CALISTA

I stood there, numb, my phone like dead weight in my hand. Chase. Seriously? My boyfriend. Well technically ex boyfriend, but that didn't matter. He was my boyfriend when this happened. He wasn’t just another co-star, someone I could wave off; this was the person I thought I knew better than anyone else. And now, apparently, he was also the world’s newest expert in poor choices. How the hell had my life turned into one of those trashy gossip headlines?

Kara avoided eye contact, shifting uncomfortably beside me. “What now?” I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I wasn’t sure who I was asking, or if I even wanted an answer.

Rick, ever the damage-control king, cleared his throat. “Look, we’re sticking with the plan. You’re still doing the interview. If we pull out now, it’s just blood in the water for the press.”

My first instinct was to laugh. Loudly. “I’m not going,” I said firmly, knowing full well that I probably would. “I’m not going to sit there, smiling like an idiot, while they dig up every piece of dirt they can find. I’m not their entertainment puppet.”

Kara looked desperate. “Calista, please. You’re bigger than this. You can walk in there and control the narrative. This interview is about you—don’t let them make it about him.”

I took a deep breath, the bitter taste of betrayal still fresh. “Oh, I know who this is about. But walking into that studio feels like signing up to be eaten alive. It’s not about my career anymore; it’s about trying to salvage whatever self-respect I’ve got left.” The room fell silent as I weighed my options—or lack thereof.

Finally, I straightened up. “Fine. I’ll do it. But if they think they’re getting the sobbing, heartbroken ex, they’re in for a surprise.”

The studio was brightly lit, glossy and polished, a perfect stage for this spectacle. But to me, it felt like walking into the lion’s den, except this time, I was carrying a steak and wearing a “please attack me” sign.

Neil gave me a strained smile as I sat across from Jordan, the overly charismatic host who looked like he was already calculating the clicks from our "exclusive." Behind his friendly exterior, I could see the anticipation in his eyes. He was ready to turn this into a circus.

The cameras rolled. “Good afternoon, Calista. We’re thrilled to finally have you here,” Jordan began, his practiced smile plastered on.

“Thanks, Jordan. Thrilled to be here too,” I replied, adding a touch of forced enthusiasm. Might as well play nice before he brought out the pitchforks.

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing just a bit. “So, let’s get right to it. The world has seen the headlines about your boyfriend, Chase, and Jodie Smith. How does this… news… impact your work?”

The question hit like a punch, but I kept my face calm, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “I’m here to talk about my work, Jordan,” I replied with a cool smile. “The rumors surrounding Chase and Jodie are their personal business. I’m not here to join their soap opera.”

Jordan’s smile sharpened, like a shark catching a whiff of blood. “Of course, but don’t you think this affects your image? Surely it’s a distraction you didn’t need.”

I leaned back, matching his gaze. “Oh, it’s a huge distraction,” I admitted. “People love a good train wreck. But you know, I didn’t sign up for a reality show. I’m here for the work. If people want to watch Chase’s drama, let them. I’m not letting this become my storyline.”

Jordan faltered for a split second, then recovered. “Well, with Jodie’s recent album topping the charts, it’s clear the public’s invested in every aspect of her life.”

I rolled my eyes internally but managed to keep my voice steady. “Good for her. I’m sure she’s thrilled with all the attention. But I didn’t come here to boost her album sales. I came here to talk about my career. The last thing I want is to be a subplot in this soap opera. But hey, the show must go on, right?”

Jordan’s smile faded a fraction, the control slipping from his grip. “Well,” he said, voice a tad colder, “I think a lot of people are wondering how you’re dealing with all of this personally. It’s a lot to take in, especially with how public it’s all become.”

Oh, finally. The pity card. I plastered on my best fake smile. “Oh, I’m just delighted, Jordan. Who wouldn’t want to find out their boyfriend’s been rolling around with a pop star behind their back? I think we can all agree it’s a dream come true.”

Jordan blinked, caught off guard. “So… you don’t have any regrets about working on this film with Gabriel after all of this?”

I let out a dry laugh. “Regrets? I’ve got a whole list, starting with the day I signed on for this job. But Gabriel’s great to work with; he’s actually here for the work, and we both agreed to leave the tabloids out of it.”

Jordan cleared his throat, trying to regain the upper hand. “Well, thank you for your honesty, Calista. I think our audience appreciates seeing this side of you.”

I gave him a small nod, holding back the urge to roll my eyes. The man wanted a reaction—tears, outrage, heartbreak. But I was saving all that for a long talk with a bottle of wine later.

After the interview, I felt drained, like I’d been wrung out and left to dry. The headlines popped up within minutes:

“Calista Carlisle’s Cool Dismissal: ‘I’m Not a Part of Chase and Jodie’s Soap Opera’”

“Jodie Smith’s New Number One Fan? Apparently Not Calista”

“Calista Carlisle Breaks Silence on Chase’s Betrayal – ‘Regrets? Oh, I’ve Got Plenty’”

“Chase Rivers and Jodie Smith’s Sex Tape Leaks—But Is Calista the Real Victim Here?”

I sat back, scrolling through the notifications with a sense of detachment. I’d survived the worst, hadn’t I? It was just one more mess to clean up, one more scandal to dodge. But somehow, sitting there, the phone still in my hand, it hit me that this wasn’t just another crisis. It was the opening scene of my own, twisted story.

Because the real question was—where did I go from here?

~~~

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Muah!💋
~Rhoda