METHOD

by Kate Stewart

  “It’s nice to have someone to talk to, his other driver is a bit of a mute. What’s your name?”

  “Sean.”

  “Lovely to meet you, Sean.”

  “Pleasure.”

  A few minutes later, we pull up to a well-lit ranch style home nestled in the hills and confusion sets in. “Oh, Lucas, what are you up to?”

  Butterflies emerge and begin to circle in my chest as Sean offers his hand to escort me out of the limo.

  “I hope to see you again.”

  “Me too,” I say, studying the house. Does he expect me to just knock on the door?

  “Problem, Miss?” Sean asks, his hand still outstretched before I take it. “I’m just kind of unsure what I’m doing here.”

  I’m still trying to figure out where I am and gain my footing outside the limo when Sean’s thumb slides across my wrist before he lets go. All the air leaves me as I turn my head and meet Sean’s eyes, his light green eyes.

  “What the fuc—Oh, my God, Lucas?!”

  “Hey there, Dame,” he says, his wrinkled mouth pulling up into a satisfied smile.

  My jaw drops as I try to grasp what just happened.

  Pleased with himself, he slides his hands in his slacks. “So, Takedown, huh? That’s your favorite? Good to know.”

  I’m too stunned to say anything as I study his face. Tentatively, I reach out a hand and run it along his jaw, snatching it back when I touch the latex. “It looks so real.”

  He quirks his thick, bushy gray brows and chuckles. “That’s kind of the point.”

  “I can’t even be mad right now. That was…” I narrow my eyes. “You were fishing big time.”

  His grin grows. “Maybe.”

  Still reeling with the aftershock, I shake my head. “You got me good.”

  “Seems like it,” he says, milking my gushing to ‘Sean.’

  “You’re an ass. If you want to know how I feel about you, just ask.”

  “This was a lot more fun.”

  “You want to tell me the point of this grand scheme?”

  “After.”

  “After what?”

  “Enough with the questions.” He tugs at my hand closing the car door behind me. “Come on.”

  “You’re infuriating.”

  “An infuriatingly good man,” he says, tossing my words back at me with a smirk.

  “That too.”

  He pauses on the bottom step at the base of the porch and looks down at me. The air shifts as awareness pricks my spine and my pulse spikes. As different as he looks, I would know those eyes anywhere and they soften as they scour my face with curiosity.

  “You are… a very good man,” I confess readily.

  He pulls me tightly to him, bending at my level to wrap me fully and we linger in the embrace before he whispers, “I’m your man, Dame.”

  Somehow, I know in that moment, we are official. No more words need to be spoken, and they aren’t as he guides me into the house.

  An hour and a half later, Bert and Noni, an Oscar-winning team of professional makeup artists, turn me in my chair to face my reflection and I shriek out in surprise before bursting into laughter. Lucas walks up behind me looking satisfied. He studies me closely while chuckling. “Wow.”

  Leaning toward the mirror, I study my aged face and the newly attached wrinkled skin hanging a half inch from my throat. Extensions of light gray are woven expertly into my dark hair. The difference is realistic and somewhat disheartening.

  “Remind me to moisturize later,” I tell Lucas as I study the middle-aged me.

  “You’re still so beautiful,” he murmurs, planting a kiss on my cheek.

  Noni smiles at my reflection. “I agree.” Bert walks up with a bag of supplies to help safely get the adhesive off later. Lucas thanks him and I hug them both with my own gratitude as we make our way onto the porch where I spot Paul waiting next to the limo.

  “Your movement is too agile to be convincing,” Lucas notes as I bound out of the house.

  “Is it?”

  He nods, and I still can’t get over the change in both our faces.

  “So, does this mean I get to act tonight?”

  “Yes, Miss,” he says with his British tongue.

  “Okay, well then teach me, Obie Wan.”

  “Try to move like you just woke up from a deep sleep, like you’re stiff with sore muscles and you can’t quite get the kinks out.

  “Like this?” I say, walking across the porch with stilted movement.

