Method(19)

“See for yourself,” he says with a wink.

“We need to go. I don’t want to get spotted.”

He shakes his head as if I was the village idiot. “Relax, man. Half the people outside this door have a bag of something fun in their pocket.”

“I’ve just earned my first paycheck with more than two zeros on the end. I’m not wasting it on shit like this.”

“I get it, but this came specially from Steve, at no cost to us,” he assures me. Steve owns the bathroom we’re standing in along with the mansion attached to it.

“Steve bought this?”

Another chuckle from Blake lets me know just how na?ve I still am when it comes to matters like these. It’s like the zip code itself gives you permission to do your worst. There have been so many times he’s saved my ass in the last few years. He’s kept me from being totally humiliated on several occasions, especially on set. No matter how well Maddie thought she’d prepared me, I had no clue how the process went. The first day of filming, I was lost. I knew so little about the production crew and their roles. I was sure back in Maddie’s day the process was a lot different, but I hadn’t done my homework when it came to filming, and I had Blake to thank for the Cliff Notes.

“Listen, I get that you don’t want to get your hands dirty. There’s nothing wrong with that, trust me. The more professional you are, the less likely you are to fall in the fuck-up category like me.”

I go to object, and he shakes his head. “I’m not judging, just as long as you do me the same solid. Let me play my way. And do yourself a favor,” he says, running a hand through his hair, “enjoy the dark side tonight.”

“No problem there,” I say as the rush hits me and my pulse starts to kick at superhuman speed.

Blake gazes at us in the mirror and claps my back. “We did it, man.”

The buzz helps elevate my shit-eating grin. “Yeah, we did.”

He opens the door and we head out into the party. Halfway down the gold carpeted hall, Blake’s name is called. I recognize the guy summoning him as one of the key grips. Blake lifts his chin up toward him and turns to me with dilated pupils. “Oh, man, this is some good shit. Enjoy your high. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“You sure? I can wait.”

“Yeah, have fun, I’ll catch up with you later.”

I nod, embracing the flow of temporary adrenaline as he saunters down the hall toward one of the bedrooms. When it opens, I can hear several people inside, mainly women, laughing. Blake has been blunt about his sex life, and I’ve been on the receiving end of many sleepless nights in our apartment when he brings more than one woman home, always offering to share, but it never felt natural to me. I’ve been making up for lost time, doing what I can to learn about the craft.

Though a little less than an hour later, I’m getting sucked off in a butler’s pantry by one of my co-stars. I know it’s not a good idea, but she assures me it’s all in good fun. And I have to agree with Blake, sex on coke is bliss.

“Fuck,” I damn near scream as she licks me from root to tip, pumping me in her hand. I’m painfully hard, and her giggle around my cock has me damn near jumping out of my skin. Shortly after she swallows two minutes of hard work, I leave with her and spend the whole night letting my powder-induced imagination take over.

The next morning, I meet Blake at our front door. He’s lost his keys and is sitting outside of it with his legs crossed and his head tilted back. He’s ghastly pale, and I can tell he’s coming down. “Blake,” I say softly as his eyes open, and he looks up to see me standing in front of him. He looks seconds away from death. “Jesus, man, are you okay?”

“Coming down with something.” He moves to get up and falls flat back on his ass, a strangled cry coming out of his throat. I move to lift him, and he shakes his head. “I got it.”

“Please tell me you didn’t drive.”

“Locked the keys in the car back at the mansion. I’ll need help with that…later.” I lift him to stand by throwing one of his arms around my neck, and he doesn’t try to fight me.

“Seriously man, you look like hell. Want me to take you somewhere?”

“No,” he says sharply before his eyes meet mine. He’s got a blown pupil.

“Does that hurt?”

“What?” he asks, confused.

“Your eye is fucked up.”

“Oh, yeah, it happens when I blow too hard.” His chuckle does everything but ease my worry.

“Look, if there’s somewhere—”

“Don’t judge,” he snaps, “‘lest ye be judged,’ or some shit like that.”

“All right, man, all right.”

“Lighten up and be a fucking teenager,” he says, running his knuckles over my scalp. “You’ve still got a few days left.”

“I’ll try.”

Eyes glazed he grins over at me as I drag him through our living room. “I’m going to take you to TCL and then we’re going to get piss drunk.”

“What’s TCL?”

“God, you’re clueless. It’s like having a kid brother,” he says, hugging my neck tighter while his head wobbles as if he’s lost control of his motor function. “We’re going to pick out our star plots, my man, have a five-star dinner on me, and then we’re going to call Gina Juice over to service your birthday needs.”