METHOD

by Kate Stewart

“He’s too fucked up to know what’s happening.”

  “Orders are orders. Tonight’s the night.”

  “Five minutes earlier, we would have got him sober.”

  “Fuck, he stinks.”

  “That’s because he shit himself. Screw this, I’m taking more of a cut on this if I have to be the one to get him in the car.”

  “I’m not touching him.”

  “What a waste. This is Nikki Rayo, huh?”

  “Have respect, he’s the reason I got in the game.”

  “Then maybe you should do the honors.”

  “I think I will.”

  Seconds later, I’m tossed into the back of the Rolls.

  “This isn’t much of a payback, should we wait for him to snap out of it?”

  “He’s got so much H running through his system, he’s fucking smiling. Just get it over with.”

  I feel the pressure at my neck until the blood pours out. Blake’s smile on that beach is the last thing I see before I hear the words, “Cut. That’s a wrap.”

  Mila

  Nova: We wrapped an hour ago.

  Putting away the rest of my dishes I muster up my courage when I see Lucas’s Land Rover pull up. Standing in the hall, I hear the telling jiggle of his keys and the metal click into place, but the bolt doesn’t budge.

  I hear an irritated, “What the hell?” before a sharp knock sounds at the door. “Mila.”

  I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. It’s just as odd of a feeling that he’s finally back, as it was when he returned from Egypt, except this time I don’t want to fling open the door and fly into his arms. The fact that he thinks it’s as simple as him coming home has my blood boiling.

  “Mila,” he says again, knocking in succession.

  “I had them changed.” The knocking stops. “I don’t want you here.”

  “Baby, I’m so tired, so tired. I need to lay eyes on you. I know how upset you are, but it’s over. Please open the door.”

  “You’re right, it is over, at least for the moment. You need to leave.”

  “I can—”

  “Explain? Surely you can think of a better line than that, actor.”

  “Mila—”

  “Can you explain the kiss?” I hiss.

  His tone goes defensive. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I can. It had nothing to do with her.”

  “This should be good.”

  “Mila, it meant nothing.”

  “How original.”

  It takes every bit of strength I have not to open the door just to slap him. But with one look, I’d be manipulated into letting him in, and he would try to smooth things over, and I’m not having it.

  “Can you please open the fucking door, so you can see my face and know I’m telling the truth?”

  “That’s not going to make a difference. You conditioned me well.”

  “Seriously?” he whispers, “that’s not what I did.”

  “No? All those tests you put me through when we started out, all of the prep work you put into making me your perfect little Hollywood wife. You never planned any of that, man with the plan?”

  “You’re really going to make me do this out here?”

  “You’re not getting into this house, Lucas.”

  He releases a heavy sigh.

  “Fine. That kiss was about blood, the blood Nikki licked off her cheek. Wes asked me to do it specifically and only for that scene. He thought it would be more perverse if Anya were made to taste her brother’s blood off Nikki’s tongue. I agreed with him.”

  Stunned at the explanation, I bristle where I stand.

  “That’s actually a pretty damned good reason. And it would have changed everything if you’d have given it to me when I begged you for it. It might not have ended our marriage.”

  More pause. “Stop it. You took everything personally. Everything. You didn’t trust me or the process. I understand you’re mad, but we aren’t over,” he says with an uplift in his tone that makes my stomach roll. “It’s one scene. I was going to tell you the minute I got here. I was coming clean about everything. Mila, I’m sorry—”

  “You think that this is just about the kiss? You couldn’t be more wrong, and the fact that you are still trying to hide behind your character is disgusting. You broke EVERY rule, you left me nothing to believe in. Don’t you dare tell me that was acting!”

  “That’s what I was doing!”

  “That wasn’t acting, Lucas! You went too far, you’re still there. You don’t get to hide behind your job anymore. Every word coming out of your mouth is a lie, and I’m not listening to another. You need to leave. Right now!”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Yes, I do. And you know I do.”

  “Dame—”

  “Go to your wrap party, Hollywood.”

  Irritation coats his voice. “I’m not going to a fucking party. I came to see my wife!”

  “Fine, go see Amanda,” I snap.

  Silence.

  “Nothing to say? Lucas? Nikki? Blake?”

  “You don’t understand, that…that just happened.”

  “I don’t have to understand, I don’t want to understand. Save your explanations. I left you, I don’t want to be your wife. Not now. Maybe not ever again.”

  His palm slaps the door. “Don’t you say that to me!”

  “You took the meaning out of the ring!” I scream, letting my anger overtake me. “You broke my trust.” I pound back at him. “You think this is me locking you out? You’ve got it all wrong! This isn’t me, don’t blame me! I don’t want to have anything to do with this, with you. Not now. I’m too angry. Leave, Lucas!”

  All of the energy drains from me as I relay the sentence, he himself dealt us. “There is no kiss and make it better. And you’re not going to act your way out of this. Just go.”

  “Open up, Mila, I’m not going to fight through a door.”

  “I wish I had the strength left to fight you, Lucas, but I don’t.” And with that, I walk away.

