Hollywood Hustle & Heart
Chapter 7 - Jenna
Chapter 7 - Jenna
I get it, but that doesn’t mean you won’t need a job after this. What are you going to do if this doesn’t work out? Why do you always make decisions like this? Jenna, you need to use your head more. I’m not sending you money if things fall apart again.
I read the text for the third time, squinting at the screen like maybe the words would soften. How was my sister already this mad at 9 A.M.? It was ten here in Cali, which meant she’d sent that at six my time—like, seriously? That made it even worse.
When I first left my job, I hadn’t told anyone. Not even Laila. And now I was reminded exactly why. I had finally shared it with her yesterday, hoping maybe she’d be... supportive? I should’ve known better. Sure, I was over halfway through the eight-week schedule for the show, but if I’d told her sooner, I probably would’ve second-guessed everything—and maybe not even taken the opportunity.
She wasn’t wrong about me not knowing what was next. But was it that hard to just say something kind for once?
I’d been working hard and holding it down ever since I moved out here. Yes, she helped me in the beginning, but that was back when I first landed. Once I started getting checks from my job, I stopped leaning on her. And now, here she was, practically threatening that if I ever needed help again, I was on my own.
It was starting to click—why people went no contact with family. I used to scroll through TikToks and think, I could never do that to my sister. But now? Now I was starting to understand. Especially when she started sounding more and more like our mother.
I set my phone down on the bathroom counter and finished getting ready. Mike would be here any minute to take me out. There were still two weeks left on the project, but we were meeting today to talk about a new opportunity. We’d already agreed to keep working together unless it started interfering with our relationship. I smiled, thinking about him. There was no denying it—this man had carved a space in my heart faster than I expected.
There was something so pure about the way we spent time together. I found myself leaning into moments where I didn’t feel the need to be in control, where the “know-it-all” in me relaxed in his presence.
Mike never tried to boss me around or make me feel like I had to agree with everything he said. He kept it real without trying to dominate. He gave me space to think, to decide, to be—and I appreciated that more than he probably knew.
Lately, I’d been reading a lot about dating—specifically, dating God’s way. At first, it scared me. There were so many opinions floating around on biblical submission and what it’s supposed to look like. Especially for women like me—strong-willed, type A, raised without a father figure. I even brought it up to him.
He broke it down so clearly. “Submission is first about a woman submitting to God,” he said. “Then to her husband—as he submits to God.” He showed me scriptures, examples. It actually made sense.
I didn’t grow up seeing healthy leadership in a home. So having someone model that? I didn’t realize how much I needed it. Not that this Philly girl was about to quit everything and be a stay-at-home mom—but I respected that he cleared up the myth that biblical submission meant losing yourself.
“If a man doesn’t have a vision,” he said once, “a woman shouldn’t even be considering him.”
That stuck with me. And lately, he’d been opening up more—sharing his plans for his real estate business, what he wanted to do with his management company. I loved hearing his vision. It scared me how much we’d shared in such a short time. Were we moving too fast?
I was still thinking about it when the doorbell rang.
I smiled, hearing Chrissy greet him at the door. I finished my makeup and stepped out of the bathroom.
“Hey, babe,” Mike said, handing me a bouquet of flowers.
“Thanks, love,” I said, my voice shy. I was still getting used to all this—him loving on me like it was second nature.
“I’ll take those,” Chrissy said, grabbing the bouquet from my hands once I’d had a moment to admire them.
This was only her second time meeting Mike, thanks to all her traveling. He took us both out to dinner last week. I appreciated that he was making the effort—not just with me, but with the people I cared about. Even Nellie had gone bowling with us a few nights ago.
When I hugged him, I leaned in deeper than usual, letting myself melt into his arms. He always made me feel like I was falling into marshmallows—soft, safe, warm. And today? I needed that. It wasn’t even noon and I was already wrecked by one text from the one person who should have my back.
“I missed you too,” he said with a grin, tickling me before letting go. “Ready to try this new brunch spot?”
I nodded. “You know I’m a breakfast girl. Anywhere with French toast and bacon is an automatic yes.”
He laughed and waved at Chrissy. “We’ll bring you something back.”
“You better!” she called out just before the door shut behind us.
Outside, I laced my fingers with his as we walked to the car.
“You look nice,” he said, opening the passenger door for me.
“Thanks, boo.”
Once I settled in, my mind wandered again—to that text. Laila and I didn’t talk often, but we checked in enough to know the other was breathing. It was a “long as you’re alive and safe” kind of relationship. Mike got in, turned down the music before Sade could completely take over the vibe.
“You okay, baby girl?”
I nodded. “I’m good.”
He didn’t say anything right away, just looked at me a moment longer before pulling out of the spot. I appreciated that he didn’t press, even though the silence didn’t last long.
“You know you can tell me anything,” he said, reaching for my hand.
I leaned back against the headrest and sighed. “Just a text from my sister... and I’m letting it ruin my whole day.”
He glanced at me. “What’d she say?” he asked gently. “And just because it was a text doesn’t mean it didn’t sting.”
I turned my head, surprised by his tone. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
He stopped at a light, turning slightly toward me. “You mean, out of your feelings?”
I smiled despite myself. This man kept catching me off guard in the best way. I told him what the text said. He shook his head, then shared a story about his friend Reggie, who went no contact with his family because they didn’t accept his wife.
“At first I thought he was bugging,” Mike said, “but after seeing months of texts and emails, it made sense. You’d think he was marrying a prostitute the way they talked about her. And even if he was, it still wouldn’t make it okay.”
“All because they didn’t like who he chose to marry?” I asked, eyes wide. Families were wild.
“Yup. I think his mom and sister were jealous, and his dad just went along with it.”
I shook my head. “That’s wild. I know Laila loves me, but sometimes... it’s like she’s morphing into Mom. I just wish she’d stop treating me like a mistake and try to actually build something with me.”
“Do you think that would make a difference?” he asked, eyes on the road as he weaved through traffic.
I hesitated. “I don’t know. I think she treats me like our mom did. Like someone she has to fix instead of someone she should love.”
He frowned. “That’s crazy. A sister shouldn’t have to get to know you to treat you right.”
I took a deep breath. That hit me harder than I expected. It was crazy. I shouldn’t feel like a stranger in my own family. But I did.
“You know what I want for you, baby?” he said, squeezing my hand again.
“What?” My voice was barely above a whisper.
“I want God to surround you with friends who see you the way He sees you—even when you can’t. You don’t have to prove yourself. Not to them. Not to me.”
I blinked fast, trying not to tear up. I didn’t know why I kept expecting him to slip, to say something that would make this fairytale come crashing down. But he never did. He just kept showing up, steady and solid. And somehow, that made my situation with Laila feel even heavier.
“I thought I was proving myself to you,” I said. “Isn’t that what courting is?”
He shrugged. “Yes and no. I see it as two people getting to know each other to confirm what God already knows. Which means, we don’t have to prove. We just have to be.”
At the next red light, I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’re making this ‘go slow’ thing awfully hard, you know that, right?”
He turned his head just enough for our lips to meet. “Then catch up, baby girl... ’cause I’m not slowing down.”
Have you been enjoying Jenna and Mike’s story? We’ve got just a few chapters to go and I’d love to hear your thoughts.