All Chapters of The Actor's Contract: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

92 Chapters

81 Hormones, balls and a little bit of style

Date = 1 AugustFifteen days left.Place = San Francisco (Trixy’s Boutique)The best bridal shop in town.POV - AriaTrixy’s Boutique is tucked into a quiet corner of the city — a quaint little place with ivy crawling up its brick face, a curved door, and a little bell that chimes like it belongs in a movie about fairies and hope and people who still believe in happy endings.But the moment the armored Jeeps come to a full stop, reality follows. The bodyguards exit first, scanning the block. Shadows in suits with earpieces and grim faces. They’re silent, mirrored sunglasses, armed beneath their jackets.Somewhere out there is still someone who wants to harm us. And he wasn’t done with us. We don’t say it aloud, but the pressure of it hovers like fog in the summer air.“Okay, ladies,” I say as cheerfully as I can muster, stepping down from the SUV and smoothing my dress. “Let’s go try on some fantasy dresses before the universe throws another plot twist at us.”Inside, it smells of van

Last Updated : 2025-11-03

82 Choosing a dress

Date = 1 AugustPlace = San Francisco (Trixy’s Boutique)POV - Aria“Eh … welcome again to Trixy’s Boutique,” Trixy says, bravely attempting round two of her grand entrance.She’s now flanked by two assistants. One is a short, round girl with cheeks like apples and an expression that says she walked through the wrong portal today and ended up in a live-action soap opera. The other is a tightly-wound forty-something with a bun so aggressive it looks like it’s trying to escape her skull — and pulling her eyelids sideways in the process.This time, finally, Trixy has our full attention. Mainly because we’ve exhausted our daily allotment of penis jokes and rogue-whip commentary.“I’ll be helping the little ones,” the squishy assistant says brightly, her clipboard already out and ready to conquer small chaos. “What kind of dresses did you have in mind for the flower girls?” she asks, eyes landing on me.I glance at Leyla, who’s practically vibrating with joy on her bed. Her little pink bea

Last Updated : 2025-11-03

83 Nightmare on Lombard Street

Date = 1 AugustPlace = San Francisco (Lombard Street)POV - AriaAs we cross the street, I think to myself — it’s the kind of day that tricks you into thinking life has finally settled — sun warm on our backs, laughter bouncing off Lombard’s crooked turns, the city is shining, the dresses are perfect, and for once, nothing hurts — yet.“Let’s go join the boys and have a wonderful dinner together,” Haley suggests. “What do you girls think?” I’m in. Not for the food, but because, for some reason, I miss my man all of a sudden.“I can do with some grub,” Mel agrees. “I’m literally starving.”Ahead, Jackson is standing with River still clinging to him like a baby koala, the tiny person in black between them and the man who looks a lot like Marco, as if stuck in the same position.The rest of the guards are scattered around like it’s some invisible manhunt no one told me about. One’s eyeballing the sky like he expects a sniper to parachute in from a passing seagull, another keeps checking

Last Updated : 2025-11-03

84 Traps and tears

Date = 1 AugustPlace = San Francisco (UCSF Medical Center)POV - AriaI’m starting to realize that the human body has strange coping mechanisms to ensure survival.Like right now … sitting here in the ER, on a hospital cot in my blood-spattered sundress — I have the overwhelming urge to tell a joke. Why? The hell if I know. Probably some primal, stupid instinct to pretend I’m fine while the universe sets itself on fire.But even if the want is there, my brain’s not exactly open for business, let alone humor.It’s just a giant, dark echo chamber looping the same fragmented footage on repeat — crash, scream, pain — as if it’ll make sense the next time around.Spoiler — it doesn’t.So, instead, I watch Marco pace up and down in front of the door — like he’s rehearsing a guilt he can’t name. His right hand clutches his injured, definitely broken, arm, where a nurse trapped it to his chest with a makeshift sling. He refuses treatment and painkillers until one of his brothers comes to rele

Last Updated : 2025-11-06

85 The guilty ones

Date = 1 AugustPlace = San Francisco (UCSF Medical Center)POV - AriaThe sound comes before the sight of him.Footsteps.Hard. Measured. Angry enough to make the linoleum vibrate.Marco’s pacing rhythm shifts — slower, heavier, then stops — and every instinct in me goes cold.Jackson bursts in, and the entire atmosphere changes like someone just cracked a storm cloud over our heads.Hair a mess, shirt torn and crusted with blood, his knuckles raw, his jaw clenched so tight it looks like it can splinter. His eyes — hell — his eyes aren’t even human right now.There’s something in his hand — a handbag. Or, what’s left of one. It’s scuffed, the strap torn, fabric stained with something dark. There’s a resin keychain dangling off it — a little clear heart-shaped trinket with tiny peach blossoms sealed inside.He doesn’t walk. He charges. Straight toward me.The room tenses. River jerks upright in her seat, a Styrofoam cup tips over, spilling cold coffee onto the floor. Nobody cares.“Ja

