Casey: That’s right, guys, we wish you the best. And when you get back, we’ll welcome you back with open arms—
Bonnie: And legs.
Casey: Bonnie!
Bonnie: Just kidding, Mila. But if you ever decide to share, message a girl and good luck you two.
Casey: And rest in peace, Blake.
Bonnie: We love you, Blake.
Casey: Such a damn shame. Speaking of Blake West, remember his show Buzzed?
Bonnie: I loved that show. Didn’t they cancel that after one season?
Casey: Yep. Anyway, check this out. Two of the producers most known for their work on Buzzed have just been charged with sexual harassment and assault. Aaron Thompson and Steven Tungsten went on to produce a few movies. Several of which our boys starred in.
Bonnie: Those poor women. I hope they get justice.
Casey: Me too. One source says that one of the accusers has come forward with concrete evidence that there were incidents that took place on set after taping, but the cameras weren’t off. To respect the privacy of the victims, the judge has ordered the hearings to remain closed.
Bonnie: That’s video evidence. Talk about caught in the act. Daaaaamn. But isn’t there a statute of limitations on that?
Casey: The tape puts them right at the edge of the mark. The trial is set for next week. Guess like it’s time to take out more Tinseltown trash and someone’s about to pay the piper.
Bonnie: Glad our boys weren’t anywhere near that mess.
Casey: Not our boys.
Mila
I cradle Ronin to my chest as he audibly sighs in exhaustion before passing out, his full lips making little sucking movements while his father’s green eyes watched me until they finally drifted closed. I stare at his little foot, his tiny toes curling in protest when I lift it to press my lips against his heel. I can’t get enough of him, he’s my new addiction and every part of him is perfect. We’re comfortable in our new plush bed buried in a dozen pillows, but my attention is pulled away when I see his father on the screen while Greg Kinnear reads off the nominees for Best Actor. The camera pans to Lucas’s face as he gives a smile and a little nod after the film clip and the following applause.
“And the Oscar goes to…” Greg slowly opens the envelope and is clapping as he announces, “Lucas Walker for Silver Ghost.” The crowd rises to their feet instantly, his peers shouting out their enthusiastic congrats as he stands and hugs Amanda tightly to him while she cries into his jacket. She nods once as he whispers to her before reaching over to shake Wes’s hand. Pulling his tuxedo jacket closed, he buttons it before ascending the stage. He’s dashing, he’s a movie star, if only for a little longer.
In all my years as his wife, I’ve never been more in awe of him, and it’s not just because he won, it’s because of what it took him to get there—what he sacrificed, the demons he slayed—not only Blake’s but his own. While I could never entirely forget the hell he’d turned our union into, every move was calculated, every risk he took was to protect his best friend, to resurrect him, to give them both peace, and to free himself from the shackles of expectations he’d locked himself into.
We didn’t heal overnight. Between doing and saying, it took me more time to fully forgive him and trust was a little more hard-earned. At the end of it all, it became simplistic. Lucas’s journey truly wasn’t about me or our marriage. His journey was about a friendship that formed long before I came into the picture, a friendship I will never fully understand. A friendship that ended so abruptly it left my husband reeling, lost and unable to heal without going through the type of grieving that forever changed him. And change he did. Looking gorgeous, Lucas saunters up the steps, taking his award and his congrats before turning to the podium and staring at the Oscar long and hard before he sets it down.
“First, thank you, Wes, for trusting me. I know I didn’t make it easy on you, although you did get more than you bargained for. Two for the price of one.”
Wes nods toward Lucas in silent recognition. Wes knew. Maybe not entirely, but he was fully aware Lucas would bring his grief on set. Wes expected it, which is what made it work. He’d used Lucas’s pain just as much as Lucas had used it for the role. Morally it was fucked up, but it’s what worked. And all I see in Wes’s eyes as the camera pans in on the row full of the cast is his respect. It’s as clear as day. Shannon has been calling nonstop since the film released begging Lucas to consider more offers, but Lucas refuses to bother looking. He’s stayed firm in his decision to quit. He has other plans. Studying him now, dressed to the nines, his hair much longer now, he looks in to the crowd with a solemn face as he speaks out for the first time about his fallen brother.
“It’s no big secret Blake West was a brother to me, and if it weren’t for him, I literally wouldn’t be standing here. He left us, left me, in a way I could have never prepared for and will never be able to rectify. But I’m here tonight too because he was a large part of who I am today. Good or bad, he taught me a lot more than anyone ever could about this life, a life he deserved to live to the fullest.” Swallowing, Lucas pulls out a folded piece of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket. It’s worn, brown, and folded in fourths. My chest begins to ache because I can clearly see the emotion building in his face as he studies the words.
“Blake wrote this when we were living as rejects together in a box-sized bungalow in West Hollywood. I think it’s only fitting that his ‘what if’ speech be my own.” The camera pans in on Amanda, who Lucas took to the Oscars, while I’m stuck in our new temporary home overseas and for good reason. I’m going to have another baby. And this one was conceived in an entirely different way. Through trust and love.
More in love than I thought imaginable. I stare at the chance I took all those years ago, along with the decision I make every day and watch on in admiration of what he’s achieved.
Lucas laughs through watery eyes and glances at the audience with a rueful grin. “Sorry, Blake, but I have to,” he says conspiratorially before he holds a hand to the side of his mouth letting the audience in on the joke. “There’s a script note first, it says, ‘After a lengthy and mind-blowing standing ovation.’” The audience laughs as a picture of Blake slowly appears behind Lucas. I audibly gasp at the image, the sight of Blake as strong as his presence is in that room because Lucas brought him there. He won’t let them forget. Hot tears stream down my cheeks as I study the photo. It’s a candid of Blake smiling like he just ate the canary. The image is a reminder of what we lost, what we all lost. It’s then that I realize that as much grief as he’s given us all, I still have love for the person he was. Lucas’s voice brings me back to the moment, but it’s Blake’s words that strike the hardest.
“This gig was hard. I lost myself in it.” Lucas audibly swallows as his eyes fully glaze over and he pauses. “I trusted people, and I got burned.” I can see the visible shake inside Lucas. He’s doing everything he can to keep it together, but there is no acting through this, the loss is apparent, and he’s trying to close the door. He looks out into the crowd. “But I got a trophy for it, and it’s only worth something in this minute, this minute right here is what it’s all for. The recognition that I might have done something worthwhile, that I was a part of a bigger picture, that my work means something and as an artist, I guess that’s all you hope for, just a moment. This moment.” Th
e audience goes eerily silent. “That’s all I get, a minute maybe more to sum up my journey before that music starts, and I’m forced to make my exit, so I’ll make it quick.”
Lucas hesitates as emotions get the best of him and he squeezes his eyes shut.
“Come on, baby,” I whisper at the screen as I cradle our son to me and inhale the scent of his dark hair.