Page 10 of Off Script

Their post came at just the right time as the countdown Damien had projected on the wall flashed, alerting them the show would be starting in five minutes. People went from mingling party mode to gathering around the screen. As Jada and Mikayla settled on the couch with Alia, it was easy to get caught up in the excitement. Next to Jada, Alia’s back was ramrod straight instead of relaxing into the sofa like a normal person. Sure, they would be on camera but the buttoned-up look would not help with engaging her viewers.

Jada squeezed her friend’s hand in a sign of support. “It’s going to be kickass. Now breathe!”

Mikayla chimed in with an exaggerated demonstration of Lamaze exercises. Alia burst into laughter, their plan of attack working beautifully. As their friend reached a minor level of chill, the countdown reached its last seconds. Everyone chanted along like it was New Year’s Eve.

“Three . . . two . . . one . . .”

As the cameras in the room rolled, the iconic theme song replaced the television ads. Captivated, Jada fell into the opening scene’s rhythm. As usual, Alia and the team had delivered by sucking the viewers back into last season’s cliff-hanger. As Zane and Killian raced through the woods, the cast and crew threw out suggestions.

“Find a river! It’ll throw The Slasher off your scent!” one of the producers, Justine, insisted.

“What theyneedto do is stop Killian bleeding or I’mma fight somebody.” Calvin vouched for his own character.

As the story unfolded, the show maintained its witty, sharp edge laced with mystery and romance. By the time the episode ended, Jada’s throat hurt from laughter and all the boisterous conversation. Once the preview for next week aired, the actors jumped in to address the viewers.

“We hope you enjoyed the premiere’s twists and turns. Feel free to post your theories in the comments,” Damien said, then turned to Alia. “Anything you’d like to add, boss lady?”

“Just that we have more in store! Thanks for watching tonight and stay tuned!” Alia gave one last wave at the cameras before the livestream ended.

The second they were off air, Jada wrapped her friend up in a hug. “It was amazing. I’m so proud of you,” she gushed.

“Seconded,” Mikayla added.

“Everyone did a fantastic job,” Alia said. “Hopefully, this means the ratings will be on track.”

As Mikayla soothed Alia’s rating worries, Jada’s phone buzzed in her pocket with a Twitter notification.

@tmaxrocks:Superjealous. We should be shipping Zillian together!

Tristan had commented on her videoandretweeted it. More people had followed suit with other retweets and responses. Jada had also gained more followers because of it. The short message shouldn’t have affected her, but a warm glow washed over her. It was strangely heartwarming that, in spite of Tristan’s outward demeanor, he appeared to be a big fantasy nerd. And the fact that he even bothered to promote the show was more than a lot of Jada’s past co-workers had been willing to do. Some celebrities espoused rah-rah sisterhood or stick together mantras, but rarely reached out to others when it mattered.

Jada responded:Next time. :)

Putting her phone away, she couldn’t help smiling. Maybe there was more to Tristan than she originally thought.

5

When Tristan woke up Friday morning, he knew it would be busy on set. No matter how well organized, there were always a few hiccups on any film shoot—the lighting not being right or a prop temporarily going missing. He was sure today would be no exception, especially since they were diving into the trippy, time travel elements of the film. The shoot would consist of a lot of CGI and green-screen work as his character, Diego, faced the hurdles that came with purchasing the titular locket of the movie.

He’d barely gotten out of the shower, his skin still damp, when his phone rang. His first thought was the schedule had been changed, but then he saw Doug’s name flashing on his screen. While Doug Fineman was a fantastic agent, willing to go to war for his clients, he was also a PR hound. There were other people in the company who could handle major stuff, but Doug preferred to be hands-on with his all-star clients. For Tristan, that meant he’d already missed one call from Doug. He had no choice but to pick up for this one.

“Doug. What’s up?”

“My stress levels. That’s ‘what’s up,’ Tristan.”

“What did I do now?” Tristan placed the phone on speaker so he could get dressed. At the rate things were going, it’d be best to just toss something on, matching socks be damned, and head out.

“That depends. Do you still want to be the face of Bright Futures?”

The mismatched striped socks slipped through Tristan’s fingers as Doug’s words hit him with chilling severity. The nonprofit organization Bright Futures assisted underprivileged children in a variety of ways, from providing donated clothes and food to fostering mentorship opportunities. Many celebrities had tons of charities they donated to or were ambassadors for, but Bright Futures wasn’t just a good publicity stunt or a tax write-off for Tristan. It had started out as so much more. When his father died from liver failure, it hit Tristan harder than he could imagine. Tristan had already relocated to pursue his career options in New York, and his relationship with his father had been distant at best. But after Tristan moved away, his dad had started to get his act together, going to AA meetings and trying to make amends. They’d been in the midst of trying to repair things between them when he got his diagnosis. Tristan’s feeble hope of becoming a real family again shattered.

After his father passed away, Tristan dropped out of all his upcoming projects, falling into a hideous headspace. Thankfully, Doug and his formerGarciabrothers kept checking in. Rafe eventually introduced him to Bright Futures through a charity gala. Meeting all of the amazing kids that the organization helped pulled on Tristan’s heartstrings and inner loneliness. Working with them had guided him out of the darkness. The idea they no longer wanted him as a spokesperson, that his connection with those kids could be ripped away in an instant, nearly burned a hole through his chest.

Ignoring the lump forming in his throat, Tristan asked, “Doug, is this about that stupid bar fight?”

“You know they love you, Tristan, but this doesn’t set a good example for the kids.”

“Then I’ll go there and give a whole damn seminar about words over fists, anti-bullying, whatever. If they drop me now, then it’ll mess up our plans for the fundraiser.”

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