Page 34 of Off Script
Ignoring Jo's sass, I reply, “I have one idea. She likes to cook, so what if we do a private cooking class somewhere? We wouldn’t have to worry about being photographed by the paparazzi that way.”
“And you could impress her with your prowess in the kitchen. Even thoughThe Family Kitchenbombed at the box office, at least it’s coming in handy for something now.”
I pick up a pen from my desk and lob it in Jo’s general direction, which she easily dodges. “I wouldn’t say it bombed,” I protest half-heartedly.
The Family Kitchenwas a film from a few years ago in which I played a supporting role as a chef, and as part of my preparation, I took lessons from professional chefs. Now, I have knife skills that would rival Wolfgang Puck’s and quite a few impressive recipes in my repertoire.
“Defensive much?” She arches an eyebrow at me and clamps her lips shut, smothering her smirk. Jo advised me not to take the role, and she loves to remind me whenever she can that the movie sucked. “But that is actually a great idea.”
“Yes, well, I do have them from time to time. No need to sound so surprised, Joanna.”
“I’ll see what I can book and let you know later this afternoon. But let’s talk logistics first.” She sets her notebook down on my desk and shoots me a serious look. “Since you’re trying to land that role inLosing Loveand you have two upcoming movie releases, Jada and Beckyare on my ass to keep you in line and out of trouble for the foreseeable future. So, your date will have to sign an NDA beforehand.”
“No.” Shaking my head, I meet Jo’s gaze. “Look, it’s going to sound weird, but she doesn’t know who I am. We’ve just been talking and texting, so it’s almost like a blind date. I can’t messenger over a nondisclosure agreement.”
“How the hell does she not know who you are?” Jo’s face is incredulous. She starts gesturing wildly and pacing the room. “Are you positive she’s not playing you? Because you are everywhere right now—websites, movie trailers, late night talk shows. Hell, your ugly mug is plastered all over billboards in every major city across the country. How is this scenario even possible?”
The corners of my lips turn upwards as I remember the comedy of errors that occurred when I first spoke with Carlisle. “It’s a long story. One I have you to thank for, actually. Remember when you pranked me by giving me the phone number to a sex hotline instead that interior designer?”
Jo flinches, an expression of horror crossing her face, and she drops onto one of the chairs looking like she might faint. “Please dear god, no.” Then she mutters, “Jada and Becky are going to fucking murder me if you want to start dating someone who works at a sex hotline.”
“Relax. I dialed the wrong number and reached this woman accidentally.” I shrug, leaning back in my chair and kicking my legs up onto my desk, thoroughly enjoying Jo's discomfort. “We started talking and texting and it snowballed from there.”
Jo holds up a hand. “Wait! So, you’renottaking a sex worker out on a date?” There’s a franticly hopeful gleam in Jo’s eyes, and her intense reaction makes my grin grow. “Stop smiling! I need you to clarify this situation for me, Benjamin! Tell me right now!”
“No, she’s not from the sex hotline.” I bite back a laugh. “I promise.”
“Oh, thank God! You almost gave me a heart attack, you idiot.” Jo clutches her chest and slumps against the cushions of the chair. “Then why doesn’t she know who you are? What have you told her? Who does she think she’s going on a date with?”
“She thinks she’s talking to a regular 30-year-old guy who bounces around from job to job. I encourage her to talk about herself and I try to be as vague as possible about myself when she asks questions. Believe me, she has absolutely no idea who I am or what I do for a living.”
Jo’s eyes bore into me as she slowly asks, “But you know who she is, right?”
I squint and tilt my head before admitting, “Sort of.”
“Jesus H. Christ!" Jo gripes, clearly irritated.
"What does the H stand for?"
"Harold, obviously." Jo smirks. "Harold be thy name." She pauses. "Speaking of full names, please tell me that you know hers.”
I nod. “I do.”
“If I can’t send her an NDA, then let me run a background check on her. Blind or otherwise, this is your first real date in years, and I don’t want you to get hurt. Not if I can help it,” Jo implores, her concern for me evident. “You can’t afford to just take her word for it. How do you know that she’s been truthful with you?”
While I’m not comfortable digging into Carlisle’s life without her knowledge or consent, I accept that it’s the prudent next step. Our situation is unique and given my celebrity, I have to take extra precautions to protect myself.
“Fine,” I concede. “But I don’t want to see the report unless something alarming popsup.”
That’s the best compromise I can make. I won’t be privy to Carlisle’s personal details unless she tells me herself, but I’m protected in case she's lied. My intuition tells me that she’s being honest with me, but with two huge movies premiering next month and trying to land the role inLosing Love, I can’t risk a scandal.
“Sounds like a plan, boss.” Jo releases a sigh of relief. “Ben, I hate that we go to these lengths, but I’m only insisting on a background check to protect you. You know you’re more than a boss to me.”
“I know, JoJo. You’re more than an employee to me too. While I don’t love your meddling,” I quirk an eyebrow in her direction, “I appreciate you watching out for me.”
“Cool.” Joanna grabs her discarded notebook and readies her pen in her hand. “So, give me her deets.”
“Deets?” I shake my head. “No. If I can’t say moniker, which is an actual word, you can’t say deets.”
