METHOD

by Kate Stewart

  I’m barely able to get out the rest through my snorts. “S-S-Snakes slithering up your back, snakes slithering down. Criss cross app-le-sauce.”

  “Swedish, woman? What kind of fucking torture was that?”

  “You didn’t like it?” I say, bursting into laughter as he lifts to pin me beneath him, eyes narrowed. I shrug in his hold unable to hide my smile. “Maybe you shouldn’t ask me for massages.”

  He shakes his head with a knowing grin. “That’s a man’s tactic. Do a shitty job so they don’t ask you to do it again. And Mila, baby, don’t ever do that again.” He leans in further with a flash of teeth. “You little weirdo.”

  “None of the other men in my life have had a problem with it,” I smart. His eyes glaze over with something that looks a lot like jealousy.

  “Good thing I’m the only one left.”

  “Are you?”

  He nods as the air between us charges with something indescribable. “I’ll be the last man standing. I assure you.”

  “Ah, and how will thee persuade me?”

  “Oh, trust me,” he says, sliding his hand down my body and pulling up my silk negligee before slipping thick fingers inside my panties, “I’m gonna get the girl. Even if she’s shit at giving a massage.”

  “Think so?” I say breathlessly, already pulled in the undertow.

  “I know so.”

  “Do your worst, Hollywood,” I murmur just as he presses inside me and takes all the words away. He spends the next hour torturing me with delayed gratification before we collapse in a heap, limbs tangled, whispering softly before we drift to sleep.

  On my last night in Cairo, once filming has wrapped for the day, Lucas rushes us back to the hotel to freshen up. Just as I tie my sandals, he enters the room with a black insulated bag.

  “What’s in there?” I ask, gathering my hair into a loose bun on top of my head.

  “You’ll have to wait and see.” He takes my hand. “Ready?”

  “Yes, I just need to grab my purse.”

  “You don’t need it,” he says before tugging my hand and whisking me into the back of a waiting SUV. Once we’re in, the driver takes off without a word.

  “What’s going on? Where are we going?”

  He strokes my wrist with his thumb putting me at ease but doesn’t answer.

  “Can you at least tell me if I’m dressed okay?” I didn’t get a chance to pack well with our time crunch. He leans in and kisses me silent, and I let him. Within the hour we’re stopped, the darkness outside making it impossible to see where we are through the thick tint of the windows.

  Lucas gets out with the bag and leans in on the frame of the door.

  “Hold on a second.”

  “Okay.”

  He shuts it, and the driver joins him. They exchange words at the back of the car where the trunk is lifted briefly and then closed. Lucas opens my door with a thick comforter in hand, one that matches the type at our hotel, and ushers me out the SUV. When I see what waits outside, my jaw drops. He’s standing in front of the pyramids shadowed by the full moon. “Oh, my God. Lucas, oh my GOD!” Lucas seems satisfied with my reaction, a dazzling smile lighting up his face. “It’s pretty incredible, right?”

  “I can’t believe this.”

  “How about we taste some wine here?”

  I’m already nodding. “Yes, please.”

  We are parked directly in front of the Sphinx, and I see the towering Giza pyramid ahead, the smaller of the two pyramids to the left of it. The driver speaks briefly with a few waiting guards, and then we’re led to an easy access entrance before we’re set free to explore for ourselves. The view is indescribable. It’s like walking through a screen saver. We stroll along the rough terrain for a few minutes until we’re lined up with the marvels that point heaven’s way.

  “This is incredible.” I look at him thoroughly impressed. “You bring me to one of the Seven Wonders of the World? You’ve outdone yourself already, Hollywood,” I say jokingly. “It’s all downhill from here.”

  “We got lucky with that moon, or else we wouldn’t have been able to see shit.”

  “You planned this?”

  He grins at me. “Always have a plan, but this one was tricky.” He spreads the comforter, which looks ridiculous on the sand, situates the cooler and then himself on it before he pulls me down into his lap. Snugly between his legs, he rests his chin on my shoulder, and I rest my hands on his thighs.

  “Are you having fun?” he asks softly.

  “God, yes, this has been so incredible. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me,” he whispers, “too impersonal. And I fucking hate that you’re leaving tomorrow.”

  “Me too.”

  “So stay,” he urges, pulling me tighter into him.

  “You know I can’t. This is your life, not mine.”

  We sit for a few quiet moments equally in awe of our surroundings. The smooth rumble of his voice sounds from behind me, but it feels so far away.

  “I never thought I would see this,” he says softly. “Never. This is not something I ever thought I’d experience in my lifetime.”

  “Me neither.”

  The air around us is as ancient as the free-standing structures, and the silence is surprisingly peaceful.

  Lucas speaks up on a whisper. “They’re smaller than I thought they would be.”

  “Does that ruin it for you?”

  “No,” he says. “It just goes to show what builds in the mind and surfaces in reality can be so different.”

  Unsure if we’re still talking about pyramids, I glance his way and see him mystified which stuns me silent. Lucas isn’t at all what I expected. He’s not accustomed to the life he’s leading, he doesn’t demand anything from anyone. He’s full of hope and just as in awe of this new world as I am. He’s humble, appreciative, highly affectionate, giving, and there’s not much more I need to know.

