Hollywood Hustle & Heart
Chapter 3 - Jenna
Chapter 3 - Jenna
“Where are we going?” I asked, frowning as Nellie grabbed my hand and tugged me toward her car.
She just grinned and popped open the passenger door. “Get in.”
I stood there, giving her my best side-eye. She folded her arms and waited. No explanation. Just vibes.
With a huff, I slid in. She raised an eyebrow until I clicked my seatbelt.
“Happy?” I stuck my tongue out at her.
“Very.” She smirked, then walked around to the driver’s side and hopped in.
As the engine started, she turned to me with a grin. “We’re going to have a ball tonight.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please don’t tell me you’re dragging me to a club.”
“Girl, no. I know how much you hate that scene. I do too.” She pulled down the visor and handed me a glossy flyer.
I read it out loud. “‘Faith & Fun Mixer for Creatives.’” I paused, raising a brow. “Okay, wait... is this like a Christian networking event?”
“Exactly,” she said, buckling up and easing the car out of the lot.
When she’d called earlier, I figured we were doing dinner or something chill. Then she told me to dress nice. That’s when I knew she was plotting. But as I stared at the flyer, I had to admit—my curiosity was creeping in.
“If it’s Christian, why are you going?” I teased, tossing her a playful look.
She waved me off. “Whatever. You know neither of us is deep in church like that. But a friend of mine goes to these all the time and said they’re legit. No weird energy. Just good vibes and cool people.”
I shrugged. “Better than some of those awkward networking events. But let’s be real—just ‘cause it’s Christian doesn’t mean it’s creep-free.”
She laughed. “Facts. But at least people tend to feel safer.”
I sighed and handed the flyer back. Maybe this wasn’t a setup after all. With only a week left at my job, I needed to start making moves. I’d just updated the QR code that linked to all my business info. No more fumbling with cards—just flash my phone and keep it moving.
As we merged onto the 405, I settled into the seat and exhaled. Maybe this wasn’t just a night out. Maybe this was the night everything started.
***
I had to admit, we were barely an hour in, and I was already feeling the vibe like it was curated just for me. The virgin drinks were flowing—bougie without being boastful—and the food? Chef’s kiss. The kind that makes you forget you’re at a networking event and not some private island soirée. Everyone looked like they'd read the unspoken dress code: classy, not desperate; stylish, not screaming for attention.
I took another sip of my virgin piña colada and let it sit on my tongue like a secret. I'd just wrapped up a convo with a woman who was the hairstylist for an upcoming Ryan Coogler film—casually, of course. She peeked at my online portfolio mid-chat and said she’d see what she could do to plug me in. Sis had connections that made LinkedIn look like a group chat.
I was about to find Nellie when I heard a laugh behind me. And not just any laugh—rich, deep, and warm enough to slow my step.
“You know you lyin’,” the voice said, chuckling like he owned the room. “Let me grab a drink. We’ll talk.”
Next thing I know, he’s standing beside me, ordering a virgin daiquiri like it's his signature cocktail. “Thanks, man,” he said to the bartender, leaving a tip like a gentleman who knew the value of service. He took a slow sip, then looked straight at me.
Smile. Lock. Squint.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said, offering his hand. “Mike.”
“Jenna,” I replied, shaking his hand while trying to place his face. He was way too familiar.
“Wait... don’t I know you from somewhere?” he asked.
I gave him the classic smirk. “No. You don’t.” I turned to walk off, but—
“You were in traffic the day I helped that lady at the market,” he said. “Who could forget those eyes?”
Touché. He was right. And honestly, I’d been thinking the same thing about his skin. It looked smoother than it had any right to.
“You mean to tell me, out of all the faces you see, you remember mine?”
He sipped his drink like he had all night. “I could never forget a gorgeous face. The scowl is a dead giveaway.”
Whew. Okay, Mike. That was cute. “Touché.”
“First time here?” he asked.
“Yeah. My co-worker dragged me out. Last week at my 9 to 5, so she figured I should network.”
He nodded, thoughtful. “I hate this question, but—what do you do?”
I gave him the sparknotes of my styling journey. Kept it breezy—didn’t want to come off like I was desperate or looking for a handout.
“That’s dope. I just signed my third client,” he said, then gave me the elevator pitch on his company.
I tried not to let it show, but I was impressed. The man had vision. And he didn’t hide his faith either—kept weaving it into the convo so naturally it didn’t feel forced. That part shocked me most. It wasn’t performative. It felt... sincere.
“So, would you be willing to intern?” he asked.
I laughed. “Sir, I got bills.”
He leaned in, serious now. “Fair. But if I could get you on staff for a major film with A-Listers—three months unpaid—would you consider it?”
That got my full attention. “What film?”
“Nowadays Wonder.”
My jaw practically hit the bar. Halle Berry and Mark Wahlberg? A soft thriller with drama appeal? People I knew couldn’t even sniff an audition.
“You got pull like that?”
“Depends on if you’re willing to hustle,” he said. “I usually keep this kind of thing for clients, but... I feel led to help.”
I folded my arms. “What’s in it for you?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You always this spicy?”
Before I could answer, he drained the rest of his daiquiri and placed the glass down. “You know what? Forget it.”
He started to walk away, and to my surprise, my heart picked up speed. I reached for his hand, almost instinctively.
“Wait. Please,” I said, barely above a whisper.
He looked down at our hands. I thought he’d pull away. Instead, he wrapped his hand around mine. I should’ve let go. But I didn’t.
“My bad,” I said. “It’s the Philly girl in me. Got a little Broad Street bully in me.”
He laughed. “That makes two of us.”
