#Alcohol Rehab Los Angeles

[thrivetreatment]

Thrive Treatment, is a leading Los Angeles Treatment Center, offers a comprehensive approach to mental health and addiction recovery. We provide individualized care plans tailored to address each client’s unique needs. From outpatient programs to dual-diagnosis treatment, our compassionate professionals create a supportive environment for growth and healing.

Thrive Treatment 3101 Ocean Park Blvd. #309, Santa Monica, CA 90405 (855) 232–1334

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[blissrecovery0]

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[aishnico]

I'm thinkinggggg....maybe something angsty to fluffy with Slash?

#𝙎𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙃: 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳

» summary: you were tired of your boyfriend’s drug habit, so one night you asked him to choose between you and his habit. when he left you without an answer, you went to let all these things out of your head.

» word count: 2.1k

» warnings: angst to fluff, alcohol, described drug use, grammar issues

another glass has broken with your heart. you couldn't fix the glass once it's broken but the heart could. countless apologies, excuses, and promises would fix your heart, but not properly.

but you were sure this time, it surely broke and couldn't be fixed.

you looked at the floor. vodka was spreading through it, so your tears across your cheeks.

he turned his back against you. leaned his arms over the table. "don't... don't ever tell me what to do. you are supposed to be my girlfriend, not my mom, damn it!" he then rushed over to you. you weren't scared of him. you knew he would never hit you. but you were scared what was he going to say next.

"it's not my fault that you can't make me feel better than this shit!" he showed you a little pack of white dust. you felt helpless. you would hide his drugs away from him. and he was that addicted to find them no matter where they were. you would do this because you cared about him, and didn't want to see him killing himself over and over.

you wiped your tears and stood up. "i don't want to see you killing yourself anymore. you're not only killing yourself, you're also killing me! don't you care about me?!"

"bullshit, you're not dying. you're well enough to argue with me!"

"don't dodge the question, do you care about me?! do you want me to be happy?!" you were yelling at him and your voice got weaker. he was silent, looking at the floor. you gulped and approached him.

"i'm going to ask this you once again. you would always change the topic but this time you don't have a choice but to make a decision. drugs, or me?" you asked. looking at his big, brown eyes sincerely.

he looked at you. he wanted to say something, you felt it. or maybe you were wrong. he didn't say anything and went to the bedroom. you were standing not knowing how to react or what to do.

you wanted to swear to him, telling the most painful words to him. but at the same time, you wanted to talk with him again. trying to convince him to get clean for the nth time. you didn't care how much this was going to take. you just wanted to be happy with him.

but guess he chose to be happy just alone.

you left the home and went to the busy streets of los angeles, trying to find an empty cab. after minutes, you found and entered inside. you told the driver the name of the bar where you would often hang out with guys. you wish one of them was there.

and of course there was the indispencable axl! he greeted you nicely but his smile dropped when he saw your heartbroken face. "sugar, what happened?!"

you didn't answer him, just sat next to him and buried your head in your hands. he patted your back. "is it slash again?" you raised your head and looked at him.

"i asked him to choose between me or drugs, he didn't even answer me! i don't know how many times i tried to get him to the rehab, how many times i hid them from him. he just... *sob* can't give up on his first love. i'm nothing to him."

"that's not true, you mean a lot to him. i can't even imagine how he would be like without you."

you sobbed and buried your face again. "do you want a drink? i want a drink. i'm going to buy us drinks!" he went to the bartender. after a couple of seconds, he was walking through your direction but stopped once he saw a beautiful chick. he then gave her your drink. fucking carrot... you thought and stood up from your seat.

you were walking across the people, trying to forget things at least for tonight. and you stopped once you saw a couple of guys snorting cocaine. they smiled at you. "wanna join?" you didn't answer but sat next to them. maybe you could befriend them and let all these things out of your head. but you weren't talking with them unless one of them approached you.

"what's bothering you? we don't want to see people in deep thoughts around us. just forget them. let them go even for just one night." he probably understood that you've never done this before.

he rolled up a small piece of paper into a straw. there was already a big amount of cocaine on the table. he grabbed his razor blade, chopped it, and made a short line of it. he looked at you.

"wanna try? if you don't, then i will." you sighed and wondered how is the feeling this thing gives to your boyfriend or your friends. you then took the roll of paper from him and quickly snorted the line.

you gasped loudly and pulled your head backwards. after a couple of minutes, you felt yourself hot, your palms were sweating and your heart was beating like crazy. the guy beside you laughed at you.

"how does it feel?"

"i... i d-don't know, i feel anxious, i g-guess?" you stuttered. he rubbed your back. "then you should snort again, you will start to feel happy. trust me."

you felt unsure but remembered the times when slash would come home to you happily. he would cling to you and refuse to let you go for a while. he would be so lovey-dovey with you. his current mood would also make you cheerful. but then you realized it's not because he saw you again after an exhausting day, he was because of this shit. you wondered if you could be cheerful like him at the moment.

so you nodded and he chopped again and made you a roll. you took a deep breath and snorted all of it. your head became more fuzzy but a couple of minutes later you felt cheerful and excited. you chuckled at yourself and stood up while staggering.

"now i get it," you grinned and winked at him. then you started to go to the dance floor. you were staggering but you didn't care. you were walking between people and saying them good morning! while smiling. they looked at you strangely.

when you approached the dance floor you started to move slowly, and accommodating to the song. after a couple of seconds, you were dancing like crazy, not minding to look cringe. everybody here was like you, after all.

the guy who helped you to snort stopped behind you. when you turned your head to him you smiled.

"i was looking for you, wanna dance together?" you closed your eyes and shook your head to him. then turn your back against him again. you suddenly felt a pair of hands around your waist.

"now, now. don't be like that. you look so precious and funny right now. let me enjoy your company for a while." his face now was behind your ear. he whispered "maybe we can bring this to another place..." you then turned to him and knitted your eyebrows. "i thought i said no?" you left him there and started to look for axl.

your body temperature was increasing, and so was your heartbeat. you started to struggle more, you knew you looked pathetically and never wanted to do it again. even if your little happiness lasted a couple of minutes.

"axl... axl wh-where are yhou? call shlash..." you couldn't even speak properly. your legs started to shake. you found the door and exited the bar. you were walking to the road. eyes searching for your boyfriend. maybe he was worried about you so he came here to look for you?

“shl-soul, are yhou h-here?" you were squinting, trying to figure out which car was your boyfriend's. and before you realize it, you were hit by something massive.

you woke up with loud noises. you grimaced because fluorescent light was dazzling your eyes. you slowly blinked and turned your gaze to where the sounds were coming from. you saw axl and slash, arguing about something.

"how could you let her snort?! why didn't you stay by her side?!"

"she's not a child, especially not mine! she can make her decisions now, you know!"

you saw slash sit on the couch in front of you. he buried his face in his hands. axl sighed and left the room. when he did, you heard sounds of crying and sobs.

"how could i let this happen..?" he sounded helpless. it made your heart clench. when either of you would cry, the other one would join after. it was mutual. so tears were leaking from your eyes now. he raised his messed up face and looked at you, eyes widened at realization.

"sweetheart, you're awake!" he cheered but his voice was broken. you didn't say anything. he grabbed your hand and placed it on his, caressing gently. "how do you feel?" he asked.

you just shrugged. "i don't know, my legs hurt." he shut his eyes and gulped. "i... i am sorry, for not being there with you." his voice sounded shaking. you wanted to ask him if that was all he wanted to apologize for, but before you opened your mouth, he continued.

"not only for this. i am sorry for not listening to you, even though you only cared about my well-being. sorry for making you cry and feel heartbroken. you never deserved this, never. and i don't deserve your concern.

when you asked me to choose between you and drugs, i went to the bedroom only to think about that. i didn't choose them over you. i could never choose something over you. you're my priority, my everything. i never want something bad to happen to you. i could never get over this." he finished and kissed your hand carefully.

you sighed. "oh slash, i don't even know how many times we talked about this. same thing happens every time..." he looked at you with his big pretty brown eyes. "i swear this is the last time, we'll never talk about this. i swear. i don't want to make you miserable anymore. you deserve nothing but happiness. and i'm more willing to give you that."

you raised your head and looked at the ceiling, sighed again. "did that accident have to happen for you to say these?"

he straightened up. "don't tell me you did this on purpose..." his voice sounded nervous. you shook your head. "of course i didn't, i just always wondered how this shit makes you happy but i'm not, so i wanted to try it once."

"pretty, you know this shit is nothing compared to you. i was mad at you for you hiding it, but that's not an excuse for to me say those untrue things to you."

you smiled at yourself, wondering if axl or duff talked to him about this. finally, you gave up on yourself.

"i love you so much, slash. and i guess we both understood how is to lose almost someone."

"i love you too, sweetheart. more than everything. and yeah, you're right. i don't want one of us to experience this feeling again. " he smiled sincerely at you.

you tried to move your body aside and patted to empty space. he looked at you worringly. "are you sure, doll? i don't want to hurt or crush you." you just chuckled and opened your arms to him. he hesitated but climbed to the bed. you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him for a kiss. the kiss was sensual and full of love. you missed his plump and soft lips on yours, on every part of your body.

you then run your fingers through his dark curly hair. you loved playing with them carefully. he doesn't like it when it hurts.

you wanted to deepen the kiss because you missed him so much. you don't remember when you two kissed like this last time. but he pulled out looking at you breathlessly, then lay beside you.

"after we go home, i'm gonna search and then register myself on a program. this time i'm gonna complete it, i swear." he grabbed your hand and pressed a wet kiss on it. then did the same thing to your cheek. "slash!" you whined but he knew you actually liked it.

you were lying on his chest while he was caressing your waist. you've felt peaceful. and felt like your eyes would shut soon. he noticed it and planted a wet kiss on your forehead. you giggled.

"i love you." he said while sincerely looking at you. you smiled and snuggled to him. "i love you too, my big crybaby."

[dreamwatch]

The Last Song

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #31 - Prompt: Your Song | Word Count: 996 | Rating: T | CW: referenced alcoholism, mental health issues | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: mild angst with a happy ending, future fic, the band is a family, reflection, Eddie’s had a rough year

Eddie’s not sure what wakes him. He turns awkwardly onto his side, head on his arm, watching the tops of the trees rustle, light twinkling through the branches. It’s warm, like it is all year round in Los Angeles, hard to tell one season from the next.

The bedroom door clicks open, the sound of bare feet on bare floors as Steve approaches the bed. He sits on the edge, his hand already reaching out for Eddie.

“You look tired. You want me to call them? Tell ‘em you’re not coming?”

He is tired. Not the kind that feels earned, from hard work or hard play, the kind that seeps into your bones and sets up home there, the kind sleep doesn’t cure. The warmth of the sun and the comforter, of Steve’s hand on his skin, will pull him back to sleep if he stays.

“No, I promised them, I should go today.”

“They won’t mind if you don’t.”

“I’ll mind.”

So he showers carefully, dresses slowly, and allows Steve to drive him to the studio. 

The boys are at the mixing desk playing back some of their tracks that have already been recorded. It’s been a struggle, this album, over a year with a record label breathing down their necks, turning the screw, piling on the pressure as the time in the studio drags on.

And that’s on him.

The thing about fucking up when you’re in the public eye is they never let you forget. It’s like a bad report card (and fuck knows he had plenty of those in his time), it hangs there over everything no matter what you achieve. One trip to rehab and they never let you forget it.

He hasn’t had a drink in three years. He deals with it, has good support, puts in the work. But there are other things in play, things from his childhood, things from Hawkins, Upside Down things, and they’re fucking insidious. There’s no twelve step programme for that. He tried therapy years ago; he said probably ten words about his mom, five about his dad, and fuck all about things that go bump in the night. It was pointless.

His mind and his body and his soul are being held together with bandaids. The band have been beyond supportive; they’ve had their hard times over the years but they never leave anyone untethered, it’s just not how they roll, you know? They’ve given him time, kept the heat from him as much as they can. And he loves them for it.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Gareth says, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Poison’s fourth best album,” he replies, laughing at their looks of disgust.

“Fuck, dude, no.” Matty scowls like he’s been physically wounded. “We’re not bringing that neon juju shit into this sacred studio of metal.” He stands and takes Eddie in a hug. “Fucking good to see you man,” he says lowering his voice, and Eddie squeezes him back tightly.

The thing about them is they don’t have to hide; there’s no shame in struggling, they’re long past all that shit. So it’s comforting to be back here, the studio feels like home.

“So what are we doing?”

Jeff spins on his chair. “Last track of the album. Drums and bass are locked in so those lazy fuckers are done.” Matt and Gareth protest but Jeff ignores them. “Just you and me now, man.”

Something hits him, something about the wording of that. Just you and me now. It’s always Matt and Jeff or Eddie and Gareth, but it’s the two of them out front every night. Jeff who all but told him to fuck off when he auditioned with Wayne’s shitty acoustic. Jeff who gave them their name. Jeff who held him over hotel toilet bowls while he emptied his stomach, telling him he was okay. 

It’s funny how they’re all pieces of a puzzle but the parts fit together whichever way you place them.

Eddie settles on the stool, grabbing his guitar. “Okay, so Defeat the Darkness, right?”

Jeff taps the edge of his guitar. “Actually, we’ve changed it up. I’ll play you what we have, and…” Jeff shoots a look to the control room, Matt and Gareth watching them keenly, “we’ll go from there.”

“Sure.” It’s not what he prepared for. And okay, he hasn’t been around but changing the track list without telling him? That’s not cool. But he’s a pro, and he doesn’t want to fight, so he gives a thumbs up.

The track comes through, and he doesn’t recognise it. They had a couple of maybes they cut, but this isn’t one of them. It’s fast and messy, the floor toms heavy in the mix, Matt’s bass reverberates in his ears. It’s almost punk. The guide vocal and guitar part come in and—

Oh.

Jeff cocks his head. “You recognise this?” he asks, clearly amused.

He hears those words, those stupid fucking words they wrote in Gareth’s garage, Jeff and Eddie on their own because Gareth and Matt were watching the Dukes of Hazzard and even back then Eddie wasn’t giving one flying fuck about Daisy Duke. So they wrote a song. And they laughed until they cried, because it was awful, and stupid, and hilarious. 

Eddies doesn’t really know why he’s crying, maybe because it’s just been an awful fucking year and he’s raw with pain. But it’s not sadness, or not entirely. It was so fucking innocent then, so simple. This singular point in time where life was, well not perfect, he’d lost his mom, he was poor, but everything else was so rich. And sometimes he yearns for those days, without contracts and lawyers and commitments.

“It’s been good, right?” Jeff says smiling, like he knows exactly what Eddie’s thinking. Maybe he does.

All these years, four stupid kids who wanted to be rich and famous. Still friends, still killing it.

“Yeah,” Eddie smiles. “It’s been really good.”

Okay so the song they wrote was called Fuck Hawkins, and I wrote lyrics but ran out of words. I’ll save it for another time!

I can’t believe it’s over, it’s been a blast! ❤️🤘🏻

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

Song prompt: Close Behind by Noah Kahan

Check DMs for more details :)))

Sorry this took so long! I didn’t have an idea I liked enough for it, and then I recently got re-obsessed with this show, re-read my longfic, and suddenly had an idea :) It’s sad I hope that’s what you were hoping for :) Hope you enjoy!

Tw: mention of a suicide attempt.

This is sorta vaguely in my All Too Well series, but it should make sense even if you haven’t read it. When I eventually move this over to ao3 I probably won’t make it part of the official series, mostly cause I was too lazy to check my own continuity, but it’s definitely inspired by that series’s specific brand of canon divergence.

Tagging @felicitysmoaksx by request :)

“So you know I worry that you’re all I have to lose”

“I live my life in years to come to prepare myself for sorrow”

“I should change this way of thinking, that all my fears are facts of life”

—Close Behind by Noah Kahan

“Bobby always thought he wasn’t good enough, always thought he’d be forever on the outside, always thought Luke, Reggie, and Alex would wake up one day and decide they wanted to go back to just having each other and didn’t need Bobby anymore, and technically, in a twisted morbid sort of way, he was right.”