  A few minutes later, I’m still admiring the view when Lucas gently shifts me from his lap and starts fishing around in the cooler. As he unpacks, he unveils a small feast and a little lamp which illuminates our blanket.

  “Wow, you really did think of everything.”

  He takes a forkful of a dish with the provided silverware and brings it up to my mouth.

  “The chef said these are the things we have to try while we’re here. He said this one you’ll love or hate.”

  “That must be Molokhia.” He lowers the fork he just offered to me and reads the scribbled label on top of the container. “How in the hell did you know that?”

  I shrug. “I picked it up somewhere.”

  “Just picked it up,” he says, his voice full of sarcasm as he lifts the fork and I take a bite.

  “This is one of the last places on my bucket list,” I say around a mouthful, “I studied up on Egypt years ago. But I’ll have to have another bite to decide about the food.”

  He grins, forking another bite. “Of course you will.”

  He gives me another mouthful before taking one of his own.

  “Did you know Egyptians invented the three hundred sixty-five-day calendar?”

  He shakes his head slowly as he feeds me another forkful.

  “We have them to thank for the year mark, the measurement of life. They invented time. Such fascinating and intelligent people.”

  “Yeah,” he mumbles, closing the container putting it back in the bag.

  “I think I love it,” I say, “the Molokhia. Oh,” I exclaim grabbing the next container, “I bet this is Shawarma.” I read the label. “Yep, it is. This is like Egypt’s version of a Gyro. These are supposed to be fantastic.”

  Lucas eyes me as he uncorks a bottle.

  “And did you know wine was scarce here until the last twenty years?”

  “Nope, didn’t know that either,” he says with a sigh. “Why is that?”

  “Look around, not exactly the best place to grow vines.”

  “Right,” he mutters, pouring me a glass.


  “They brought some experts in to help the quality. I’m so excited to try it.”

  He looks a little miffed as he hands it to me. “Then maybe you should try it.”

  I sit up straighter and frown. “Did I say something wrong?”

  His eyes dart away. I can see his aggravated expression clearly when he lies and responds with a, “No.”

  “Hey,” I say leaning in. “What have I said?”

  “Nothing, beauty,” he lifts his chin toward my glass. “Taste it.”

  I take a sip and give him wide eyes. “Pretty good.”

  His eyes glide over the shadowed peaks while more sarcasm laces his words. “And is that your expert opinion?”

  “All right, dammit, that was uncalled for,” I snap. “Tell me, superstar, did you bring me out here and give me the world just to shit on it?”

  His eyes snap to mine. He reads my face and curses under his breath. “No, shit, no. I’m sorry.”

  “Then come out with it already. What happened in the last five minutes that made me the enemy?”

  “You haven’t done anything.”

  “Could’ve fooled me. Maybe we should head back to the hotel.”

  He lets out a sigh and sits back on the blanket. In the next second, I’m back in his lap, and his head is again buried in the crook of my neck. He presses a gentle kiss to my shoulder before murmuring a low, “Sorry.”

  “Forgiven,” I reply shifting in his lap to straddle him. “Now tell me why you’re acting like an ass.”

  “Just…tired.”

  “We can go back,” I offer running my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. “You can get some decent sleep tonight.”

  “No, I’m good here.”

  “You sure?”

  He nods.

  Chest rattling with indecision, I move to give him space just as he cups my neck and brings me closer, so our foreheads touch.

  “Mila,” he rasps out just before capturing my lips to assault me with a soul-stealing kiss. His tongue delves into every corner of my mouth before setting a languid pace. Breath stolen, I moan into his eager mouth as he erases the existence of time, the idea of space, and the need to measure either. There is nothing but us, our connection, our creation. Stunned when he pulls away my breath stutters against his lips and I realize we’re both shaking with the loss of gravity.

  Pushing the hair away from my face with gentle hands, he searches my eyes and finds satisfaction somewhere inside them. “I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to believe me.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “There is nowhere and no one else I’d rather be with than you. I promise you. This isn’t the end of us.”

  “If you say so, Hollywood.”

  “Just got to have a little faith, Dame.”

  “Dame?”

  “My Dame,” he whispers before crushing his mouth to mine.

  The first week I get back we’ve spoken every day, making plans for after the movie wraps. Some days he can only talk for mere minutes, but I greedily take them. Other days I miss his call due to the seven-hour time difference. Even with my phone set to blast, I sleep through a few. It’s like an out of control first crush all over again.

  “Mila, I’ve been dreaming about you,” he says when I manage to catch a call.

  “Have you?”

  “Yes. I miss you.” He says it so effortlessly it scares me, but I allow it because it feels amazing too. The kind of amazing that has me daydreaming about possibilities.

  “It’s so hot here. I don’t remember it being this hot when you were here.”

  “It was.”

  “Maybe you made it more bearable. I just had a camel slap me upside the head with half a bucket of spit. I threw up for twenty minutes.”

  Uncontrollable laughter pours out of me as he goes on.

  “I should warn you now, I have a horrible, and I mean horrible, track record with animals.”

  “All animals?”

