Off Script

by Anna Paige

  Balls.

  She’d probably told him not to say anything.

  Sneaky little shit.

  I finished styling my hair into something presentable and swiped some gloss on my lips before deciding it was as good as it was going to get. My hand closed around my phone, preparing to slip it into the back pocket of my artfully distressed denim capris when I caught motion in the mirror behind me.

  “Hey, Kaiti-bear.”

  Evie offered me a warm smile and stepped over to pull me into a hug.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you had to open the shop this morning,” I spoke into her hair as it fanned around my face.

  “I needed to be here.” She sounded near tears and I leaned back, arms still around her as I frowned at her expression.

  “What’s wrong? I’m the one who should be freaking out here, not you.”

  She tried for a smile and failed. “I’m okay. Long morning and you know how I hate mornings in general, so…”

  She wasn’t looking at me, which meant she was hiding something. “Evie?”

  Nothing.

  “Evangeline Elaine Rivers, talk to me.”

  She shook her head, giving me that damn weak smile again. “I will. After your interview.” She cut her eyes to the door where Joey still stood. “I thought you would have already started by now. I didn’t mean to show up and distract you at the last minute.”

  “You’re not distracting me, fool. I’m glad you’re here.” I hugged her again.

  “They’re ready for you,” Joey cut in.

  Evie let go and smoothed my hair, her face ashen as she resumed trying to hide the fact that she was upset. I knew I wouldn’t get anything out of her if she was determined to wait until after the interview, so I pretended I didn’t notice the way her hands shook as she straightened my top and picked at an imaginary speck of lint.

  I threaded my arm through hers and steered us toward the door, all smiles though I was nervous as hell and concerned for my friend.

  The whole point of today was not letting shit get to me, so I pushed it all aside and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. One step at a time, one problem at a time, one victory at a time.

  We’d almost reached the converted conference room where the interview was to take place when one of the runners hurried over to Joey. “They won’t leave and are insisting on speaking with Miss Oliver.” He cut his eyes in my direction, doing a piss-poor job at being discrete. “Do I have the guard escort them out or did she say to let them in?”

  “Let who in?” I asked, watching the runner’s cheeks flame red. Oh, I get it. He’s shy around the cast. Probably gonna need to get over that if he wants to stick around.

  Evie and Joey shared a look and my anxiety ratcheted up in the span of a heartbeat.

  “Hello? Can someone please tell me what—” I quirked a brow in the runner’s direction and his eyes darted to the floor as he supplied his name.

  “Chip.”

  I nodded. “Can someone please tell me what Chip is talking about?”

  No one spoke, so I turned my attention to the person most likely to crack first. I narrowed my eyes at him and watched as he shrank back a little. “Chip? You seem to know what’s going on. Let’s hear it.”

  His eyes darted to Evie and Joey in panic, but they offered no help. Eventually, he lowered his head and shook it so infinitesimally that I wouldn’t have noticed it at all had the three little sprigs of hair hanging in his face not swayed ever so slightly.

  “So, you’re not saying?”

  Another tiny head shake.

  I blew out a breath and glared at him, not that he could see it, staring at my feet like he was. I looked at Evie and pointed his way. “This. This right here is why my first instinct is to taser new people.”

  His head whipped up and his eyes were wide as saucers, but even my implied threat didn’t loosen his tongue.

  Dammit. “Someone start talking or so help me God…”

  Joey just kept staring at Evie, who eventually turned her ghostly white face in my direction. “We were trying to wait until after the interview to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” I was getting irritated which I preferred to being afraid, though the look on my best friend’s face still had me shaking.

  Joey muttered something about telling the interviewer there was a delay, then he and Chip bolted down the hallway like their asses were on fire.

  Not a good sign.

  When we were alone, Evie gripped my shoulder and steered us to one of the empty offices—well, mostly empty. It appeared to be used for storage—boxes and dusty set pieces were stacked everywhere. She clicked the door closed behind us and stood with her back to me, her shoulders tense as she took several deep breaths.

  When she finally turned, she held my eye, and said words I never in my life thought I’d hear. Ever.

  “Your parents are here.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” I stammered after what felt like an eternity of staring open-mouthed at her, my eyes darting to the door like they might bust in at any minute.

  Evie’s face contorted into a painful attempt at a sympathetic smile. “I guess they picked up on your name being all over the net and those stupid celebrity news shows.”

  I sat on the edge of a stack of boxes. “What did they say? Are you sure it’s them?”

  “It’s them,” she confirmed, face scrunching up like it pained her to say the words. “They say they want to talk to you, but I have no idea what they want beyond that.”

  “You talked to them?” Why was my voice so uneven and small sounding? And why did the idea of them talking to Evie make me feel a little sick to my stomach?

  She nodded. “Joey called me when they showed up and I came right over. Apparently, they’ve emailed and posted on your fan page but no one took them seriously—thought they were attention seekers or scam artists—until they showed up this morning and camped out in front of the building. Joey says they’ve been to your apartment too, but Gavin already had security tightened there after all the press over the video, so they didn’t get into the building.”