—i might be okay but i’m not fine at all

***

They have a band meeting.

Luke holds Julie’s hand, because he can, and stands before his boys (come on, Luke, two out of three of his boys) and says, “I wanna fix things with Bobby.”

Alex and Reggie look at each other, and then at him. Reggie says, “Okay, man! Whatever you need.”

Alex says, “Just, you know. Be careful about it, okay?”

Luke bounces a little on his toes, trying to redirect the anxious energy buzzing underneath his skin. He looks at Julie, who gives his hand a comforting squeeze, and then back at Alex and Reggie. “I need to stop jumping to conclusions. I don’t want to get back at him. I don’t want revenge. I just… I wanna understand what happened. Will you guys help me decide what to say?”

They settle around Julie’s dining room table with some snacks courtesy of Mr. Molina and a place set for Julie’s mom, as a sign of good luck. Julie pulls up Trevor Wilson’s Wikipedia page, and they get started.

The beginning is laughingly low in detail. Trevor Wilson was born in New York. Trevor Wilson relocated to Los Angeles at age 18. Trevor Wilson was discovered at an open mic at Ridley’s Bar on July 22, 1998.

“That’s—” Reggie starts to say.

“Yep!” Luke interrupts, hands gripping the edge of the table. “Keep going, Julie!”

“Despite not being native to the city,” Julie reads, “Wilson became a household name among Angelinos in the music industry as soon as his self-titled debut album was released in September ’98.”

“And that would be…”

“Our self-titled debut album,” Alex fills in, patting Reggie’s hand. “We know, Reg.”

Luke puts his head in his hands and lets out a long, muffled groan.

“It’s okay, hey, we knew this part already!” Julie rubs Luke’s arm comfortingly. “Do you wanna keep going?”

“No,” Luke says into his hands. “…Yes.”

He sighs and drops his hands back into his lap, just in time to see Julie, Alex, and Reggie exchange a look. Like they’re worried about him.

Maybe they should be.

Julie takes a breath and looks back at her phone. “His album got a bunch of hits. His second one… didn’t. He, um… oh, god, I remember this, I was like five or six and Trevor had this crazy mental breakdown on live TV. He, like, threw a desk and cried a bunch. Says here he chugged a whole bottle of tequila and told a reporter he just wanted to be loved.”

“Oh, wow,” Reggie says.

“Jeeeeez,” Alex murmurs.

Luke stares at Julie’s phone like it holds all the secrets of the universe. “Bobby got drunk?”

“Next couple paragraphs are all about his history with alcoholism,” Julie reports with a sympathetic wince. “And then he went into rehab in 2010, I remember that too, my mom told Carrie and me he was on a ‘business trip,’ but it was, like, all over the news.”

“Damn,” Alex says under his breath.

Reggie pouts. “Poor Bobby.”

Luke feels like there’s an ice cube steadily tracing a path through his bloodstream. “He, uh. Really had it rough, didn’t he?”

Julie reaches over to take his hand, but her eyes don’t stop scanning down her phone screen. A few scrolls later, and her face goes sickly pale.

Luke’s heart skips a beat. “Julie? What’s wrong?”

She clicks her phone off and lays it face down on the table. “Nothing!” she says in her high-pitched lying voice. “I think we’ve seen enough, don’t you? Trevor lost you guys, and obviously was going through it for a while, and no matter why he stole your songs, clearly he felt pretty guilty about it, so I think that’s a good enough start for a reconciliation! How about you start by apologizing for haunting him—”

“Julie,” Luke interrupts, unable to unsee that look on her face. “What’d the rest of that page say?”

She takes a deep breath, shifting in her seat, and looks all three of them in the eye in turn, hand still clutching Luke’s. And then she says, “A few years ago, right when Carrie and I stopped being friends… Trevor Wilson tried to kill himself.”

Luke makes a sound like all the air has been punched out of him. He closes his eyes, and the blackness, paired with the ringing in his ears, makes his friends around him seem to disappear.

Makes the world seem to disappear, leaving Luke with nothing but himself, and his memories of a Bobby who doesn’t exist anymore, and the painful truth of the life Trevor lived.

The songs don’t matter, in light of this, do they? The music doesn’t matter, the legacy doesn’t matter.

What matters is that they messed up. They assumed the worst, never bothered to get all the facts, haunted a man who’d been chased by ghosts his whole miserable life.

They may have lost the music of Sunset Curve. But Bobby lost them.

“So, uh.” Alex’s voice brings Luke’s focus back. He opens his eyes and realizes they’re all holding hands now, him and Julie and Alex and Reggie, one big band circle. One big family. Alex squeezes his hand. “We’re all gonna go apologize to Trevor now, right?”

“We have to,” Reggie adds. “His life has been so… sad.”

“Well, not anymore,” Luke promises. “He didn’t lose us, guys. All that sad stuff his brain told him— it was wrong. He is loved. And he’s not alone.”

Reggie nods. Julie smiles. Alex says, “Course he’s not alone. He’s getting us back.”

[michelle-is-writing]

Left Behind ch.2, Nikki Sixx

Word Count: 1.3k~

Read Chapter 1 here!

TW!: mention of prior drug and alcohol use, rehab, slight angst

Five months of being back in Los Angeles had proven to be just the same as when Nikki and I lived in Los Angeles all that time ago. The only difference was the new apartment I lived in and, of course, Nikki. I hadn’t spoken to him since the night we broke up, and it’s been slowly weighing on me as time goes on. Now six months pregnant, I try to find things that once made me happy like before, but it hasn’t been easy.

I don’t know how Nikki’s doing right now; I don’t even know where he is. The guys called me a lot when I first left, but I never answered their calls, and eventually, they slowly stopped. The only time I answered was when Mick tried calling me, and I explained where I had moved to and why; I didn’t tell him that I was pregnant, however. I hardly even turned on the TV anymore, too afraid to see a news report concerning his death from an overdose, only to be revived in an ambulance afterward.

Hearing what happened made me want to go to him and just make sure he was okay, but I felt like I couldn’t. I knew I was probably the last person he wanted to see, and sadly, I didn’t want to see Nikki the way I saw him before I left, strung out and barely holding onto himself as the heroin constantly coursed through his body. I don’t want memories like that coming to mind when my little girl eventually asks about her father. I want to be able to talk about the good moments we had before everything came crashing down, and I ended up where I am now.

Getting home from my shift as a hospital receptionist, I sit down on my couch and rest as my back relaxes from the reduced straining caused by my large bump. I didn’t think I’d be this big until maybe the last couple of months, but that’s not too far away. I just wish the swollen feet would go away. Out of everything, that has to be the worst part of my pregnancy.

Hearing a knock at my front door, I lift my head from the back of the couch and look toward it. In the time I have rented this place, no one ever comes to my door, not even solicitors.

Standing up from my couch, I walk over to the door before looking out the peephole, only to see an all too familiar figure. However, there are a few differences between him now and the last time I saw him. A small noticeable difference is the small strip of hair growing down his chin. On the other hand, the major difference is the healthy look he has, all while being nervous as he stands in front of my door. I’ve never seen Nikki insecure about anything, always finding confidence from somewhere.

Unlatching my door, I open it, Nikki’s eyes instantly catching mine as he comes into my full view. He doesn’t look sick like he used to, with the skin around his eyes no longer holding a purple hue to it and his cheeks appearing a tad fuller. By the looks of it, Nikki might even pass as clean to someone, but for me, I find myself in disbelief at the thought. I can’t assume anything and make myself hopeful like so many times before.

“Hi,” I murmur, completely lost as I stare at the man in front of me. He shyly smiles back, also appearing lost for words. Mick must’ve told him where I was since I haven’t told anyone else.

“Hi, baby,” he responds, his eyes flickering down to my noticeable bump before flashing back to mine, now wet with tears. “I’ve missed you, a lot… You have no idea.”

“Where have you been, Nikki?” I can’t help but ask, taking a step outside my door to fully face him. His arms awkwardly linger by his sides, not quite knowing what to do with them. A long time ago, Nikki would have instantly taken the chance to pull me close, but now, his actions are halted by uncertainty.

“In all honesty, I’ve been in rehab for the past several months,” he confesses, my eyebrows jolting in slight shock at his revelation. “Me and the guys, we all checked ourselves in. And now, we’re finally clean,” Nikki adds, his smile shining with a bit of pride now. At the same time, I also feel myself proud of him despite everything else.

“That’s great, Nikki,” I tell him, watching a tear slip from his eye. My instincts tell me to wipe it away from his cheek, but the hurt that remains holds me back from doing so.

“I-I know what I said when you left was horrible, and I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am,” Nikki tells me, causing the harsh memories to flow back into my mind. “I’m so sorry, baby. I never wanted to hurt you, and I’m sorry I did,” he continues, making me tear up as he steps forward to cup my cheek in his hand. “My memories of us were the only thing getting me through withdrawals, and every time I thought about the night you left, I broke down. I never wanted to lose you, and I never wanted you to go through anything alone.”

My eyes squeezed close at his last comment, the reminder of what he used to say to me, making my heart clench in my chest. “Two against the world,” I can hear his voice from long ago say. The words were a reminder that I wasn’t alone in anything I did; I had someone there to catch me if I fell. But I’ve been alone for a while now, and it’s not that easy for me to just open myself up to him all at once like before, unfortunately.

Seeing his eyes linger on my belly, I find the courage to take his hand in mine and rest it against my bump. “Why don’t you come inside, and we can talk some more,” I suggest, his hand ever so gentle as he runs it against my sweater. “I can show you pictures of our baby girl too, if you’d like,” My voice ends up in a whisper as I say the words I’ve wanted to tell Nikki ever since I discovered our baby’s sex.

At my comment, Nikki looks back at my face with even more tears clouding his eyes before pressing his lips to mine in the softest kiss Nikki has ever given me. His hand still remains on my belly, albeit his fingers are now intertwined with mine. I didn’t think I’d get to do this with Nikki again; I didn’t even know if I’d ever get to see him again.

Pulling away from the kiss, Nikki’s smiling face lingers in front of mine as he rubs his thumb against my cheek. His touch still remains gentle, careful with every move he makes. “I’d love to, baby,” he answers me, his voice choked up a bit. “I’d love to more than anything.”

Smiling back, I can’t help but feel more tears begin falling from my eyes. This feels almost unreal to me, and I can’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of emotions hit me all at once. Nikki holding me just like he used to is one of the best things I’ve ever experienced, and as he wipes away my incessant tears, I realize just how amazing this moment is. Nikki is clean, he knows about his little girl, and he’s finally back. The Nikki I once loved is back.

[reyhan-birlik]

REYHAN BIRLIK. 32. PR Consultant. Midtown.

tw: parental dysfunction, alcoholism

Reyhan Birlik was born as a last-ditch effort to save a marriage between two people too selfish to ever truly love anyone but themselves. Her mother, an insecure Turkish soap star already edging past her prime, didn't want to risk the stretch marks or the bloating that came with pregnancy, but her husband, as the face of a burgeoning health and lifestyle empire, insisted he needed a complete family unit to really sell the brand. Not that it mattered - they were divorced by the time Reyhan was five, and that same year Birlik Enterprises™ reached a record profit of $85,000,000 in sales. Her father didn't make much of a bid for custody, so he didn't put up a fight when her mother married an American producer and relocated them to Los Angeles two years later.

On paper, it was the glamorous childhood. She attended the best schools, where her friends and classmates were the children of the Hollywood elite. She visited her father's compound in Turkey every summer, and for her 16th birthday, she got a brand new BMW. She wanted for nothing. And yet, she was miserable...

Her parents were little better than self-absorbed toddlers, and despite the continents separating them, they fought in ways that had Reyhan constantly playing the middleman. Her stepfather was no help, and once Reyhan's mother realized her new husband couldn't help her break through to American markets, her grip on stability slipped further. As for Reyhan's father, he was questioned by the MIT no less than 8 times over the years for charges ranging for potential money laundering and suspected cult activity. And always in the middle was Reyhan, clinging on for dear life.

College provided her with an escape she desperately needed, and she jumped at the opportunity to get as far away from Los Angeles and her parents' influence as she possibly could. It was there that the man that would one day become her husband, and he was so different from everything she'd known that she couldn't help falling in love with him. With him, she found a new family — one she actually wanted — and on the night the MIT finally found a charge that stuck and her father was indicted for tax fraud, she asked him to marry her. He accepted.

Maybe it was because she only had her parents to look to as role models, but the marriage didn't last. It was possible she'd just never learned how to be a normal human being. But she stuffed her heartbreak in the same place she kept all her trauma — a tiny compartment deep in her chest — and just as she had before, she ran away.

It turned out her childhood spent enabling her parents made her uniquely qualified for a career enabling egotists and corporate sociopaths. And so, almost by accident, she became a corporate PR consultant. She spent the next several years traveling the world, cleaning up messes for companies with oil spills, CEOs with leaked tapes, and any other assortment of public relations nightmares. Her latest assignment has brought her to Wilmington, where she has been hired by the city to help rehab their image in the wake of recent scandals.

[radiosilnce]

FULL NAME: malakai carter rivers

NICKNAMES: kai (by everyone who knows him)

AGE: thirty three

BIRTHDAY: august 3rd, 1991

GENDER: cis man

PRONOUNS: he & him

OCCUPATION: world renowned dj / music producer / songwriter

NEIGHBORHOOD: oak gardens

LENGTH OF TIME IN BLUE HARBOR: born and raised + left for 13 years + been back 2 yeara

FAMILY: willow rivers (mother) + darius rivers (father)

TRIGGER WARNINGS — drugs + drug addiction, alcohol, rehab, death.

born and raised in blue harbor as the only child to a set of affluent, loving parents.

loved music growing up, listening to anything from hip hop and rock, to country and edm.

his parents always encouraged him to do what made him happy and music was a big part of that journey for him.

kai begun writing and learning how to play several instruments (favors the piano and the guitar). as he got older and technology became more of a thing, he begun teaching himself how to make music on his computer and uploading it all to soundcloud.

throughout his youth he spent a lot of time partying, drinking to excess and doing drugs along with good friends from school.

when his friends went off to college the partying didn't really stop for kai, who decided to not attend college much to his parents' dismay.

moved to los angeles to attempt to make something of himself within the music industry and parties were a big part of that, spending every moment he could networking and attempting to have his music heard by the right people, while working as a bartender.

was signed to a label when he was twenty and had his first number one single when he was twenty one.

became famous for his upbeat danceable tracks with a deeper meaning. writes songs about anything and everything that inspires him, but makes sure that every track can be made into an acoustic version where the lyrics still make sense and have feeling to them.

begun writing and producing for others in between his second and third album, after having made a name for himself in the music industry.

has toured the world several times, has numerous accolades to his name and loved every moment. never having stopped partying throughout it all, he gained a bit of a reputation throughout his career as a partyer.

checked into rehab for his addiction to cocaine the first time when he was twenty eight and a second time right before his thirty first birthday.

hasn't touched drugs since he checked out of rehab to the news of his mother having passed away while he was in with no means of contact to his parents.

immediately moved back to blue harbor to take care of his grieving father, who in turn supported his son in staying clean. has the occasional drink still since alcohol was never his vice and smokes weed at times, to calm his growing anxiety.

has taken a complete break from the music industry since he returned to blue harbor to take care of himself and his dad, but constantly fears becoming irrelevant.

lives in a large mansion in oak gardens, that he's completely moved into and sold his place in los angeles. has a home studio where people close to him know where to find him when he's deep in thought. usually with some form of instrument in his hands.

is still settling back in the small town despite having been back for two years.