  Ten minutes later, I hear his Land Rover start up. The next day he comes back drunk. And the day after, and the day after that, and every night after until Paul is forced to drag him away from my door.

  Mila

  PRESENT

  Three weeks after I leave Lucas, I get another rap on my door, but I know with certainty it’s not my husband. He’s been silent the past week, aside from a daily ‘I love you’ text. Other than that, he’s been giving me the space I asked for.

  “You don’t know what I had to do.”

  Blake was a victim of the casting couch, that much is obvious. And he was right in one respect, I don’t need to know the details. Those were the secrets he died to hide.

  A part of me hopes Lucas does come clean to Amanda, but it’s not my call. And maybe that’s some of what Lucas is still working through. But until he’s transparent with me, until he shows me his battle, we have nowhere to go. Even after six years of marriage, it baffles me how much he hides, how unaware I am of what goes on inside that brilliant mind of his.

  Opening my door, I see my mother standing there and hang my head as she pushes past me and steps inside.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “Because when you didn’t bother to text me back, I called your husband insisting he let me speak with you and do you know what he did?”

  I shrug.

  “He told me you didn’t live there anymore and hung up on me!”

  Laughter bubbles out of me as her eyes narrow. “Sorry, Mom. No one is safe lately.”

  “Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on? You haven’t returned my calls since he chased me out of your house.” She follows me into the living room, looking around before scrutinizing me.

  “You moved back in?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “As it turns out we don’t have a perfect marriage. Satisfied?”

  “Absolutely not and you look terrible.”

  �
��It’s been a hard couple of weeks.”

  She waves her hand in the air. “You’ll get through it.”

  “Says the woman who just admittedly fled from my house due to his wrath. So easy for you to say twice removed,” I snap. “You have no idea what I’ve been through,” I palm my hips, “and before you start with the ‘I told you so’ about marrying an actor, don’t. Or you can leave.”

  “Don’t talk to me like that,” she says evenly. “I raised you better.”

  “I’m not myself lately, not many of us are.”

  “I can see that,” she says, tossing her purse on the couch. “I’m going to make us some tea, and you’re going to talk to me.”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Do you think the only reason I didn’t want you marrying an actor was because I worked for the press? Silly girl.” She walks toward the kitchen, leaving me temporarily stunned before I follow her.

  “Oh, I don’t believe this. Who? Who did you date?”

  She pauses. I read her right.

  “Oh my God,” I say, covering my mouth. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

  She pushes up her sleeves before flipping the water on and filling up the kettle. Once she has the bags waiting in the cups, she turns to me and rests her back to the counter.

  “Mom!?” I snap impatiently as she stares at me.

  “It’s not important who.”

  “The hell it’s not, stop stalling.”

  “Mel Gibson and you’re his love child.”

  My jaw drops. “What?”

  “Kidding.”

  “You’re ridiculous,” I scold, before we both burst into laughter, mine reluctant.

  “His name was Eric Byrne. Irish. Very, very good-looking, a tiger in the sack. He was all the rage for about ten minutes in the eighties, and I was madly in love with him. Well, I thought I was. This was before I met your father.”

  “You are such a hypocrite,” I say, pointing the finger. “All this time, you made it seem like actors were the worst people when you had sex in the Kool-Aid!”

  “I just didn’t want you falling in love in a way that could torment you. And look at you.” She raises a brow. “It’s not fun.”

  “Point taken. Still, Lucas is not Eric Byrne. The way you treated him was unforgivable.”

  She hangs her head. “I know. And for the record, that was the worst fight your father and I have ever had. He didn’t speak to me for almost a month.”

  “Good. Tell me what happened with the actor.”

  “He swept me off my feet. But those sayings about an Irish temper? Well, let’s just say I can testify to them.”

  “He hurt you?”

  “No, but he might as well have. He was a bastard best left to bed his co-stars and not put silly notions in my head. Maybe we should sit, Mila, you’re so pale.”

  “I’m pregnant,” I say, depriving her of what should have been a happy moment. She bursts into tears, and I walk over to her and hug her tightly. “I’m sorry, Mom, I’m sorry. I’m just so miserable right now. I miss Lucas so much. I’m so pissed at him. I should have faked a happy phone call or something.”

  “I ruined your wedding,” she sniffs, “it’s only fair.”

  “You didn’t ruin it, Mom. Everyone thought you were making a spectacle because you were happy. I still laugh about it and the way Lucas squirmed.”

  “I’m sorry for that.”

  “It’s inexcusable, but I understand why you were scared. We’d only been dating nine months. I was scared myself.”

  When we pulled away, she smiled. “I hope it’s a boy. We could use a boy.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” I pour the water into the teacups to let them steep.

  “Your turn,” she says, nodding in my direction. “Tell me what happened.”

  For the first time in years, I spare no detail. I don’t see the point in hiding anything from her. I will probably regret it later, but for the moment, I trust my instinct to spill. It takes the better part of an hour for me to explain the last three months and the more I do, the angrier I get.

  “Wow,” my mother says with wide eyes when I finish.

