She Died Famous

by Kyle Rutkin

  “You look gorgeous,” I said, helping her into the limo. “And happy birthday,” I handed her a box.

  “What’s this?” She beamed, tearing through the present as the car took off. She lifted up a fountain pen.

  “It’s the pen I used to write the first draft of Pay Me, Alice. I’m hoping you can make better use of it,” I laughed.

  She didn’t say a word.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know what—”

  Kelly held up her hand, putting her fingers to her mouth. Emotions lingered in her eyes. “This is the best gift anyone has ever given me.” She admired the pen, wiping a falling teardrop. “Thank you.”

  She reached for my hand.

  I had prepared for this. “Kelly—"

  “I know what you’re going to say,” she interrupted. “You miss her, don’t you?

  “I do.”

  “And you want to go back?

  “Not yet. Eventually. Once I get clean.”

  She looked away so I couldn’t witness her reaction. Then she turned back with a perfect smile. “I’m sorry for being so guarded, Kaleb. I should have let you in more. I have… trust issues.” She crawled over to my side of the limo, nuzzling close. My body awakened.

  “But I don’t think it would have mattered, would it?”

  She placed her hand on my knee. I shifted in my seat.

  “You will never give yourself to this project when the real Alice is still lingering in the background.”

  “Kelly—"

  “It’s okay.” She ran her fingers along my arm. My heartbeat pounded. I wanted her to kiss my neck and climb on top of me, straddle me. Convince me to stay. Convince me to sign the contract. But she pulled her hand away and my heartbeat calmed.

  She leaned her head on my shoulder. “Just be with me tonight. I want you to meet my best friend.”

  The limo stopped and the uproar from the red carpet shook through the car. Angst tightened in my chest as a barrage of hands reached for the tinted windows, lights flashing. Flashbacks of the night in Philadelphia rattled through me. The stares. The whispers. The cameras. Kelly rubbed my back. “You look good.” She fixed my collar, running her nails along my neck. “Just stay by my side, okay?”

  I stood tall at her words.

  They came at us from all directions, screaming her name. Flashes exploded. I gripped Kelly’s arm, shuffling down the red carpet. I smiled and spun in the lights, ignoring the ringing in my ear and the unease in my gut. The fear building in the background. She stopped and posed for the cameras. Over here, Kelly. Over here! Her hand slipped from mine. I tried to keep smiling, nodding, spinning at their beck and call. But she kept getting further and further away. Bodies obstructed my view. I couldn’t see her. The screams and shouts jumbled together. The ringing in my ear amplified. I turned, scanning the line of reporters, cameras, fans.

  Flash. Flash. Flash.

  Bob’s boater hat weaved in and out of the line.

  Of course he fucking came.

  Flash. Flash. Flash.

  “What are you doing here?” I whispered. “Leave me alone,”

  “You’re really going to give up on her?” His voice rang in my head. “She believed in you, Kaleb.”

  Kelly came back into view. She was posing, a hand on her hip, the other on her thigh. They shouted and snapped their photos.

  “She’s fine.” I whispered. “She belongs here. Look at her.”

  “I’m looking.” Bob chuckled. “I’m looking at the scar on her arm…They did this to her.”

  “No.”

  “Here we go again. Go ahead. Ignore the signs. The bruises. The pain. The scars. But they were responsible, Kaleb. He was responsible.” Bob directed me towards the theater entrance.

  I recognized him from pictures, Kelly’s manager—Barry Monroe. He was bald, with a thick manicured black beard and yellow framed glasses. Over six feet tall, at least three hundred pounds, mostly settled in his gut. His smile was wide and curved. He was taking a picture with a young, blonde girl in front of a movie poster—Lizzy Michaels.

  Bob snickered. “And once again, you’re going to try and run away. You’re going to leave her to all these tormenters. You’re going to leave her to me.”

  A shadowy hand reached for Kelly.

  “Don’t you fucking touch her,” I seethed.

  “Why?” Bob laughed. “What are you going to do about it?”

  The rage fired like a gun inside me. I reacted. Everything went red. I shoved my way through. I reached, I grabbed. Two frightened eyes stared back. I was holding the shirt of an unknown man. I saw the microphone fall onto the ground. People were yelling, screaming.

  Flash. Flash. Flash.

  Whispers, murmurs.

  I heard Kelly’s voice through the static. “Kaleb. Let him go. Kaleb.”

  I released the man and fell backwards, spinning. I knocked over another celebrity on the carpet. More shouting, murmuring, confusion. I backed away, further and further. Until the carpet vanished into dirty sidewalk. Until the flashing cameras turned to dim street lights. Until the ringing in my ear faded into nothingness. Chaos settled into shame.

  “I’ve been using again,” I announced at the meeting. I was on a metal chair next to Nathan, still wearing my suit, my tie undone, heart still pounding.

  “Not the stuff I really like, but it’s only a matter of time. I’ve gotten myself into a bad situation. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. The truth is, I don’t have a purpose. I can’t seem to stay sober without one.” I glanced at Nathan. “I know where this road ends.” The brim of his Angels hat covered his eyes. “I know this ending. And yet, I can’t resist it. It’s all I want.”

  Thank you for sharing.

  The meeting ended. Nathan handed me a small Styrofoam cup filled with coffee and sat down. Another grunt. He stared ahead. His leathery skin, big gray eyebrows, those chilling brown eyes. His gray hair flowing outside the confines of his greasy ball cap.

  “Why did you come back?” he asked.

  “There’s still good inside me. Sara saw good inside me . . . you saw good inside me.”