Last Updated : 2025-11-09

86 Death took her

Date = 1 AugustPlace = San Francisco (UCSF Medical Center)POV - AriaI feel a headache coming on.“Enough of this dismal mambo,” Logan mutters, his voice rough and gravel-edged as he gives his brother a pointed look. “Just tell the man what happened already so he can go catch the guy.”He wipes his hand down his face, dragging weariness along with it.“Girl,” River pipes up suddenly, muffled against Jackson’s chest. “The driver was a girl,” she repeats, so calm it sends a ripple through the room. As if she’s just announced her marriage.And everything stops.The room freezes. Stone-still. Like a pack of rock golems, mid-thought, trying to decide which of her limbs to gnaw off first.“What?!” Logan blurts, voice cracking the silence like a dropped plate.Her little cheek is mashed flat against Jackson’s chest like she’s trying to fuse with him. He peels her off gently and plops her on the bed beside Mel, his big hands staying anchored on her shoulders like she might try to float away

Last Updated : 2025-11-09

87 On our way to a grave

Date = 4 AugustFour days of mourning her death.Place = San Francisco (Black Pit - family graveyard)Laying her to rest with the others.POV - EnriqueAugust in San Francisco is a month of restless fog. Early mornings are soft-edged and salt-damp, the air thick with brine, seaweed, and the faint tang of sourdough rising from unseen kitchens. Bougainvillea burns pink against weathered Victorians, and gulls wheel and scream above the piers.Mid-days are slow to warm up, but when the sun cuts through the mist, the city smells of roasting coffee, grilled corn, and warm bread drifting from corner bakeries. Lemons hang heavy in backyard trees. Blackberries tangle in hidden alleys, staining fingertips purple.The city is slowly shifting toward autumn, but August still clings to its feast of ripeness — a season fat with sweetness before the long dry light of September.A September Kiara will never see.A narrow cobblestone footpath winds lazily through the orchard, uneven and old, each stone

Last Updated : 2025-11-11

88 Funeral

Date = 4 AugustPlace = San Francisco (Black Pit - family graveyard)POV - EnriqueAria’s voice sounds up, thin but strong. “I don’t think she’d want us to be sad, you know. Kiara.”I swallow hard. My throat burns. “She’d want a fight. A scene. A hell of a lot of noise. She’d want us to get the bastards who did this to her.”“We will.” A small smile tugs at Aria’s lips, though her eyes are wet.“I’m gonna miss her,” she whispers.“Yeah,” I say. My chest tightens. “Me too.”We reach the edge, and the little cemetery comes into full view. The wrought-iron gate, small and simple, stands half-open. Inside, headstones are planted in neat rows beneath the shade of cypress trees, their roots curling through the earth like old scars. The grass is trimmed, the lavender is blooming, and the paths are lined with soft, white sand.And at the center, waiting, is the raw wound of a grave not yet filled. The earth is fresh, black, and raw — carved open just for her.A small cluster of mourners stand

Last Updated : 2025-11-12

89 Kitchen gossip

Date = 8 AugustSad days pass more slowly than others.Place = San Francisco (Black Pit)Everyone’s settled in.POV - AriaDrawn on by the scent of roasted garlic and warm bread, I slide down the hall. The huge farmhouse kitchen feels almost too small for the crowd of women packed inside, sleeves rolled up, hands busy with dough and spoons and secrets. It’s alive with chatter — the kind that rises and falls like music between bursts of laughter.Some are young, faces glowing with mischief — others move more slowly, practiced and sure — all under the sharp eyes of Rosa, the matriarch of this warm, flour-dusted kingdom. Pies cool on the windowsill, pastries brown in the oven, pots simmer on the stove, and gossip fills every space the scent of baking doesn’t.“You must be careful,” I hear Lili’s great-grandma, Alice, caution gently. “You kids are a little wild.”She’s Alberto Garcia’s mother. And also Ash Blackburn’s grandmother. The widow of George.I don’t know the full sad story — jus

Last Updated : 2025-11-13

90 Hunger has no bounds

Date = 8 AugustPlace = San Francisco (Black Pit)POV - AriaThe kitchen hums with low chatter and clattering pans — right up until Sky lifts her hand to her mouth and goes perfectly still. Her eyes lock on the doorway, and the warmth in the room drains like someone cracked a thermostat to freezing.“Fock,” she breathes.A shadow fills the entrance.“I fucking told you to stay in bed and rest,” a deep voice growls.My shoulders jump. My spine snaps straight. Sky just smirks at the storm walking straight toward her, slow and wicked, like she’s been waiting for this exact moment.Slowly, I turn to look at him — I haven’t seen him up close since the crash. Not really seen him. Just a moment here, a second there, a brief blur at the funeral.He looks like absolute shit. Well, as close to shit as a hunk like him can get.Dark shadows bruise the skin beneath those scary eyes. His hair is a mess — more than usual — and he’s pale in that gray kind of way that comes from sleepless nights and t

Last Updated : 2025-11-14

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