Page 48 of Off Script

“That defeats the purpose!” Jada pouted.

“I get to veto one if I don’t like where it’s going. And I get to ask you three questions in return. You also get one veto.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

“And I will need tequila for this.” Tristan made his last demand.

Shaking her head, Jada got off the couch and went into the kitchen. Tristan heard the rattling of cups along with a few sharp remarks to Mikayla before Jada returned. He took his shot glass with a benevolent smile and a quick thanks.

“Okay . . . what was it like acting when you were a kid? I loved watchingGarcia Centralwhen I was growing up,” Jada said.

Having seen his mom’s past roles as an actress, it felt like a natural progression to want to try his own hand at acting. His father had been a head writer for another show on the same network, which had helped Tristan score an audition. However, his mom insisted that he got the job on his own merits, not just because of his dad’s connections.

While Tristan had believed her, he still wanted to stand apart from his parents’ successful careers. Thankfully, they agreed when Tristan asked to be credited as Tristan Maxwell. Using his first and middle name for his acting persona over his family’s last name, Moreno-Diaz, really helped him feel more independent. After his mom left, he was even more grateful for that decision. Having her name plastered next to his on his early acting credits would have been painful to look at now. However, Tristan planned to skip over all that with Jada.

“It was fun. You know, you’re experiencing it all for the first time. And then when the show took off and became this big thing it was really rewarding. Although that puts a lot of pressure on you later.”

While being good looking was an exalted virtue in this career path, it hadn’t been easy going from cute thirteen-year-old to sudden heartthrob as Tristan hit his later teen years on the show. The second he started dating a few girls here and there, his personal life was always in the news.

“Yes, I remember my formerSeventeenmagazines having way too many pictures of you in them.” Jada laughed.

“Oh, so you’ve been an admirer fromwayyyback when, huh, Berklee?” Tristan asked slyly.

“Hardly!” In spite of her denial, Jada looked away, draining the rest of the tequila in her shot glass. The flush on her cheeks could either be from embarrassment or rushing through the strong drink.

“I thought you were supposed to be telling me the truth!” He poked her in the side.

“I am.” Jada squirmed away, shamefaced.

“Stop lying, woman, or I’ll be forced to resort to more devious means.”

Realization dawning, she warned him. “Tristan, don’t you dare—”

Too late. Tristan pounced and started tickling her.

Jada leaned away, her giggling leaving her breathless. Her hand accidentally hit the remote, turning on the TV at full blast. The loud noise jolted them out of the moment, and Jada scrambled to turn down the volume. She ended up switching the channel to the Spanish network, where the popular telenovelaAmor Prohibidowas playing. Tristan’s heart dropped. A woman with lush dark hair and sparkling blue eyes was on-screen. Her appearance was too similar to his own for Jada to miss it.

“That’s your mother, right? I heard she was on a new show, but—”

Tristan quickly released Jada and snatched the remote out of her hand to change the channel.

“What the hell, Tristan?!”

“That show’s stupid. It’s a dumb telenovela.” Now he was the one sweating under Jada’s scrutiny.

“Oh really? Is that the problem? Because this is the second time you’ve reacted like that to me bringing her up. What kind of Freudian problems did you guys have?”

“Freud is a hack and everyone knows it,” Tristan deflected. But he could tell that, despite his earlier promise to keep his cool, the night was taking a much more volatile turn.

“Tristan, you leaped out of your skin justlookingat her on TV.” Jada pushed him.

“Because she’s not that.” He motioned to the TV. “She’s not some beautiful, perfect star like everyone thinks. She’s . . . it’s more complicated than that.”

“How?” Jada placed an encouraging hand on his knee. Tristan resisted the urge to push her away. If he and Jada were going to be stuck as a couple indefinitely, he might as well confess what really happened and get it over with. Maybe then she’d stop badgering him about it. Taking a deep breath, he finally laid the truth on the table.

“She left. When I was fourteen, she left. Just up and vanished on me and my dad. No explanation, no good-byes. I came home from set and she was gone. My dad never got over it . . . he was never the same.”

Neither was I, he added silently.

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