by Kate Stewart
“I wonder if they’re local,” I yell down at him and he shrugs.
Seconds later, I hear the familiar opening guitar riff of “Mr. Jones” and the club goes apeshit just as the spotlights hit.
“Oh my God, it’s the Counting Crows!” I scream like the sixty-year-old southerner I am. I glance down at Lucas whose laugh I can’t hear but can clearly see.
“Did you know this?” He lifts his finger to his temple. The man with a plan.
“Of course, you did,” I say, rolling my eyes giving him my best smile. “God, I love—”
Of all the times he could have missed my words, he didn’t. Even surrounded by a screaming hundred, he caught every syllable. I move in for quick recovery. “This is awesome, thank you,” I say, leaning down to kiss him and grabbing my beer from his hand. He lets me off the hook and we jam out as they play a list of classics. Whisked off the couch after a few songs, I’m on the floor with the rest of the mob and Lucas stands behind me in his protective hold. It’s unnecessary, but I bask in it anyway.
When we’re drenched in sweat and heavily buzzed, a man takes the piano, and Adam Duritz grabs the mic from the stand. “Thank you, thank you. We’re going to slow it down a little.” Lucas tightens his hold when the man at the piano plays the opening chords of “Colorblind.” Instantly I have a lump in my throat.
Lucas bends in just as I lean back to whisper, “This is my favorite.”
“Mine too,” he says softly as we sway, half drunk and dizzy with affection. The song, the words, hit me and send me reeling as he pulls me tighter to him, seemingly just as affected. I’m madly in love with this man and have been for months, and I’m losing the battle in holding it in any longer. He makes me insanely happy, he makes life exciting, his presence is all-consuming, his kiss a whirlwind and he says he’s mine. I was wrong to assume we didn’t fit, but it was him who made me see how perfectly we do.
Overcome with what I feel, tears surface and slide down my cheeks. It didn’t sneak up on me, I’ve known for a while how I felt, but the fear of having something so perfect does. This, this feeling is what I’ve been holding out for, it’s mine, and he gave it to me, we built it together. It’s one of the best and most terrifying moments of my life. Cursing my hormones, I’m busted when one of his fingers lifts a tear from my cheek, and he turns me to face him. Unable to hold it any longer, the tears multiply rapidly but his concerned eyes warm when he sees the smile I’m wearing beneath.
“I shouldn’t do shots without eating dinner first,” I proclaim with a laugh. Patient eyes gaze down at me as he waits for me to speak truthfully because he knows me, he knows I will.
“Okay, Hollywood,” I admit tearfully, “you got the girl. Now what?”
“Now everything,” he promises before his lips crush mine.
“One of the things about acting is it allows you to live other people’s lives without having to pay the price.”—Robert De Niro
Lucas
TWO MONTHS AGO
INT: Nikki sits in a dim room on a metal counter gripping his calf, teeth clenching as he sorts through surgical tools.
Alejandro
Wait for the doctor. He should be here soon.
Nikki
I don’t wait. He’s late.
Alejandro
It’s too deep. You can’t get that bullet out on your own.
Nikki
Give me some of that Chiba.
Alejandro leans in with a spoonful, and Nikki sniffs it back with vigor
Nikki grips the scalpel
Nikki
In five minutes, this will have been a dream.
Alejandro
Patience, brother. You could get an infection.
Nikki
No, that’s only if I lay down with your fat wife.
Alejandro
She’s not fat, she has the build of her father.
Nikki
Even worse.
“Lucas,” a knock sounds on my trailer door and Nova comes walking in with a package in hand. “Sorry to interrupt, but this just came for you. The courier said it was urgent and I spent twenty minutes arguing with him because he insisted he give it to you directly.”
Nodding, I keep my eyes on the script, flipping the metal through my fingers.
“Need anything?”
I know she’s eyeing my lunch which I haven’t touched.
