Going Off Script

by Jen Wilde

  My hands form fists at my sides. I’m too angry to even speak. He stares up at me, and I stare right back.

  “Fine,” he says with a sigh. “How about this?” He pulls the script toward himself, then takes a pen from his desk and starts writing on the cover page. “I’ll give you a writing credit on this episode, if you let this go.” He slides the script over to me. Under his printed name, he’s scrawled “and Becky.”

  “My name,” I say through gritted teeth, “is Bex Phillips.”

  He waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, I’ll have Dirk print it up like that. But do we have a deal?”

  What choice do I have? He’s going to use the script no matter what I say. And it’s his word against mine. At least this way, I can take credit for Lyla. Then I think of Shrupty and add a final request.

  “I won’t tell anyone you stole my script,” I say, my voice shaking. “If you give me a writing credit and let me have input in who gets cast to play Lyla.”

  He laughs like I made a joke. I use all my courage to keep staring him down. Then, realizing I’m dead serious, he taps his pen on the desk and nods slowly. “You never give up, do you?”

  I turn my nose up at him. “No. I don’t.”

  “Deal,” he says.

  “Deal.”

  He smiles. “Good. I’m glad we finally understand each other.”

  The moment I leave his office, I text Shrupty.

  Bex: hey, remember that Silver Falls role I mentioned?

  Shrupty: hey! yeah?

  Bex: it just opened up!

  Shrupty: wait what

  Bex: You still interested?

  Shrupty: hell yeah!

  Bex: awesome! I’ll send you the info.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “She’s not right for the role,” Malcolm says. We just saw the tenth actress audition for the part of Lyla today. He’s hardly even paid attention to any of them, instead spending the whole time texting. Luckily, Jane and Janice, the casting director, are here to make all the decisions. And they aren’t so ready to dismiss actress number ten.

  “Why’s that?” Jane asks.

  He keeps his attention on his phone. “Not enough…” He cups his palms in front of his chest, and I realize he’s referring to the actress’s breasts. I scoff quietly to myself. Janice glares at him, and Jane rolls her eyes. I think of Shrupty and how she’s about to sit here before him and be judged by him. I should have warned her about him earlier.

  Dirk enters the room, gesturing behind him. “This is Shrupty Padwal.”

  My heart perks up when I hear her name, taking me by surprise. I’ve been waiting to see her walk through those doors all day. Thanks to my tip, she sent in her audition tape and made it through to today’s audition round. But with Malcolm shrugging at every single actress we’ve seen, I’m starting to wonder if we’ll have a Lyla by the end of the day like Janice hoped.

  Just then, Shrupty walks in, her dark hair swept over to one side, a bright smile on her face, and I’m melting into my chair like a Popsicle on a hot summer day. She adjusts the collar of her gray blazer, which she’s paired with a black V-neck blouse and cropped jeans.

  “Thank you,” she says to Dirk.

  “My pleasure,” he says while staring directly at her cleavage. “Again, I’m a big fan.”

  Shrupty clears her throat. “Do I have something on my shirt?”

  Taken aback, Dirk immediately looks away. “No, no.”

  “Really?” she asks in a sarcastic tone. “Because you were really fixated just now.”

  My eyes dart back and forth between them like I’m watching a boxing match.

  “Sorry,” Dirk sputters, his face turning pink in panic. “I wasn’t—”

  Shrupty seems to burn a hole in him with her eyes as he tries to come up with an explanation for his gawking.

  “Dirk,” Malcolm interrupts. “That’ll be all.” And in a flash, Dirk has left the room.

  Shrupty turns to us and smiles.

  “Hi,” she says as she approaches the desk and shakes our hands. When she takes my hand in hers, I feel a spark run from my fingers all through my body. My cheeks flush and I look down, trying to focus on my work, but she’s in my head and I can’t shake her.

  “Let’s begin,” Jane says.

  “I’ll be her scene partner,” I say. Jane gestures for me to take a seat opposite Shrupty, who gives me a grateful smile.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Janice says, watching her over her reading glasses.

