Page 45 of Off Script

“But, Daddy!” Angela began, stung by the unspoken signals between them.

“Listen to Ren, Angela.” Not princess or sweetie this time. Surprised that Mr. Collins would be the one keeping his rebellious daughter in check, Jada resisted the urge to laugh. With that small amount of criticism from her dear daddy, Angela straightened up and they managed to get through the scene. Once Mr. Collins seemed content with their progress, he excused himself, off to micromanage something (or someone) else.

After he left, Ren let them break for lunch, and Jada greatly appreciated the reprieve. She headed to the buffet table and inspected a roast beef sandwich. Her relief was short lived, though, as Angela sidled up to her.

“You sure you want to eat that? That’s a lot of carbs for a girl like you.”

Jada responded by taking a huge bite.

“Okay, if that’s how you want it.” Angela shrugged. “Just keep in mind, Tristan doesn’t date anyone above a size six. And what, you’re pushing a four at least, right?”

While Jada was perfectly happy with her body, Angela’s fat shaming pissed her off. Like women didn’t have enough body image issues without having other women picking them apart. Somehow, she resisted the urge to tell her co-star to crawl back into the hellhole she came from.

“Thanks for your advice, Angie. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Good. Then again, I doubt you’ll have to worry about it for too long. Your little fling is bound to be over by next week.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but Tristan and I are very happy together,” Jada lied.

“That’s what he wants you to think. Meanwhile, he’s probably off sleeping with at least two different whores behind your back.” Angela raised a pointed eyebrow as she alluded to Jada’s supposed betrayal. “Tristan’s always got a spare in his back pocket. And let’s face it, Jada, you are neither interesting enough nor hot enough to hold his attention for much longer.” Angela took a carrot stick off of a platter and bit into it with a loud crunch. She cocked her head to the side, as if her loud chewing was some kind of battle cry.

Jada gave her a warm smile in return. “Your dad seems nice. Made a whole speech to us about anti-bullying, and how we should all make amends.”

Hearing how her father had not emotionally scarred Jada as she would have liked, Angela tossed the carrot in the trash.

“No thanks,” she sneered, then breezed away.

Even though Jada was free of her, Angela’s words reverberated in her head. Of course, Jada knew everything the woman said was bullshit. Angela was merely trying to get under her skin. But it shouldn’t, because she and Tristan weren’t a real couple. So why did the deli meat now feel like a heartburn-ridden wad of anxiety in her stomach?

Andrew’s arrival at the buffet table was the sole reason Jada didn’t throw up then and there. He gave her an acknowledging nod, then went back to examining his food options. Jada found herself hovering next to him. Still thinking about how Tristan had discarded both Angela and Erica, Jada sensed that Andrew—as the eyes and ears of the production—might have intel on something that kept bothering her.

“Hey, Andrew . . . just wondering, do you know where Erica ended up?” Jada asked.

“Turns out another film by Sunset Pictures was in desperate need of a PA. They offered Erica a lot of money to switch over to that production.” Andrew kept his tone equally light, but they both knew the truth. Mr. Collins had bought Erica off with another job and a shady payout from his company.

Jada thanked him but abandoned the catering table, half-eaten sandwich still in hand. She needed air in the midst of this whole, twisted situation. Just as she made it outside the lot’s main doors, someone placed their hand on her shoulder. With a cheerful smile on his face, Tristan had followed her outside.

“Hey, hon, you okay over here? You look like that hoagie challenged you to a fight.”

“I’m fine.” Jada sounded colder than she intended but couldn’t help it. She shrugged out of his hold by throwing the sandwich in a nearby trash can. They might be on the film lot, and she should be going along with the charade, but now, suddenly everything felt wrong. As Tristan continued to speak to her, all she heard was Angela’s mocking and Mr. Collins’s veiled threats. She didn’t see his handsome face smiling at her. All she saw was the memory of Tristan screwing Erica.

“I know Angela’s dad showing up was like Freddy Krueger scary, but he went easy on us. I think things will be okay from here on out.”

When Jada didn’t respond to Tristan’s summation, he pried further. “You sure you’re okay? With everyone around, I’ve barely gotten to talk to you. That doesn’t bode well for our image as a happy couple,” he said, reaching for her hand.

Jada looked down as he intertwined their fingers. Sure, for now, he was touching her, paying attention to only her. But when they left the set, after the demanding public was gone, who would he be seeking out then?

“Yes. God forbid we ruin the image,” Jada said.

“What’s wrong?” Tristan raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Tell me, Tristan. How closely are you sticking to our deal?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how many other women are you hooking up with?”

“As far as I know, you and I aren’t ‘hooking up.’ We’ve barely held hands, let alone tried to hit all the bases.”

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