“Wait... seriously?”
“South Philly. 17th & Snyder.”
I gasped. “Stop playin’. I’m from 53rd and Market. Raised in Mount Airy.”
He moved in just a little. “Look, I know we’ve both probably been through it, growing up where we did... but not everybody’s out to get you.”
Then he gently tucked a piece of hair behind my ear like he had permission. I leaned in slightly before catching myself. I didn’t let go of his hand, though.
“I would love your help,” I said. “Please.”
He nodded. “I got you.”
He looked at our hands. “Mind if we talk somewhere quieter?”
I shook my head.
He led us to the VIP section, and on the way, I caught Nellie’s eye. She winked and gave me a thumbs up like she already knew.
He pulled out the seat for me, sat across from me, and smiled.
“Tell me your biggest goal this year,” he said. “And don’t hold back. Go big.”
I opened my mouth, but he held up a finger. “Wait. Let’s pray.”
He took my hands and offered a short but heartfelt prayer. I blinked away the tears before he could see them.
“Okay. Now, what’s that goal on your heart?”
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel guarded or skeptical. I just... spoke.
It wasn’t just that he listened. It was the way he listened—like my dreams had value.
And I finally found the word for what I was feeling.
Safe.
***
After we got home, I collapsed onto my bed, the comforter wrapping around me like a well-earned exhale. The night had been better than I expected—good conversations, solid connections, and my contacts list looked a lot more promising. I had to give Nellie her props—she really outdid herself with this one.
Tomorrow night, Chrissy and I were linking up, so I wanted to make sure I was well-rested. She’d just gotten a big promotion and was traveling more for work, so our weekly hangs were becoming sacred. Unlike most folks in Hollywood, Chrissy wasn’t part of the creative crowd. She worked in healthcare administration and had that calm, take-no-mess energy—kind of like S. Epatha Merkerson from Chicago Med. She was all business, all heart.
Pushing myself off the bed, I shuffled to the bathroom, dragging my feet like I was moving through molasses. As tired as I was, I needed to wash the night off me—emotionally and physically.
The moment the hot water hit my skin, I felt myself unwind. My muscles relaxed, but my mind didn’t. It kept circling back to Mike.
Sure, he was fine—like, distraction-level fine—but that wasn’t what had me thinking about him hours later. It was his energy. His faith. The way he wore it like skin, not armor. My mom took us to church on and off growing up, but we mostly prayed at home. My parents weren’t heavy into religion—they let us explore and decide for ourselves. I had a Bible somewhere in the apartment and dabbled with YouVersion plans every now and then, but consistency? Yeah, that part never stuck.
But Mike had me thinking. Really thinking. About where I stood with my faith. About what I believed. He never once made me feel like I had to be anything other than myself. From what I’d gathered, most of his clients were believers, but that didn’t seem to be a prerequisite for helping me. There was something pure about that—refreshing even.
Thirty minutes later, I stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel and a deeper calm. I did my skincare, tied up my hair, and made my way back to the bed. My phone buzzed with a notification, but I ignored it. Instead, I opened the Bible app.
Maybe now’s a good time to get serious about God, I thought. Not for a guy—but for me. For real this time.
If a showbiz power player like Mike found that much peace and purpose in God, maybe I was the one missing out.
I tapped on Psalms and started reading. The language hit different—like poetry dipped in truth. One chapter turned into two, then three, then... I looked up.
2 a.m.
We’d gotten home at eleven.
Yawning, I stretched, plugged my phone back in, and said a short prayer—nothing fancy, just real. I asked God to help me understand what this Christianity thing was all about. What I was missing. Who He really was to me.
Then I turned off the lamp, curled into my sheets, and let sleep take me—thoughts of Mike and the mystery of Hollywood swirling through my dreams.
***
My heart had been racing on and off all morning, and I knew why. I was down to my last three days on the job, and the reality was starting to sink in. I took a few deep breaths and tried to center myself before clocking out for lunch. This was the home stretch.
If I’m keeping it real, it was starting to feel bittersweet. I needed to go—my soul had outgrown that cubicle a long time ago—but not knowing what the next step looked like made it harder to stay excited. The leap looked good on paper, but the landing? That part was still a mystery.
Over the past few days, I’d been diving into the Bible more, trying to piece together the puzzle. Some parts hit me like truth I didn’t even know I needed. Others? Confusing. I didn’t want to give up, but I found myself whispering, Okay, God… any day now, feel free to start breaking some of this down.
Nellie had the day off, so it was just me and my salad at lunch. I got along with my other coworkers, but I mostly stayed to myself. As I chewed, my thoughts drifted—right back to Mike. Again.
He’d been on my mind more than I cared to admit. We never clarified who would reach out first, and maybe that was part of what was messing with my head. I figured he was busy. Still, I caught myself checking my phone way too often. Chrissy called me out on it during our hangout Saturday night.
“I think you’re scared of rejection,” she said.
At first, I brushed it off, but the more she explained, the more it made sense. I’d always been tough when it came to guys—quick to shut people down, quick to pull away. But how else was I supposed to be when I had a mother who had despised me and a sister who watched it happen without ever stepping in?
Yeah. I had walls. And barbed wire. And probably a moat too.
But I was starting to realize I couldn’t keep letting my family trauma sabotage good things—or good people. I didn’t have all the answers, but maybe God could help me sort through the mess. Maybe He already was.
Mike had said he had my back. That he wanted to help. And for the first time in a long time, I wanted to believe someone meant it. I really did.
So, I did what I hadn’t done in a long time.
I whispered a prayer over my half-eaten salad, asking God to help me trust again.
Not just in people.
But in Him.