  “Better,” he says with a smile.

  “How about this?” I say, holding onto the railing of the steps with both hands and taking one at a time.

  The rumble of his chuckle sounds behind me. “Maybe if you’re ninety.”

  “Fine,” I huff.

  “Just slow down a little, you’ll be good.” He joins me on the steps and we slowly descend while I try and mimic his movement.

  “So, where are we going?”

  “Still a surprise.”

  “Come on, this is making me nervous.”

  “I promise you’ll be fine.” He links our fingers. “Trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  When we get to the limo, Paul pulls something from his pocket and hands it to Lucas. “Thanks, man.”

  I glance over to see it’s his phone.

  “What?!” Shocked, I look up to see a smirk on Paul’s face and feel my cheeks heat. I didn’t think to ask how he had texted me back, and I’d propositioned him with sexual favors.

  Reading my shock, Lucas looks down at the phone and swipes it to read our conversation before a laugh bursts out of him.

  “Thanks for keeping it PG,” Lucas says, nudging his shoulder.

  “No problem,” Paul mutters low, unable to hide his smile.

  “I hate you both,” I declare, sliding into the limo, my face on fire.

  Lucas slides in next to me, and I immediately start slapping at his chest. “You dick!”

  His laughter rumbles throughout the limo as he tries to dodge my playful fists.

  “Sorry, I had to make sure you didn’t catch on. I didn’t expect sexual propositions.”

  “You prepped him well enough to call me beauty?”

  “It worked,” he says, pulling me against his chest.

  “You thought of everything,” I say, thoroughly impressed.

  “Always have a plan,” he says, lifting his finger to his temple.

  “Well, don’t expect your cock and my tongue tonight.”

  His chest bounces against my back. “Not my fault you’re a pervert.”

  “Yeah, well you’re a little old for me.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “That’s right.” I pat my face in wonder. “I forgot I look like I eat prunes for breakfast.” It hits me then just how hard it might be for him to feel like himself in a different skin, portraying someone else.

  “I think I understand how complex your job is now.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yeah, I think I get it. I mean you transform with or without makeup, but I can’t seem to be anyone but me right now, if that makes sense.”

  His arms tighten around me. “It does.”

  “This is…” I laugh nervously, “this is fantastic, whatever you have planned, I think you should know I’m having an awesome time already.”

  He turns me to face him, the warmth in his eyes stunning me silent before he cups my face and his lips descend, his thick brows tickling my forehead.

  It’s a strange sensation, and I have to fight a smile when his lips prompt me for more. We try to dive to connect but break apart when a laugh bursts out of me and I’m met with his old man frown.

  “Sorry, that was a little weird.”

  “Yeah, this is definitely only for tonight,” he says, slightly aggravated.

  “But oh, what a night it is already,” I say with a smile. He turns my hand over in his lap running his fingers from my palm to my wrist. His tender touch prompts my question. “
You still think you can get the girl, Hollywood?”

  “I’ll never stop trying,” he replies before we manage another kiss, one that goes far deeper.

  We’re dropped a few blocks from our stop and get nothing but disappointed looks from expectant faces waiting to see who’s emerging from the limo. It’s all I can do to keep from laughing when Lucas grips my hand. “Wow. They have no clue.”

  He picks up the pace with me in tow.

  “Hey, we’re supposed to be old.”

  “We need to make up a little time.”

  “Want to let me in on the secret now?”

  “We’re almost there,” he assures me. “Just follow my lead.”

  We start to approach the theater, and Lucas slows his walk to a leisurely pace, so I follow suit.

  “We’re going to the movies?”

  He stays silent and squeezes my hand. I zip it. Within seconds of entering the ticket line, we’re approached by a man with a clipboard.

  “Hey, there folks, how are we doing tonight?”

  Lucas responds in his new native tongue.

  “Good evening. We’re well, thank you.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you folks, but I was wondering if you’d be interested in a special screening we have tonight.”

  Lucas plays his part. “What movie?”