[gabecortez]

Full Legal Name - Gabriel Alexander Cortez

Nicknames - Gabe

Gender & Pronouns - cis male, he/him

Sexual Orientation & Relationship Role - bisexual, dominate

Birthdate & Age (will update) - June 18th, 31 years

Birthplace - Austin, Texas

Current Residence & duration of stay (will update) - 4 years, almost 5 years with a condo downtown in New Bellevoux, LA

Occupation - former model turned bartender at Cucina Paradiso

Relationship Status (will update) - single pringle

Faceclaim: Taylor Zakhar Perez

Links - photos | threads | plots - full bio | home style

Future Links - pinterest board, spotify playlist, musings, aesthetics

Warnings: mentions of drug usage, alcohol, depression, body image issues and mental struggles. Proceed with caution.

Gabriel "Gabe" Alexander Cortez was born into a rather large family as the middle child, consisting of seven children (including him), in Austin, Texas by Xiomara & Rafael Cortez. He grew up very close to his family barely wanting to leave home until he turned 20, and he dreamed of exploring more on his own and learn more about himself without his family, as much as he loved them. The family held close values so they really cared about family time.

His first stay away from home was in Los Angeles, California at 21 where he explored his loved of mixology and culinary but was unsure which path to take. That was until he got offered a modeling job while he was just at a local store. Suspicion but it all seemed to work out - for the most part. To Gabe it was always just a job, until he met his then girlfriend. They were absolutely smitten in months.

It took about a year before everything started crashing down around him. He did a photoshoot with another guy and they were looking rather cozy, even hung out and became friends after words. It left to Gabriel's girlfriend's jealousy and even some rumours started coming out of him cheating and being secretly gay. Though this did soon help Gabe find out he was bisexual at the time, he wasn't worried about it. Trying to get his relationship to work out, adding on top of that his parents divorced and he spiraled, falling into drugs and alcohol to cope with everything. This also lead to his relationship ending, not caring anymore and him properly exploring his bisexuality and coming to terms with it.

Thing got so bad at one point that when his mom visited him in Los Angeles, she was too worried and pushed him to go into rehab and at first he refused, keeping up the bad lifestyle until it took a toll on his mental and physical health. As much was he wanted to just leave California, he needed to get better, but also he needed a good place away from the drama. At first thinking to go back home, but he ended up somewhere else entirely. Going off the grid for a bit to focus on getting better, because he didn't like what he saw in the mirror anymore.

Upon taking time to work on himself, Gabriel moved to New York for a bit, to focus on his former favored skills, finding a love of both cooking and bartending. He also became a bit of a health nut after his time away to get better. It has him going to the gym now daily and really making sure to take care of himself. Once he turned 27, he left New York for New Bellevoux and got his condo downtown his mother's help and got a job as a bartender. After he settled a bit, he got his dog, Baxter who's his entire world right now. Thought there's still apart of him longing to find his perfect person when the time is right.

(OOC - This will be updated as his time goes on)

[thrivetreatment]

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[llittletingoddess]

Borderline

Midnight at the big city

At the bar drinking all on my own

Just thinking about that girl and me

How something's going wrong...

---------------------------------------

Genre: AU, Psychology, Drama, Angst, Character Study

Words Count: 1.4k

IMPORTANT: English is not my first language so there may be some mistakes, please be patient. Also note that it's based on real occurrences but do not claim to be accurate. Everything described is merely the author's point of view ♥

---------------------------------------

July, 2022.

The evening Los Angeles always captivated the gaze of millions. Lavish parties, tipsy girls, expensive outfits... Perhaps the dream of any foreigner. After all, that's what the American Dream looks like, right? But when you're a little over 50, all these delights of life become less interesting. People consider you worn-out material because you're no longer in the loop — how do people over 50 dare to show up at the same gatherings as the hottest Hollywood stars? James Hetfield? Cool... Oh, look, it's Doja Cat with a bald head!

Yeah, LA is quite the dump. But no matter how much he hated this place, there's nowhere else to go.

James sat at the bar of some dubious pub where you'd never expect to find a celebrity, let alone one of his caliber. Leaning on his left arm, he watched the bubbles rise in his glass. He despised himself for this decision. Going through another rehab treatment and then relapsing— it was the act of a pitiful man. He promised his family, but mostly to himself, that he would never drink again. And yet, he relapsed. How foolish. When did his life spiral down into such an abyss? There's hardly any time for reflection between tours and recording albums. You have a contract and obligations — fulfill them. No one cares about what's going on inside you. On stage, you have to be the same superstar you were 30 years ago. At this rate, it's easy to turn into a soulless money-making machine. But he does it not so much for himself as for his family.

Family...

Returning to reality, James emptied his glass in one gulp and slammed it back on the counter, furrowing his brow. Was it the bitterness of the drink? He knew very well that it wasn't. Looking at the glass, he waved his hand dismissively, ignoring the bartender.

"Another one."

"Of course, sir."

Curious whispers started circulating in the pub. James Hetfield, the frontman of Metallica, in such a simple pub on the outskirts of Los Angeles! But he paid no attention. Let them whisper — public life was never easy. Taking out his wallet from the inner pocket of his jacket, James pulled out a bill and placed it on the counter, his gaze lingering on a tiny photograph that was always with him. Kirk and Lars considered it slightly strange, but when did he ever listen to them?

In the photograph, it was him and his family. There was little Marcella, who threw tantrums throughout the photoshoot, first-grader Cali, who hadn't lost her charm over the years, Castor, his pride and the heir to his legacy… and Francesca. James looked at her attentively: big blue eyes, light hair, a modest smile… It seemed like he found a literal copy of himself, someone he could always talk to, laugh with, and share stories with their children on Christmas. And how wonderful she was in bed! James had tried numerous experiments, but it was Francesca who managed to conquer Big Het's heart. She was so simple, so beautiful, his one and only…

"Here you go, sir."

A new glass of alcohol brought him back to reality. Somewhere in the background, an old Thin Lizzy song played, but he didn't care. Soon everyone would find out, and that annoyed him the most. Tabloids would write made-up reasons, attribute an affair with some socialite, and that would be the end of it. Why did it even matter to anyone why this happened? Peace — that's all he wanted at the moment.

Setting aside his wallet, James reached for the glass again. Only now did he realize that he hadn't thanked the bartender. Well, to hell with it. His hand trembled slightly, whether from nerves or the reawakening addiction. It consumes you, whispers in your head like a serpent in paradise, gripping you with its dead hold, and you'll never be the same again. Suddenly, James decided to look at his wrist's tattoo, which he got shortly after completing the first rehab program. "Lead us not into temptation." Yeah… he didn't feel like drinking anymore.

Rummaging through his pockets, Hetfield discovered a nearly whole cigar. Nowadays, he started smoking much more often, despite protests from those around him. "Stop it, you'll ruin your voice!" Lars, Kirk, and Rob all pleaded in unison. But he alone was responsible for himself and his health. Bringing the ashtray closer, he lit the cigar, releasing a cloud of smoke with a sigh of relief. The high-quality tobacco pleasantly scorched his throat, providing the long-awaited relief. But thoughts kept replaying that conversation, as if on a cheap record:

"Francesca, I think we should get a divorce."

"What?! But why?!"

Why?..

He himself didn't know for sure. After rehab, when everything seemed like it should be getting better, everything began to crumble: the pandemic, concerts, the studio, more concerts, more studio time, endless evenings in his office with a guitar in hand… but she didn't need that. She needed him primarily as a husband and father. "You're never home with all your concerts!" But how could she not understand that he was doing it so she wouldn't need anything?..

"Shit!"

A sharp pain pierced his wrist. The cigarette ash fell directly onto the knuckle of his finger. James disgustedly flicked the remaining ashes into the ashtray and sighed. He hardly felt the pain because his soul hurt more. His heart was shattered into tiny pieces, and no amount of alcohol or cigarettes could soothe it. Here he was, James Hetfield, the leader of the world's most popular metal band, sitting on his pile of money in complete solitude: his children had grown up and scattered (on tours, he hardly noticed how quickly his little birds grew up), he had divorced his wife, and besides fame, he had nothing left. But can fame provide the same care and tenderness that his beloved Francesca gave him? The question remained unanswered. And now what? Who needs an old man with a weakening body and the beginnings of deafness?

Taking another drag, James finally looked around. His gaze was drawn to a young girl who smiled back at him discreetly. Clearly a fan, one of the tens of thousands. Perhaps that was his only option - to find a young girl to spend his money on. She wouldn't nag him, but she would provide satisfaction. Sex for money, and with a girl who could pass for his daughter?! James cringed at the thought. At least not now. He wasn't ready yet. And perhaps he never would be because no one could piece together his heart again. No one except Francesca.

A notification buzzed. Judging by the familiar sound, James knew it was their secret chat with the guys. Taking out his smartphone from his pocket, he read the message:

"Hey guys, how about jamming with that new riff James wrote last week? If we don't get our fucking album moving, the fans will tear us apart!"

"I'm out, sorry. Need to help Cali with the move."

"Whatever you say, Mama Het!"

James smiled. Lars' cheeky language always made him smile, although he had long memorized all of the Danish jokes. Imagining the grumpy little Lars grumbling at everyone around him was amusing. The guys shouldn't know. At least, not yet. Their families had become one long ago, and any division always came with stress in the group. And what would happen when they found out about James' divorce? He had been a model family man, 25 years of marriage! He didn't want them to pity him. It would immediately lead to suggestions of seeing psychologists, sympathetic looks, and phrases like, "Maybe you'll still reconcile?" We won't reconcile. However much he regretted the decision, there simply was no other way. Maybe without him, Francesca would be happier. His one and only, his dear Fran.

Midnight approached. The streets grew louder, and the pub filled with new people. James felt uncomfortable in such conditions. The sheer number of people only intensified his loneliness. How was he supposed to give the remaining concerts of this year in such a state?! He needed to gather himself. Both at home and within himself. Thanking the bartender, he extinguished his cigarette and, casting a fleeting glance at the untouched glass of whiskey, smirked bitterly. There was no turning back; ahead lay concerts, the studio, the release of new music. He sincerely believed that music could distract him. James walked out of the pub, plugged in his headphones, and played one of the demo songs from Metallica's upcoming album. Well then.

It's time to start over.

[thatbanditqueen]

Against the Wall Chapter 3

Knock Me Down

A brief note: I need to go back and edit the previous chapters' posts, because this fic has taken on a life of its own. I envisioned it as this epic three-chapter story I would write over the winter holidays as a sort of sweet Christmas anti rom-com about Austin and an OC in the late 1980s/early 1990s. Then it took me twenty days to finish the third chapter. And it's pretty clear to me that I have more to write. At least one more chapter and an epilogue..... so whatever.....

I don't usually take requests, but I do appreciate input and feedback and suggestions, although I cannot guarantee how the writing process will work itself out, I will say that your feedback has kept me going and I included a few little scenes especially for @slowsweetlove although I probably didn't do him justice and completely defied his persona, I changed Keanu to suit my narrative needs and I hope it isn't too horrible to bear....

Catch up here:

Chapter 1: Bruised Bananas

Chapter 2: Red-Headed Woman

Summary: Picking up where we left off in chapter two, Hannah and Austin cope with the fallout from her arrest, and try to make the best of it, but fate gets in the way and they break up again, Austin begins to give in to some bad habits of his own while Hannah tries to forge a clean start but has some hard decisions to make on the way....

Rating: Explicit

Warning: smut, so 18+ only please, vaginal, oral, threesomes, sex with prostitutes, toxic, dark consensual sex, drugs, alcohol, pregnancy

Words: 15.4 K

IF YOU ENJOY PLEASE LIKE, REBLOG AND/OR LEAVE ME SOME FEEDBACK LETTING ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT.

so many typos sorry

Hannah's Rehab Playlist (basically grungey alt from late 80s/early 90s)

Hannah & Austin's Romantic Mixtape (get it on music from 70s - early 90s they would've liked... i don't know, it was part of my creative process...)

May 12, 1991, 7 am

Culver City Police Department

The wall greeted Hannah’s head with a thud, and she knocked her self back into it harder, wanting to absorb  the cold concrete, it was awelcome relief to  her warm, throbbing, anxious neck as she blocked the fluorescent glow of the overhead light with her hand. She sighed, head pounding, longing to sleep, but the adrenaline coursing through her blood made sleep impossible. That, and the general grey, dour, imprisoned atmosphere of the Los Angeles County holding cell where she found her self confined. That also made sleep impossible. So instead, she lay there, mentally flaying herself for being so stupid, so unlucky, and so utterly fucked. The severe, angry figure of Austin’s publicist Min greeted her at the discharge desk. Tall, slender, Black, with high cheekbones and an elegant, refined style, Hannah shuddered at Min’s terse smile as it led her to a white Mercedes.

“Thanks… for getting me … you didn’t have to….” Hannah looked down.

“I got a call from Austin’s agent, Brett, at 4:30 this morning informing me one of Hollywood’s hottest, highest paid actors is trying to leave an active, overseas production, one already running behind, and costing the studio hundreds of thousands of dollars a day, to rescue his girlfriend, so, um, yeah, I did have to….its going to take all my effort and connections to keep the damage to a minimum…”

Sighing as she looked out the window, Hannah  realized they were going over the 101 to the valley, a direction that was decidedly not towards her apartment. About an hour later, after a shower and some coffee, Hannah sat on a bar stool in Min’s pristine kitchen trying her best to respond to a series of questions and rules.

“Let’s not beat around the bush. My job is to minimize the amount of people who know you were arrested last night. This is best for both your career and Austin’s.” Hannah nodded to Min, but reminded herself that Min gets 10% of Austin’s salary, and his career was her priority, not hers.

“Alright,  Hannah. Have you ever been arrested before?” Hannah shook her head. “Good, that’s good… OK… now, be honest, has Austin been doing cocaine and heroin as much as you or Downey, or any of the other reprobates you have been running around with?”

“Um… Austin likes to party but uh …  he doesn’t need to, you know? I… uh… he stopped partying when he’s working on a project … he, uh, never tried H. He doesn’t even know I’ve done it…” 

“Well, he knows now. Right, ok, and how long have you had a drug problem ?”

Hannah looked down, her breathe caught in her throat before she murmured. “I don’t know if I would say I have a problem… 

“Hannah,  you were arrested for DRUGS, illegal ones, bad ones, coke and heroin ——”

“I’ve only done H a handful of times —”

“I wish you could hear yourself. Most people never utter those words…. If this gets connected to Austin, it can make him an insurance liability. Which is BAD. And, honestly the publicity is a career killer for you too,  no director wants to hire a drug addict. So we need to contain this. And you need to sound contrite, apologetic, like you understand that all drugs are bad. Got it?” Hannah nodded again, accepting her role in this conversation: silent acquiescence. 

“Right, last question - you’re on a film right now?”

“Yeah, uh … we finished the Point Break final mix Friday, that’s why I was out last night… the delivery party is next Friday …” 

“You are one lucky girl.” Min put her coffee down, pointing at Hannah as she spoke. “You may actually get out of this with your reputation intact… if you do EXACTLY as I say. Rule one, no more dressing up like you’re auditioning for a Guns n’ Roses video. Think sleek, think simple, think modest. I want you to look like a PTA mom who is also an accountant. Got it?” 

Hannah mumbled how she hated Guns n’ Roses, but her chin bobbed up and down with assent. 

“Good. Ok, rule two, and hopefully this is obvious, but no more partying. I don’t care if you’re at the wrap party and Patrick Swayze offers you shots off his tight, perfect ass. You are now the paragon of sober, chaste behavior. I’m setting you up with an attorney, good one, Sheila, she specializes in these… sorts of…things… You need to prepare yourself. Sheila is going to tell you to start going to twelve step meetings, it will look good. She’ll ask for rehab in exchange for no jail time and a dismissal of charges.”

Hannah’s head fell into her hands, and her voice was shaking. “But I —“

“Possession of heroin, cocaine, unregistered guns, those are felonies here in California. Trust me babe, you don’t wanna fuck with prison. Rehab is the sensible choice, the choice that keeps this off your record, and then boom, clean slate…. ok, last rule: no more carbs.”

“Wait, why shouldn’t I eat carbs?”

