Love off script a sapphi.., p.1
Love Off Script: A Sapphic Romantic Comedy, page 1
Love Off Script
Abigail Taylor
Copyright © 2024 by Abigail Taylor
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author.
Contents
Author’s Note
1. Caz
2. Shiloh
3. Caz
4. Shiloh
5. Caz
6. Shiloh
7. Caz
8. Shiloh
9. Caz
10. Shiloh
11. Caz
12. Shiloh
13. Caz
14. Shiloh
15. Caz
16. Shiloh
17. Caz
18. Shiloh
19. Caz
20. Shiloh
21. Caz
22. Shiloh
23. Caz
24. Shiloh
25. Caz
26. Shiloh
27. Caz
28. Shiloh
Epilogue
Also by Abigail Taylor
About the Author
Author’s Note
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Chapter 1
Caz
Iremember when my life was something to be jealous of. I had what everyone wanted: a gorgeous loft, a perfect job, and a dream partner. But it was funny how much could change in ten years, especially your perspective.
After graduating college, I landed a position with KRG, a satellite radio service, where I became an interactive podcaster. Allowing my audience to decide what activities I participated in was all fun and games when I was still in my twenties, but now that I was pushing my mid-thirties, it didn’t hold the same appeal. As I grew older, my desire to tempt death lessened and practicality took its place. That was true for more than just work.
Ten years ago, my condo was perfect because it was cozy, super trendy, and located in the epicenter of downtown. Now, it seemed cramped, overpriced, and entirely too noisy. But it wasn’t just my living situation that I had outgrown. My definition of love also transformed—pretty words meant nothing if they weren’t followed by actions.
Davia and I were together when I first started making a name for myself, and I believed she was my ride-or-die. She pushed me to do more, be more, and want more. But that was all so that she could have more. I was a pawn in her game and blinded by the chaos surrounding me that I never stopped to question anything—like, where was all my money going? Had it stopped at a monetary loss, I could have handled it, but it didn’t. There was emotional manipulation on top of constant deceit, which left me feeling drained and betrayed.
I had spent so much time believing a lie that I now questioned everything and everyone around me. At thirty-four, I thought I would be on top of the world, but that was an illusion I had tricked myself into believing. And now I was paying for it with no savings or transferrable job skills, and heartbreakingly alone. Wow, I was three chords away from a country song.
“Caz, are you ready for your segment?” Matrix, my producer and friend, barked loudly.
I gave him a thumbs-up as I put on my headphones. Today was an audience vote day, and I had to do my best to sound enthusiastic when, in reality, I wanted to crawl under my duvet until I could wake up from this nightmare. I was tired of putting my destiny in the hands of others, but this was my only option, and I would suck it up and do my job.
“Good afternoon, you sexy people. It’s Caz Montgomery, and this is My Unscripted Life. It’s time to pick my next adventure, and you’re in charge. Last week, you had me exploring a haunted prison outside the city. I gotta admit, that was something nightmares were made of. I can handle a scary movie. But sitting in a gas chamber seat where actual death row inmates were executed gave me chills I felt long after leaving the room and made me wonder if a ghost had inhabited my body. So… maybe this week, you can be a little nicer?” I chuckled, but I wasn’t kidding.
I answered the first caller to see if they would heed my advice.
“Hey, Caz. I’m… Shorty,” a feminine voice breathed out.
“Hello, Shorty. What do you want to include in the voting list?” I bit my lower lip, awaiting my fate.
“Well, first, I want to say I watched last week, and you were so brave!” Her voice sounded fan-girlish, but I was used to that. Then I heard a loud crackling noise through the receiver, followed by what sounded like a muffled, “Don’t eat all the cheese poofs.”
“Is everything okay?” I figured I better move this conversation along.
“Yeah, all good. So, as I was saying, you’re amazing, and I love the show.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your support. So, what do you have for me now?” I kept it professional and never flirted with my callers because I didn’t get my clams from the company ocean.
“Actually, I was wondering if you could give me some advice.” That was new, but I’d go with it.
“Well, I have to preface that I’m not a qualified counselor or anything, but I’m more than happy to help if I can. What do you have for me?” I was probably the last person to offer life pointers, but maybe it was something I did on the show before.
“How do you get someone to fall in love with you?”
I nearly choked on my spit. What the actual fuck? Why would she think I knew that answer? Love had never found me, and I wouldn’t look for it, either.
“I don’t think you get someone to fall in love with you. They just do.” That sounded logical and generic enough that I couldn’t get sued.
“Okay. But there is a person I’m head over heels for, and they don’t know I’m alive. I want to talk to them, but I’m too nervous. What should I do?” She wasn’t giving up.
“Ask them out?” I hesitated and replied in a questioning manner.
“I don’t know how to do that.” Well, I wouldn’t be doing it for her, that was for sure.
“Just follow your heart, and you can’t go wrong. Thanks for calling!” I hung up before she could ask something else I couldn’t answer.