  “Wait…” I stopped, sorted my questions into a manageable list, and started with the mundane, working my way up. “I have a fan page? And if I do, who the hell is reading the emails I’m getting?” I didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Since when is there security at my apartment and why am I the last to know? How did they even find my address? Why didn’t Joey fucking tell me they were here before he called you? And why is everyone so hell bent on jumping into the fray for me before even giving me the chance to ask for help? Fuck!”

  I went to rub my hands over my face and stopped. I was already enough of a hot mess without smearing lip gloss all the way to my fucking forehead two minutes before going on camera.

  Evie came over, threw an arm around me, and squeezed me to her side. “You done chattering or should I start taking notes?”

  I pinched her side and she yelped, laughing.

  I laughed too, surprisingly enough. I laughed at how she rubbed her side and gave me the stink eye. I laughed at how that poor runner had nearly pissed himself when I stared him down and how he and Joey had scurried away because they knew shit was about to hit the fan. I laughed because it finally hit me that I’d forced my boss to stand idly by while I literally nuked his hard drive—after dressing down the entire cast like Dr. Phil on a rampage.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  I laughed because they were outside and if I didn’t laugh I’d fucking cry, and I refused to shed another tear over those twin piles of abandoning shit.

  Not one.

  My stomach growled because I’d been too nervous to eat before work, but the sound took me to a place I never wanted to venture to again. Hungry, scared, ten-year-old Kaiti.

  My gums started to sting like there were fresh cuts from the jagged, uncooked pasta, and my mind flashed to that worn, tear-soaked photo of the three of us when we were still a family.

  Ta
p, tap…

  My fists clenched in my lap.

  No. I’m not doing this. I’m not going back to that. I walked in here this morning on a fucking mission, and I’m not letting anyone or anything stop me from completing it. No more distractions from people and things that didn’t deserve my attention.

  I stood, brushed the layer of dust off my ass, linked my arm with Evie’s, and headed for the door. “Screw the answers. I don’t even want to know. None of it matters anyway. Let’s get this interview started. I’ve got asses to kick and a life to start living.”

  “See?” Evie said, leaning her head against my shoulder as we walked. “This. This right here is why I love the hell out of you, even if you sometimes want to taser me right along with everyone else.”

  I smiled, resting my cheek on her head. “And you know I love you right back because, after all these years, I’ve never zapped you once.”

  As we reached the room where the interview was to take place, my smile grew impossibly wide. Gavin stood there by the door, waiting for me with a single pink rose. He’d been holding pink roses the day we met—dozens of them—but that lone rose in his hand meant so much more, just as he’d known it would.

  I lowered my voice as Evie and I approached, “Stick close to him while I’m in there and don’t under any circumstances let him go outside.”

  “No problem,” she whispered. “I can be scary too, when necessary.”

  “Too? You think I’m scary?” I didn’t know whether I was insulted or flattered.

  “A little. But only like one percent of the time. The other ninety-nine, you’re fierce and fucking awesome. Now, go kiss your man and get this interview over with so you can turn the page on all this shit.” She slapped my butt, chuckling. “Maybe we can all sneak off to the beach later. Let the drama roll out with the tide.”

  I smirked at Gavin at the mention of the beach and he gave me a curious look. I raised my voice enough so he could hear. “You’ve never seen hot till you get Gavin-fucking-Lane all wet and covered in sand.”

  He winked, handing me the rose and dropping a soft kiss on my cheek.

  Evie groaned and pulled away. “I’m gonna get a cavity standing this close to the two of you.”

  Gavin and I chuckled. He pulled me close for a moment before pressing his forehead to mine. “You ready for this?”

  He didn’t really need an answer but I nodded anyway and handed him the rose to hold for me until I was done.

  He stepped aside. “Then hurry up. I like this beach idea you two were whispering about. If we’re lucky, we can dodge Bryce and be halfway there before he realizes we’re gone.”

  I turned at the last minute and mouthed the words I love you to both Gavin and Evie.

  They each smiled and mouthed them right back.

  My family.

  The only family I’d ever need.

  Twenty-One

  Kaiti

  “So, Kaiti, it appears you’ve had quite the introduction into show business,” the reporter, Dahlia something-or-other said, her face a picture of empathy. She wore a smart, expensive pantsuit with her flaxen hair pulled back in a severe twist. Her lips were so deeply red they looked vampiric—which was fitting given the blood-sucker vibe she gave off. She was known for chasing a story hard, not backing down or having much in the way of boundaries when it came to her pursuit of the sensational. Bryce had chosen well. I was about to make her damn day.

  “I guess you could say that, yeah.” I smiled.

  “How are you getting along with your cast mates?”

  I glanced over at the group gathered on the other side of the room. All but Bryce were in attendance. Sky was doing her level best to look relaxed, even though her shoulders practically touched her ears they were so tense. I gave Dahlia a smile. “We’re one big family here. It’s been great getting to know everyone and settling in. Everyone has been incredibly helpful and welcoming.”

  “From what I’ve heard, the family might be breaking up, in a manner of speaking. Rumor has it there may be some cuts happening at the end of the season—Skylar Banks being the name most often mentioned. Any comment?”

