Page 60 of Off Script

Nope. The Billie Holiday look-alike then hit a note like the original Lady Day, something Alia could never do. After all, the writer was good at everything else, so it was only fair that she couldn’t sing too. Also, upon second glance, “Billie” wasn’t wrapped in a towel like Jada but dressed up in flawless old-school style.

“Ohhhh, got it. I’m dreaming.” Jada gave in to the ridiculousness of it all and waved at her new companion. “Hi, Ms. Holiday. Nice to meet you. That’s my favorite song by you.”

“I would imagine so, with all the man trouble you’ve got at the moment, dear,” Billie said.

As Jada started to reply that she did not have anything of the sort, a booming laugh startled her. To Jada’s left, Hattie McDaniel seemed to be having a chuckle at her expense, and also sweating as much as Jada. For some reason, she’d also brought her Oscar, propping it up on the bench beside her. Then again, if Jada had been the first Black woman to win an Oscar, she would never let it out of her sight either.

“Take it from a woman who’s had four husbands, they’ll always be trouble,” Hattie chimed in.

This escapade wasn’t a little nap in a sauna but a full-on fever dream! Granted, she’d heard plenty of stories about people going to the desert and getting high so they could have high-quality hallucinations like this one. But after Mikayla’s recited facts about the relative safety of CBD gummies, she hadn’t anticipated having her own. Maybe she should just acknowledge the weirdness of it all and move on.

“Okay. While it is truly an honor to meet you both, can we skip to the part where I see a coyote and have whatever great epiphany I’m supposed to get?”

Before either of the imaginary women could respond, the door opened. Rather than Mikayla there to wake her up, Lena Horne leaned against the doorway. She wagged a finger at Jada like a schoolteacher catching a kid in a lie.

“Or we could skip the sarcasm and tackle why you run away from everything and think you can’t succeed on your own?”

Instead of denying the starlet’s erroneous accusations, Jada pinched herself to no avail. She barely felt it as Lena took a spot next to Billie, and they all waited for her to speak up. It was like being on trial by the Black Women Hall of Fame!

“I know I can succeed on my own . . .” Even to her own ears, Jada’s voice lacked the conviction she needed to win her case. She couldn’t just end it there as the league of women kept staring at her, the scary wisdom of being a deceased legend reflected in their eyes.

“It’s just there are stars like you guys, and then there’s me. It’s a lot to live up to. And okay, maybe a part of me doesn’t think I’m good enough, and that’s where the whole thing with Tristan came in. And now it’s morphing into something entirely different than what I set out to do.”

“When you start with deceit, it will never turn out the way you hope it will,” Billie said.

Ugh. It was a punch in the gut, but so damn true.

“So do I just dump this deal with Tristan and keep trying to make it by myself? What’s the right answer?”

But as she looked imploringly at the Black Women Hall of Fame, Billie didn’t melodically map out the pros and cons and Lena didn’t soothe her savage burns with a follow-up. Instead, Hattie patted her on the shoulder.

“Be brave enough to find your own answer,” she said, so wise and too damn cryptic.

Right when Jada started to ask for something more concrete, the earth moved. For a moment, Jada thought the real world had slipped back into her consciousness, and Palm Springs was having its own earthquake. In reality, her sleepy, semistoned ass had fallen off the sauna bench. From the hard floor, Jada took in Alia and Mikayla hovering above her.

“Jada, I’m so sorry. We’re both kind of sweaty, and you kind of just . . . slid?” Alia lamented as she pulled Jada back up.

“It’s okay.” A bit sore and disoriented, Jada hadn’t fully come back from her experience. “I kind of had an interesting fever dream thanks to gummy town.”

“Ohhh, about what?” Mikayla asked.

Hattie’s “answer” echoing through her mind, Jada shrugged. “Let’s just say it was . . . enlightening.”

Her hallucination might not have been the perfect ending to their weekend trip, but it would give her plenty to think about on the way home.

19

Gazing tenderly into Angela’s eyes, Tristan fell into the illusion they were the only two people around. Standing outside the scenic clock tower on Vignette Cinema’s outdoor lot, it was easy to get swept up in the film’s final moments. Holding on to Angela’s hands, he said Diego’s lines with reverence.

“We did it, Claire. From now on, it’s just you and me. Until the end of time.”

Angela smiled up at him, her eyes shining with tears of joy. “Until the end of time.”

Full of sentimental passion, they came together, seeking each other out for one, last kiss.

“Cut!” Ren finally called the thorough embrace to a close. Ecstatic, the director said the words Tristan had been longing to hear. “That’s a wrap, everyone!”

Relief soared through Tristan.Love Locketwas finally done. Well, done-ish. Tristan’s part in the production was over at least, and it was all postwork from here.

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