Method - Kate Stewart Page 0,61

a swipe of his hand through the air. “Then how about we consider that help my one good deed. Everyone needs a point of redemption, right? ‘Sides you know the saying; no good deed goes unpunished. Find another mentor, man, don’t make me yours.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. This is steady work. You know what this means for the both of us.”

His eyes flash with disappointment before they dull. “This is about the movie.” He glances at the carpet before his lips upturn, and he slaps my face playfully. “But isn’t it always? Don’t worry your pretty little head, I won’t fuck up your movie.” Grabbing the pills, he pushes past me. “Sky is the limit, Luc, you’re going to be a big, big star!” he shouts sarcastically before he slams the front door behind him.

I didn’t lay eyes on him again until the day we started filming. The director didn’t say shit about the way he looked, no one did because it fit his character perfectly. Blake disappeared the minute filming stopped for the day, and I didn’t see him again until it was his turn to shoot. He was brilliant in that movie, and it earned him his first lead in the next. Out of the blue, a few weeks after filming wrapped, Blake came back to the bungalow acting more himself than I’d seen in months. I assumed he’d put himself in that place for the movie. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Shaking, I run a hand down my face.

I wasn’t listening, too afraid he would screw up our chances of making it while never understanding the implication of his words. I’d been too obsessed he might cost me becoming that movie star I dreamed of being.

As it turns out, being that movie star, cost me Blake.

Choking, I cough as heated tears slide away clearing my vision in more ways than one. I stare at a picture of us on my cell phone that Mila snapped years ago in Mexico.

“I’m so fucking sorry, man,” I whisper into the void. “Tell me what to do.”

“Lucas,” Nova’s voice sounds along with a sharp knock outside my trailer. “They’re ready for you on set.”

Mila

PRESENT

My cell phone alarm goes off beside me in the comfortable bed of the inn, and I scrape myself from the mattress checking the time. I’m due to meet Audrey downstairs for breakfast in ten minutes.

Lucas: I love you.

Pain rocks me as his latest text pops up on screen and I turn off my phone.

Love, is that enough for me? Not today. Maybe not tomorrow either. With every breath I manage and every beat of my heart, it’s clear I’m still in love with my husband, but that doesn’t make anything okay. It was so easy to fall for him. So ridiculously easy. Our third date began with a trip to Cairo, but even if it took place in the shittiest section of the universe, I still would have started to fall for him. It was Lucas that I was drawn to; his energy, his smile, his tenderness, his patience. Letting the water pour down my body, I shampoo my hair, recalling the week we became something more than the girl next door dating a movie star.

Our time in Egypt is a testament to living the dream, every day more surreal. We’ve only dined out once, barely managing a glimpse of the city. It’s about all Lucas’s shooting schedule will allow. It’s been enough for me. Shooting takes place mostly on closed off streets or remote parts of the desert. On set we spend the long wait time in between takes together; talking, eating, laughing, and when granted enough privacy, tearing into each other like animals.

Lucas has introduced me to most of the movie crew by first name. I love that he takes the time to get to know them, that he could tell me little details about everyone he works with. It is his third movie playing lead, and I can see the excitement in his expression and the depth of his dedication. I’ve never realized just how much work goes into every film. Being on set is a lot different than I thought it would be. It’s been a week of firsts. There’s an unbelievable amount of waiting involved in setting up a scene and pinpointing the right light. Before every take, Lucas makes sure to isolate himself with the script to try to get into character. Those who aren’t scrambling around trying to fight the sun

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