METHOD

by Kate Stewart

  I arrived alone, and there is nothing here.

  I’m sure the idea of success is far better than success itself. That realization has me paralyzed where I sit. I’ve traveled a million miles and gone fucking nowhere.

  The knock on my door jars me.

  “Lucas, they’re ready for you.”

  Mila

  The phone rings twice before she picks up.

  “Nova,” I whisper, just as Lucas turns on the shower.

  “Hey, Mila, how are you?”

  “I’m good. I’m uh…”

  Her light laugh puts me at ease. “What’s up, girl?”

  “I just…wanted to make sure everything was going okay on set.”

  Her brief pause swats me back to the edge. “He’s not talking to anyone but Wes. Roth is being a dick about the number of takes Lucas wants, but Wes seems into it.”

  Sighing I nod though she can’t see me.

  “He’s holing up in his trailer a lot.”

  “He’s doing the same at home.”

  I uncap the bottle and count the remaining pills.

  “He’s nailing it so far, Wes seems pleased.”

  “Well, as long as Wes is pleased,” I say with a bite she knows isn’t meant for her.

  “Is he drinking? Do you smell booze on him a lot?”

  “No, not really.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you with this, I’m just worried. Do me a favor, if things get to be too much, call me.”

  “I will.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I don’t need you to fucking spy on me,” I hear gruffly muttered from behind me just as I swipe to end the call.

  “What is this?” I ask not bothering to defend myself. He looks at the bottle of Oxy that was prescribed to him over a year ago and shrugs.

  “I’m playing a heroin addict, that’s heroin in pill form. I only took a few so I could understand the effect. Don’t be such a prude.”

  “You don’t do this!” I screech and immediately regret it when his face turns to stone. I press on anyway. “You don’t throw weekend parties and take pills for recreation and you sure as hell don’t forget our anniversary! You aren’t eating, you barely sleep. You mumble through what conversations we do have. I’m worried, Lucas, you’re pushing too hard!”

  “That’s not worrying,” he snaps, the accusation in his eyes stinging me to the point I have to look away. “You have no idea what it takes. You don’t have a fucking clue.”

  “Sure, I don’t?” I snap incredulously.

  “You don’t. And I don’t need to be policed. Your husband is not a drug addict. You need to chill out and stop being so paranoid.”

  This time, I glare at him. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”

  “Then don’t check up on me like a mother.”

  Cold eyes study me, and before I can think of a reasonable response, he’s grabbing a duffle bag from his closet and stuffing clothes into it.

  “What in the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m going to sleep on the set for a while. It’s just easier. I don’t have time for this. Coming back and forth every day is wearing me out.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Contempt-filled eyes stare back at me. “Why is it bullshit, because it will only make it that much harder for you to keep tabs on me?”

  “Because I don’t want you to go!”

  He throws the bag against the wall. “Then act like you want me to stay!”

  Tears slip and fall down my cheeks, and he doesn’t flinch. My husband hates the sight of me crying. The man in front of me could care less. He gives me room to speak, but I have nothing to say. I’m at a loss. I’m supposed to embrace this monster, and all I want is a sign that my husband is still here.

  “You haven’t touched me in weeks, Lucas.”

  “I’m working,” he says dryly.

  “Surely big bad Nikki Rayo occasionally needs his cock attended to?”

  “By all means, wife,” he gestures toward his crotch and my stomach rolls.

  “Just go,” I say, disgusted. “If you want to go, just fucking go.”

  Shutting the bathroom door behind me, I wash my face with cold water. Seconds later, I hear the slam of the front door.

  “Mila, you’re doing too much,” Yanni tells me softly as we sip a bottle on the porch of the bistro the next day. “You should go rest.”

  “I’m happy to help.”

  We sit in a comfortable silence before he turns inquisitive eyes to me. I sigh in resignation before he asks.

  “Lucas has taken a role he’s heavily involved in. This is the only place I’m useful right now. I’m sorry if I’ve become bothersome.”