When I don’t answer, she shows her concern the only way she knows how…by bitching.
“You need to eat, Lucas.”
When I keep my head down, I hear her grumble and the door slams a few seconds later.
Getting back to the script, I spend a few more minutes with the words, letting the architect take over—sort, pull, compose, and draw before laying it all out flat like a blueprint in front of me. Glancing over at the package, I assume is a script, I dismiss it until my vision blurs. Curiosity wins and I finally rip it open. Inside is a script, but for a movie I’ve already made. An envelope falls out with a note scribbled on the front.
It’s all up to you.
G
Ripping it open, I tilt it, so the contents fall in my hand. Thumbing the flash drive, I flip it into my palm, turning it over, the weight of it making my stomach roll.
And then my laptop is open, and the screen rotates briefly when I pull up the media source and click play. And I’m there, in the room, familiar voices sounding. Resuming the flip of the coin I turn the volume up and quicken my fingers, sweat sliding down my back in rivulets. I watch on, second by second, speeding the workings of my knuckles, collecting all the air I can as I’m gutted from one end of me to the other. I can’t look away, I can’t erase what I’ve seen. My chest begins to cave, but only briefly before it expands to the point of exploding.
Thirst like I’ve never known dries my throat, traveling down my insides and chokes me like a suffocating blanket.
It’s when the screen goes black that I see red.
Flames of outrage lick me from all sides. And then I’m ablaze, engulfed in disbelief and fury. Glass shatters as my heart rattles in my chest begging for relief, my mind reeling as I try to rip all thoughts away. Wood splinters around my knuckles as I fuel the fire, dousing myself in kerosene to escape the searing inside.
But there’s no extinguishing this hatred.
There’s no extinguishing this truth.
Rage overtakes me.
And I let it, ripping the life around me apart to match the rubble left inside. I rage until I’m gratified with the wreckage and can’t see through the blur of destruction. I rage until I’m burning so white-hot that I can see nothing else. I rage and let it wreak its havoc because anything feels better than this reality. I rage until I go numb. I rage until I suffocate.
Mila
PRESENT
Lucas: When, when will you talk to me?
Lucas: Tell me where you are.
Lucas: I didn’t do this to hurt you.
Lucas: Please just tell me you’re okay.
I hadn’t texted him since I left for the winery. It was wrong, immature to make him worry like that, but I needed space and he refused to give it. He was a hypocrite that way, and it only fueled my anger.
As time went on, his texts got more aggressive which meant he was drinking.
Lucas: Thanks, wife. Really. You never trusted me, did you?
Lucas: I guess you want to start over now? The problem is WE ARE NOT FUCKING FINISHED. I won’t let you go.
Lucas: Jesus Christ, Mila, don’t do this.
Lucas: I have the right to fucking know where you are!
Mila: I’m home. Don’t come.
Lucas: Home? Our home?
If he’s not there, where is he? I can’t bring myself to ask.
Mila: The cottage
Lucas: I’ll give you space. I swear to God I will, but please don’t ever do that again. I’m begging you.
Aching to fire back with a “how does it feel?” I refrain from a reply. Anger is still winning. That’s
my decision today. I know I need to open up the lines of communication but everything I want to say is petty, pointless, and more aggression than progression.
Running a shower, I decide to extend a temporary olive branch.
Mila: I won’t do it again. That’s the only promise I’m making.
Lucas: I love you.
Toweling off, I lick the tears from my lips. Once dressed, I run my sleeve under my nose and crawl into bed, exhausted. My fingers linger over my cell pad briefly before I decide not to respond. Love isn’t the issue. It never was. We’ve had it in abundance, along with a healthy dose of trust. He’d rearranged our universe to revolve around the other, and once we did, we were both sealed in our fate, destined to be the moon and obeying tide. I glowed in his affection while he swept me away with one electrifying wave after another. The week after Lucas and I went to the movies, we came out as a couple at my first Hollywood gala, which just so happened to be a star-studded union party.