“People always gain weight when they go to rehab, darling, and it would just make my life so much easier if you started saying no to carbs. And maybe yes to cigarettes? Now there’s a drug addiction I can get behind, keeps the appetite down, looks cool, might even help you get through all this.”

“Gee, thanks for the pep talk, Min, you make me feel horrible about myself.”

“Good, channel that when you think you want a doughnut. And smoke instead.”

Chewing sweet, glazed doughnuts in the passenger seat of her friend Robin’s car, Hannah let the gooey carbohydrates do their work comforting her as she prepared to call Austin. It was nighttime in London, and the cool, self control in his voice threw her off. Hannah could almost feel his abs tensing as he tightened up inward and put up a calm front. His timbre was steady, confident, unflappable. There was a slight British twinge to his voice, she could hear the Jagger in it, and he sounded like a bizarre version of himself. Hannah tried to lighten the mood, teasing him about his accent, but it was hard to combat every variation of his vague “the main thing is that you are ok, right Banana?”  It betrayed how worried he was. Guilty for making him worry, guilty for ruining their travel plans, Hannah explained how she wouldn’t be flying over in two weeks and didn’t know when they would see each other.

“I totally get it if you want to take a break…” Hannah offered.

“What, from us?” 

“Yeah,” she added, wiping her eyes, letting the word salad tossing around her mind tumble out. “I just… I … I’m a mess and its already been so long since we had sex and being with me is putting your career at risk, and I would never fuck with your money…. or your art … you are so talented …  and I fucked up and I just… I would understand —if you need a break from the drama… ”

Austin paused, her comment about his talent was unnerving, raw praise was not something Hannah did, it usually was hidden in back handed mockery or laced with sarcasm. Watching Hannah struggle to admit he was good at anything made it so charming when she did, that, in those moments, he actually felt like he deserved her approval. She was perpetually the same to him since they met: brutally honesty and never obsequious, no matter his success. Or hers, for that matter. Hannah’s authenticity drove his need to have her in his life. That, and the way her feisty stubbornness provoked a subconscious desire to conquer her, she was a challenge he would surmount, and he secretly longed to marry her, fill her with children and make her his forever. But Austin never really entertained those inclinations. He couldn’t explain how he felt that, and then was also turned on by how ambitious and smart and talented Hannah was. He loved mentally sparring with her, exchanging witty barbs with each other was like foreplay. Then also, he loved catching her at work at the end of the day, still editing a scene. Her eyes lit up, biting her lip in concentration as if she was solving a complex puzzle. Then there was the way she never expected or demanded anything, never took it for granted that he would pay for dinner, concert tickets or trips, had refused to move in with him. Her plucky, unassuming self-reliance made him want to take care of her even more and give her the life she’d never had. There were moments when Hannah let down her walls and became vulnerable, moments when she let herself be raw,  ask for help, or reach out to be touched, Austin lived for those moments. His favorite view of her was from between her legs, when she was completely naked, and his mouth was in her cunt, licking her, pleasing her, devouring her in ways she had always been wya too self conscious to let another man touch her. Austin lived to watch her face twist in tortured ecstasy as she writhed beneath him, moans begging him to continue, while her eyes betrayed her fear of the unbridled feelings she couldn’t control. It was sticking his tongue into a live current of lightening in the middle of velvet hurricane.

Austin had been in London  for a month and he ached for Hannah’s companionship. Work was a useful distraction, his days started on the set at 6 am, and then he was often not back to the hotel, often, before 8 or 9 pm, sometimes grabbing a bite with the other cast members or crew. He told himself he was glad not to have Hannah there, it wouldn’t have been fair to leave her all day six days a week, and then giving her the worst version of himself in the evenings, exhausted and just wanting to recover and recharge. Acting demanded so much intense work, that being alone on an overseas shoot made it easier to stay in character. Which was the part of his job he loved, the magic of subsuming himself in a character that wasn’t plain, boring Austin from Anaheim. 

Sundays were his only day off, and today, on this Sunday, listening to Hannah blabber on insecure and nice and completely vulnerable sparked something primal in Austin. He wanted to throw his phone down and run to Heathrow and fly too her immediately. He banged his hand on the table, frustrated at how stuck he was, and made a mental note to tell Min that money was no object for a lawyer or rehab or whatever else was needed to  to take care of Hannah right now. Ashley, he needed to call his sister Ashley and ask if she could drive to LA and help out as well. Making this mental list, Austin roused himself from his reverie and returned to their conversation.

“HAN - NAH,” Austin’s voice growled in a low, husky rumble through the phone receiver slowly and surely. “Stop…. sshhhhh…  baby…. you’re tired, you’re scared, it’s ok baby…. I get it… but….I. Love. You. Do you hear me Red? … I FUCKING BLOODY WELL LOVE YOU. I am not some sex crazed teen age boy. I’m a grown man. I’m not going to break up with you the day you get arrested for heroin because I need to fuck something… I would be there with you if I could, baby. It kills me that I can’t be there to take care of you -”

“But you shouldn’t have to take care of me, you should be with someone easier —”

“Banana! You were extremely easy …. that’s partly why I love you - you didn’t play hard to get, you opened up those legs the second I met you and then fucked me in an alley before you even knew my name —”

“That’s not what I meant. Plus, I knew your first name…  and I could tell you were an ok guy, I saw your soul in the bathroom that night … But that’s not the kind of easy I’m talking about… I meant uncomplicated… simple… easy to live with…”

“Nothing worth having is easy, Red … look… you’re the only one I want… I don’t want anyone else. I love you. I love your messy, big beautiful…. brain… those two heaving sides of your cerebellum, working up new insults to hurl at me… I honestly don’t know how you do it… I love your big, beautiful tits…” his voice was low, husky now, slowly as he relished the mental image of Hannah the last time they’d been naked in bed together. “I love your big, beautiful Banana butt, and I really really love your sweet, little, tight —”

“Austin stop! I’m at Robin’s house, she is sitting ten feet from me —”

 “MOUTH… what did you think I was gonna say? S’ides, she can’t hear what I am saying—“

“But she can see my reaction, even though she is on the couch, politely pretending to read a magazine and being very very cool about everything…”

“Wait, are you blushing? OH baby, you’re so fucKing cute when you blush…. Especially when your lips are around my—

“Austin!”

“Ok, ok. Look. I can’t help it, your voice is so sexy its distracting me… Look, I’m fine. I’m so busy with work, its probably good you aren’t flying to London, because we’re doing twelve hour shoots.  I’ll just come home after we wrap, I need a break, you do too, so its good we aren’t gonna travel around Europe all summer. I need to recover….  I’ll be home in August, and until then, it’ll be just like any other long distance thing, and we’ll be fine. We’re already pretty banging at phone sex…  and you can use all that free time in rehab to write me dirty love letters —”

A loud guffaw escaped from Hannah’s rough, cried-out throat.

“Oh baby, I love it when you snort. Loudly.”

“Shut up, Austin, you really are a dirty, little pervert. I swear, I can hear your hard on…. I can just tell from your goofy voice… how can snorting turn you on?”

“The world works in mystical ways, never question a hard on… just say thank you….”

Hannah chuckled, “I can’t decide if I want to punch you or make out…?’

“I wish we could do both, preferably, in that order… oh Banana, everything is gonna be ok. Maybe this is a good thing.”

Hannah paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sighing, Austin looked up and let his eyes wander, unfocus, following the rectangles of light bouncing off the crystal chandelier in his hotel room. He wondered if Hannah would be in this trouble if he had just been man enough to confront her before he left LA last month. If he really wallowed in self pity, his guilt spiraled back to their first break up, when he cheated on her. Because after getting back together, the biggest change he observed was Hannah’s new daily coke habit. It was a drug she used to hate it, and now she did it first thing in the morning. One evening before he left for England, SJP had cornered Austin at the Viper Room and confided that she was pretty sure Bob and Hannah were doing heroin with Johnny Depp, Winona Ryder and River Phoenix in the club’s back office. That Hannah had started experimenting with smack in Venice with Bob, behind her back. Austin had told her she was being paranoid, they were doing blow, like everyone else. Sure, Hannah enjoyed blow, maybe too much, but then again, coke was everywhere, e was everywhere, and everyone was doing it, including them. But heroin? No. Hannah was no junkie, she had no track marks, wasn’t passing out, or missing work, or stealing things. She was just going through a party girl phase, needed to let off steam now that she was getting better jobs, and needed to get it out of her system and find her rhythm.  Now, after the arrest, he wasn’t so sure, and the prospect of Hannah being locked away in a rehab, getting rest, forced off drugs, was actually a salve comforting the overwhelming sense of powerlessness and fear running through him because he was so far away. 

“Banana... I’m just saying maybe some rest and relaxation will be good….”

May 17, 1991

Hannah tried to be good while her lawyer, Sheila, sorted out her case. She wore boring clothes. She clenched her fist and powered through the week totally clean until the Point Break wrap party, when she looked down to find herself sipping on a beer and couldn’t even remember picking it up. Fuck it, its just one, you deserve it with the week you’ve had. Three beers and two shots of tequila later Hannah was smoking a joint out back with a mix of actors and crew, including Keanu Reeves, Lori Petty and others. The night went on, the atmosphere was giddy with the thrill of completing such a large-scale action movie and Hannah chased her warm buzz into a drunken fuck-it cyclone. Staggering toward her car, wondering if she should drive, she was rescued from indecision by a bounding Keanu running into her, long hair flapping behind him as he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards a group heading to Sunset in a limo. Hannah couldn’t see straight leaving the The Standard at 2:30 a.m., and found herself sharing a cab alone with Keanu, and his hands, one of which found its way to her knee, a glint sparkling in his eyes, his brows arched in a question.  In that moment, the sheer flattery of his proposition sent a of flock butterflies fluttering through Hannah’s belly, and she looked up at Keanu’s rugged jawline through blurry eyes, focusing her eyes on the rough stubble calling out for her fingers, imagining how sweet it would be to look up at him as he fucked her softly, slowly, tenderly. No one would know. She felt like she was dancing above a ravine, daring herself to tumble in to her own demise. Hearing his velvety, warm voice, Hannah almost propelled herself forward.

“You know, Rosenfeld, you’re the cutest editor I’ve ever met…”

Hannah let out a sardonic, “ha,” taking a deep breath. It took all her will power to remove Keanu’s hand from her knee. 

“Not sure if that’s a compliment… most editors are gross, nerdy, old white dudes… kinda low bar there, K-Rock… but, thanks anyway… it’s just … I have a boyfriend…”

“Still with Austin?”

She nodded, leaving with a hug before wobbling out of the cab and into Robin’s house. The base of her head was still throbbing Monday morning when Austin’s sister, Ashley, showed up to take her to lunch and help her get ready for rehab.

August 17, 1991

Golden Key Treatment Center, Half Moon Bay, CA

Hannah stood in front of the mirror, tee shirt lifted up, moving her hand over her belly and hips, stopping at the top of her grey sweatpants and snapping the elastic in frustration.

“Ughhh, I think I’ve gained 10 pounds since I got here… what the fuck can I possibly wear tomorrow?” She whined to her roommate Sonal, who looked up as she flipped through Cosmo. 

“Shut up Hannah, you look healthy, I would kill for your tits…..”

Hannah shifted from side to side. “And I would kill to be 18 again, like you, with your stupid metabolism and great genes … you could be a model… I would hate you if you weren’t the only other sane person here… but you need to tell your mom tomorrow, no more bringing tubs of Indian food for us to eat at family visitation …  Ok, from now on, every time I want to eat, I’m gonna smoke… coming? ” Hannah slipped on her birks and grabbed her pack of Parliament methols. Sonal followed her downstairs and outside to the ring of metal chairs and benches in the designated smoking area. Golden Key was like a jail mixed with a posh psych ward housed in a Mediterranean style villa overlooking the Pacific Ocean above levels of manicured gardens punctuated with fountains, a pool and tennis courts. The most comfortable smoking section was a deck off to one side of the lobby at the entrance, hidden from the drive by a line of tall evergreen shrubbery, but convenient for those stressful moments Sundays during family time visiting with guests in the main building. 

Today, Hannah and Sonal were alone on their walk through the grounds. Saturdays were the only day patients could get a day pass to leave campus with a buddy or approved guest. It was also one of two days they got to sleep in, and Hannah and Sonal had conspired to stay in, eat cookie dough and veg out watching television, for once not having to compromise with others on what they watched in the common room. Hannah had regressed back to habits from her freshman year at UCLA, spending the day in pajamas without make up, smoking menthols and watching TV.

Sonal exhaled her cigarette, “How long did you say it’s been since you saw your boyfriend?”

“Early April… it’s been over four months ago… he’s probably boarding his flight right now … today’s actually his birthday, but he couldn’t get over until tomorrow…  I’ve been trying to think where we can sneak off during visitation tomorrow … though he probably won’t want to fuck me when he sees how fat and boring I’ve become here… ”

“Hannah… if its been four months, he won’t care what you look like. Why was he in London again?” 

Hannah bit her lip, “Yeah,  he, uh … his company transferred him, but he’s—”

Standing, Sonal looked through the shrubs out toward the circular driveway. “Shhh, Hannah, a black convertible just pulled up front, it looks expensive… ”

Hannah bounced up, moving to peep around the shrubs. “That’s a Lamborghini….” she murmured, watching a tall white guy with shoulder length blonde hair covering his face grab a bouquet of roses and step out of the car. A shot of electricity went through her stomach as she realized who it was, and, stabbing out her cigarette butt she became a woman possessed. She scurried around the deck’s stone balustrade columns and ran down the steps towards the car, the flop of her sandals falling off didn’t phase her. The force of her body knocked Austin back onto the hood of the car as she jumped onto him, legs around his waist, a high pitched squeal escaping her mouth before it smashed against his lips.

“Hey Red…happy to see me?” Austin looked up, through a sly grin in-between kisses, blue eyes bright and twinkling at Hannah. She slide off him, panting and giggling, then realizing she was barefoot in sweatpants, she punched Austin in the shoulder. 

“Asshole - I did not want to look like like this the first time you saw me…..I fucking hate you!”

Austin smirked as he rubbed his mouth, raw from Hannah’s assault on it, his hands were now on her waist as he pulled her back into his embrace. “Shut up, you look fucking hot… I might have to ravish you right here on my new car…”

“NOPE…. I know how much you like public sex… ugh, actors… consistently looking for an audience… well, the joke’s on you, babe… now you have to wait for me to shower and get some clothes on.”

“What’s the point when I’m going spend the rest of the night tryin to get them off…?”

“Hmm, we’ll see if you have a chance with that British accent… where’s the man I said goodbye to in March? Did you leave my boyfriend back in London?”

“Yeah… I … uh…” Austin ran his hand through his long hair, pushing it behind his ear, embarrassed. “I’m working on that… I’ve been speaking like Mick Jagger for almost six months… longer if you count the dialogue coach I started with last fall… at this point…  I don’t even know what my real voice sounds like, I mean, this feels like my real voice… certain things trigger it and other times as well it’s, I don’t know… I can’t help it, its like a part of the fiber of my being… fuck, that sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

Hannah caressed the side of his mouth, noticing how tired he looked. “No, it doesn’t sound stupid… that’s the nature of being an empty vessel… a beautiful, tall, sexy empty vessel… sometimes it takes a while for the contents to drain out, right?” She pulled Austin’s neck forward, and stood on her toes to kiss his check. “I love you Austin Jagler…” 

A kiss to his other cheek, and Austin’s face melted into a lusty haze, beaming down on her with a broad, affectionate grin. Her witty barbs and insults were an aphrodisiac. Hannah could have asked him to drive his brand new Lamborghini into the ocean and he would have. Just watching Hannah’s boobs bounce up and down (had they gotten bigger since April?) as she ran toward him without a bra on, her hair bobbing out of a messy bun, shoes falling off as she pummeled him on to his new car, tits first, smooshing him down under a mountain of soft, billowy breasts, and he was transfixed. Knocked down, figuratively and literally, He could have stayed there, on the Lamborghini’s hood, fully clothed, watching her hover above him, the outline of her nipples visible through her shirt, and he would have been content for hours. Although now that she had steadied herself, and was once again demeaning, insecure, doting and violent all at once as she slapped him, called him an empty vessel and told him she loved him, he was even more bewitched then ever. 