  “Yes, goldfish included. Blake says it’s because they can sense evil. But I think that applies to kids.”

  “It applies to both kids and animals.”

  “Of course, you’d know that,” he smarts. “Kids are okay, but I’m afraid it’s a hard no on pets.”

  “Are we having kids already?”

  “Whatever we want it to be,” he murmurs.

  “Right. Cart before the camel, Lucas.”

  “Hey, I’m not proposing.”

  “Good, I’m not accepting.”

  “Marry me.” I can hear his smile over the line.

  “Hell, no.”

  “Smart lady. Wait until I start earning the real paychecks.”

  “I’d take your paycheck over mine any day, Walker.”

  His reply is instant. “Do you need money?”

  “Jesus, did you really just ask me that? No, of course not.”

  There’s a long pause over the line. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean it the way it came out, not to insult you. Not at all.” Not for one second do I think he meant it that way. “I just want you to be okay. That’s all.”

  “I’m fine. But honestly, Lucas, I could never take a dime from you. That’s not how I’m built.”

  “Okay, I just want you to be good.”

  “I’m more than good.”

  “Happy?”

  “Yes.”

  “God, lady, as mean as you are, you move me.”

  I can’t even pretend not to be caught up in the sincerity in his voice. “The feeling is mutual, I assure you.”

  Another pause.

  “I really feel good about this,” he whispers.

  “Me too.”

  “Shit’s the same on set, so tell me what’s going on with you.”

  “Just working hard. Trying to reel in some clients.”

  “You’ll get there.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but have you drunk any wine lately?”

  His answering silence has me laughing.

  “Oh my God, do I really want to give my heart to a guy who hates my passion?” I say it with a laugh but get silence in response.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I pull the phone away from my ear and see we’re still connected. “Lucas, are you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here, Dame.”

  “The more you call me that, the more I like it.”

  “Well, it’s all yours. They’re calling me to set, baby.” My heart explodes with his sentiment. “I’ll call you soon.”

  “Okay…and Lucas?”

  “Yes?”

  “I really do miss you.”

  “It’s weird, isn’t it? Two weeks ago, we had no idea what we were missing.”

  And then he’s gone. Right after we hang up, I get a knock on my door. I answer to see an older man looking at me while he slides on dirt-covered gloves.

  “You must be Mila.”

  “Yes?” I reply cautiously.

  “I’m Denny.”

  “Hi, Denny.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to get an idea from you of where you want them.”

  “Where I want what?”

  Denny draws on my confusion. “Ah, this must be a surprise. Well, that makes things difficult.” He shakes his head. “Leave it to Lucas.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m totally lost here.”

  “Lucas sent me.”

  “O-kay,” I say, still not catching on.

  “It’s probably best if you come out and look.”

  I follow him outside and see a large utility truck parked to the right of my porch. A few guys are sitting in wait on the back of the bed. It’s only when I round the hood and see what’s in it, that my jaw goes slack.

  Denny looks at me with a rueful grin as do the guys. “Thought this might help you figure it out.”

  “All of these are for me?”

  Dozens of rose bushes are lined up in the bed, in various shades of red, pink, orange, the majority of them lavender, whic
h is my favorite color and the color of the dress I wore on our first date. Lucas misses nothing.

  Denny shakes his head and looks over to me with a drawn brow. “Guess sending roses was a little too traditional?”

  “No,” I whisper as emotion swells in my chest and my eyes water, choking a little on my reply, “too temporary.”

  Mila

  Seven weeks of wait have turned into ten. Then ten becomes twelve. And it has been days since I’ve heard from him. Four to be exact. Filming has gone over; over time, over budget and suddenly they are having issues with shooting permits a week before the film wraps. So basically, Lucas is being held hostage in Cairo until they can sort it all out. The first eight weeks he’d been diligent about calling me at least once a day, but as of late, it has dwindled. Understanding is wearing thin when we have modern technology. A text would do, any text.

  Sitting in the middle of my newly planted rose garden on the cliffside of the house, I sip on a bottle of red and try my best not to be offended by his silence. The movie has taken a shit turn as far as production, and he is probably trying to help sort things out. Not to mention the fact he has to be exhausted. It’s the next sip of my wine that has me switching positions.

  “Or he’s decided having a maybe girlfriend half a world away isn’t worth the trouble,” I mutter to the rose bushes he gave me to remember him by. Maybe the situation has lost its charm for him, and he is too much of a coward to make good on his promises. Either way, I am fading on breadcrumbs which has now left me at a dead end.

  “Fuck this,” I say, heading into my house picturing him seducing some on-set Egyptian goddess with the same smile he gave me.

  “I LIVE FOR NO MAN!” I declare as I stomp toward my door, empty wine bottle in hand. I’ve been nothing short of patient, and I don’t deserve silence. I shoot off a text just before I hit the door and head into my house.

  It was fun. Take care of yourself.

  Just to be a spiteful shit, I add.

  Thank you.

  He doesn’t like being thanked, says it’s too impersonal.

  Thank you so much, Hollywood!

  It’s then my wine buzz kicks into overdrive. After a scalding shower, I wipe the condensation from my mirror and drunkenly scold myself.