  Shrupty looks down at her script, clears her throat, then begins.

  “If I wanted to kill you,” she says, her voice low and serious, “you’d be dead already. I don’t kill wolves.”

  I read Alyssa’s part, Sasha. “So why ride with hunters?”

  “They’re all I have. They took me in after wolves killed my parents. But I’m not like them. I don’t want to kill anymore.”

  “So you have killed wolves before?”

  “Have you killed hunters before?”

  “Only the ones who tried to kill me first.”

  “Okay, great,” Janice says. “Let’s move on to the next scene. Bex, you continue reading as Sasha, and I’ll read Archer’s part, Tom.”

  I flip a few pages ahead, to the scene where Lyla runs to warn Sasha, Tom, and Jonah that the hunters are coming.

  Shrupty nods and takes in a deep breath.

  “You need to go,” she says, panting like she’s been running. “My family knows you’re here. They’re coming.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Janice asks, reading as Tom.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Shrupty says. “All that matters is that you’re in danger. You need to leave. Now.”

  “How did they find us?” I ask.

  Shrupty reaches out and touches my hand lovingly. “They followed me last night. They saw us together. Sasha, I’m so sorry.”

  “She’s a hunter?” Janice asks angrily.

  “She’s not like them,” I say. “She saved me.” I turn to Shrupty. “Come with us.”

  “I can’t,” she says, shaking her head slowly. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can, but you have to go. Run! Now!” Tears well up in her eyes, and I’m so mesmerized by her that I forget it’s my line.

  “Oh,” I say, trying to find my place on the page. “Crap. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Janice says. “Let’s just do one more. Scene eleven. I’ll read for Sherry, Lyla’s adoptive mother.”

  I sit back in my chair, watching Shrupty as she disappears into the emotions of the scene.

  “You lied to me,” she says. “You told me my parents were murdered by wolves.”

  “They were murdered,” Janice says.

  Shrupty raises her voice. “By you! You hunted them down like you always do. They were wolves, and they were good. I know the truth now, so don’t you dare lie to me.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Janice says. “I wanted to tell you. All I ever wanted to do was protect you.”

  “Protect me? Nothing you’ve ever done has been for me.”

  In the script, Lyla walks to the door, then turns back to look at her adoptive mother one last time.

  “I always knew my parents were slaughtered by a monster,” Shrupty says, choking back tears. “But I never in a million years thought you could be the monster.”

  The room falls silent for a moment, then Janice and Jane talk quietly to each other. I just stare at Shrupty, blown away. Even Malcolm looks impressed.

  “Great,” Janice says. “We can finish there.”

  “Thank you, Shrupty,” Jane says, smiling. “That was really good.”

  Shrupty blinks away her tears and smiles. “Really? Thank you!”

  “So good,” I say. “Amazing.”

  She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks away, like she’s embarrassed. “Thanks.”

  We all look at Malcolm, waiting for a response, but he just nods.

  “Thank you so much for coming in,” Janice says as she gives
Shrupty a friendly smile and a handshake. “We’ll let you know by the end of the day.”

  Shrupty leaves, and I wait with bated breath to hear the verdict.

  “Well,” Jane says, scribbling in her script. “I don’t know where you found her, Bex, but she was really good. What do you think, Mal?”

  He glances up at her. “She’s pretty, she can act, and I have a dinner meeting to run to, so let’s call it and get the hell out of here.”

  Janice claps her hands together. “Well then, I think we’ve found our Lyla.”

  I fist pump the air triumphantly. “For real? Can I go tell her the good news before she leaves?”

  “Go ahead,” Janice says.

  My phone is in the writers’ room, so I can’t text or call Shrupty to come back. I have to hurry to catch up with her. I speed-walk out of the building just as she’s driving away from the visitors’ parking lot, but I’m too far away for her to see me waving at her. Maybe I can beat her to the exit.

  I race through the back lot with a great big grin on my face, swerving past a group of extras in fifties-style poodle skirts and dodging an animatronic velociraptor being transported to a soundstage. A tour bus blocks my path to the main gate, so I have to take a shortcut through New York Street. Finally, I make it to the gate just as Shrupty is pulling up to the security window.