  “Not at all, you’re more than welcome here.”

  I didn’t know how to explain I was waiting on Lucas and I didn’t want to. The worst part is, in the past we’d always kept the lines of communication open, that was our saving grace. He doesn’t want my help, my worry. He’s made it crystal clear. I’m angry and resentful he’s taken that aspect away. He’s breaking our rules by the day, leaving me uncertain of our future, of my place in his life. I don’t want to discuss my marital problems with another outsider, so I finish my wine and leave him with a forced smile. On the drive home I realize Lucas has tossed me into the same place of uncertainty I was in after I left Egypt.

  It had been nearly a week since he left to sleep on set. The longer he remains quiet, the more pissed off I become.

  Speeding toward the studio, I decide I’ve had enough. He’s going to talk to me. Instead of joining him on set, I wait for him in his trailer. The silence has stretched long enough. Resentment has reached its peak, and by the time he walks in, I’m fuming.

  When the door opens, I’m struck by how different he looks. He’s dressed in a blue suit, his eyes tinted brown by contacts, his demeanor ice-cold. Lifeless eyes sweep me, but he doesn’t pause a single second before climbing the steps to move past me where I sit at the breakfast bench. I’m stinging with indifference as he opens the fridge eyeing the contents and overlooking me as if I’m one of his staff.

  I stand. “It’s time to come home.”

  “Is it?” His nose twitches in annoyance as if he’s dealing with a petulant child. “Gee, Mom, I’m having so much fun. Can’t I play just a little longer?”

  His voice is unrecognizable to me, and I damn near gasp at the difference.

  I’m staring at the spitting image of Nikki Rayo.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Nah,” he says, sweeping me again with cold eyes. “We don’t.”

  “You’re breaking rules.”

  His slow-building and menacing grin brings on a wave of nausea.

  “You’re making a mockery out of our marriage.”

  “Whatsa’ matter, sweetheart? Still mad I’m not dicking you enough?”

  “Jesus. You bastard.”

  He grins again and I can see by the second that coming here was a mistake. “It’s been a long day, but if you’re offering,” he says, ripping off his jacket to reveal a vest underneath. In seconds he has me pinned to the table, his mouth close as he rubs his erection along my stomach.

  “Just give me something,” I plea. “We don’t do it like this. I’m worried.”

  “Shut your mouth and lift your skirt or we’re done talking.”

  His eyes flare with amusement as my anger bubbles over. “Fuck you.”

  His chuckle has the hairs rising on the back of my neck. “This what you came for?” I’m repulsed that I’m turned on by his crudeness, but I need something, some sort of connection. Resigned that this is as close as I’m going to get to my estranged husband, I give in and trust.

  “You’re not my type,” I say, my words laced with venom. “Not even close. You’re just a dumb kid playing a big man with a gun.”

  “You’re really starting to agitate me.” It’s unreal—the eyes, the voice the intimidation. This man is not my husband.

  “Agitate is a big word for
you, isn’t it?” I say, grabbing my best weapon and hurling it at him.

  With a fistful of hair in his hand, he pulls painfully. “Bitch,” he says, stealing all the breath from me, before slamming me against the table, not enough to hurt me but enough to try to scare me. I rip at his chest, his hands and fingers snatch away my panties before he rubs his engorged cock between my legs. Brown eyes flash down at me before he buries himself so deep, I scream out. He pumps furiously, eyes blazing as I rip at his hair and slap at his face and am rewarded with a sinister grin. I want him so badly, but I’m still reeling from the bite I asked for.

