Page 92 of Off Script

“Thanks!” Jada laughed. “It’s the new me. But I’m not sure how to make this new deal between us and Tristan work.”

“Well, at the end of the day, as you said, this is business. Give me a day and let me talk to him. But whatever you do, don’t tear up that contract!”

“Got it. Thanks, Doug.”

As Jada hung up, she was filled with equal amounts of relief and apprehension. She was proud of herself for coming this far, acting so quickly, and taking a stand. But justhearingTristan’s name and wondering what he thought about her hurt. All she could hope was that her new agent was as savvy as he promised.

30

When the pounding assault on Tristan’s front door began, he knew exactly who was on the other side of the expensive wood. Scowling, Tristan set his scotch down on the coffee table and went to let in his enraged agent. This time, Tristan had some rage of his own to match.

“What?” he snapped the second he came face to face with Doug.

“Don’t you ‘what’ me!” Doug snapped right back. “You know exactly why I’m here.”

At Tristan’s blank stare, Doug clarified with exasperation. “Jada!”

Her name immediately had Tristan headed back to the couch for his liquor.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tristan said, taking a long sip. The familiar burn sliding down his throat was just the hit he needed. It masked the real reason for the pain in his chest.

“Tell me what happened,” Doug demanded.

“She’s the one, the rat. She posted the video that started this whole shit show.”

“Damn.” Doug sat down to pour himself a glass uninvited. “She didn’t tell me that part over the phone.”

“Because she’s a liar. And why were you talking to her anyway?”

“She’s my new client,” Doug said so nonchalantly that Tristan gawked in astonishment.

“Are you frickin’ serious? After everything she did, you’re going to take her on?”

“Yep. The bad blood between you two has nothing to do with the percentage that’ll be in my pocket after you two do this movie.”

“I can’t believe this. You really are a snake, Doug. You two deserve each other.”

“Get off it, Tristan. There wouldn’t have been a video for Jada to post in thefirst placeif you hadn’t taken your anger out on her.”

Tristan scoffed, looking at the television. ESPN’s lukewarm commentary wasn’t enough to drown his agent out.

“That’s right. Roll your eyes and blow me off,” Doug went on angrily. “You want to blame everyone else for this mess and what’s going on, but this started with you. With you and your immaturity. So, if you want, blame everyone else. Blame the whole world. But you’ll never learn how to truly forgive and love someone until you take responsibility for your actions.”

“Who said anything about love?” Tristan swiveled back to Doug as he found himself latching onto the word that had been terrifying him.

“Are you really trying to pretend like you’re not crazy about that girl?” Doug asked incredulously.

That was exactly what Tristan intended to do. Sure, he might have thought he was falling for Jada, but that got shot to hell the second she confessed. Doug might have come here with his bulldozing, hash-it-out energy, but Tristan didn’t have to put up with it. He hadn’t even worked up the nerve to tell Juan and Rafe the truth about everything—people he actually would have trusted for love advice. He certainly wasn’t going to take some from Doug, who’d just stabbed him in the back.

“You know what? If you want to take Jada on, that’s your problem. I, on the other hand, have some things to reconsider.”

Leaving Doug with that foreboding statement, Tristan headed for the front hallway, knowing the agent would follow him.

“Is that supposed to be a threat, Tristan?” Doug asked, some of his resolve wavering.

Doug might see Jada as a new cash cow, but he and Tristan had been through a lot more together. Doug had been there for Tristan when his dad died and had seen him through the hardest parts of his career. Tristan didn’t have the heart to actually drop him right this second, but he needed an impetus to get Doug out of his house.

“What it means is I’m going for a walk. So . . .” Tristan let the sentence dangle as he opened his door.

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