“Hey, hey. You’re on with Caz. Who am I speaking to?” I picked up the next caller, ready to seal my fate.
“I’m De… Debby and I have the best idea for you.” She sounded far too eager for me to believe her.
“Oh?”
“Yeah! I think you should help Shorty find love.” As soon as her words were out there, the caller board lit up like a Christmas tree.
I shook my head even though she couldn’t see me. This was a disaster. There was no way I would agree to this. But when I looked into the control room at Matrix, he was nodding while holding a piece of paper, saying, “YES!”
“Umm, can I put you on hold a second, Debby?” I hit mute before rushing toward the window Matrix was safely standing behind. “Have you lost your mind? I’m not adding that asinine idea to the list. I don’t give a rat’s fuck about love. And I sure as hell can’t help someone find it!” My voice was enraged, and I could see his brow furrowing as he frantically scribbled something on the paper.
“Will you stop fart assing around and send me someone with a good idea? I can only keep them waiting for so long.” I banged on the glass before I saw what he had written.
“YOU’RE STILL ON THE AIR!”
I darted back to my seat and flung on my headset. “Hey, Debby. Did you hear that practical joke I played? Pretending I didn’t like your idea.” I held my breath, hoping she would buy that, but I knew it was a flimsy excuse.
“Okay. But I still think you should be Cupid’s sidekick for Shorty.”
There was no getting around this. I stuck my foot in it, and now I had to live with the smell of shit.
“That sounds awesome. I’ll add it to the list and see what gets voted on. Thanks for calling.”
I moved on to the next request, and what a surprise—another for me being a love launcher. Having spoken to six other audience members, all of whom expressed identical opinions, I had no option but to resign myself to what lay ahead. My only hope now was that Shorty wouldn’t be interested in my services. But when the show ended, I headed into the back room with Matrix, who had all the details I needed to start my next mission.
“Wow. You’re lucky no one complained about that little tizzy you threw.”
“That was hardly a tizzy. It was the truth spewing out of me. This idea is stupid. I don’t know how to help Shorty.” I said her name with a mild amount of disdain.
“Well, you better figure it out because you’re having your first meeting tomorrow.” He handed me a piece of paper with a name and number.
“Who is Shiloh?” I read off the card.
“Shawty.” He laughed, and I rolled my eyes.
“Of course it is. What time are you picking me up?” Matrix usually accompanied me and shot footage from the side, so we had different angles when putting the videos together for the viewers.
“You’re on your own, Yoda.” He winked, and irritation crept inside me.
“What? You can’t leave me to do this myself.” One, I didn’t have the first clue who this wo man was, and I didn’t want to become a statistic. And two, I didn’t know my ass from a hole in the ground when it came to matchmaking. What was I supposed to even do?
“Sorry, Caz. It’s out of my control. Shiloh asked that it be one-on-one.”
“You know she’s probably going to kill me, right?” I knew that escalated quickly, but I hoped to scare him into coming.
“Good luck to her. If falling off a ten-foot roof didn’t kill you, I doubt a girl named ‘Shorty’ can.” A boisterous laugh escaped his lips, and it annoyed me how lax he was about the situation.
“Must you remind me of my near-death experience?” Why did drunk me have such loose lips? And horrible depth perception. “Regardless, mine was an accident, which I was lucky to survive. If she pulls a gun and shoots me, there’s no chance of me coming back from that. Unless I’m a ghost, which I would haunt your ass for being an ass.”
With an annoyed expression, he rolled his eyes. “Will you give it a rest? You’re meeting at a coffee shop off Main. Do you think she would do anything with that many witnesses?” he questioned skeptically—but even if the chance was slim, it was never zero.
“Whatever. My blood will be on your hands.” I eyed him back, but he didn’t seem fazed.
“Okay. If that happens, I will give a nice speech at your funeral.” His left dimple popped behind his beard, and he thought he was funny.
“For real, Matt.” I hardly called him by his real name, but he knew when I did, it was time to get serious. “Am I just supposed to find out who she likes and then talk her up? I don’t know the first thing about straight relationships.” I gagged a little at the thought.
“Let’s be honest. You don’t know the first thing about any kind of relationship.”
I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t. After Davia left me with nothing but debt, I retreated into self-protection mode, which bordered on hermit territory. But no one knew that besides Matt because, on the outside, I was still living my best life. According to my viewers, I did something new and exciting each week. To the rest of the world, I was fearless, but I was a chicken shit in disguise.
“You’re right. So I shouldn’t be doing this.” If I was going to be incompetent, at least it should be a useful quality to get me out of stuff.
“Sorry, kid. It doesn’t work that way. This girl wants your help, and your fans want you to help. Therefore, the studio says, you’re helping.”
I sighed and knew this wasn’t up for debate. “Fine, but never call me kid again.” The fact that he was three months younger than me made it all the more irritating.