  “Lucas,” I plea, praying for him to slow down so I can savor these precious minutes, have some semblance of connection, but he’s stripped away all the intimacy. He’s not here. Nikki is, and Nikki could give a shit about Mila Walker. He’s fully immersed, and he’s not coming back until it’s over. He jackhammers inside me savagely until he spills with a muffled groan. It only takes him seconds to gather himself and tuck his cock back into his pants. I rise, still hungry, unsated as he adjusts himself. He doesn’t help me dress, he simply grabs his script off the counter and looks back at me, unaffected as I pull my skirt down. Ignoring my stare, he reads on as if nothing ever happened. Furious, I stomp toward the door when he says behind me, “Come by anytime.”

  Sobbing on the way home, I try to get a grip on what I’m feeling. What the hell did I expect? The man that just fucked me wasn’t my husband. He hadn’t hurt me, in fact, I hated that I didn’t hate it, but the lack of connection is ripping me apart. After a hot shower at home, I sink into my lounge chair with a glass of wine, praying that he’ll come home tonight, not to talk but just to sleep in our bed. An action of remorse is better than none at all. I miss him so much. We’re growing further and further apart, and he’s allowing it. That part of it I’m afraid I won’t be able to forgive him for.

  “Stop it,” I say over and over. “Stop it. You are his life, and he is yours,” I repeat, batting my tears away. Every decision Lucas has ever made when it came to us has been calculated, not in manipulation but in love. It had always been that way. But I see no logic in this, no plan. He always thought through his actions, always. He’d meant that episode in that trailer to be a warning. He wasn’t there, and no amount of fight on my part was going to bring him out. I had to see this through if I wanted him back. The problem was it was getting harder and harder to want him at all.

  Mila

  The following night, I’m unloading my groceries while I mentally prepare myself for my mother’s arrival and uncork some red. I need that calm before she comes in with her version of the inquisition. It had been too long since we’d had dinner together, mostly due to avoidance on Lucas’s part. It was only fair. She’d terrorized him the first time I brought him home which had instigated the most spectacular fight in our relationship.

  After draining myself on the floor in front of my door. I vow to myself that I will never date men again. My dismantled heart agrees it’s reasonable. Furious, I draw myself from the hardwood in a rage storming through the cottage happy to again exchange pain for renewed anger. I go to his drawer and gather his shit before taking his shaving cream and gel from the medicine cabinet. Still hiccupping, I open my front door and hurl it out only to hear an “oomph.” Looking into the dark porch, I see Lucas with his hands held up in surrender rising to his feet from the ground.

  Anger pours from my every limb as I flip on the light. “Leave,” I say, swallowing more tears. “Leave.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be. And I’ve never, ever thought of you the way you see yourself. Trust me, you are the only one who has shed light on what a dumbass you are.”

  “You’re right, it’s my issue.”

  “Glad that’s settled,” I point at his truck behind him, “leave.”

  “Mila, I can’t. I was driving for mere minutes before I realized what a fucking idiot I truly am. I just…I’m sorry.”

  “Not good enough, Hollywood. You don’t get to play ping-pong with my heart. No one does.”

  His lips curl up as if he’s fighting a smile, and eventually, it wins.

  “You’re seriously smiling at me right now?” I’m seconds away from ripping him to shreds.

  “You’re so beautiful when you’re mad, really mad.” Something in my eyes must have shifted to crazy town because his smile drops. “Which isn’t funny.”

  “I hate you.”

  “No, you don’t,” he says softly, his smile making a maddening appearance. “You love me. I felt it in every tear that dropped from your beautiful face. You don’t want to let go any more than I do. I’m sorry.”

  “Not good enough.” I turn to shut the door, and he catches it. “That’s not all my stuff.”

  “How do you know, you haven’t even looked at all I’ve tossed.”

  “Well, I have more.”

  “Fine,” I say, letting go of the handle and taking a step back. “Then see to it, Romeo, and get the hell out!”

  He opens the door further and leans down to whisper to me, “You don’t mean that.”

  “Just get your stuff and go.” He heads toward my kitchen, and I’m hot on his heels.

  “You don’t have anything in there.”

  “Actually, I do,” he says, walking over to my coffee canister and lifting the lid.

