Page 115 of Off Script
"A while back, I hit a… rough patch. A crisis, really. It was traumatic and it made me reevaluate my life and my priorities. Becky knew about it. I had to tell her because I needed her professional expertise as my publicist, but I also wanted to tell her because I needed her supportas my friend. Becky knew I was sad and lonely and looking for love, and I feel like she used that knowledge against me. At the start of the press tour, after lamenting to her about my unrequited feelings for you, I threatened to quit the showmance—"
"Oh, shit," I muttered as her words jog my memory. "That night in Tokyo, I told Becky and Jada that I'd quit the showmance if that's what I had to do to keep Carlisle. I wonder if that was the catalyst for Becky. Because she told Carlisle I was breaking up with her just a few hours later."
"It wouldn't surprise me, Ben. She did a lot of shady shit that I'm only now realizing."
"Like…" I prod.
"After I threatened to pull the plug on our arrangement, Becky persuaded me not to by telling me that she thought you were developing feelings for me as well. Every time we'd talk, she’d plant ideas in my head and tell me things that you’d supposedly said about me to her.” She scoffs, "And I'm sure none of it was true. But at the time, I believed her."
“What kind of things did she tell you I said?”
“Things like… I looked sexy in a certain dress that I’d worn to one of the premieres. One time she said that you’d requested that we add a dinner date to our schedule. That dinner in Berlin? Becky told me you’d asked for it.”
“I didn’t. Becky told me that the studio requested it.” I pause, wondering if I should admit the next bit but decide that Willa needs to know the extent of Becky’s deceit. “It was around then that Becky asked me to hang out with you more and keep you away from Thad.”
“That tracks,” Willa scoffs. “She told me you were spending more time with me because you were jealous of the time I spent with Thad."
"Although I don't like Thad much, I never said that."
"I figured. I’m prettysure she was behind those leaked photos of us in the hotel and airplane too. Who knows? She may have even been behind the lingerie mix-up." Willa sighs. "I had already started doubting Becky's trustworthiness before, but this conversation solidifies in my mind that she's no friend of mine."
After our conversation wrapped up, I was convinced that Becky was guilty of breaking up my relationship with Carlisle to ensure my continued participation in the showmance with Willa.
But I was still left with the question ofwhy. Why would Becky push Willa and I together so hard? Was she acting as a friend, albeit a misguided one? Or were her more motivations more nefarious and self-serving?
Those questions led me down a series of rabbit holes as I started poking around and asking questions. After I spoke to my attorney about the situation, he recommended that I hire a private investigator to get to the bottom of it, so I did.
When I received an email early this morning from the PI, I knew what I had to do.
Leaving Carlisle at home, I went to confront Jada. I gave Carlisle the option of accompanying me, but I’m glad she didn’t want to come. I don’t ever want Jada and Becky’s brand of Hollywood sleaze to touch Carlisle again. She’s far too good to be tainted by this salacious industry any more than she already has been.
I stride purposefully through the large glass and chrome doors of the Jada Fischer Talent Agency, bypassing the reception area, noticing all the little details that I’ve never paid much attention to before.
The prime location.
The brand-new building.
The finest furniture and décor.
And the many offices that sit empty.
When I reach Jada’s outer office, I nod a terse hello at Angie, Jada’s personal secretary.
“Good morning, Mr. Sutt—wait! You can’t go in there! She’s in a meeting!” Angie leaps from her desk, close on my tail, as I stride past her.
When I barge into Jada’s inner sanctum unannounced, I’m spooling for a fight. Jada sits behind her desk, like a queen on her throne.
In my wake, Angie sputters, "I'm so sorry, Ms. Fischer. He—"
“That’s okay, Angie. Please shut the door on your way out.” Ever the consummate professional, Jada is the picture of composure. “Ben, good morning,” she nods as she half-rises from behind her desk and motions for me to take a seat.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Becky sitting on the couch on the far side of Jada’s spacious corner office.
Over the past few days, as I puzzled over why Becky would orchestrate the demise of my relationship with Carlisle, I kept circling back to one thing. Only one reason seems to make sense, and then the private investigator confirmed my suspicions.
The first bit of damning evidence that the PI provided me with was that the phone number I had saved in my phone as Carlisle’s—the number with an LA area code—was a number registered under Jada’s business. Which meant that someone working for Jada changedCarlisle’s number to one of their own to keep me from contacting Carlisle.
The second piece of evidence provided the answer to the motive.