“Austin?” Hannah snapped her fingers in his face. “You must really be jet lagged… I said, you have to fill out some forms inside while I change, I’ll be real quick.”

An hour later, Austin’s left hand was pushing up the hem of Hannah’s knee length yellow and green flowered dress, finding its way to rest on her knee, slowing moving up higher, his left hand steering them out of the Golden Key’s gates and down the hill towards the coast. She leaned on his shoulder, and he kissed the top of her hair, lifting his arm to pull her in closer.

“You are such a bastard, showing up a day early … you’re lucky you’re so pretty… and that it’s your birthday…. and that I missed you …” she said, her voice becoming breathy, low, and Austin gasped at the way her hand moved to caress the top of his inner thigh. She chuckled as his cock twitched and he reached down to remove her hand.

“Mmmhmmm… you’re gonna make me crash, baby… I only just landed in San Francisco this morning, and this is a new car, and I’m not used to this windy road … so, where are we going?”

“You bought this car this morning on your way here?”

“No, Alex picked it up for me and drove it to meet me at the plane.”

“Fucking movie stars … don’t even buy your own cars… making your assistant drive nine hours from LA with a shiny new toy instead of just renting a car like a normal person… pathetic… “ Austin grinned, eyes remaining forward on the road, it made him feel powerful to hear Hannah recount his extravagance through mockery, the way her eyes widened told him she was secretly impressed.

“Ugh, Half Moon Bay is really a one horse town… there’s a fisherman’s wharf touristy area, some beaches, a square with a few shops… I just have to be back by 9, and, um, we’re not supposed to leave the town…”

“Right, but how would they know?”

“I would know… I um… I’m really trying to do this … I want to graduate sooner rather than later…”

“Graduate?”

“Yeah, remember? I wrote about it, in one of my very long, dumb rambly letters … it’s stupid, but the program length is variable here, three months to a year, based on how long it takes to complete their ‘three phases’ and ‘graduate’ from the program…”

“What phase are you on?”

“Two… I have a sponsor in NA and I’m plugging along … rah rah rah…”

“That’s good, though, I mean… right?”

Hannah squinted, looking ahead of her, and then looked down, fidgeting with her dress. “Yes.” Her voice was low, sincere. “Yes. I’m glad I’m here. I wasn’t at first….. but now I’ve been here for two months and… I … I have been able to admit that ….. the drugs were a problem for me… and… I don’t want to do them anymore … I want to be free… is that the lamest thing ever? Don’t worry, they haven’t totally brainwashed me … I’m still a devout atheist… I still like sex and rock ’n roll …but, I um… look…. we should talk tonight I guess, because if you need a girlfriend who you can get fucked up with and share that party lifestyle with I totally get it…but being clean, for me, means no booze… no recreational e and dancing at parties in the desert…”

Austin’s face grew pensive, and he drew Hannah in tighter, planting a long kiss again on the top of her head. “Shut up with that… First, we did that once because YOU wanted to… raves are not exactly my scene… and Second, You’re my girl, ok? I’m gonna take care of you. I want to….And, uh…I’m like, really proud of you, Hannah Banana, I really am… so let’s figure out more pressing issues… like,it’s 1:30, I gotta get you back by 9… that doesn’t give us much time, we should probably go straight to my hotel…”

Hannah guffawed, “Not even gonna buy me dinner first, huh?” 

Austin’s heart swelled and he felt himself harden more, Hannah’s teasing lilt made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he rubbed her knee. “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something to feed you,” he tried to play it straight, looking ahead, but unable to stop his deep chuckles as Hannah playfully slapped him. “I meant to talk…” he laughed,  “like we should just go to my hotel, so we have somewhere private to talk… we have a lot to talk about… we don’t even have to have sex today… or even go to the super deluxe suite I got with a big, comfy king bed … we can just hang out on the hotel grounds, the lobby is nice, there’s like a path along some cliffs and an outdoor fire place, there’s a golf course somewhere…”

Hannah hummed, her hand sliding around his waist, “Ok, yeah, you know how much I love golf …” 

“What the fuck, Austin…  the Ritz? I didn’t even know this was here, leave it to you to find the most overpriced poncy, rich asshole place to stay.” Hannah exclaimed, as Austin led her through the lobby of the Half Moon Bay Ritz Carlton. He shrugged, walking towards the outdoor bar where a fire was indeed roaring from a large, stone pit, and you could see the Pacific Ocean churning beyond green cliffs. Hannah shook her head, and pulled him to her, standing on her toes to whisper into his ear, “I need to use the bathroom, can we go to room?” Her teeth grazing the bottom of Austin’s earlobe, and she grinned as his eye brows lifted and he nodded his chin, tapping his hand over his thigh during the elevator ride up. 

Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, Hannah’s confidence faded a bit, she pulled on the waddle that had expanded under her chin, and pushed it back to up, looking at herself with both hands pulling back the excess skin around her face. Stupid fucking cow, you were almost a size 8… now you can barely get into your size 12 clothes… But Hannah’s confidence surged back when she came out to find the eager, almost innocent look of awe in Austin’s eyes glued to her from the couch where he was untying his oxfords,  camel hair jacket already off. He jumped up and sauntered over, pushing his long hair to the side. She shivered at his hands closing in around her waist, savoring how the back of his index finger lightly feathered up and down her sides. His blue eyes were dark and half lidded with lust above a dopey smile. 

“Hey…” his voice was husky, slow, and Hannah’s pulse quickened, quivering at his touch, the fire building in her core swelled and her chin jolted down, embarrassed of how intense her desire felt. Her breath was uneven, nervous, and Austin’s right hand moved to her soothe her cheek, cupping it and turning it towards him.

“Hey… is this ok? You ok?” Hannah nodded, her fingers moving to play and tug at the belt loops on his hips, pushing into him. Now both of Austin’s hands were cupping her face, thumbs gliding over the tops of her cheeks, his lips soft on hers, then pausing to swallow anxiously. Her eyes widened, as she nuzzled the tip of his nose, and his head bent down, the warmth from his forehead meeting hers, eyes squeezed shut, shuddering as he mumbled, “Oh god baby, sweet baby, I missed you so much… so… so much….” 

A warm tingling pricked at the sides of Hannah’s eyes, she thought she might cry, but she kept it at bay, nodded, her hands tightening around him as his nose grazed her cheek and his lips were on her earlobe, then kissing the nape of her neck softly.  He drew her closer to him, taking her left hand in his right palm to sway  around the room, half speaking/half singing the lyrics to the song “Lady in Red” softly in her ear. Austin’s slow, gravelly, semi-British inflection pulled her in and she followed his lead, moving in harmony, their bodies softening and relaxing as they remembered how they fit together. 

I've never seen you looking so gorgeous as you do tonight…

I've never seen you shine so bright

You’re amazing

I've never seen so many people want to be there by your side

And when you turned to me and smiled

It took my breath away

And I have never had such a feeling

Such a feeling of complete and utter love

As I do tonight

The lady in red is dancing with me

Cheek to cheek

There's nobody here

It's just you and me

It's where I want to be

Well, I hardly know this beauty by my side

I'll never forget the way you look tonight

Austin’s voice cracked, and Hannah heard it and felt it, with her head was resting on his chest. It sent a wave of electricity up her belly. Austin paused by the window, smoothing her hair, his fingers trailing down her back.

“I love you, Red, forever and always..,”

“I love you too, Austin, always and forever.” He gripped her closer as he felt her voice reverberating through his chest. 

Austin pulled back to look into Hannah’s big brown eyes, wide and vulnerable, her pupils blown with longing, and he answered it with a kiss, stroked her back with his thumb. The kisses became deeper, his mouth enclosing her upper lip, softly, then pulling on it, before their tongues collided, each beckoning the other to consume them completely. Hannah fingers worked their way down the buttons of his black, flower patterned dress shirt, slowly, biting her lip as it finally fell to the floor and her hands moved, shakily, over his smooth, firm skin.  Austin grabbed her right hand, kissing the back of her palm. Her other hand brushed a lock of his long hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear.

“I like the long hair, by the way… you look like a handsome, rock star surfer.” Hannah whispered, grasping a handful and pushing it behind his right ear. 

“Thanks…” Austin muttered distractedly as he pulled at her dress, exhaling with awe as he slowly raised it up over her head, shaking his head and popping his lips at the sight of Hannah’s heaving pale breasts. He bent down in reverence to kiss the line of freckles above them, grinning like a school boy at the sound of his fingers successfully pulling off the last hook of her bra clasp. Now his hands were moving slowly down her back, playing with the elastic of her panties as his lips forged a trail from her décolletage to her mouth. Feeling her tense, he looked down to see Hannah sucking in her stomach, using her arms to cover the slope of her belly and hips, and he stepped back, as if reading her mind, he pulled her hands away so her could admire her whole figure.

“You’re gorgeous, Red… really… I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

Hannah rolled her eyes, “Stop…”

“No, really…” Austin lowered himself on his quads to grab Hannah by her ass cheeks, lifting her up and carrying her under her knees and back over to the bed, then laying her down gently. Hovering over her, Austin’s eyes smoldered. “I need to tell you something baby…. you look better, you look healthy, you look like you did when we met… this is how your body is supposed to look…” his hand stroked the roundness of her hips, grabbing and rolling her soft, supple flesh, as he leaned in to kiss Hannah’s shoulder, smirking as she whimpered in response to the soft touch of his fingers tracing a line up her belly to her breasts to flick her nipple. A bolt of lightening ran down Hannah’s spine and sparked at her core, a fire building as Austin mumbled on, the arousal in his voice shuddering through. “These curves just kill me… I’ve seen you naked hundreds of times now, and every time it’s still …. a fucking revelation, I just want to sink in, explore every contour, feel every bounce, taste every inch of you…” as he said this, Austin pushed himself lower, until he was on his knees at the base of the bed, looking into Hannah’s eyes as he slowly slide her panties off, eyebrow arched in a question, then hastening to rip them off once Hannah nodded her chin in assent. Austin dragged her legs towards him until they were over his shoulder and Hannah’s rosy pink pussy met his face with a wet slap at the edge of the bed. He held her still when she twitched, responding to the intense flick of his tongue over the center her clit. Austin spoke into Hannah’s sex, his hands soothing the top of her thighs.

“Shhhh… s’ok… don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you baby…”

“Mhmmmm I know, I’m ok,” Hannah’s eyes met Austin’s, looking up at her between her legs. “ I just… I don’t think I’ve ever done this sober, not really, not like this where I’ve been clean for months…”

Austin leaned forward to lav at Hannah’s core, maintaining eye contact, and then pausing to rub her clit with his thumb, savoring the pitter patter of his finger against her slick flesh. 

“I’m into it, I want to see you, the real you, I can’t wait to watch you come undone, unfiltered, knowing that I am making you feel pleasure, and not some chemicals…” 

Throwing her head back, Hannah cried out when Austin returned his tongue to her nub, her fingers seizing the duvet cover to steady her through the intense waves of pleasure washing over her as the tip of his tongue rolled on her, up and down in a syncopated trance, then shifting to circle around her core, bringing his thumb to messaged her entrance and gently open it up, his tongue back home on her clit, fingers gliding inside her, calling out to her center as his rhythm intensified, responding to the thrust of Hannah’s hips now fucking into his mouth was she chased the sensation building in her belly until she screamed out a refrain of “oh gods,” her face contorting in agony through her release, hips bucking slowly as the waves crashed outward and the heat of her orgasm rippled out across her body. The sparks flew up through her nose and tingled down to the skin at the base of her feet.

“Oh god Austin… I FUCKING love you…” she cried out, her head flinging back as she panted. Austin grinned up at her, his thumb riding her through her climax over her clit, before she pulled him off by his wrist, unable to take the over stimulation. Hannah perched up on her elbows and caught her breathe, her fingers aimlessly twirliing Austin’s long hair. He smirked a self-satisfied smirk, wiping his mouth on the duvet, then lifting himself up effortlessly from his shins.

Hannah admired his bare abs, rising in a V shape to broad, muscular hard shoulders, he spoke while looking down to unbuckle his pants. “I honestly don’t know how long I’ll last today baby…. It’s been a while… unless you count jerking off to the sound of your voice…” Still panting, Hannah’s mouth turned into a bright gleam, and she sat up, making him trip over the edge of the bed as she pulled him down toward her, kicking off the last leg of his trousers and jostling to land over her with a burst of laughter. Pushing the blonde hair out of his face, Hannah looked up into his eyes with an affectionate grin, the reverence she found there made her gasp.

“I still can’t get over the fact that you’re really here with me, that it’s really you,” she whispered, pinching his arm. “I’m afraid any moment I’m going to wake up in my bed at GK and this will all be some sort of wet dream.”

Austin leaned in, meeting his lips with hers, his tip grazing her entrance as he met her eyes. 

“If this is a dream, I don’t wanna wake up, I just wanna be here with you.” He started to push into her, slowly, grunting low as a he watched Hannah’s eyes widen and her breath hitch in her throat with a gasp, exhaling through the snug fit of her cunt and the way she involuntary clenched around him.

“Hey, you ok?” His eyes darted up to search hers.

“Mhmmmmm…uh huh…” she answered, moaning out, “I just… may be out of practice…”

“S’ok…” Austin slowly thrust out, and then, rocking back into her, he grabbed her hips and swiveled onto his back so that Hannah was now on top. “Take the wheel, baby, let’s go at your pace.” 

Pausing to reposition her knees on either side of his hips, Hannah pushed her hands onto his chest to steady herself, her breath sharp as she lifted off of him and then slid back down, a glint in her eyes. 

“I like ... uhhhh… how I tell you… I’m …ummff….. out of practice and… ahhhhh…. out of shape and that I don’t know what I’m doing…. And …o f fuck…..you put me in charge…” She grunted, her voice was playful as she began to bob up and down on Austin’s cock, biting her lips as she found the angle that made a spark jolting up through her core with each forward movement.

“Oh god, fuck I missed you so much….” Austin groaned, his hands digging into her hips as she rode him deeper and he rose to meet each thrust, his hands tightening to slow her down. “Whoo, wait, hold on…” Hannah paused, as Austin pushed himself up, his legs folding under her as he pulled her knees up on either side of him.  Hannah felt his cock push deeper, as she met his body, straddling him at eye level as he wrapped his arms around her waist, and she lowered her legs on either side of his, her arms now hooked around his shoulders. Their bodies were twisted together upright in an embrace as Hannah began to grind against Austin slowly in lotus position, feeling his length glide up and down within her, the muscles in his arms tensing as they moved with her hips to support each push up and down. Face-to-face in the middle of the bed, their mouths hovered across from each other as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Austin’s breath synced with Hannah’s and she grasped the back of his neck, twirling his hair into a rope away from his face as she kissed him deeply, passionately, heaving back and forth as her pussy opened up further for him with each thrust. 

“I missed you too…” Hannah murmured between low gasps, her hips dipping up and down deliberately, a loud moan escaping her mouth.

Austin’s fingers drew her in closer. “Let’s just live here in this bed and… never… uhhhh … leave… ok?”  Amused, Hannah nodded, as Austin pulled her in for another kiss, his lips wet, tongue furtive, bodies pressed tightly together, Austin savored the swell of Hannah’s breasts against his heart as they fucked into each other in a slow, soulful rhythm. Austin’s hands began to move Hannah’s hips more energetically.