  “Seriously? You’re going to take the coffee?”

  “No, this,” he says, pulling a box from the container and shoving it into his pocket. Jaw slack, I stand in the middle of the kitchen as more tears fall. He watches me for several seconds before brushing past me and grabbing my hand. “Come on.”

  “What?”

  “I want to show you something.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

  “Mila—”

  I rip my hand out of his grip. “Leave and don’t come back. I mean it!”

  “That’s it,” he snaps, pinning me to the wall, his eyes hellfire and jaw set. I’m helpless in the hold he tightens on my wrists as he challenges me.

  “You’re going to hear me out.”

  “Save it. Let go.”

  His eyes flare. “Never.”

  “I’ll never forgive you.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  He presses in, so I’m forced to look up at him. “I fucked up. I’m allowed to fuck up once in a while and be forgiven. That’s how it works. Same goes for you. This isn’t over, so fucking far from it. Take a good look, baby, I’m the one who owns your lips, your pussy, and your immaculate heart. I am the last man standing.”

  I don’t know what comes over me, but I bite him.

  I bite him.

  And then we’re doing something resembling kissing, I’m sucking his tongue, and he’s gripping my hair. We’re ripping off each other’s clothes like it’s our job. In a blink, I’m naked on my counter, and he’s licking me furiously between my legs while I rip at his hair. Neither of us is backing down. I come on his tongue, and in the next breath, I’m on my knees sucking his cock, licking his thick head before he fucks my mouth. Then I’m pulled up by my arms, my hands flattened by his on the counter while he slams into me from behind so hard both our legs nearly give out. I come again. He stretches my ass with his fingers, pounding into me, and I come again. I ride him backward on my hard tiles, I come again. And then I’m resting on his thighs watching his thick cock go in and out of me, our foreheads bent because we can’t tear our eyes away. I come again. It’s the best sex of my life, and just when I think it can’t get any better, he reaches for me, not in the way that hurts, in the way that heals. Our mouths collide in a kiss that finishes me for all others. It’s so profound, it leaves me raw. He buries himself when he comes, wringing out his pleasure with my name on his lips. Sated, we sit in a tangled sweaty heap on the floor until he pulls away and presses a finger to his lip.

  “Damn, I think I’m bleeding.”

  “Good.”

  Chuckling, he presses a kiss to m
y shoulder before he starts to pull our scattered clothes in from all sides of us.

  “Get dressed,” he orders, unraveling us to stand before he tugs on his jeans.

  “Lord, man, I just came more than a porn star working overtime. Give a woman a rest.” His throaty chuckle makes me smile, but my eyes are still closed. “Can it wait?”

  “No,” he says, pushing the soaked hair away from my face and kissing my lips.

  “What time is it?”

  He pulls his phone from the pocket of his jeans. “Midnight.”

  “Damn, how long did you listen to me cry, you sadist?!”

  “Not long before I was slapped upside the head with my shaving cream, but trust me, that was more my punishment than yours.” His next words are filled with remorse. “And I don’t ever want to hear you cry like that again.”

  “Well, then don’t break my fucking heart.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Yeah, well,” I say, fastening my bra, “I wish that plan had been in motion before this.”

  “I’ll make you glad it happened,” he says easily.

  “You’re going to make me glad it happened? Going to make me glad that I have no water left in my body?”

  “Yes,” he answers with a chuckle.

  “Do your worst, Hollywood.”

  Once he’s buckled me inside his truck, he leans in on the frame.

  “I’m sorry, I’ve never been in love like this, I’ve never felt so helpless to someone else. I have to admit it’s hard for me to let go of control.”

  “Can’t you see you have the same power over me?”

  “It’s just hard for me to let go.”

  “Because you’ve been hurt?” I ask, my words stuttered as a delayed hiccup escapes me. He winces when it happens and slides the back of his hand down my cheek. “I guess I freaked out. I didn’t ever want you to know.”