He held his hands up in surrender. “You got it. But you better be on your best behavior tomorrow. Even though I won’t be there to supervise, we will still have eyes and ears on you.”
“Good, so when they cart me off in a body bag, you’ll have a front-row seat.” I left him with that morbid thought and headed out of the studio.
I knew he wouldn’t have a comeback for that, and I couldn’t resist getting one more jab in. Since I had no control over what would happen, I could at least control my actions, and being snarky made me feel better. That was probably a character flaw I should work on, but it was my only defense mechanism for now.
Chapter 2
Shiloh
“What did I miss?” I questioned as I entered my cousin Sonya’s living room.
Her long legs were sprawled across her roommate Devon's, who was also sitting on the couch. The two cackled like hyenas, which usually meant they were up to no good or high… or both. But I wasn’t asking.
“Shy! What are you doing here?” Sonya seemed shocked to see me, even though it was Saturday afternoon, and we had spent this time together every week since we were teenagers.
“Was I not supposed to come today?” She and Devon sometimes liked to do their own thing without me, but I figured she would have told me beforehand.
They had been joined at the hip since high school, which was over a decade ago, but some things never changed. Even though I had grown, they seemed to stay the same.
Regardless, Sonya was my best friend-ish, but I wasn’t hers. I tried to find other people to hang out with, but Shy wasn’t just a nickname—it described my personality. Meeting new people was painful for me, and I tended to stick to what I knew, which was these two perpetual teenagers.
“No. Of course, you were supposed to come. I didn’t realize the time.” She dropped her feet to the floor and pulled my arm. “Sit,” she insisted, and I plopped in between them.
“Is everything okay? You’re acting funny.” My eyes scanned them both, trying to figure out who would crack first, but they both gave me blank stares.
I wasn’t sure if they were acting or if they had genuinely forgotten what they had been laughing about.
“Are you hungry?” Devon asked, and Sonya seemed to jump on that bandwagon.
“Starving!” She reached for a bag of cheesy puffs on the coffee table and tossed a handful in her mouth. That probably meant she was high, but I tried not to let my annoyance show.
Sonya and Devon loved to partake in “medicinal” drugs. They claimed it helped with their anxiety, but I wasn’t sure what they had to be anxious over. Neither of them had a stressful job. Sonya played video games for a living, and I didn’t know what Devon did. I was pretty sure she worked, but I couldn’t guarantee that. Besides, it didn’t matter because they never took anything seriously.
On the other hand, I was a ball of nerves all the time and could benefit from extra help. However, weed was not the “medication” of choice for me. I had taken one of Sonya’s edibles one time, and my paranoia had me convinced that a zombie apocalypse was plausible and that we needed to have a plan of defense. Granted, we were watching The Walking Dead at the time, but still. I was worse off after taking it than I was before, so never again.
I stared at Sonya, trying to solve the puzzle of her. She was a beautiful, tall, curvy blonde who could turn a lot of heads if she wanted to. But she didn’t seem to care, and when she was at home, she was a total slob.
I watched as she wiped artificial orange dust on her sweats before passing the bag to Devon.
Devon and Sonya could have passed for sisters. Devon had long blondish hair and was also about 5’10”. To say I was jealous of them was probably an understatement. I had short, dull brown hair and was lucky to be 5’1” in shoes. They were both living on their own planet, and I wondered if that was by choice or design.
After Devon grabbed some puffs to munch on, she offered the snack to me, but I shook my head.
“No thanks. I just ate.” I tried not to show my disgust for the processed junk that was trying to be passed off as food.
“More for us.” Sonya yanked it into her lap and crunched on a few more before throwing one in the air for Devon to catch in her mouth, which she did not, and it rolled onto the floor.
“Don’t worry, Flo will get it.” Sonya laughed, and I wondered if she had hired a maid.
Just then, she called to her home assistant, “Start Flo Slut,” and a robot vacuum wheeled into the room.
“You named your vacuum, floor slut?” I stared at her disbelievingly, although I wasn’t sure why I was surprised—she was twenty-nine going on thirteen.
“What? I call it like I see it. She picks up all my sloppy seconds.” She laughed so hard that she stood up, crossing her legs. “Oh my god. I have to pee.” Instead of walking toward the bathroom, she danced around like a toddler.
“Why don’t you go then?” I asked, stating the obvious, and she appeared dumbfounded.
“Gross. I’m not going to piss my pants—again.” She threw her head back as she roared, but finally took off to relieve herself.
“Obviously, I didn’t mean she should go in her pants.” I turned to Devon, who shrugged, and I wasn’t sure why I bothered explaining myself.
“So, how goes the hunt?” Devon never made much sense, and this was no exception.
I was a vegetarian, so I was clueless as to what she was on about, but I found with her that it was better to play along than ask for clarification because it would inevitably leave me more confused.
“It’s on point.” That seemed to be the right amount of vague.
