Page 62 of Off Script

She’d missed him too.

Later that night, as Tristan waited impatiently outside Jada’s apartment, he pleaded with God for the night to go well. This date felt make or break. He had a sense tonight would decide whether they kept this charade going or ended it all. His heart jumped when he spotted Jada coming out of the building’s front entrance. She looked phenomenal as always as she walked up to the car.

“Why, hello, Ms. Berklee.” He kept his tone light as he opened the door for her. Jada didn’t get in, lingering shyly.

“Tristan, about everything . . .” she started.

“Maybe we should wait to have this talk until we get to our destination,” Tristan suggested.

Jada acquiesced and slid into the passenger seat. Tristan hopped back in on his side and steered them toward Santa Monica.

“Trust me. Tonight will be fun,” he assured her.

“Where are we going?”

“The Bright Futures Festival. It’s a fair in honor of this nonprofit that assists underprivileged children. It’s going to be going on for the next couple of weeks.” Tristan had attended opening night earlier, doing a few interviews and promos. He’d always planned to return for another round. Going with Jada seemed like a natural choice.

“Let me guess, you’re a sponsor?” Jada raised a knowing brow.

“Yes,” he replied sheepishly. “But it’s a superawesome cause, and the rides are great.”

“There’s not gonna be like, a gazillion clowns, are there?” she asked uneasily.

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from their big plastic shoes and balloon animals.” He instinctively squeezed her hand. When she didn’t speak right away, Tristan looked over and caught her blushing.

“I’m not scared. I mean, the movieItis incredibly creepy but I can handle it.”

“Okay.” He suppressed his laughter.

To his delight, the Bright Futures Festival was going strong. Happy families and excited children were everywhere, playing carnival games, eating cotton candy, screaming their heads off on rides. Knowing all the attention would help raise tons of money for his favorite charity was a big upside to their evening. LeeAnn had gone with Tristan’s previous suggestion and blue balloons were tied to various booths, waving in the breeze. A banner bearing the Bright Futures’ name and globe with a heart in the middle logo graced the entrance to the carnival. LeeAnn herself greeted them at the entrance to the festival grounds. She had taken up a station welcoming people as they came up. The press agent the organization had hired stood dutifully at her side, taking pictures.

“Tristan! It’s so good to see you back. And you must be Jada.” LeeAnn grinned at them. One of the festival artists had transformed her into a tiger using face paint, accentuating her smile even more.

Upon hearing their names and seeing them up close, the press agent started taking photos of them. As they endured the snapshot frenzy, Tristan realized this date was the perfect time for their own personal photo op. A social media update might help quell the rumor mill. Depending on how the night unfolded, Tristan might suggest it later. For now, they finished their small talk with LeeAnn and then scored their tickets to join the happy chaos inside.

“What do you want to do first?” Tristan said as they took in the noisy atmosphere and various aromas from different food vendors.

“First stop: funnel cake.” Jada pointed at her favorite stand.

Throwing both of their diets to the wind, the two of them collected paper plates heaped with fried dough and powdered sugar. Guiding them over to one of the empty picnic tables, Tristan steadied himself for The Talk.

“Look, I know things got intense for you early on, and I understand that.”

“Do you?” Jada interrupted. “It’s one thing to pretend we’re together. It’s a completely different thing to be half-naked in my kitchen.”

“Yes, but us being attracted to each other is a normal reaction, Jada. It doesn’t have to be the end of the world if we hooked up.”

“I don’t want to be just another conquest, Tristan.”

“I never said you were. I don’t get why everything has to be either black or white with you.” Tristan shook his head.

“Because as a Black woman, I don’t get to live in gray, Tristan!” Before Tristan could shake off his shock and ask how race had literally gotten involved, Jada held up her hand.

“What I’m saying is I’ve been thinking about why I agreed to this. Tristan, do you know how many times I get offered roles to play a slave or be a part of some period piece about ‘the struggle’? How many times someone has tried to convince me I’ll finally win some big award by playing a gang leader’s crack-addicted baby mama? As if that’s the only way to accomplish my dreams. I know everyone on the outside thinks things are changing in the entertainment industry, but it’s still only for a select few. I have never gotten to be one of those people.”

Jada’s words were firm and strong, but there was no denying the devastated look in her eyes. Struck to his core, Tristan reached for her hand.

“I’m sorry. And you see me as one of those people?”

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