Page 18 of Off Script

Ren was right. It killed Tristan to know he’d screwed up this bad. But he realized he wasn’t the only one to blame here. He started to walk away but Ren stopped him.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you.”

“You can yell at me as much as you want in a few minutes. But first I have something I need to do.” Tristan shrugged Ren off and went to hunt down Jada. He found her alone, hiding in the dressing room. She started to speak, probably to make excuses, but Tristan wasn’t going to let her.

“What the hell, Jada? You promised you wouldn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t,” she said, stepping back and placing some distance between them.

“Oh, but you did. I have a gaping cut in the back of my head to prove it.” Tristan touched the spot to double check, and yep, he was bleeding.

“I’m sorry!” Jada sounded sincere, but it wasn’t enough for Tristan. He went on, needing to share the blame with someone else.

“Why couldn’t you keep your mouth shut? Why did you tell her? It must be a pact between the women here, a vindictive sisterhood, where you have to stick together and gossip behind my back.”

“That’s not what happened.” Jada’s face was set in stone. She wasn’t going to let Tristan keep yelling at her without defending herself.

Bring it on, Tristan thought.

“Maybe not,” he said. “But however it went down, you’ve caused a shitload of trouble. You’re going to regret it.”

Things probably would have gotten more heated if Ren hadn’t stepped into the room.

“Now what’s going on?” he asked, exasperated.

“What’s going on is Jada’s the one who blabbed to Angela.”

“Jada, is that true?” Ren asked. From his incredulous tone, it was clear he’d thought she was too classy to spread rumors or create drama. So had Tristan.

“It didn’t happen the way he’s making it out to be. I—”

Ren held up his hands as Tristan and Jada started to angrily talk over each other.

“That’s enough. I’ve had my fair share of breaking up fights. Between wrecking the green screen and equipment, Angela refusing to film scenes with Tristan, and Tim and Tristan’s injuries, we’re done for the day. Thanks to all of you, we’re on damage control right now. You’ve probably cost the studio millions of dollars.”

“Damage control?” Jada asked, her eyes wide after being filled in on everything that had happened.

“Yes, Mr. Collins just called. He’s concerned about the issues on set as well as Angela’s welfare. He insists she needs a few days off, and he’d like to discuss our working conditions with me personally. So we’re even further delayed.”

Tristan’s stomach dropped. Angela’s father, Gordon Collins, was the vice president at Sunset Pictures, the production company that was fundingLove Locket.Angela must have called him as soon as she’d been carried off. Known for a temper that rivaled his daughter’s, he would have no qualms about halting production altogether if he wasn’t satisfied with Ren’s explanations.

“Ren—”

“Don’t.” The director stopped him. “I don’t want your pity or you offering to help. I will take care of smoothing things over, filing the insurance claims, all of that nonsense. What I want both of you to do is go home and think about what you’ve caused. And if this is how you want your careers to go.”

“I don’t, Ren. I’m sorry,” Jada said. “The only thing I want is to do my job.”

“Then you better straighten up, because you’ve come this close to losing it.” Ren walked out, leaving the pair stunned.

Ren hadn’t made the same threat to Tristan as it was too late in the game to recast a lead, and he would most likely defend Tristan in front of Mr. Collins. But guilt gnawed at Tristan as he reflected on the mess he’d made and putting Ren in this terrible position. Not to mention Jada’s shock at Ren’s comment. Unlike him, she could easily be recast since she had already been the previous actress’s replacement. Still, he was too upset about his part in things to comfort her.

The day had hit disaster-level proportions. And Tristan had a feeling that things were going to get worse before they got better.

8

“I can’t believe Ren’s thinking about firing me!” Jada wailed into her margarita glass.

“He wouldn’t dare,” Mikayla insisted, flames in her eyes.

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