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