Casey: Right? Let’s hope these two can get it together.
Casey: I guess we’ll see, it wouldn’t be the first set romance to ruin a marriage.
Bonnie: We’re rooting for you, Lucas and Mila.
Pulling into our drive, I turn off the radio and bury my head in the steering wheel. That news will broadcast on every entertainment medium by the end of the night. Over the years we’d been extremely careful to avoid that type of speculation, and even with Lucas doing his absolute worst, I was the one to bring the shitstorm to us. I wonder if Lucas was trying to warn me out of the hotel so the rumor mill wouldn’t start. Had I overreacted?
So, he kissed an actress and made it look convincing. That was his job. But we agreed. We agreed on nothing that intimate, so why would he go there? I’m sure he’s attracted to her in some way. Maybe Wes directed it that way, but Lucas knew that was a hard limit for me. And to twist the knife further, I felt threatened because we hadn’t been intimate, in what felt like forever. That made it even more inexcusable. And I was officially, at that moment, sick of his career being a reason for anyfuckingthing.
For any of our problems, for any miscommunications. I am exhausted with worry and fretting over the decisions he’s making, his actions. His actions are his own, and he can’t convince me differently. And if he is attracted to her to the point that he acted on it, what does that mean for us? Furious tears trail down my cheeks as I try to again catch my breath. It’s too much.
A saint wouldn’t have the patience to deal with this. Career or not, he broke promises, and I deserve some answers. But I have to wait for those.
For the first time in all our years together, I’m ready to abandon our relationship.
No excuse will be good enough. He knew, beneath whatever layers he’s constructed, he knew beneath the madness he’s surrounding himself in. He also knew before the premiere he would have to come clean about that kiss. So why? Why do it? Maybe if we’d discussed it and I hadn’t been blindsided, I would have reacted more rationally. Or perhaps he did it to end us because he knew that would be what it took.
“You’re gonna have to be the one that walks away from this, because it won’t be me.”
Did he purposefully push me out of his life?
Halfway down our walkway, I pause when Amanda’s words from our conversation at the diner strike me like lightning. “It was like whiplash. Blake was smiling one minute and screaming the next. He was never comfortable on set or off while filming. The only time he wasn’t restless was when he slept, and that too was rare. I’m telling you, Mila, it’s the job that drives them crazy.”
“I don’t know what the hell he’s doing, but he’s pushing too far—himself, me.”
Amanda eyes the waitress who refills her coffee before taking her leave and then leans over the table. “Sometimes, I think there was a lot more going on behind the scenes than I thought.”
“What do you mean?”
“He drank a lot on the set of Buzzed, a lot. I remember smelling it when we filmed, and no one said a word, not even his mother. It was as if they were giving him permission. It was just weird. They constantly argued between themselves—the producers, the directors. It was a hot mess. I think that’s one of the reasons the show got canceled. But they never said a word about his drinking and they didn’t fire him—they just let him do whatever he wanted. Mila, he was only thirteen-years-old. You don’t give a thirteen-year-old that much power.”
I was in and out of my thoughts as she spoke, but it was one sentence in particular that had my whole body shuddering.
“He was so nervous back then, had these crazy habits, juggling, shuffling cards, oh and this coin trick that used to drive me crazy. He was just erratic. Lashing out one day, happy the next. It was unreal. I steered clear of him during the show. We weren’t close then. When we got together years later, he had chilled out some. But that’s Blake. And Lucas isn’t Blake.”
“Oh my God,” I say, as unease settles over my bones while I pull my cell from my purse and frantically scroll for Amanda’s number. Filled with trepidation, I stare at our front door, thankful when she answers on the first ring.
“Hey girl, did you get home okay? I was worried tha—”
“Amanda,” I say with a jittery voice. “You said Blake did a coin trick.”
“Yeah,” she says, her tone a question. “Why?”
“Wh—what color was the coin?”
“What?”
“The coin Blake used for his trick. What color was it?”
“Gold. I think it was some European coin. He used to flip it constantly between his fingers when he was reading his script, you know, like Val Kilmer does in that old movie Real Genius? Yeah, Val was one of Blake’s heroes. Come to think of it, I couldn’t find it when we packed.”
“Oh, God.” My stomach rolls. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“What? Mila, you’re scaring me.”
“I’m scaring myself,” I whisper as I gaze at the door, fighting the threatening nausea. “Did anyone else…do you know if Lucas had a key to Blake’s condo?”
“I’m not sure. Probably…why? What’s going on?”