  I looked at Sky, then turned my attention to Dahlia, offering a wistful smile. “Well, I’m still too new to be that far in the loop, but I’m sure the writers know what they’re doing. Everyone’s contracts are up for renewal—mine included—so no one is particularly safe.” I watched Skylar from the corner of my eye. “And if Skylar were to end up moving on from the show, I can only imagine the number of offers that would pour in to snap her up. I could totally foresee a bidding war from other shows desperate for her to grace their productions with her talent. She’s got a lot to offer.” I leaned in and gave Dahlia a wink. “But don’t count anyone out just yet. Savages is famous for its insane season finales.”

  Dahlia chuckled and nodded. “Yes, it is.”

  I glanced at Skylar and was surprised at the look she was giving me. It was a combination of gratitude and shame as she lowered her eyes. I could have shredded her, had every reason in the world to do that, but I’d built her up instead. Not because she deserved it, but because someone had to take the first step in changing this cesspool of backbiting and scheming into something we could all be proud of. I couldn’t call them out on their shit and then turn around and feed into the problem myself.

  We all had to be better than that.

  “What about your connection to Gavin Lane? After the video he posted, there’s no denying the two of you are an item.” She consulted her notes. “I’m quoting Mr. Lane directly here: ‘I’m not standing by and allowing anyone to attack or victimize the woman I love.’” She grinned and flicked a look at him over her shoulder before meeting my eye. “Care to tell us how that happened?”

  I laughed and caught his eye. “Well, it all started with me cussing someone out in the mall food court…”

  “Beg pardon?”

  Gavin’s chuckle could be heard on camera, I was sure, as I shook my head. “You had to be there.”

  “Well, whatever started it, it’s clear from his video that what the two of you have is intense.”

  “That’s the best kind of love, isn’t it?” I asked her with a wink.

  “So, you’re in love with Gavin Lane?”

  “You have no idea how inadequate that sounds, but to put it simply, yes. I’m most certainly in love with Gavin Lane.”

  “It’s always good to see two people so devoted to each other. His declaration of love during his video broke a lot of hearts, of course.”

  I shrugged. “Not mine. It was my favorite part, actually.”

  Her expression became grave and she asked, “His video wasn’t all sunshine and roses, unfortunately. It addressed a very serious matter that’s been the center of a lot of media attention of late. The surfacing of some extremely private information, an undoubtedly painful memory for you that was made public on the heels of you joining the show. How are you handling it?”

  I tilted my head at her. “Look, I really hope you have someone to go over all this with that little bleep button before it’s aired because shit’s about to get realer than you anticipated.”

  Her eyes widened and she nodded. “We’ve got it covered. Be as candid as you like.”

  I sat back in my chair, relaxing into it. “Well, Dahlia, I’m handling it like anyone else would, I imagine. I was pissed off initially, then embarrassed, and now I’m indifferent to it because I refuse to give it power over me anymore. It’s called working through your shit, and every single person on the planet has to do it. I’m no different just because you guys have labeled me a star.”

  “You don’t see yourself as a star?”

  “Hell no. I see myself as someone who likes to act and has discovered she’s actually pretty good at it. That doesn’t make me any different from anyone else who has a job they enjoy and excel at.” I looked at the guy behind the camera. “You. Do you like what you do?”

  Dahlia looked around and asked, “Are you ta
lking to me or—?”

  “No, I’m talking to the camera operator.”

  He leaned around the camera and nodded, smiling at me. “Liking it even more than usual today, Miss Oliver.”

  “Kaiti, please.” I gave him a smile back.

  Dahlia clearly didn’t like being ignored. “I’m confused, where is this going?”

  I looked at the cameraman again. “Have you gone through shit in your life—bad shit, good shit, even embarrassing shit you don’t want anyone butting into?”

  “That’s an affirmative, Kaiti,” he called from behind the camera, humor in his voice.

  I pointed in his direction, basically into the camera. “My point exactly. Everyone struggles and gets hurt and hurts people they shouldn’t. No one is perfect and no one’s life is perfect. It’s not supposed to be. But you people”—I gestured to her with a small smile that let her know I had her number— “you smell blood in the water anytime some celebrity—and I use that term loosely—has real-life problems. I don’t know which came first; celebrities pretending to be perfect or the press expecting them to be, but it’s all bullshit. Perfect only happens in movies. In real life, shit happens. Period. So, I was victimized as a teenager. That’s my story to tell—or not. My shit to work through. My life. What business is it of anyone else’s? Why does anyone care?”

  “Well, part of being in the entertainment industry—”

  “Is being expected to live up to some insane standard that is completely unattainable? Yes, we just covered that, Dahlia. You want perfect but you also want real and it can’t be both. You want to know how far from perfect my life is? Right now, outside this very building, stand the two pieces of human excrement who were supposed to be my parents. Right now, they are out there, seeking me out for the first time since I was ten years old—when they abandoned me. That’s real.”

  Her mouth dropped before she managed to get her shit together, the smell of fresh blood in the water making her eyes gleam. “And what do you think about that? What do you plan to do?”