We had been best friends for 3 years now. We surged with the kind of heated polarity that men and women can get when they are intimate with out making love. I had met him on set in LA. He had played the lead in the movie that had been made out of the book I had written.
He had been my favorite actor then since school. I had never dreamed that he would have taken the job. I cried tears of joy when I had heard he took the part and then tears of fear when I heard that I would be meeting him. We shook hands and addressed each other politely when we were introduced. I was warned before hand, much to my sadness, that he was a extreme personality and a diva on set. A juxtapose to all of the romantic strong leads that were my favorite ever since I had first fell in love with him on screen. Never the less I was determined to be polite to him. I was new to Hollywood and the fame of my book was merely a sizzle then.
I was hurried away to a small corner off set early on. “Mr. Myers does not like eyes on him when he’s working.” Curious considering he had just had an, albeit brief, broadway run the past year. I took no mind of his assistant’s comment and found myself a spot on the floor where I laid my coat down, propped up on my elbows and read my latest favorite romance novel while I waited for someone to come and get me. Being shown the dailies was initially my purpose of being here.
“I hope my acting isn’t interfering with your nap.” I awoke a few minutes later to the strong tenor of his richly accented voice as he stood above me. I took my time opening my eyes, then rolled over to my side to look up to him, “Not as of yet no, but your standing is blocking my light.” The color in his face rose. He knelt by me and looked me square in the eye, “I know who you are,” he said lighting those piercing blue eyes at me like he did so many of his leading ladies. I flashed my own dark ones cooly at him, “and I know who you are,” I smiled. He took a moment staring at me, then laughed.
I have been close to him ever since. The movie had exploded on screen and he had been nominated for several awards, as had I. I wasn’t used to the fame nor the attention I received. He being a star for several years now played the whole scene with an unnatural, rehearsed, yet perfectly cool ambivalence. I was just happy that I could now afford to pay Chelsea rent prices. And content with being able to lock myself away from the world for several months at a time while continuing work on my second novel.
These past three years had raged like a whirlpool. These last 6 months he had been trying to persuade me to visit him on his set in Rome. He was engaged at the time I met him and I was a guest at his recent wedding. “You have your wife with you.” I shouted to him on the phone, “For God’s sake, what do you need with my support there?” I love Rome but I had already been out there once with the pair of them before they got married. “Please come out you won’t believe what she’s done. I need you here.” “Oh for God’s sake! I’m finishing my third draft.” They had been fighting again. He turned to his usual ultimatums “I swear I’ll break you if you don’t help me.” “Sweetheart, you picked her.”
I had finally given him a key to my apartment. I had figured it was safer than having him wait outside while the paparazzo could be lurking anywhere. He was also supposed to be a happily married man. So said all of the tabloids. It was mid-afternoon. Creative flames struck. I had taken to my make shift office in my living room space, typing away, still in my night slip and a cardigan thrown on, coffee on the table. I was typing on my laptop, on my couch when the door flung open. He stepped into the room slamming the door behind him. Thank God my neighbors were at work. He threw his cliched leather jacket against the wall, “That bitch!” I glanced up from my writing, “Actors, always know how to make an entrance.” He flashed a look with is ice blue eyes that would have instilled fear in any other person except me. I met his gaze and they melted. “You don’t understand what it’s like living with her.” I saved my file and got up to get him his favorite tea. “What has she done this time Sweetheart.” He sat on my couch and rubbed his temples. “It’s abysmal living with her. She behaves as though she has no common sense. Like she was raised in a fantasy land.” I poured the water, “You knew she was from Malibu when you met her.” “Yes, but she seemed so, smart at first. She went to University for fucks sake.” I placed the cup in front of him, “Come on love.” He sighed, he had grown up dirt poor and worked in steel yards with his foster Father until he was 17 when a talent agent discovered him and brought him to America. He had never had a full prep school education. His education came from both the tough streets and the bad blood of the limelight. I had gone to the State college and had been raised the suburban sheltered life.
His hand shook sightly as he drunk. So he hadn’t been drinking on the plane before he got here. He sighed and put the cup down on the table. He shut his eyes as if in pain, “I don’t love her, you know.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “Of course you do.” He shook his head so sadly it broke my heart. “Come here,” He placed his head on my shoulder and took my hand. “She doesn’t love me either, no one does. Christ, am I drowning?” “What is it with you?” I asked shaking him off. He looked at me confused. “You have everything people could only dream of having. You have money, success, a fucking model and business woman for a wife. Everything and still you are the most miserable man I know.” His look turned mean and he turned away from me. I raised myself on my knees and took his face in my hands. His eyes were rimmed with red. I could practically feel him spiraling. If I hadn’t know him so well I would have thought he was giving the performance of his life. He was shaking now. We had been through this before. His lips were trembling. I ran my thumb across his lower lip, then his top, soft and too full for a man. “What happened to you?” the words shocked me, I hadn’t meant to speak them. Before I could stop him he pushed my hand away and gently took my face in his hand and kissed me softly. I made a motion to pull away but his kissed turned deeper. I had never truly tasted him before. His strong scent filled me to my core. I had not realized till this moment that I recognized his smell. He pushed me back down on the couch his mouth still on mine.
I pulled him to me out of instinct, my arms around his neck. I ran my fingers through his hair. I bit his lower lip lightly. His eyes glazed over as he tore at my cardigan and pulled down my strap. I sighed. Wasn’t this every woman in America’s fantasy. His mouth was hot as it traced the skin on my neck. He ran his hand up my slip to my panties. Every American woman’s fantasy. “Wait.” I said coming back down to earth. He whispered my name in my ear as his hand ran down my ass. He tried to kiss me again, “Sweetheart stop,” I said. He pressed on, I moaned slightly. I did forget who this was. With all my will power I shoved at him, “You’re married now.” I pushed away and sat up. His sad look returned as he sat up breathing heavily. His shirt was unbuttoned, I didn’t remember doing that. His beautifully muscled stomach heaved as he tried to regain his composure. I adjusted my own clothes. “You promised you wouldn’t try that again,” I said foolishly. “Well I guess I lied.” “You’re married to Sasha now. I won’t have you breaking both our hearts again.” I stood and walked over to the window to get away from the lust smell that hung over us. “I love you,” I heard him say. I rolled my eyes, “Yes and I love you too.” “No, please listen to me, I’m in love with you.” “Save it for your movies.” He grit his teeth and stood up. I squared off with him. He looked as though he would hit me. Instead he grabbed the cup and threw it against the wall. I laughed. “And now you owe me a new cup you son of a bitch.”
He stood quivering in front of me, “I want you more than I have wanted anything before, I love you more then anyone else.” “Yes, and once you’ve had me that love will fade. Just like everything else in your life. Once you get too close it burns and you run from it.” He stepped to me again and placed his hands on my face, his eyes pleading. He did look like a drowning man. “No.” I took his hand away and stomped to the bathroom locking the door behind me. Would he try to break it down again? A few moments later I heard the front door slam. I walked out cautiously. He wasn’t there, but in the corner still splayed against the wall was his jacket. My heart twisted. I heard myself laughing before I realized it was me. I laughed so hard it brought me to my knees in my own living room. I looked at the jacket, “Damn him.”
(c) J Mellado
