Page 20 of Off Script

“What is the matter with you, Tristan? Have you completely lost it? Not that I need to ask, based on what I’ve seen. What everyone has seen.”

“Seen what? Could you lower it about ten decibels?” Tristan asked.

After his latest altercation with Angela and the horror that had ensued, Tristan was officially done with being yelled at—and being blamed for that matter. Sure, he had slept with someone else, but he hadn’t been the one blabbing people’s secrets or wrecking the studio equipment. He refused to engage with Doug’s bad mood. Deflecting, he went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Doug trailed after him, steaming.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. The catastrophe you caused on set yesterday.”

“Don’t get me started about that. I’ve had enough guilt trips to last a lifetime.” Tristan sipped his water, then paused. “Wait. Did Ren call you?”

“Oh, I talked to Ren, but that’s not how I found out.”

At Tristan’s blank stare, Doug ran his fingers through his thinning hair with exasperation.

“You honestly don’t know?”

When Tristan shrugged, Doug searched in his pockets for his phone. He muttered to himself the whole time, angrily denouncing arrogant, nitwit movie stars.

“I don’t know why you people are always terrorizing me and your fans with new scandals, but here! I’m talking aboutthis, you idiot!” Doug said after finally finding his phone and holding the device dangerously close to Tristan’s face.

Before Tristan could say anything else, Doug pressed the Play button on a video. There he was on camera yelling at Jada. She appeared as the poor victim as she shrank away from him while he gesticulated wildly. And of course, the audio had to be crisp and clear. The viewer could hear every mean, nasty word he’d said to the girl.

“Oh God.” Tristan fell back into a kitchen chair, his stomach sinking. Watching the video made him realize what a bastard he’d been. He was going to be canceled before he even had his breakfast.

“I’m screwed, aren’t I?” Tristan tried to say lightly, but he winced when Doug glared at him.

“Very much, I’m afraid.” Doug sat down across from him. Now that he’d delivered the bad news, some of his angry mojo had subsided. He rested his balding head in his hands, winded from his dramatic entrance.

“Why, Tristan? Why did you scream at that poor girl like that?”

“I had my reasons. She’s not as innocent as she looks, and—and . . .” Tristan deflated at his unquestionable defeat. He was the jerk and loser in this situation, no matter how he tried to swing it.

“I messed up. I get it.”

“Do you, though? Between the bar fight, the mess with Angela, and now this! Tristan, you keep this up and you’ll be tanking fast with your fans—and with the execs. No one wants to deal with or support a disorderly divo.”

“Can’t I just apologize?”

Doug’s responding Are you effing serious? eyebrow raise proved that no, he could not. The smear campaign would be epic. No doubt there were a dozen disparaging headlines out there this instant. And with his luck, Bright Futures would drop him for real this time.

“You didn’t think this through,” Doug went on. “Rival Warriorscomes out in a few weeks. And if this damn rom-com doesn’t go down in flames, you’ll have that too.”

Damn! With everything else going on, Tristan’s upcoming action flick had slipped his mind. There were already TV ads and giant billboards all over the place advertising the film’s release. He didn’t have time to process the repercussions for that project and its poor PR team as Doug barreled on with worst-case scenarios.

“How are we going to market you as a hero if you come off as a bad guy in the press? How are we going to sell to fans that you can be a romantic lead when they see you treating women like this?”

“We could lie,” Tristan blurted out. “We could lie and say I was rehearsing a scene. I think if I beg, Jada might—”

“If we made out like this was you rehearsing a scene, I’ve got to tell you, it looks like you went way off script,” Doug said. “Besides, for all we know, Jada could have been the one who sent the video out.”

He hadn’t considered that possibility. Would Jada do something like that? She didn’t seem the type. She was sweet and unassuming—or so Tristan had presumed before she’d ratted on him.

“Fine. What’s your solution?” Tristan asked.

“We have to find a way for you to redeem yourself. Based on what Angela is bound to say and this incriminating video, you need to find a way to prove that you respect women. That you can be with one and treat her well.”

“Are you saying I should pretend to be in a relationship with someone to clean up my image? To masquerade as a happily committed man? I’m sorry, but I don’t see how that’s going to fix the way things look between me and Jada.”

Rumors abounded in this town about what couples in Hollywood were soul mates versus staging a drawn-out romance for clout. Tristan had no desire to get entangled in something so sneaky and didn’t see how it would help. Furthermore, he couldn’t think of anyone who’d be willing to tie their fate and career to his.

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