  “Wait,” I shout as I run in front of the car.

  Shrupty lifts her sunglasses up, her eyes wide. “Bex! What the hell, girl?”

  I’m so excited, I don’t care how ridiculous I look. I drum my hands on the hood of her car. “You got it!”

  Shrupty rolls her window down and sticks her head out. “What?”

  “You got the part!” I yell. “You’re our Lyla!”

  “Shut up!” she yells back. “Seriously?!”

  I run around the car and crouch at her window. “I would never lie about Silver Falls. They loved you, Shrupty. The part is yours.”

  I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see Pete, the security guard, frowning at me. “I appreciate the celebration, but people are waiting.”

  “Sorry, sir!” Shrupty says. She lets her sunglasses fall over her eyes, then says to me, “Get in, loser.”

  I laugh and run back around to the passenger’s side and jump in. She drives out of the exit lane, then turns the corner and pulls to the curb.

  “I’m guessing you have to go back in,” she says.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I just wanted to give you the good news in person. Are you excited?”

  She chuckles nervously. “I can’t believe I actually got it! I honestly thought I had zero chance.”

  “You were so good,” I say. “You blew me—I mean, everyone—away. Really.”

  She tucks her hair behind her ear. “You’re sweet.” We lock eyes, and I feel my heart start to race. “What are you doing tonight? I just decided I’m having a celebratory dinner. You should come.”

  My stomach starts to fizz like a shaken-up soda bottle. Did she just ask me out on a date? No. She said she’s having a celebratory dinner, so that means she’ll probably invite her friends, too. But still, it’s a chance to spend more time with her. I tell myself not to get my hopes up, then immediately start getting my hopes up. Fantasies of us clinking champagne glasses and holding hands along the beach and making out float through my mind. I try to stamp them down by using my worries as water to put out the fire.

  The biggest one being: I don’t have the money to be going out and celebrating anything.

  But as I look at Shrupty, her honeyed eyes melting me as she waits hopefully for my answer, I know I’m screwed. I can’t say no to her. I don’t want to say no to her.

  So, for the first time in my life, I decide to go with my gut and worry about the problems later.

  “I’d love to.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  After work, I wait outside a restaurant called Golden Ivy in West Hollywood to meet Shrupty and her friends. It’s a glamorous-looking place with wide-open windows and vines growing over the blush-pink walls. Santa Monica Boulevard is buzzing with people heading to dinner while music flows out of all the cafés and bars. A group of people around my age walk by me and take one of the outdoor tables, and I wonder if they’re Shrupty’s friends. My fingers play nervously with the hem of my shirt. I hope her friends like me.

  “Bex!” I hear Shrupty call from behind me. I turn to look down the sidewalk, where she emerges from a crowd of people, waving at me.

  “Whoa,” I mumble to myself when I see her. She looks more gorgeous than ever in high-waisted blue jeans, a yellow lace camisole, and an oversize white bomber jacket. I snap myself out of my daze and wave back.

  “I’m so glad you came,” she says when she reaches me.

  “Of course,” I say. “Thank you for inviting me. Is everyone else meeting us out here, or should we go inside?”

  She furrows her brow. “Oh, I didn’t invite anyone else. It’s just us.”

  “Oh,” I say, trying hard to hide my joy at hearing that. I feel my lips threatening to break into a huge grin, so I turn away from her.

  That’s when I see a familiar face walking toward me. It’s Parker, and he’s with Dante. Fear hits me in the gut. I don’t want Parker to see me here with Shrupty. Being around a girl I like and who might actually like me back is new to me; it’s awkward and uncomfortable and makes me more self-conscious than I’ve ever been in my life. Having Parker hovering over my shoulder during this dinner is only going to amplify all that. Besides, he can read me like a book just by looking at me. What if he figures out I’m into her and I’m forced to come out before I’m ready?

  No. I can’t let him see me. I have to hide.