  “Not at liberty to say, but it’s coming out in the next year, and I think you and your wife may enjoy it. Once you sign this release, I’ll be able to give you more details.”

  Lucas turns to me brows raised as if it all depends on my answer and I take my cue and nod.

  “Great,” the guy says, handing us a waiver to fill out when we step out of line. “Just take this to the man over there when you’re done, and he’ll get you where you need to be.

  I stand idly by as Lucas fills out the form.

  “Gladys? Really?”

  “Shut up, Dame,” he says in a whistle through his teeth.

  “Sorry. But your name better damn well be as…wait,” I say in a heated whisper reading as he writes, “you get to be Sean McConnery?”

  He chuckles as he walks us over to the usher and hands him the papers. “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. McConnery.”

  A few minutes later we’re guided into the theater and placed closer to the front due to my ‘hearing’ problem.

  “Funny,” I say, jabbing him in the ribs once we’re seated. “Not only do I get the worst of southern names but you make me hard of hearing as well. “You apparently are since you can’t seem to follow direction and keep your mouth shut,” he says, giving me the side-eye.

  “Geesh, sorry, I’m just…excited.”

  “I know, baby,” he says, kissing the back of my hand.

  “So, will you tell me now?”

  “It’s our movie, Dame.”

  “What?” I say, sitting up in my seat turning to look at him. “Cairo? You’re kidding.”

  “Shhh,” he says. “It’s a test screen.”

  “I figured that much, but surely the movie can’t be ready?”

  “It’s not totally, you’ll see.”

  “This is so exciting!”

  He leans over and smashes his mouth to mine to shut me up, and my laughter bubbles between us. He pulls away, shaking his head.

  “Okay, I’m using my inside voice. So, this is how it works, they pull regular people off the street?”

  He nods. “It’s the best way to get a genuine reaction.”

  “How did you know they would pick us?”

  “We’re the top of the food chain demographic wise. People our age don’t go to movies that often. They want our input too.”

  “That’s smart. And you do this with every movie?”

  “No, rarely ever. But I don’t come to watch the movie,” he juts his chin toward the people seated. “I come to watch them.”

  “Alone?”

  “Not anymore,” he says, squeezing my hand. “As long as I bring a muzzle.”

  “Har, har.” He’s joking, but I can sense the slightly new strain in his posture. “Has it ever been bad?”

  “Yes.” He looks over at me, and I see a small hint of distress in his eyes. “Could be bad tonight,” he shrugs, “but it wouldn’t be my first disaster.”

  It takes guts to do this, to surround yourself by the public, to be judged for something you spent endless hours giving your everything to and he seems mostly okay with it. It’s admirable. I open my mouth to tell him just that when a man with a mic walks to the middle of the front row to address the theater.

  We amble out of the theater, Lucas taking long strides and practically dragging me with him.

  “Did you see their faces! That was amazing!” My heart pounds in time with my steps as he keeps us walking.

  “Lucas, you’re jerking my arm out of the socket,” I say as he keeps his stride. “That part where you imitated Bruce Willis with Yippee Ki Yay, was hilarious.” My man is possessed by movement, and nothing I say seems to be reaching him. I barely managed to fill out the form with my feedback before he yanked me out of the theater.

  “Hey,” I order after another agonizing minute of silence. “Stop.”

  “We’re almost to the limo,” he says in a tone I can’t decipher. Paul pops out of the driver’s side just in time to get the door open before we climb inside. Lucas covers his face with his hands. I sit there, breath heaving, watching him have what looks like a panic attack. After seconds of indecision, he finally brings his eyes to meet mine.

  “They were clapping, Lucas, that movie was amazing, and I don’t even like action.”

  His grin lights up his face, and it’s then I see it. He’s happy.

  Throwing myself in his arms, we embrace as he buries his head in my neck. “You scared me,” I muffle into his neck as he holds me tightly to him. “Why did you run off like that?”

  “Adrenaline,” he answers on an exhale. “I had to get rid of some of it.”

  “So,” I pull away. “You believe me?”