“I love you… Hannah Banana”

“I love you too pretty boy…” her fingers slide down to his chest and began to tweak his nipples, and Hannah bit her lip as his blue eyes met hers with an intense heat, plunging down onto him, hips rippling as he worked them with her and she felt a tension building in her core. “Fuck Austin, I think I’m gonna cum again…”

He bit his lip, nodding his forehead against hers. “Hey, that’s my girl… just relax… don’t fight it…. Uhhhh god….you feel so soft when you cum…  ride me through it… FUCK I fucking love you….”

Letting loose Hannah cried out, trembling as she continued to rock back and forth over Austin until he jerked harder up into her, his abdomen tightening, her name on his lips as he convulsed and exploded deep inside her. 

“Oh god...” Austin muttered, his brow bending into hers as he stilled her hips and Hannah pushed down, squeezing her arms around him until they fell sideways. She landed on his chest as they exhaled, a heaving pile of spent limbs. 

The sun set over the ocean, and Hannah and Austin spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, crawling to the phone to order room service, sitting on the bed lazily drinking Pellegrino and feeding each other French fries, finding new ways for their bodies to fit together when splayed across each other. Austin murmured in her ear how he wanted Hannah to move in with him when she graduated, and she nodded, all the pride and snark and insecure stubbornness fucked out of her. 

“Ok. If you mean it.”

“Let me take care of you Hannah.”

“We can take care of each other, ok? I’m not some helpless patient… I’m just… trying to get better… but… I am so, so SO grateful, lucky? For your support… it makes it so much easier to be here now that I an escape with you….” She answered, and he kissed her forehead.

“You’re right… we take care of each other… and I’ll be back next weekend, cuz I need you…. Being here with you, it’s like you fill up this empty, Hannah shaped hole in my life….”

She giggled, and slapped his shoulder. “I feel like you fill up an empty Austin-shaped hole deep inside me…”

Austin rolled his eyes. “I meant figuratively… like a part of my soul is incomplete without you.”

Hannah turned to look at him, as he spooned her from behind, their eyes met and Hannah waggled her eyebrows, leaning up to kiss Austin’s lips and then moving around so that they were once again tangled in an embrace, kissing deeply as their bodies softly heaved into one another, and before he knew it, Austin was above Hannah again, hard, looking for her nod as he spread her legs and guided himself into her once more.

“Oh gawd, baby, when I’m inside you I just feel like I’m home….” 

Hannah’s big brown eyes, widened, a deep laugh burst out of her throat, followed by the sharp gasp she exhaled as Austin’s cock lunged into her. 

“Austin, that is so corny, that’s like the Hallmark card for vaginas… CUM home Austin…”

“Shhh, Hannah…ughhhh” he smiled down at her, hovering above as he continued to thrust into her. “Don’t ruin the romantic mood——”

“Ok..baby… you’re right…. It’s so… ughhhh.. romantic when you tell me how my pussy is like …ahhh” their conversation was punctuated by groans of pleasure. “House….”

“Like home, like it is so comforting to be inside a familiar pussy, a homey pussy…ughhhh”

She laughed and shook her head, and then gripped his sides as Austin began to pump into her harder, and Hannah could no longer form full sentences, her whole body buzzed from the electricity generated by each pound against her g spot. Within a few more minutes, she was coming unraveled, and Austen soon followed.

Dozing off in a post coital nap, it was 8:15 when Hannah eventually rose and began to dress, looking over her shoulder with a heavy heart. Austin followed, hand through his hair, retrieving his own clothes and dropping her back at her rehab with the promise that he would be at family visitation the next day. Before she got out of the car, Hannah handed him a small jewelry box with a bow wrapped around it.

“Happy birthday, pretty boy…”

He opened the box, finding a cassette tape labeled with Hannah’s handwriting, Songs that Make Me Think of You. 

“ I was planning to give it to you tomorrow… there are no cool shops in Half Moon Bay… and you have so much money and stupid things anyway…. so I thought I’d make you something… there some Cure, REM, Pixies, Elvis Costello…. some love songs… ugh, it’s stupid… I mean, you just bought yourself a Lamborghini…”

Austin grinned, shaking his head, as he cupped her face and drew her to him. “Shut up. This is perfect because you made it for me… I can’t wait to listen to it…”

Mid August though Mid September, 1991

The next few weekends would follow much the same, as Austin drove up from LA to visit and September came to call, bringing with it a cooler bite to the coastal California sea air. The mood at rehab changed perceptibly, and Hannah waltzed through her days on a pink cloud, scribbling daily journal entries, speaking openly and positively in groups, meetings, sessions with her counselor and her NA sponsor. As she started to make plans to move home, phrase three was in her sights, all she had to do was connect with a temporary NA sponsor in LA and set up a meeting, and she could start planning to graduate the first week of October. 

It was a balmy, early Tuesday morning when Hannah bounded down the staircase from her dorms to the foyer, whistling REM’s “Shiny Happy People,” when a note stuck in her throat at the sight of Min waiting for her on a bench. Austin had been up to visit the previous weekend, and had said nothing about his publicist visiting her before he departed Sunday. She started to open her mouth, and Min motioned for her to follow as she led Hannah back to what was usually her counselor’s office.

“James, is it? Said I could use his office.” Hannah nodded, and watched with horror as Min unfurled several tabloids in front of Hannah with the previous days’ date on them. There, on the front, were photos of her and Austin: kissing, walking, holding hands, at the hotel and then saying goodbye at the front of the Golden Key’s main building. The headline read “Butler’s Romance with Downey’s Junkie Jailbird.”

“Fuckkkk… what the fuck Min?”

“Someone tipped off the paparazzi. Either someone who saw you at the hotel, or walking around this charming institution. Doesn’t matter who, at this point, it’s out there. And they have the whole story, your name, the details of the arrest, everything.”

Hannah gulped, flipping through the pages and gasping in horror as she found the double-page spread with photos someone had taken driving by the arrest with her and Downey, next to her mug shot and a photo of her and Austin walking down the red carpet at US premiere of his last film, David Lynch’s Crazy at Heart. Min straightened her glasses, her deep Black skin somehow radiant even first thing in the morning, when Hannah imagined she must have woken up very early in order to drive or fly up from LA.

“Austin doesn’t know I’m here. And I think we both know that boy is like a Labrador retriever. He will not do the smart thing, he will be loyal, he will not break up with you. But he must. You are a liability to his career. I cannot stress that enough. I’m sorry, I have to say it as it is. Bob is not getting any offers, and he was nominated for an Oscar, because he can not get insurance coverage until he finishes treatment and stays out of trouble for at least a year, I not more. His career may very well be over…  I begged Austin, BEGGED him, not to have you walk down the carpet last year, to keep his private life private, but did he listen? No. And I, foolishly, didn’t put my foot down, because it didn’t really matter, did it? Who cares if an actor dates a random normal person, it’s not as fun to read about as two celebrities dating, so the gossip mongers have pretty much left you two alone. No one ever saw this photo from then red carpet before, it was all they cared about were pictures of him with Laura Dern or Lynch. Even with the arrest, all eyes were on Downey. You were literally cut out of the photos so the papers could get a better close up framing Downer with the cops. And with your plea deal, we managed to keep you under the radar. But now, the only way to make this go away is to stop providing them fodder and distract them with something new.”

Hannah met Min’s eyes, confused, as she sat down, and Min followed suit, perching on the edge of the chair across from Hannah.

“Just tell me what to do. Like a statement that we aren’t involved.”

“What? Actually comment on this? God no. No. It just needs to stop. You need to break it off, and then I will  set him up with some very public dates. Maybe with some of his costars from Jagger, like Halle Berry, Rosie Perez, Christie Brinkley, they played his main love interests….” Hannah nodded, and then Min reached over and put her hand over Hannah’s and squeezed it. “You know, Hannah, if you want to be truly happy, though, you should just pull off the band aid and really break up with him today. While you’re in here, safe from temptation, and cared for, where you can heal. Actors should date other famous people, who know what this lifestyle is. This thing, its never going to work long term. Look at you, dear, are you better or worse off after doing this tango with Austin on and off for four years? Dating someone famous, its extremely difficult….  its like a swan dating a rat, he should be with another swan…”

Hannah pulled her hand back, brow furrowed.

“So I’m a rat now?”

Min breathed deeply.

“I was trying to emphasize difference. He’s above-the-line talent, you’re below-the-line crew. He grew up with money, you didn’t and you are always going to worry whether you are enough, no matter what he says, or how much you trust him. You and Austin different species, that’s all I’m saying. If you are honest with yourself, you already know in your heart I’m right.” Min patted her own heart. “Look, you can do whatever you want. But dear, no one was interested in a story about a young woman going to rehab after getting arrested, not until they saw Austin up here, then someone told the paps and they started poking around. You need to look out for yourself. What is going to happen to you? And your career? If you stay together, I guarantee this is not the last time you’ll be in the tabloids. It’s the first. Of many. Either way, you need to convince him to stop coming up here to visit. To have public dates with a few famous women. The paps will loose interest and it will all blow over….. Unless you keep adding fuel to the fire. If this stops, you may still be able to salvage your reputation, there will be people who didn’t read this tabloid. But if the coverage continues, week after week as he visits, or when you come back, or if you relapse… at some point, things that normal people get to keep private will come out, and it’s possible Variety or the LA Times will do a story on you guys.”

Hannah nodded, starting at her fingers in concentration. She knew what she had to do.

October 15, 1991

The drive back down to Los Angeles was long, and Avi was silent, giving his daughter the room she needed to be with her thoughts as she mentally prepared for her new life, her clean life, life after rehab. Hannah sighed. Ugh, its worse than being 18…. I’m a single, unemployed 28 year old loser. She pulled in one of Austin’s hoodies she had kept after a visit, wallowing in the melancholy that washed over her. 

Austin had become irate when she broke up with him over the phone in her counselor’s office the day Min visited her three weeks ago…

“Are you fucking serious? Because of some tabloid bull shit? You know I don’t care. Fame doesn’t fucking interest me, I just want to be with you, work with great people and make art. ”

“But, Austin, being famous gives you the profile do that  —“

“Sure, but so you take the good with the bad. You know that, you grew up in this business.”

“And look at how fucked up I am. Plus, its not like the paparazzi chase after editors, Austin, that is definitely a bonus from dating you …”

“You think I like them? Those people are parasites… they are the SCUM of the earth, I cannot believe you are letting them control your life—”

“Austin, I am not LETTING them do anything, I am just trying to live life on life’s terms, one day at a day—“

“Don’t you dare start throwing those AA cliches at ME, Hannah. At least be real. We love each other. Nothing else matters. You’re just hurt and scared and you’re reacting like a baby…”

“NA cliches, please, if you are gonna insult me at least be accurate… look it doesn’t matter….  You re not being fair… I AM trying to be real. You know what’s real? I don’t have a job lined up. In this business, you are only as good as your next job, and this type of stuff might make it impossible—”

“So what? You don’t need a job, Just come live with me. I’ll take care of you …”

“Do you know how demoralizing it is for you to talk to me like that? As if I haven’t been working like a dog for the last seven years to get where I am? Let alone how bad just sitting around your house waiting for you to come home and fuck me would be for my recovery? The tabloids, the paparazzi, they aren’t the problem. They’re a symptom of the real problem, which is how incompatible we are. You’re a swan, and I am a rat, we are defying the laws of nature—”

Austin growled. “Are you high right now? They should give you a drug test. You sound ridiculous. I literally don’t even know what that means with the swan and the rat. Ugh! You are being so stupid. You always do this, you get stuck on how I’m a ‘movie star,’ and then you blow it out of proportion because you are insecure and stubborn. Most woman would be overjoyed to have someone offer to support them while they figure out their shit. And work through this together.” 

“Austin, you don’t get it, and I can’t do this, we’re talking in circles… look, my sponsor told me not to date anyone for my first year sober, and I completely ignored her. But clearly I was wrong, because this whole thing is a trigger for me, you are a trigger. We have too much baggage, from before, from now. I love you, I love you so much…” tears started to well up in Hannah’s eyes, and her voice wavered. “But love isn’t enough and I have to put myself first.”

The sound of her sobs made Austin even angrier. “No. The answer is NO. I’m not letting you do this. We are not breaking up, you are being hysterical.” Her sobs got louder, and Austin sighed, running his hand through his hair and tried to calm down. He could almost see Hannah’s pale face becoming blotchy and red and wet as she cried. It was beautiful and ugly and he couldn’t bear it. “Oh Banana, look, you’re upset. We can’t have this conversation over the phone. I’m gonna get in my car and drive up right now.”

“NO! No, Austin, no, don’t come up here - they took those photos of you coming here, it might even be another resident here. Please, please, don’t come up.” She sniffed, wiping her eyes, breathing deeply to steady her voice. “Look, this isn’t up to you. You don’t get to let me do anything. It’s over. Do not come up here, do not call, do not try to see me. I’m taking you off the guest list. Can’t you understand? I need to do this for…. my recovery. I just need to be single and focus on staying clean.”

 “I canNOT fucking believe you are doing this, after everything. I have done nothing but support you getting sober. You can’t take me off the guest list, I PAID for that fucking rehab, did you know that? And now what do I get in return? Gratitude? NO. You’re fucking punishing me for staying with you. For getting ‘caught’ on camera being the good guy. Ugh!!!!” Austin had slammed down the phone and then paced the living room, punching the wall.  

Hannah collapsed on the desk sobbing, and when she calmed down and tried to look up, she would see the corny twelve step slogans framed on the wall and start crying again. Because part of her knew he was right, that it was unfair to use recovery as an excuse. But she was also convinced this was the best thing for both of them. Definitely for him. The fact that he had ended up paying for her rehab only solidified how wrong she was for him, how he deserved better. She’d had no idea, her lawyer Sheila had told her that her health insurance had covered it, but she had left all the details to Sheila. Who Austin had probably subsidized as well, once she started to think about it, realizing how little the legal invoice had been. She hadn’t even questioned that at the time. You’re a fucking idiot. And so is he, I wish he had kept his fucking money to himself and let me go to whatever shit hole the Motion Picture Health & Welfare insurance would have covered. 

Sitting n her father’s Honda, Hannah pulled the collar of Austin’s hoody tight, letting the faint smell of his cologne comfort her. The break up conversation felt so fresh it could have been yesterday instead of three weeks ago, probably because she replayed it over and over again in her head. The intervening days had gone by in a blur, going through the motions of putting on a brave face, finishing her phrase three preparations, doing whatever she had to do and saying whatever she had to say so she could leave. She’d have to be careful, she knew now that because Austin had paid for her stay, he probably knew he was out, and his house was only 15 minutes down the coast from her father’s mobile home community. That is the first thing, figure out a new place to live.

Avi gave her a soft, sweet look as he unloaded her luggage. “You look like you could use a cup of tea, Noodle. And perhaps a meeting.” Hannah smiled weakly, her heart breaking as she considered how much it probably hurt her father to see her like this, how worried he probably had been after the arrest. 

“Yeah pop.” She jumped out of the car, and took the other suitcases out of the trunk, following Avi into the trailer.

October 31, 1991

Playboy Mansion Halloween Party

The sound of the waterfall broke up the cocktail chatter as Austin felt the ice cube in his glass hit his teeth, the smooth whiskey warming his throat as he gulped it down. He pulled on his white silk tie, straightening it over his pink dress shirt. He ran his fingers through his long blonde hair, and looked over at Emilio chatting with a Latinx bunny in a cute Kelly green corset with matching bunny ears. He rolled his eyes as Emilio asked her flirty questions, using is had to wave  her over to him and pointing in his empty glass.

“Alma, is it? Keep ‘em coming, okay sweetheart?”

Emilio shook his head in mock disgust. They’d met on the set of Austin’s first movie in 1988,  he’d played a the main villain, a frat boy that Estevez’s character was investigating for murder. The Playboy Mansion wasn’t really Austin’s scene, but Emilio and Rick, a producer they both knew, had invited him and he pushed himself to get out of his house and come mingle. It was hard to distinguish the bunnies from the starlets and aspiring actresses dressed up for the Playboy Halloween Party in some sort of costume that involved a corset with heels. There was corset Wonder Woman, corset black cat, corset witches, was that a corset cow girl?

