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“I get it. Maddie had mentioned something about that, about the senses. She used to do an object exercise with me so I could memorize sensations of holding things, and then do the scene without it in hand.”
“Right. Method has a lot of exercises you can use to figure out who you are, get into the mind-set, help concentration, build your character, and bring truth to them by using some truths of your own and a little imagination. It’s a process, but it works for a lot of A-listers.”
“A lot of them do this?”
“Look it up. There are a ton of articles. A good percentage of Oscar winners use it.”
“How many?”
“More than half. But I’m telling you right now it takes dedication.”
“That, I’ve got,” I say, handing over my beer and sliding my wallet into my jeans.
He raises a brow as I grab my keys. “Where are you going?”
I swipe my script off the floor. “Library.”
Pausing, I turn back to him with my hand on the door. “Have you ever used it?”
He starts working on my beer and takes a long pull. “Never had a reason to, every part I’ve played so far is a loose cannon with mommy issues.” He flashes me a sly grin. “I’ve got that down pat.”
“What are you thinking about, handsome?” Mila asks, walking through our bedroom with nothing but a towel on her head. She grins at me with a bit of the devil in her eyes. My attraction to her hasn’t diminished in the years I’ve known her. If anything, it’s grown, it’s as if we became wired when we got together.
“I’m thinking if you keep prancing around here naked that I’m going to do my worst.”
“Like that’s a threat.” She rolls her eyes before disappearing into her closet, and I can hear her thumbing through a rack. “Aren’t you sick of me, yet?”
“Never. That will never happen,” I say with confidence. “I’ve got way too much love for you, beauty.”
She pokes her head out of the closet. “God, can you imagine dating again?”
“I was just thinking about that.”
“About dating again?” she asks testily.
“No, about how glad I am I don’t have to, because I have you.”
“Good, you were seconds away from losing a testicle.”
“Just a testicle?”
“When you came to your senses and back to me, you would need your make up tool,” she eyes my crotch without apology, “a testicle won’t hurt us.”
“Ah.”
She continues her search through her racks. “Bleh. I don’t think I would do this again. I don’t think I would ever get married a second time. I mean I love you, I love us. But the work. Geesh.”
“You aren’t exactly campaigning for a good anniversary present this year, sweetheart.”
She pokes her head out at my tone and laughs at my frown. “I’m just talking about the routine. It’s exhausting. Getting past the representative down to the heart of the person, and then dealing with the real person. No, thank you.”
“Wow,” I say. “You’re batting fucking zero right now. I’m glad I’m not lacking in confidence today, baby.”
“Like you need more. For you, it would be easy. You snap your fingers, and an array of vaginas apply for the job.”
That comment has me shaking my head with a laugh.
“You laugh, but you know damn well that’s the case. But me, I’d have to retrain someone else.”