Sitting in the back of the limo, I smooth down my dress for the hundredth time. I bought a Valentino I could not afford and spent the day working my hair into something resembling a half up-do I saw on YouTube. I’m nervous, and of course, he senses it as he takes my hand and pulls it to his lips.
“Stop staring,” I snap, and he chuckles.
“If you didn’t want me to stare, you shouldn’t have worn that. It’s sexy as fuck, and you look stunning.”
“Sorry,” I say, swallowing. “I get snappy when I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be nervous.”
“Is there a stocked bar somewhere in here?” I open the cupboard next to me and frown when I come up empty and turn on him. “Shouldn’t limos have a stocked bar?”
“Not this one, sorry. I’ll get you some champagne as soon as we get there.”
“Okay,” I nod. “I swear to God, this is nothing like the movies. You people are all liars.”
I see him in my peripheral trying to stifle his grin.
“It’s not funny, don’t be a dick!” I lift my chin and glare in his direction which only has his smile growing wider. I’m a hot mess. It’s not that I can’t handle it, it’s just that I’ve always been on the sidelines, not front and center. Not to mention as soon as the world knows, my mother will too. That thought alone is enough to have me breaking out in hives. I’m blindsiding her with this because I wussed out of having the conversation. I can already see the mushroom cloud forming in the distance when the news hits her. But it’s my decision, my life, and I had to give myself time to form my own opinion before she has any say with hers. Steadying my breaths, I force myself to chill, deciding my behavior is unwarranted. Somewhat calm, I straighten my shoulders and lift my eyes to his.
“There’s my Dame.” He grins. “I was wondering when you would show up.”
“Just nerves. I’ve never been around so many celebrities at once.”
“Just remember that some of them used to work at Burger King and you’ll be good.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope,” he says, popping the P. “I worked in a gay bar with Blake. He’ll be here. You’ll get to meet him.”
“Really?” I ask with a grin. “Always wanted to meet your other half.”
“Don’t count yourself lucky,” he retorts with a humorous warning.
But I do count myself lucky when I gaze on at my man who looks gorgeous in another fitted tux. The tie is silver tonight and makes his glittering eyes pop. I bite my lip imagining ripping it off him later. It’s then I see brief unease cross his features.
“You don’t look so at peace yourself.”
“That’s because I’m making a decision.”
“What kind of decision?” I ask as his depths roam molten over my dress and then flick back to mine.
Jesus, he’s perfect.
“Do you trust me?”
“I did a minute ago, but now that you asked, no. What are you up to, Hollywood?”
His mouth lifts. “God, I love your honesty.”
“I have plenty to go around.”
“I can’t wait to rid you of that dress,” he says, sliding his palm down over the silk covering my thigh.
“Stop stalling. What decision did you just make?” Fear creeps up as mischievous eyes dance around in his beautiful head. “Remember on our first date when you said you didn’t give a shit about other people’s perception?”
“Vaguely, you had your tongue in my mouth most of the night.”
“And you loved it,” he coos.
“Not the point, Walker. What’s going on?”
He gives me an indecipherable grin.
“Lucas,” I prod, hackles rising. “I’m nervous enough.” The limo comes to a stop, and I see the flash of the bulbs go off outside the idling car. I’m briefly distracted by them until warm hands cradle my face and I meet the eyes of a king. “I think now would be an appropriate time to tell you I’m in love with you.” He gently strokes my cheeks with his thumbs. “I love you, Dame.”
Between one breath and the next, the door opens, and Lucas emerges from the limo before I get a chance to respond. Shrieking ensues once he’s spotted and he turns back and offers me his hand. He must like what reaction he sees because his eyes sparkle down on me and it only takes a second to realize my smile is just as wide as his. And then we’re on the carpet posing as paparazzi calls out to Lucas asking who I am and screaming directions at us to shift position for better shots.
