Page 21 of Off Script

“Doug, I may be an actor but me pretending to be madly in love with one person is a stretch—even for the tabloids. And I can’t see any of my exes agreeing to this.”

“I wasn’t talking about an ex. I’m thinking a new, blossoming romance. Possibly with the one woman whose name is synonymous with yours right now.” Doug twirled his phone in his hand, a devious gleam in his eyes.

Tristan’s eyebrows shot up as he put the pieces together. The resulting image was horrifying.

“You want Jada to be my lucky, new girlfriend? If we can’t depend on her to tell a simple lie to cover for me, what in the world makes you think she’d go along with that?”

“We just have to sweeten the deal for her. What’s the one thing that every semidecent actress in this city wants?”

“A Hemsworth brother?”

This comment—despite being 100 percent accurate—earned Tristan a shoulder smack from Doug.

“No, you fool.More. More fame, more fans, more everything.”

That didn’t sound like Jada, but it did fit quite a few actresses he’d met. His attention piqued, Tristan nodded.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

With Tristan’s go-ahead, Doug proceeded to explain exactly how he planned to swing it, his big, master plan, and slowly Tristan bought into it. He only hoped Jada would too.

9

The throbbing tap dance in Jada’s brain wouldn’t end. She placed her forehead in the palm of her hand, wishing doing so would alleviate the pain. While sitting at the kitchen table, Jada listened as Mikayla read her the latest headlines on the Tristan fiasco.Sip That Teahad snatched up Mikayla’s tip, all right. Along with posting the video, they’d written a scathing exposé that sent ripples out to every other celebrity gossip outlet. Their fight had been hotly discussed onE! News, and trending hashtags abounded online like #DownWithMaxwell and #TeamJada.

“‘Tristan Maxwell’s Hot Throb Rampage.’ Wow. They are ripping him a new one, aren’t they?” Mikayla shook her head in disbelief.

Jada winced. In her other hand, she clutched a cup of some disgusting concoction of herbs, runny eggs, avocados, and way too much paprika, which Mikayla swore would clear up her hangover. Jada reluctantly took another sip as penance for what she’d caused.

“Here’s another one. ‘Fiery Celeb Goes Down in Flames.’”

“Kayla, stop. If you go on, I think I’ll vomit. My stomach is queasy with regret.”

Mikayla rubbed her back in reassuring circles.

“Yes, what we did was harsh, but come on! He’s a big-time movie star. This won’t kill him. It’ll just knock him down a peg.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I always am.” Mikayla encouraged her to take another swig. Jada decided to chug the rest. It did seem to be helping, so she might as well suck it up—literally.

Abruptly, Jada’s phone started its high-pitched ringing. She frowned at the loud noise since she had no desire to speak to anyone. Unfortunately, her fumbling fingers accidentally pressed the Talk button.

“Hello?” A male voice came over the line. Swearing silently, Jada answered.

“Yes. This is Jada Berklee. Who am I speaking with?” She remained wary. This could be a reporter who’d stolen her number.

“Hey, there, Jada! I’m Doug Fineman,” the man said, sounding nice instead of like he was looking for a scoop.

“Okay. What can I do for you?” Jada tried to stay polite but felt like hanging up. He wasn’t speaking loudly but the man’s voice was vibrating in her ear, amplifying the aching in her head.

“Well, I work for Ren. He feels terrible about what happened and he’d like to speak with you.”

Jada’s attention was piqued—and on guard.

“Is he still . . . did he say what he wanted?”

“Not specifically. But would you be able to meet up at Sophie’s Café? Around noon.”

---