Page 46 of Off Script

Despite her growing frustration, Jada kept her voice low, in case of nearby eavesdroppers. Crossing her arms, she shook her head as Tristan remained oblivious.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” she said. “Do you plan on having sex with other women during our little arrangement?”

When Tristan’s dumbfounded look didn’t transform into an outpouring of reassurances, Jada’s mouth dropped in astonishment. “Did you not eventhinkabout it?”

“Well, we never did get around to establishing those ground rules. And I mean, does it really matter—”

“Of course it matters, Daniel! Especially since it makes me look like an idiot for you to cheat on me.”

How could this man not get how embarrassing it was for him to hook up with other women? Again! But no, he just kept looking at her with that same stupid—

“You mean Tristan?”

“What?”

“You just called me Daniel.”

Shit! They hadn’t discussed theDword since that night at the lounge, and a Freudian slip was not how Jada wanted to bring it back up. And yet, she’d let Angela’s words suck her right into a time warp in which she apparently couldn’t tell the difference between her ex-boyfriend and her faux-boyfriend. Flushing full force now, Jada cut Tristan off so he couldn’t question her further.

“Whatever! You get my point. Until you decide whether or not you can keep it in your pants, don’t talk to me.” Before Jada could storm back inside, Tristan caught her in a hug from behind. Holding on to her hips, he spoke into her ear.

“Little hard to do that, babe, since we work together and are supposed to be in love.”

Subtly, Jada gave him an elbow nudge to the gut, forcing him to let go of her.

“Well, love, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Tristan played it smart and didn’t go after her. He followed her wishes, steering clear of her outside of shooting. His obedience made Jada feel vindicated but also guilty. Deep down, she knew she had no claim on Tristan’s sex life. She also knew her staunch rejection went against their agreement, but she couldn’t help it. The idea that Tristan was messing around while she went along with their ruse irritated her to no end. It made her puzzle over all their previous interactions, like their great day at the beach. Had Angela had those moments, too, where Tristan played the perfect leading man? Before things had gone to shit with them, had he been just as swoon worthy and whimsical? Lulled Angela into the same deception that he could be that special someone.

Either way, after the argument, the afternoon passed without incident except for Angela’s periodic attempts to stall production. But overall, the day drew to a close without too much damage befalling them. When they finished for the day, Jada dragged Mikayla off the lot in a rush.

“What’s gotten into you?” Mikayla asked as Jada sped home, pushing her small, silver Infiniti to the max.

“Nothing. I’m just ready for this film to be over. Angela was testing my patience today,” Jada replied, evading her cousin’s questions.

Mikayla agreed, and the two launched into a debate about what exactly had caused the girl to become so selfish, especially after they’d met her dad, and, particularly, how her aristocratic upbringing must have gone awry. The infamous scene fromGone with the Windin which Scarlett and Rhett’s daughter suffered a traumatizing horseback riding accident, came to mind. Perhaps Angela came from a similar racist, toxic household that owned disobedient ponies? Something had to have influenced her turning out so vile. That speculation took them the rest of the way home and through their front door. Since it was Mikayla’s turn to make dinner, Jada collapsed on the well-worn burgundy couch the second they entered the apartment. Resting against the soft cushions, she relished being done with both Tristan and Angela. At least for the night. She could curl up with a good book or watchRuPaul’s Drag Raceand forget all about her personal and professional problems.

Her ringing phone temporarily interfered with her plans. Glancing down at the screen, she saw Tristan was the caller.

Hell no, Jada thought, pressing the Reject button with more force than necessary. As the call went to voice mail, Jada closed her eyes, struggling to de-stress. Yet her shoulders clenched once more when she heard an abrasive knock on the door. Knowing Mikayla was preoccupied with making her trademark spaghetti, Jada sluggishly got up.

“I got it, Kay!” she shouted, and made her way to the door.

Most likely, it would be Alia. Being the benevolent creature she was, she’d understand Jada’s mood and join her on the couch to watch good ol’ Ru sass his protégés. Or maybe they’d have a spaghetti bitchfest.

But when Jada opened the door, expecting a friend, her biggest foe greeted her: a brooding Tristan, determined to be let in.

15

Tristan wasn’t quite sure why he was subjecting himself to more of Jada’s resentful attitude. Yet here he was, on her doorstep, about to face battle number seventeen—or whatever number of fights they were at now. He just knew he hadn’t liked the way they’d left things. Not after they’d been making such positive strides at the beach. If they were going to go through with their plan, he refused to take any more steps backward.

So he took a step forward.

“Listen, Jada,” he started as he pushed his way inside. Jada blocked his efforts, throwing up an arm to stop him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Coming in so we can talk things over. The way you behaved on set, shutting me out and storming away. That’s not going to help our cause.”

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