  “Let’s go inside,” I say to Shrupty. But just as we’re heading to the doors, a group of tall Scandinavian model–types cut in front of us, blocking the entry while they go over the menu hanging in the window.

  I glance over my shoulder. Parker and Dante have stopped to pet someone’s pug. That buys me a little more time.

  “Are you okay?” Shrupty asks.

  I give her my best I’m Totally Fine smile. “Yeah. Just, um, hungry.”

  Parker and Dante are on the move again, walking past the bar next door. Finally, a gap opens in between the models and I go for it.

  I sidestep my way through them, using their height as cover. But just as I’m about to make it inside, I slam right into a waiter carrying a tray of drinks. I fall back into the models, knocking them over like bowling pins, and land on the ground with a thud.

  “Ugh,” I groan as I lie on the concrete, my shirt soaked in chilled rosé and something that smells like lime. Chaos erupts around me. I hear the models consoling one another and helping one another up. My glasses are covered in booze, but I can make out Shrupty’s shape as she leans over me.

  “Jesus,” she gasps. “Are you okay?”

  “Bex?” Parker calls from the sidewalk.

  Ah, shit. I sit up and take my glasses off to wipe them on my shirt. When I put them back on, I see the models wiping themselves off.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say to them, feeling so embarrassed I could die.

  One or two of them ignore me, but most of the group seem sympathetic. “Don’t worry,” one of them says. “I’m just glad you’re okay! That looked bad.”

  “Bex!” Parker says again, and now he’s standing right next to me. “I wasn’t sure it was you. But then you fell down, and I knew that’s definitely my cousin.” He laughs but then reaches down to give me a hand.

  “Ha, ha,” I say sarcastically.

  Shrupty helps me up, too, and having her hold my hand even for a brief moment almost makes all this humiliation worth it.

  Once I’m on my feet, I see the waiter I ran into sitting in a mess of broken bottles and glasses, the tray on his lap.

  He glares at me, and I cringe. “I am so sorry. I didn’t see you.”

  “I was right in front of you,” he says as he climbs to his feet.

 
“I’m so, so sorry,” I say again, frowning. I wish I could just melt into the puddles of rosé beneath me and disappear.

  Shrupty turns to the waiter. “Hey, Adam, it was an accident, okay?”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, Shrupty. I didn’t realize she was with you.”

  “Well, she is with me.” She picks a chunk of lime out of my hair, then turns to another waiter. “Could you please get her a towel so she can clean herself up?”

  The waiter scurries to the bar. My eyes dart to Parker, who looks impressed. My cheeks run hot, I’m so embarrassed.

  Parker rubs my back gently. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “That looked like it hurt,” Dante adds.

  I nod but can’t look any of them in the eye. “I’m fine. Just completely humiliated. And soaked in alcohol.”

  Shrupty leans in and sniffs me. “Mm. Smells like lime; I like it.” A shiver runs down my spine. Feeling her so close does something to me, makes my heart swell and my skin tingle. But Parker is here, he’s watching, and I can’t let myself feel this gloriousness right now. This is not how I want him to find out I’m gay.

  Parker, seemingly oblivious to my inner turmoil, laughs. “Who is this girl? I like her.”

  “Oh,” I say. “This is Shrupty. My friend.” There’s a chance I accentuate the word friend a little too heavily, because Shrupty looks perplexed. But I forge ahead and gesture to Parker. “Shrupty, this is my cousin, Parker, and this is Dante.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she says, then narrows her eyes at Dante. “I’ve seen you around.”

  He smiles, his eyes crinkling in the cutest way. “Yeah. I think we run in the same circles.”

  Just then, the waiter hurries over with a towel, and I use it to dab at my shirt and hair.

  “Do you guys want to join us?” Shrupty asks them. “Bex just helped me land a role on Silver Falls, so we’re celebrating.”

  I hold my breath. I’m so tense that the muscles in my neck ache. Please say no, Parker. Please.

  “I never say no to celebrating,” Parker says.

  “Great!” Shrupty says. “This is my aunt’s restaurant, so we’re guaranteed a great table.”