Page 27 of Off Script

Tristan’s PR team had done a good job ironing out the details in the release. It included the tidbits they’d gone over with Jada about rehearsing a scene and that they had been acting it out together due to their newfound “closeness.” Also, how they’d been trying to keep their budding relationship under wraps but were now making a joint statement to clear up any misconceptions. In addition to providing a cover for his outburst, the press release had worked its magic with Bright Futures too. As promised, Tristan had given LeeAnn a call, and after some theatrical begging, the coordinator said she would talk to the board to try and smooth things over.

“I doubt she’s found out yet.” Jada frowned. “Avery’s on London time right now. She’s probably passed out before hopping on her flight back in a few hours.”

“She’ll get to wake up to good news and see you cleaned up this mess yourself.”

“What if she doesn’t buy it?”

“Of course she will. You’re an actress, right? Have faith in your abilities.” Jada scowled at his suggestion.

“Thanks a lot. I appreciate you making fun of me again.”

Jesus! The woman was as prickly as a cactus.

“What the hell?! I’m not making fun of you. I’m serious. You’re a good actress, so you can pull it off.”

“Just not good enough, apparently.” Jada hinted at their conversation at the café. Yep, she was ready to jump into a fight. Frankly, Tristan wanted this evening to go as smoothly as possible. If this was any other woman, the odds would have been in his favor. It was a beautiful night with perfect, light weather. The stars they could see through L.A.’s otherwise smoggy sky should have brought on a more enchanting atmosphere. But so far, between the dress and the bristling attitude, Jada wasn’t planning to make things that easy.

“Are you going to hold every stupid thing I say against me? Because believe me, I say a lot of them. And if so, these next few months are going to be hell.”

“Months? You think we’ll be doing this for months?”

“I don’t know, but don’t stroke out on me. It’s at least going to be a couple of weeks, so you’re going to have to relax.” Tristan glanced over to see Jada sitting like a petrified mummy in her seat. “Do you know how to do that?”

“I can relax,” Jada said as she tried to lessen the tension in her shoulders—unconvincingly.

Her dramatics irritated him, but deep down, Tristan understood it. His skin itched, too, at the idea of being sucked into this dating scheme indefinitely. Not to mention having to defend it convincingly in front of Juan. Tristan had spent his whole life dodging being in a serious relationship. The longest he’d gone was about six months with a hotel heiress, and even that had felt stifling after she started popping up at the hotels he was staying at during various film shoots.

And now he was supposed to pretend to be madly and monogamously in love. It’d be an acting stretch for both of them. But still, he was willing to put in the work—albeit begrudgingly. She could at least do the same. If nothing else so it would be believable to the paparazzi. As he pulled into a parking space next to the restaurant, Jada looked up at the deceptively quaint, brick building.

“La Rosa Dorada? Isn’t this, like, one of the hottest fusion spots in town?” she asked.

“Yep. It’s a popular spot, which my former co-star owns, so there are bound to be some paparazzi creeps sulking about. You’ll need to start warming up to me way more than you have up until now. Got it?”

“Hold on. You can’t just drop that on me! Which co-star?”

The second Tristan admitted his fellowGarcia Centralactor and lifelong friend ran the place Jada’s eyes widened in horror.

“Tristan, ifanyoneis going to catch on to the fact we’re lying, it’s him!”

“Exactly, so we need to stick to our story and the warming up bit,” Tristan retorted, pushing aside the guilt of not telling Jada sooner and how shitty it felt deceiving Juan.

“Define warming up,” Jada countered. “Hand holding, relative proximity, or . . . something more?”

“Fine. We’ll start with hand holding and set some ground rules later. For now, can we please go inside?”

When Jada started to open the car door, Tristan stopped her. “That’s my job,” he said.

He swiftly jumped out of the car and rushed to open Jada’s door. When he offered to help her step out of the car with a gallant hand, she took it without protest. Sure enough, as they hit the sidewalk, one of those leapfrogging slimeballs hopped out at them and began snapping pictures.

“Tristan! Jada! Are you two really together or on the outs?”

“We’re stronger than ever,” Tristan said, holding tight to Jada’s hand and steering her inside.

“Wow, word does travel fast.” Jada blinked from all the flashing lights as she stepped into the protective walls of the restaurant’s lobby.

“Thanks to Doug.” Tristan credited his agent as he strode over to the hostess.

“Hi, I’ve got a party of two, under the name—”

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