  “You’re biased, but I want to believe them.”

  I don’t take offense. “Then believe them.”

  He grips me tighter as relief washes over him, the adrenaline leaving when he sags against me. He cares about his work, he truly cares about the work he’s doing, and my respect grows.

  “Let’s get you a drink.”

  He pulls away, nodding, eyes full of light. “Night’s not over, beauty.”

  “More surprises?”

  A thousand-watt smile is part of my answer. “Let’s not waste this anonymity.”

  Lucas escorts us toward the door entrance of The Sayers Club after texting Nova in the limo. The doorman is obviously expecting us as he gives us a thorough once-over and grunts out an, “Epic.”

  “Ready, Gladys?” Lucas keeps his gaze forward to avoid my scowl. My neck is itching after our sprint to the car.

  Once inside, we’re ushered by one of the bouncers through the crowd and seated at one of many cherry leather couches, ours close to an empty stage.

  “Oh, think they’ll have music?” I ask as we take a seat. A waitress is already standing in wait for our order.

  “Hope so. We’ll need to be as close as we can get with your hearing problem,” Lucas says, placing an order for a shot and a beer. I do the same and meet his confused eyes.

  “No wine tonight?”

  “Gladys doesn’t drink wine. She’s a beer girl.”

  He gives me an amused grin, and the waitress takes off with our order. After a few minutes of visual crowd surfing, Lucas pulls me into his lap, and we get a few odd looks. Visually, we’re the oldest people in the club, and I can’t help myself when I press the button on my cell phone to check the time. “Oh, honey, it’s ten fifty-five. You haven’t taken your pill,” I lean in and waggle my eyebrows, “you know the blue one.”

  He rubs his erection against my ass, and I mock a gasp.

  “Oh, my, it’s a miracle.”

  “I’ll show you a miracle.”

 
“This isn’t appropriate, you know. We’re not setting a good example for these kids.”

  “No, this is the perfect example to set,” he says, running his fingers under the back of my shirt and strumming them along my skin in a seductive caress.

  Drinks delivered we hold up our shots, and I propose the toast.

  “To you. Congrats.”

  “No, not to me. Sorry, I made one of our dates about a movie.”

  I lower my shot. “What? No. That’s…no. This is amazing. You think I don’t want to be a part of it?”

  He shrugs. “It’s a movie, Mila. I’m not exactly changing lives.”

  “I disagree entirely. If anything, you’re creating an escape for a few hours, that’s something. And music, movies, books, they all have the power to change a lot, or at the very least, leave a lasting impression.”

  “I’m not trying to downplay it…I just don’t want it to touch us too much, not yet.”

  “Well, the only thing touching me right now is you, you dirty, old bastard.”

  “Cute,” he says, slowing his fingers.

  I lift my shot, and he does the same. “Let’s make it simple then, to Gladys and Sean.”

  “Gladys and Sean.” We toss them back, the burn of the liquid coating my throat. We drink two more before sipping our beers, and I’m feeling dizzy from the buzz and the workings of his hands. When his fingers dip lower, I begin to pant.

  “Please stop that unless you plan on doing something about it. And even then, I don’t know if I can handle the visual just yet. I’ll need like twenty, thirty years.”

  He chuckles and leans into my good ear. “Trust me, Dame, the minute I push inside you tonight, you’re going to know exactly who’s fucking you.”

  I give him a coy smile. “Not that you aren’t a handsome older man, but…” I trail my fingers along his neck, and I’m cut off by a chorus of applause when the club goes dark. Emerging from a small black curtain, a group of guys take the stage.

  “Oh, awesome,” I say, sure Lucas can’t hear me. It takes me a second to realize we’re surrounded by a ton of warm bodies.

  I lean over and see Lucas jump when I raise my voice to make sure he hears me. I laugh through my question. “When did it get so crowded?”

  “When we were locked in our bubble, baby,” he whispers warmly. He pulls me up to stand on the edge of the couch so I have a clear view of the stage past the people lining up.