  “I know.”

  “I’m impressed,” she says with the lift of her lips. “You have to admit, it’s clever.”

  “And insane and deceptive. I don’t know why he would hide it from me.”

  For the first time since I started my rant, I study her while she sips her cold tea.

  “It’s grief, and grief is another form of insanity in itself. You haven’t really gotten to experience that yet, and I pray it comes much later for you. You two will be fine. You need to go back to him.”

  “I can’t. I’m too angry. Trust me, I’m trying.”

  “Try harder.”

  “Haven’t you heard a word I said? He’s unreachable,” I say, pacing. “He’s acting like we should resume life as it was without acknowledging what he just put us both through. He’s still acting, and unless he drops the mask, we can’t get past it.”

  “He’s not ready. He still needs his wife.”

  “You know, Mom, there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now.”

  “By all means.”

  “You meddle and give unsolicited advice like you’re doing everyone a damned favor. You’ve given my husband hell for years and warned me away from being with him. I’m finally showing you our cracks but fully expected you to gloat. What does that tell you?”

  She doesn’t even flinch as her eyes hold mine over the side of her teacup. “That you’re angry enough at him to share with me.”

  “Maybe,” I say. “But if you want in, don’t make me regret this.”

  “I don’t stray from being honest, Mila.”

  “God forbid you don’t alienate someone for the sake of your precious honesty.”

  “Hey apple,” she says in her thick French tongue. “You didn’t fall far from this tree. It’s one of the things Lucas loves most about you because he told me so. I know what he did to me at your house came from a place of pain, but there was some truth behind it. I ask intrusive questions because I want to know you, the both of you, and it’s like since the day I met him, he’s had some preconceived notion about me.”

  I cast my eyes down because it’s the truth. I had Lucas fearing my mother long before she met him.

  “And maybe you were right to warn him,” she says, reading my guilt. “I didn’t make it easy on him, I know that. But you’re my only child, and I want what’s best for you. I see my mistakes, and I’m willing to admit them. I’m even willing to apologize to your husband once he comes ready with his. I might not know the day-to-day of your life with him, but I watch you two. The whole world is watching, and I along with them. I read his interviews and the way he speaks so highly of you. I see the way he looks at you and vice versa. That man loves you better than any other man could, movie star or not.”

  I sob into my palms, shaking my head. “Of course, you would give me your blessing when we’re falling apart.”

  “No, my love, this is not the end for you two. Stop mourning what isn’t over. You can’t see past his behavior, and he’s done some appalling things, perhaps a few unforgivable. But this is just a crossroads, and you’ll have a lot more of them in your marriage.”

  “I don’t know, Mom, I don’t know. God, I was so sure we were unbreakable.”

  “No one is. You think I don’t know what it’s like to be that absorbed? I’ve lived it. You two are each other’s universe. It’s the same with your father and me. You have no idea how many battles we’ve overcome just to stay together. But this battle, this isn’t about the two of you. He’s doing this for Blake and for himself. It has nothing to do with you. And you’re taking it personally.”

  “I don’t know how else to take it!” Our child chooses that moment to make me purge my breakfast. Running to the toilet, I barely make it when I unleash hell into the porcelain. She wets a washrag and hands it to me. I wip
e my face of the evidence before I brush my teeth. My mother stands in the doorway, arms crossed while she confronts my reflection.

  “This isn’t about your relationship. Not at the moment. This is about his bigger picture. You’re a large part of it, but right now this isn’t about marriage, this is about his friendship and his guilt, and you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

  “Great,” I snap sarcastically. “You seem to know a lot, Mom. You have a time line for this because I have a baby coming?”

  “As long as it takes. Look, Lucas has been working nonstop for a very long time. He might’ve lost touch with himself. It often happens when creatives burn out. He’s reached stardom, he’s probably afraid right now that he’s got nowhere to go but down.

  “He’s never told me that.” But that isn’t totally true. I just figured he had outgrown his fears the further he got in his career because he never spoke of them again. If there’s merit to what she’s saying, I couldn’t be more wrong. Swallowing my pride, I table my anger and look over at her. “I’m listening.”

  “Mila, I love you. I’m talking to you from a place of love, I don’t need to be right, I need you to know that. But you need to get over yourself a little. As tightly knit as you two are, sometimes our deepest fears don’t get voiced to the ones we’re closest to, especially when we’re the most afraid. While I don’t doubt you two rely on each other, maybe his problem stems from more than just Blake’s death. Listen to me, dear daughter. He needs you now. It’s crucial that you are there for him. A few bad years in a marriage is a reason to leave, a few bad months in a good marriage is a reason to stay. Seems to me he’s got a bit more than a death to deal with going on.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe the question isn’t why is he acting as Blake, but why doesn’t he want to be Lucas? From what I’m gathering, Blake’s death has taken a toll in more ways than one and landed him right smack in the middle of an existential crisis.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’ve been married to a psychiatrist too long.”

  “What if I’m right? Do you have any idea how many patients your father treats for this very thing?”

  “We were happy.”