Heart thundering at his confession, I gaze at him, and he returns it with the same loving look. He loves me, and he’s given me this time to let it sink in all the while it’s being captured by hundreds of cameras. It still feels so intimate, like it’s only ours. He never lets go of my hand, smiling back at me through several shots. Though the lights are blinding, all I see is him. I want so much to reciprocate his words, but he knows and gives me a wink to show as much. I’m fully lit inside.
He’s in love with me. I have that, I have his love, and I never want to be without this feeling again. Somehow, I’m still existing in this daydream. In this place where I have this immaculate love that seemed to appear out of nowhere and now reigns permanently in my soul. He slides his thumb over my wrist to let me know it’s not a dream. It’s our reality, together. I barely have a minute to enjoy the peace it brings before I’m ushered inside.
The party itself is exactly what I expect. The ceiling consists of a gold and white silk tent, and drips with softly lit chandeliers. Lush tropical plants and solid white flower arrangements are placed strategically throughout the space to give it a more intimate vibe. There’s a well-lit dance floor on the far side of the room next to several open doors that lead out to small, half-moon shaped balconies. Waiters are bustling around wielding tray after tray of champagne to the scattered stars filling the room. But it’s one star in particular that commands my attention when he leans down to me with a heated whisper, “I can feel you surrounding me already. I want inside you so bad right now.” It’s all I can do to keep my mouth shut. “I’ll be right back.”
Alarmed, I turn to him. “Where are you going?” He doesn’t answer but keeps our hands clasped as we enter the party. Everywhere I look there’s a face I recognize, and I’m overwhelmed by the stimuli.
Champagne passing at every turn, suddenly I have one in hand, and I’m sipping it. Dizzy with the events of the last ten minutes, I follow Lucas blindly as he searches the room and comes to a sudden stop when he spots someone in the crowd. Defying gravity, I’m floating on air just before I crash down when his voice sounds beside me.
“Well, well, well. Isn’t this fucking sweet!?” Every head within twenty feet turns in our direction as Lucas shouts our arrival. “Look at you all, nothing but a bunch of fucking puppets dressed for the ball!”
Jesus Christ!
My whole face purples as I try and fail not to burst out in nervous laughter.
Stunned, I keep up with his long strides as he saunters toward his target in full swagger introducin
g me to his ex-girlfriend, Laura Lee. Grappling with what just happened, we exchange pleasantries as I shrink a little standing next to her flawlessness. I’m fumbling with words trying to figure out why he would make such a show in front of her. Had he planned this? Was I some sort of means to get back at her? Furious, I try to rip my hand away, and Lucas keeps a tight grip as his eyes trail down her form, his expression openly hostile as she compliments my dress. She’s in the midst of making more polite conversation which I’m thankful for when he interrupts her.
“You really shouldn’t have gotten that nose job.” A gasp escapes my lips and a few others behind me as well. I immediately start stuttering in both scorn for Lucas and apology to Laura. Ignoring me, Lucas smirks down at her, and her face pinches briefly in annoyance before she cracks a grin. “Dear God, Lucas, what did you take?”
“Nothing,” he says flatly. “But looking at you now, I’m so glad you were a fucking phase.”
The corners of her mouth lift higher. “What are you up to, Walker?”
“Better things,” he replies, pulling me tighter to him as I glare at the side of his face. I want to sink into the carpet beneath us, but I don’t have any time to plot any sort of escape because in seconds I’m being dragged past her and some heavy hitters who all try and fail to get his attention. He’s just snubbed Sean Penn when he approaches a man I don’t recognize, whose eyes are trained on the both of us. “Lucas, what the hell are you doing?” I hiss as he jerks me front and center.
“Hey, Dobs, I want you to meet my new girl. She was raised on a grape farm and believes bottles are magical. Isn’t it cool?” He widens his eyes as he says it. “A little naïve but she’s pretty nice to look at, right?”
