Tristan had been the subject of severalSip That Teaarticles regarding his infamous dating exploits. The twenty-six-year-old Colombian heartthrob picked up and dropped different women like he changed socks. Models, heiresses, even a real-life duchess, it didn’t matter. They were all expendable. With his stunning blue eyes, tousled black hair, and broad shoulders, Jada could see how so many women fell into the trap of his charm and good looks. She only hoped his dating habits were the extent of the man’s downsides. She’d hate to work with the guy and find out he was secretly a cannibal or a cult leader. Honestly, the dark side of Hollywood was scary as fuck sometimes.

There were only two more days until she’d start her new role and meet the allegedly heroic Tristan Maxwell up close.

She couldn’t wait to discover if he was as talented as everyone claimed or just lucky due to growing up as one of Hollywood’s beloved childhood stars. Not that she would ever admit that to Mikayla. Giving her cousin a coy smile, Jada kept the small flurry of nervous excitement to herself.

“I guess I’ll see for myself soon.”

2

To abandon ship or sink to the bottom of the ocean. That was the real question. Unfortunately for Tristan, his currentTitanic-like dilemma didn’t come with an escape plan. Tormented by Club Oasis’s cacophony of strobe lights and techno beats, Tristan longed to leave the tacky bar. Yet, his co-star’s grip kept the club’s exit just out of reach. Angela drunkenly clung to him with pleading, glassy eyes. He looked away from her insistent stare and down at her nails digging into his skin. How much damage would he come away with if he tried to wrestle out of her grasp? Blocking out the club’s overwhelming atmosphere, Tristan struggled to reason with his companion.

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