An hour or so later, he was mindlessly nodding in conversation with his friend Rick, Rosie Perez, who had  played the role of Jagger’s first wife, and a few bunnies whose names he didn’t really catch when he felt a strong hand slap his back, and turned to see Keanu Reeves behind him. 

“Butler,” he said, softly, and Austin turned to shake his hand as Keanu’s arm lingered around his shoulder. His smile was open, vulnerable, but there was a mystery in his stoic eyes. “So, still knee deep in the editing bay?” Keanu grinned, then stepped aside to grab a glass of champagne from a waiter walking by.

“What?” Austin sipped his own drink, watching as Keanu lit a cigarette.

“You’re girl, I met her on Point Break, she here with you?”

“Oh right,” Austin emptied his glass and slammed it down, looking around for a waiter or bunny, suddenly very very thirsty. He had only met Keanu in passing at aa few events, and had been so preoccupied with his own film project he hadn’t really paid much thought to Hannah’s work over the last year.  “Yeah, we actually just split last month…” 

Keanu blew cigarette smoke up into the air, shaking his head. “There was something about her, man, those tits, am I right?” 

Austin frowned, then pushed Keanu lightly in the chest. “Hey man.”

Keanu’s eyes narrowed, and a dry smirk formed across his lips. “Yeah, no I get it. Must have been some good snatch if you’re still hung up on her. Tell me, did the curtains match the drapes?” Waggling his eyebrows, his voice was dry, sincere and earnest, Keanu’s grin widened as Austin pulled back his fist and jabbed him in the face, his dark hair flopping as he staggered back, laughing, as he lunged forward and landed an uppercut in Austin’s chest. Seconds later Austin was pulling him down on the ground, and they rolled on top of each other needing, kicking each other until Austin landed over him, and was about to pummel him again when the strong arms of security guards pulled him off and escorted them both out of the party. 

Standing at the front of the mansion’s gothic Tudor front building, Austin rubbed his chest as he waited for the valet to bring his car around, he looked to his side as Keanu stood there, wiping the blood from his cracked lip.  Keanu laughed, and went toward a black Porsche that was being brought around.

“Hey Austin, I’m sorry man, I was just fucking with you. I’m in a weird head space tonight, c’mon, let me make it up to you. I know just what you need.”

“What about my car?”

“Leave it, it’ll be here in the morning. “

Still buzzed, even though the fight had sobered him up, Austin shrugged and thought to himself, why the fuck not, as he leaned to sit passenger seat next to Keanu and they roared off down the hills toward Sunset.

Keanu lit another cigarette, and tapped a speed dial on his car phone.

“Hey, Polly? Hey it’s Josey Wells,” he winked at Austin, and whispered, “code name,” grinning at Austin’s confusion. “Yeah, hey, yeah, I’m wondering if its too late to put in an order for the night? Yeah. Something red, and thick. Mhmmm. Yeah, that’s the one. Send it to my house.”

Austin sat back, and rolled down the window, watching as they winded down Sunset toward the ocean.

Walking towards Keanu’s front door, Austin took in the collection of motorcycles in his garage. They were in a canyon in Malibu, up above the Pacific Coast with a view of the ocean.

“You know I live just down the road, I shoulda followed you…. So, you gonna keep me in suspense or what?”

Turning on lights, Keanu walked to his bar and poured them both drinks. 

“You know, I’ve been in love. I know what it is to have your heart broken. Bad. Like where it hurts just to think about her. I can see it in your eyes, amigo.”

Austin drained his glass, tilting his head back he closed his eyes as he breathed deeply, and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, loosening his tie. He took his white sport’s jacket off and draped it over a chair. Turning to Keanu, he pursed his lips, jaw tensing. “OK, so?”

“Well, the best way to get over someone is to —”

“Start seeing someone else. Yeah, I’ve heard from all my friends. Problem is, I don’t want to date anyone else.”

Keanu walked to his fridge, and grabbed a bag of frozen peas, which he placed over his face as after he lay down on his couch. Austin followed, listening to Keanu’s dry voice emanate through the peas.

“Exactly. Which is why the best way, the actual best way to get over someone, is to find a hooker who looks just like ‘em, work out all your issues through sex. It’s very cathartic, trust me.”

Austin’s sullen face transformed to a bright beaming grin, his cheeks squeezing up as he exploded in laughter.

“You cannot be serious.” Austin’s bottom lip hung down in disbelief.

Keanu looked up from the bag of peas at Austin, who was now sitting in a leather chair across from him

“Hmmm… just wait, she’ll be here any minute. Trust me, Polly Fleissman is the best madam in this town. First one’s on me.”

Austin stroked his chin with his right thumb and forefinger. “How much is it?”

Keanu grinned like a giddy school boy, “S’ $1500 a night… and worth every penny.”

It was midnight when Keanu ushered in a white, red headed woman with curly hair, about the same height as Hannah, plump and voluptuous. It distinctly was not Hannah, but he would have done a double take passing her on the street. The tell was how clean cut she looked in a simple, expensive beige drape halter dress, and her sexy, confident voice, greeting them, introducing herself as “Jacqueline, but you can call me whatever you like.” Welcomed her in, offered her a drink, and the pulled out a small bag of white pills from his pocket, and held it up, jiggling the pills.

“I got some mitsubishis, what do you guys say, wanna party?”

Jacqui smiled, and stuck out her tongue. 30 minutes later, they were rolling, Austin’s skin was tingling, sweat lined his brow, and he kept swallowing. Keanu had put some low house music on, and Jacqui came to perch on Austin’s lap, her hands caressing his face, wiping the sweat from his brow, as his hands moved down her body and under her skirt, just the touch of her skin made the blood rush to his cock, he pulled on her red curls with his other hand, telling her how she was the most beautiful girl in the world, how he loved her, as she giggled, and kissed his neck, her hand moving to his pants and finding the outline of his erection. Stroking it, she whispered, “Does that feel good baby?” Austin nodded, looking into her eyes, then looking up as Keanu joined them, his own hands settling over Jacqui’s neck. He winked at Austin.

“I think we’d be more comfortable in the bed room, eh?”

Jacqui stood up, taking Austin by the hand, they followed Keanu together into a dimly lit master bedroom, the walls were a light grey, and the bed was a dark metal, very modern, with black sheets, pillows, blankets. Shirt off, Keanu stalked to Austin, and put his bar arm around Austin’s shoulder, messaging his neck was they watched Jacqui undress. Keanu’s hands stroked the back of Austin’s neck, and he leaned into, groaning, he felt like Keanu fingers were drawing out all the negative energy in his body, in his brain, replacing it with golden light that was making his skin glow. Looking over at Keanu, it looked like his pale, white body was gleaming with an otherworldly iridescence.

“Keanu, fuck, I love you man, I think you’re my best friend.”

Keanu’s hands moved from Austin’s neck and snaked around his chest as his chin pushed into the top of Austin’s shoulder, a low chuckle on Austin’s ear as he pulled into him. 

“I think the e has kicked in… so, AB, ever been to a Hawaiian pig roast?” 

Austin turned to Keanu’s cheek, shaking his head.

“No? Well I’m gonna show you how to skewer a live one from both sides.” Keanu winked, and kissed Austin roughly on the cheek, thens stepping back towards the bed. Jacqui giggled as Keanu beckoned her to him, his long nose dipped down to nuzzle her bare heaving breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, just beige lacy panties, and her alabaster skin shone in the dim light. Completely uninhibited, Austin couldn’t get his clothes off soon enough. He watched with an open mouth was Keanu dipped down, slowly removing Jacqui’s underwear, then looking over at him as he unbuckled his belt, pulled down his pants to reveal his thick, stiff manhood, then jumping on the bed, scooting back towards the headboard and beckoning Jacqui to follow with his finger. She turned to look at Austin, smiling, her breasts bouncing as she climbed on the bed with Keanu. 

“Coming?” She giggled.

Austin’s long, blonde hair swayed as he nodded, watching as Jacqui’s ass lifted up in the air while she leaned down to suck Keanu’s cock. In that moment, Austin eagerly followed, watching as Keanu’s raven hair hit the bed frame when the actor leaned back, eyes squeezed shut, uncontrollably biting his lower lip as Jacqui’s head bobbed up and down on his length. Austin rested his hands over the roundness of Jacqui’s bottom, kissing her right cheek as his left hand took hold of the other.

“You sure this is ok with you?” His voice wavered, his blue eyes met Keanu’s as he grinned, pulling on the mess of curls above Jacqui’s head for her to pause.

“It ok with you if my friend there roasts you from the other end?”

Jacqui grinned, and turned her head over her shoulder. 

“Such a gentleman… hmmmhmmm… I think I can take it, big boy. Let me make you feel good.” Austin laughed, it was cliche, but high, every word was a sweet sensation and he went for it. Her skin was electric, and he bent his lips down below her cheeks to find her entrance, kissing at her lips, which he noted were waxed, bare, silky smooth, unlike Hannah’s wild mane, and his tongue sought out her clit easily between the soft, manicured folds, moving up and down as her body rocked with the rhythm of her mouth gliding up and down Keanu’s dick. The breathy sound of a feminine groan joined Keanu’s murmurs of “fuck” and “take it” and “oh my god this feels amazing….”  Austin moved one finger, and then another inside of Jacqui, messaging her open and searching for her pleasure point as his tongue flicked over her nub, smiling into her and pulling her ass up as he felt her twitch under him. It was not long before Jacqui cried out, and Austin was pulling his lips off her, and straddling her from behind, thrusting in and out of her pussy, slowly at first, the sensation heightened by the ecstasy, the excitement of the threesome, and the way her body and the bouncing mess of red hair conjured up his intense longing to be with Hannah again. 

Keanu looked at him over Jacqui’s writhing body between them, Austin’s lips puckered in an growl as he rolled in and out of her.

“Who ever whips his cream first has to pay for the pizza,” Keanu grinned, his eyes narrowing, and Austin chuckled, happy for the distraction because he was just on the edge, and Keanu’s conversation jarred his attention. He slowed down his pacing, and looked at Keanu, shaking his head.

“Man, you are crazy.” That night Keanu paid for the hooker, Austin paid for the pizza. But Polly Fleissman, the Hollywood Madam, would soon begin to get a steady stream of revenue for her services from Austin.

The next time Austin fucked Jacqui they were alone in a suite at the Chateau Marmont during what would become regular Thursday night consensual role playing sessions. Calling her Red, he would take out his frustrations with Hannah as he pummeled into the prostitute from behind, talking in a low, gravelly voice as he thrust into her, slapping her ass, pulling her shoulders, holding her head down into the pillow.

“Do you feel that? You fucking bitch. That’s how much I fucking love you… how could you do this to me. To us.” Austin groaned. The release as he came inside Jacqui was immediate. Addictive. And never fulfilling as it was with Hannah. Austin missed her brown eyes, innocently looking up at him, her voice teasing but her body and movements untrained, completely charming in how awkward or stilted she was. He missed that moment, with Hannah, when he could see her expression change, from being guarded to the moment she gave up her pretenses and opened up for him, her eyes filled with pure adoration. Austin couldn’t bare to look Jacqui in her eyes, at least not while her fucked her, especially with the degrading way he usually spoke to her.  Jacqui was not shy, and she never blushed when she undressed, making sounds of approval whether Austin railed her aggressively until the sound of him slapping into her cracked through the suite, or whether he licked her soft and tenderly.

He paid double to have her visit him on Thanksgiving, having her suck his dick, and then, for a change, Austin motioned for her to get on top. Was their rocking motion increased, he put his hands around her neck, lightly choking her, calling her a selfish bitch, and then ordering Jacqui to punch him and tell him what a bastard he was. 

“Tell me.” His right squeezed tighter around her neck, and his left hand pulling on her red curls and then tracing down her back to slap her ass, his biceps flexing as he grasped her up and down faster towards his chisled abdomen. “Tell me, tell me I am a spoiled, mediocre yuppie, a hack, a fraud, an empty vessel with no. creative. talent. TELL ME. Tell me you hate me!”

Jacqui’s face darkened, and then she repeated the list back to him in a condescending lilt, her performance somewhat contrived, a watered down rendition of a melodramatic scene from Dallas or Dynasty. Then she punched him, soundly smashing her right fist into his left eye socket and Austin came shortly after, groaning out like a man possessed being exorcized from his demons. As soon as he was sated, he was pushing her off him, looking ahead as he stalked off to the bathroom and dismissing Jacqui with a “You can go now,” without looking back. Sitting on the toilet, head in his hands, he wept and swore he was done with this. No more. But then the next Thursday, he would find himself back in his regular suite, fucking Jacqui into the wall from behind while he whispered all of Hannah’s character defects in her ear. 

Austin spent November and December distracting himself from his the gnawing need to find Hannah, throw her over his shoulder and head for a secluded cabin somewhere remote where he could have the space and quiet and solitude to make her understand that they could be happy and good and healthy together. They needed to be together He knew it would be different if he could just talk with her in person, but he felt guilty for the way he had acted when they broke up. The way he belittled her recovery. Her career. The way he threw his payment for her rehab in her face. The only person he trusted to talk about this stuff with was his sister, Ashley, and she convinced him to leave Hannah alone for a few months, give her some space to get back on her feet, and possibly forget the way he had  hurt her over the phone to retaliate for the way her decision had pierced him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and to Austin, making no sense.

So, inside of kidnapping his ex girlfriend, Austin fucked a high-end prostitute that looked like Hannah and focused on work. He met with his agent Brett to look over scripts for his next project, finished up final voice over for Jagger and mapped out his promotion schedule for the film with his assistant, Alex.  Humoring Min, Austin went out to several parties and events with dates she arranged for him, taking Halle Berry to the premiere of Cape Fear, Richard Gere and Cindy Crawford’s wedding, and planning to take her to the premiere of their film the week before it was released nationwide on Christmas.

Alex was also under a strict Hannah assignment to update Austin on her whereabouts, to the extent that he was able to. Sometimes, late at night, relaxed driving home from a meeting at the Chateau, Austin would drive by the trailer park at Point Dume, circle around the nearby grocery stores and coffee shops on the off chance that he might catch a glimpse of Hannah from afar, but he never did. So, he bided his time, checking in with Alex daily for any news.

December 26, 1991

Westwood Beach, Malibu, CA

Tide was out, and the slow rhythm of the small waves lapped up Hannah’s shins, leaving her legs cool and wet and sinking into the sand below them. She sat at the shore, hands under her thighs, looking out at the infinite expanse of the sea. The waves grew in size, and she sat there, waiting for one large enough to knock her down so her head was under the water, the salt water enveloping her. She willed the waves to wash her away into the night, staying under water until she couldn’t take it anymore, before finally jumping up and screaming at the moon. As a teenager, she would sneak down here at night to smoke pot, fantasizing that the golden reflection of the moon on the silvery waves was a faery path that would take her up into the sky, away from the dismal mortal life she inhabited on earth. Back then, the worst thing in her life was AP Bio and her unrequited crush on Rick Schlessinger, the object of much angst-ridden poetry written while sitting on the beach, smoking cloves and summoning all the pain her sixteen year old self could muster. That seemed like a cake walk compared to today. 

She had quit smoking when she got home, Avi hated it. Her father was a quiet man, when he wasn’t working as a sound editor in town, she would find him on the sofa in their small trailer overlooking the bluffs, reading science fiction next to a pot of tea and a stack of chocolate dipped biscuits. However, he did turn to her two days after she moved in and explain that he would rather see her doing heroin again than smoking cigarettes. Hurt, indignant, but also humbled by the very real need to save her money and live back at home, Hannah kept her mouth shut and quit smoking. Avi’s quiet British sarcasm was all it took. Apart from that, they got along, and her father reverted to his den mothering ways, cooking dinner most nights and queuing up classic movies on the VCR for them to watch and analyze as they ate. Their love language was film criticism, it was the main vehicle for most of their meaningful conversations. 

Hannah spent her days pounding the pavement, and looking for work. She visited some of her friends from college, reached out to a few directors she had worked with, saw her uncle Abe, the executive at Paramount, and the reoccurring feedback she got was  to lay low for a few months, let the tabloid story recede, and then she would get some traction. In the meantime, she found a job in Vancouver, a Canadian friend from college had started a company editing for the new booming television industry up there that took advantage of those sweet sweet Canuck media tax breaks. She was set to leave for Vancouver in three days.

Hannah had flown up to Vancouver in early November, got the job, and started making her arrangements to leave. Then, a week later, she noticed that her breasts were more sensitive than usual, and gasped when she realized she hadn’t had her period in a while. Like, a while a while. Hannah was not one for tracking her cycle, she didn’t keep a calendar, she was on the pill so she didn’t worry too much. But the minute the thought crossed her mind she knew, she knew before she drove to the drug store and bought the test. She knew before she handed the test to Robin a waited for her friend to read her the result. She knew because she hadn’t bought tampons since she got home from rehab. According to her gynecologist, she was eight weeks pregnant when she found out in mid-November. Since then, Hannah had been in a holding pattern, avoiding dealing with this new reality in any meaningful way. Her sponsor had lectured her to tell Austin, no matter what her decision was, she was supposed to be living a new, honest life, and she shouldn’t try to manage his emotions or reality by keeping it from him. But she couldn’t bare to call him. The OB went over her choices with her, it was 1991, not 1961, but cautioning her that she really needed to make her decision before the end of her third trimester. Just like she had known she was pregnant, Hannah had already known what her decision was. 

“So,” Robin asked, at brunch with Hannah and their other friend, Sarah the Sunday before Thanksgiving. “ I thought you were pro-choice… we just signed up to campaign for Bill Clinton….”

Theoretically, Hannah had always thought that if she got pregnant before she was ready, or not in a committed relationship, she would just have an abortion. But theory didn’t take into account how she actually felt when it actually happened in actual real life. What Hannah really wanted was a time machine to go back and not get pregnant at all. She knew she couldn’t go through with an abortion, and but she was terrified of having a baby. 

“I am pro-choice. Emphasis on choice, Robin. Fuck…. You know I promised Avi when I was 15…”

Robin gasped.

“What do you mean you promised your dad when you were 15? That you would never have an abortion?”

Hannah nodded. “Yeah, it was the only sex talk we ever had. Driving a long PCH one day, he turned to me and told me if I ever got pregnant, he would raise the baby. I guess Georgie had two secret abortions when she was a teenager. The women in my family ….we are pretty fertile, I guess… I managed to somehow get knocked up on birth control…”

Robin shivered.

“Anyway,” Hannah continued. “My mom didn’t tell him until years later. She always regretted it. He always regretted it. Also, apparently a psychic once told my father she saw more children in his future…”

Sarah chimed in, “Well of course we’ll support—”

“Wait, you feel like because some psychic told your father —” Sarah slapped Robin. “I mean, yes, of course we will support you. And if you want to keep working, well, Austin just gonna have to shell out some of that movie star money for a nanny…”

Hannah sighed, picking apart the paper straw wrapper on the table. “I don’t know if that is exactly the approach I want to take when I tell him… I don’t want him to think I’m using this to get something from him… I need to be able to support myself, no matter what. I mean, obviously I need to tell him…”

But she hadn’t, and now she was at 14 weeks, and moving to Canada for work. In three days. But it was only for four months on a new TV series based on the Highlander movie. So, in theory, she could go work this job, come back at seven months pregnant and then have the baby here in LA. Maybe even pick up another job before the baby came. How hard could it be, she was already sitting down all day anyway? And what about after that? Where is your theory then? Fuck fuck fuck a duck.

“Stop being a pussy and just bite the bullet.” She said out loud. “Just call Austin.” 

Wet and shivering in the cold (for California) January air, Hannah felt the nervousness in her chest tingle and move to the top of her shoulders. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Walking back up the hill from the beach to Avi’s mobile home, Hannah looked down at her waist, her swimsuit under an oversized Les Mis shirt Austin bought her in London. She didn’t really look pregnant yet, the bottom of her belly hadn’t started to bend upward and expand. Her ankles looked thicker, but if you didn’t look at them every day, you probably wouldn’t know.

The longer Hannah put off calling Austin, the more awkward the prospect came, and she found herself flying off to Vancouver without calling him.

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Ben Affleck's interview w/ The New York Times (18 February 2020)

Ben Affleck Tried to Drink Away the Pain. Now He’s Trying Honesty.

The actor speaks frankly about everything from his addictive behavior and his divorce to why he lied about that back tattoo.

By Brooks Barnes

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Warning: This is not one of those celebrity profiles that uses a teaspoon of new information to flavor a barrel of ancient history. There is no paragraph where the star and the writer pretend to be pals — gag — while doing an everyday-person activity. What was everyone eating? Who cares. No, you will not get served the obligatory canned quote from Matt Damon.

This is Ben Affleck, raw and vulnerable, talking extensively for the first time about getting sober (again) and trying to recalibrate his career (again).

Affleck, Oscar-winning writer, director of the Oscar-winning “Argo,” better actor than you remember — and, yes, alcoholic, divorcé and proud possessor of a mythical back tattoo — has four movies coming out this year. Dad Bod Batman has been banished, and actual films are back on his docket, including his first all-on-him movie in four years: “The Way Back,” a poignant sports drama that arrives in theaters on March 6. Affleck plays a reluctant high school basketball coach with big problems — he’s a puffy, willful, fall-down drunk who blows up his marriage and lands in rehab.

You read that correctly.

“People with compulsive behavior, and I am one, have this kind of basic discomfort all the time that they’re trying to make go away,” he said a couple of Sundays ago during a two-hour interview at a beachside spot in Los Angeles. “You’re trying to make yourself feel better with eating or drinking or sex or gambling or shopping or whatever. But that ends up making your life worse. Then you do more of it to make that discomfort go away. Then the real pain starts. It becomes a vicious cycle you can’t break. That’s at least what happened to me.”

He cleared his throat. “I drank relatively normally for a long time. What happened was that I started drinking more and more when my marriage was falling apart. This was 2015, 2016. My drinking, of course, created more marital problems.”

Affleck’s marriage to Jennifer Garner, with whom he has three children, ended in 2018 after a long separation. He said he still felt guilt but had moved past shame. “The biggest regret of my life is this divorce,” he continued, noticeably using the present tense. “Shame is really toxic. There is no positive byproduct of shame. It’s just stewing in a toxic, hideous feeling of low self-worth and self-loathing.”

He took a sharp breath and exhaled slowly, as if to slow himself down. “It’s not particularly healthy for me to obsess over the failures — the relapses — and beat myself up,” he said. “I have certainly made mistakes. I have certainly done things that I regret. But you’ve got to pick yourself up, learn from it, learn some more, try to move forward.”

“The Way Back” was originally called “The Has-Been.” That downer of a title was dropped during development as the film became less focused on what a basketball talent the main character had been in high school, Affleck said. Suffice it to say, no star wants to appear on a poster next to the words “The Has-Been,” especially not after two box office disappointments. “Justice League” (2017) took in $658 million, a puny sum by superhero standards, and “Live by Night” (2016), a period gangster drama that he also directed, flatlined with $23 million.

Affleck, 47, has been working like a madman to get his career back on track. The hard truth is that the outcome is not guaranteed. Moviegoers, women in particular, will ultimately decide: Is forgiveness for transgressions still something that society in all of its Twitter-fied polarization allows? To some, Affleck is still the guy who broke Garner’s heart and who was accused of groping a talk-show host in 2003. “I acted inappropriately,” he said of that incident in 2017, as the #MeToo era dawned, “and I sincerely apologize.”

Hollywood has certainly granted Affleck clemency. He just finished acting in “Deep Water,” a psychological thriller co-starring Ana de Armas (“Knives Out”) that’s due in theaters in November. He’s on Netflix this month in “The Last Thing He Wanted,” an abysmally reviewed mystery anchored by Anne Hathaway and directed by Dee Rees. Affleck has also been working with the Oscar-nominated Nicole Holofcener (“Can You Ever Forgive Me?”) and Damon on the script for “The Last Duel,” which begins filming in France this month. Set in the 14th century, “The Last Duel” re-teams Affleck and Damon as screenwriters for the first time since “Good Will Hunting” in 1997; Ridley Scott is directing the film, which has Oscar bait written all over it. Disney plans to release “The Last Duel” in theaters at Christmas through its 20th Century label.

Affleck is also zeroing in on another directing project for himself. It probably won’t be that previously announced remake of the 1957 drama “Witness for the Prosecution,” he said. Instead, he wants to tackle “King Leopold’s Ghost,” an epic about the colonial plundering of what is now the Democratic Republic of Congo; Martin Scorsese has signed on as a producer. (Affleck co-founded the Eastern Congo Initiative, a nonprofit advocacy group, in 2010.)

Africa in 1900 is a long way from “The Batman,” which Affleck was supposed to direct himself. He stepped aside, allowing Matt Reeves to take over (and Robert Pattinson to don the cowl), after deciding that the troubled shoot for “Justice League” had sapped his interest. Affleck never seemed to enjoy his time as Batman; his sullen demeanor while promoting “Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice” in 2016 resulted in the hit meme Sad Affleck. “I showed somebody ‘The Batman’ script,” Affleck recalled. “They said, ‘I think the script is good. I also think you’ll drink yourself to death if you go through what you just went through again.”

He has not talked much about his alcoholism since completing a third stint in rehab in 2018. (The first two were in 2001 and 2017.) But the arrival of “The Way Back” has made the subject impossible to avoid. Affleck has also accepted that the second word in Alcoholics Anonymous does not apply to him — certainly not after he (briefly) relapsed in the fall, turning up smashed on TMZ a few months after making it known that he had achieved one year of continuous sobriety.

“Relapse is embarrassing, obviously,” he said. “I wish it didn’t happen. I really wish it wasn’t on the internet for my kids to see. Jen and I did our best to address it and be honest.”

Growing up in Massachusetts, Affleck saw his own father drunk almost every day, he said. “My dad didn’t really get sober until I was 19,” Affleck said, becoming guarded all of a sudden. (It was one of only two times when he chose each word carefully, with the other being his answer to a question about Harvey Weinstein’s trial on charges of rape and sexual assault. Early in his career, Affleck starred in multiple movies that were backed by Weinstein’s companies. “I don’t know that I have anything to really add or say that hasn’t been said already and better by people who have been personally victimized or who are survivors of what he did,” Affleck said. Three years ago, Affleck announced that he would donate all future residual payments from Weinstein films to anti-sexual assault charities.)

“The older I’ve gotten, the more I recognize that my dad did the best he could,” Affleck said. “There’s a lot of alcoholism and mental illness in my family. The legacy of that is quite powerful and sometimes hard to shake.” Affleck’s younger brother, Casey, 44, has spoken about his own alcoholism and sobriety. Their paternal grandmother took her own life in a motel when she was 46. An uncle killed himself with a shotgun. An aunt was a heroin addict.

“It took me a long time to fundamentally, deeply, without a hint of doubt, admit to myself that I am an alcoholic,” Ben Affleck said. “The next drink will not be different.”

It seemed like a good moment to point out how many stars had started to speak out about getting sober — Brad Pitt most notably — and how that was lessening the stigma of addiction and, perhaps, inspiring people with substance problems to seek help. Jamie Lee Curtis, sober for two decades, appeared on the cover of Variety’s “recovery” issue in November. Discussing their sobriety in recent books and interviews have been Demi Lovato, Anthony Hopkins, Jessica Simpson, Demi Moore and, of course, Elton John, who has sponsored Eminem.

Affleck cited the sober A-listers Bradley Cooper and Robert Downey Jr. as “guys who have been very supportive and to whom I feel a great sense of gratitude.” Affleck continued. “One of the things about recovery that I think people sometimes overlook is the fact that it inculcates certain values. Be honest. Be accountable. Help other people. Apologize when you’re wrong.”

Honesty. Hmm.

Let’s talk about honesty for a minute. Shouldn’t he have been honest from the start about the damn back tattoo rather than telling “Extra” it was “fake” for a movie?

“I resented that somebody got a picture of it by spying on me,” Affleck said, shifting on the sofa where he was sitting. “It felt invasive. But you’re right. I could have said, ‘That’s none of your business.’ I guess I got a kick out of messing with ‘Extra.’ Is your tattoo real or not real? Of course, it’s real! No, I put a fake tattoo on my back and then hid it.”

For the record, it’s not nearly as garish in person.

Affleck has a habit of putting himself in the cross hairs. He thought it was a good idea to star (with Damon) as a fallen angel in Kevin Smith’s “Dogma” (1999), which Disney decided was too blasphemous for its Miramax label to release. Playing Batman as melancholy and middle-aged was certainly not the safe choice. “The Last Duel” has already provoked indignation on social media; Affleck and Damon play a knight and a squire who are forced to duel after a woman’s rape accusation.

And now comes “The Way Back,” a spare film with a 1970s vibe about a man imprisoned by alcoholism.

How exactly does he make these choices?

Affleck laughed. “I’ve never been very risk-averse — for better or worse, obviously,” he said. “Regarding ‘The Way Back,’ the benefits, to me, far outweighed the risks. I found it very therapeutic.”

“The Way Back” was directed by Gavin O’Connor (“The Accountant,” also starring Affleck and a surprise hit) from a script by O’Connor and Brad Ingelsby (“Out of the Furnace”). It cost Warner Bros. and Bron Studios about $25 million to make and was primarily shot in San Pedro, a working-class area of Los Angeles.

“I think that Ben, in an artistic way, in a deeply human way, wanted to confront his own issues through this character and heal,” O’Connor said by phone.

Jack Cunningham (Affleck) is a construction worker coping with devastating personal loss. His home away from home is a lowlife bar, the kind of place you can smell before you go in. Sometimes he holes up in his apartment to down cases of beer. He starts each morning by drinking beer in the shower, the can balanced on a sad soap caddy.

Without knowing the extent of his alcoholism, the principal at Jack’s alma mater asks him to coach the boys’ basketball team, which has even less self-esteem than he does. Melvin Gregg (“American Vandal”) stars as a player with off-court troubles.

“The hardest part of the movie for Ben was really the basketball,” O’Connor said. “If you’ve never really played before, being on a court is like, you know, being on ice skates for the first time. Once that part clicked, we were cooking with gasoline. He was already ready to go to really deep, dark places with the drinking.”

Michaela Watkins (“Casual”) plays Jack’s worried sister. In one memorable scene, he sits in her kitchen pretending to be fine — fine. When she challenges him, he explodes. “Out of nowhere in one take, Ben backhanded the beer can sitting in front of him,” Watkins said by phone. “It was immediate, and it was scary and it was exactly the right instinct. He was a powder keg, and she had no idea that she had lit it.”

Affleck talked about that moment, too.

“She’s pressing to see if he’s OK, and I know how uncomfortable that can be for an alcoholic — when you have that nagging, irritating, suspicious feeling that the person is right, but you don’t want to admit it. Smacking the can was my version of backed-into-a-corner, primal level of denial, the way our minds hold onto these addictions in a reptilian way.”

Toward the end of “The Way Back” (spoiler alert) Jack has a powerful interaction with his ex-wife (Janina Gavankar, “The Morning Show”). He is in rehab at this point, and, when she comes to see how he is doing, he offers her an unflinching apology.

“I failed you,” he says. “I failed our marriage.”

It’s rough stuff, especially when watched through the prism of everything that has gone on with Affleck offscreen. You can’t help but think about similar conversations that he must have had with Garner.

“It was really important, without being mawkish or false, that he make amends to her — that he take accountability for the pain that he and only he has caused,” Affleck said.

O’Connor said that Affleck had a “total breakdown” on set after completing the scene.

“It was like a floodgate opened up,” O’Connor said. “It was startling and powerful. I think that was a very personal moment in the movie. I think that was him.”

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