  He scoffed. “You want some advice?” He gulped the last sip and handed me his empty cup. “Go write something, you fucking idiot. Go back to that cabin of yours!” he yelled. “There’s your damn purpose. Do that and good things will find you again.” The sports section landed with a thud on my head. I could hear him chuckle and grunt as he walked out, leaving me alone in the empty gymnasium. I leaned back on the cheap metal chair as the door slammed shut. The lights in the room flickered, dimmed.

  A dark presence lingered.

  The air turned cold and bitter.

  He had followed me.

  “Where are you?” I stood up. The legs of the metal chair screeched across the hardwood floor. “Show yourself, Bob.”

  He slithered in the darkness like the snake that he was.

  Dark whispers rang from every direction.

  “How did you find me?”

  “Please,” his voice strengthened. I knew you’d run back to your little meetings.”

  Bob’s boots echoed in the gymnasium. His silhouette materialized in the low light. He was walking toward me. My body shivered.

  “I know everything about you, Kaleb,” he said. “I know the real you. I know your darkest secrets. The stuff your precious sponsor doesn’t know about. The stuff that would make anyone run for the hills.”

  “Why did you come back?” I pleaded.

  “Because you need me.”

  “No,” I slurred, “you’re wrong.”

  “Oh please. Don’t you remember what you did to your good life? Don’t you remember what you did to Sara? You think you deserve to go back?”

  I didn’t respond.

  “You asked for it.”

  Out of the darkness, Bob placed his hand on my shoulder, and I fell to my knees. A wave of terror throbbed inside my heart. My blood frosted over. Memories flashed—my fist going in and out of the plaster walls o
f the house. Sara crying, screaming. She begged for me to stop. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop. I lost control.

  Bob pulled his hand away. “Not evil? Do you remember the look on her face? She was afraid of you.

  “No,” I slurred.

  “Go back to the castle, Kaleb,” Bob’s voice boomed. “Sign the contract. Kelly needs us. She is trying to help us. She is giving us a purpose.”

  “You’re wrong. I know that ending.”

  “Don’t defy me, Kaleb. Look at me. Look at my face.” He stepped into the light.

  I put my head down, cowering in fear. “No!” I screamed. I wouldn’t look at him. I couldn’t. He was evil, and if I looked, I would become him.

  I pulled out my cell from my pocket. Nathan was still close by. The phone trembled in my hand. A new message appeared––an unknown number. An image loaded. It was Sara with another man. He was older than me, scattered gray hair. Panic clawed through my insides. Who was this man? His arm wrapped around her shoulder as she washed dishes. That was our routine. That was our house. Her face went in and out of focus. They were smiling, cheeks touching. I was going to be sick.

  “Who sent this?” I demanded. “Did you send this?”

  Bob laughed. “It’s been a while since you drove by Sara’s house, hasn’t it? I wonder if she’s safe? You can’t protect anyone, can you?”

  My heart pounded.

  “What do we know about this guy?” Bob asked. “Who’s going to protect Sara now that you’re gone?”

  “Stop!” I yelled. “This isn’t real. I don’t believe you.”

  “Then go see for yourself.”

  Lizzy: I can’t believe she brought him to my premiere. She knew how important that night was to me.

  Jez: Oh please. It was a cheesy horror film. Lizzy had like three speaking lines total. She was just the token blonde girl who got slashed halfway through the movie. And she couldn’t even get that right. Talk about bad acting. My six-year-old niece screams better than her.

  Lizzy: I should have known Kelly would find a way to make the night about her. Barry was livid after the red-carpet incident. He swore to make sure that the author never came to another event with Kelly again.

  Jez: I don’t know what the big deal was. Kaleb barely touched that reporter. Everyone should have thanked him. That was the most entertainment the crowd got all night.

  Lizzy: After everything that happened, there was no way I was going to go to her birthday party.

  Jez: Lizzy missed out. The party was so amazing. We rented sixty smoke machines and $20,000 worth of lights. It was epic.

  Lizzy: You think Jez really cared about my best friend? How well can you trust a diehard fan that scored an all-inclusive ticket to the Kelly Trozzo show? She was nothing more than a groupie. I don’t know exactly what happened that night of Kelly’s birthday, but things got dark.

  Jez: I’m not going to apologize for getting a little wild. It was a party! I would do anything Kelly told me. Anything.

  The Real Kelly Trozzo

  TheInsideJuice.com Interview 2019

  INSIDEJUICE: Let’s go back to your departure from Zoe Loves. What happened? Walk me through the events leading up to your exit from the show.

  TROZZO: That’s a complicated story.

  INSIDEJUICE: Isn’t that why I’m here?

  TROZZO: You might remember my sixteenth birthday—MTV made sure of that. The highest-rated Sweet 16 episode of all time. To Barry, it was the perfect opportunity to demonstrate his power and wealth. Every big name on his roster performed that night, just for me. He rented tigers, elephants, and the biggest house in Malibu. He even bought me a dress that had more bling than the crown jewels. When I look back at the footage, I’m amazed how well the producers painted the fairy tale: Kelly Trozzo’s enchanted life, full of glitz, glamour, and eternal happiness. But re-watch that episode, and you’ll notice very few clips of me. Because what the camera didn’t see that night was me leaving the party in haste. They didn’t see me wade into the ocean by myself, still wearing that $50,000 dress.

  It’s funny—I thought about Princess Jade when I was paddling into the waves. How many times she must have imagined leaping from the tower, crashing into the violent sea. How could she not? That fucking monster…it came every damn night. What hope did she have? She knew her golden heart was cursed with evil. But who could she turn to for help? What if no one was coming to save her? What if she stopped believing in her happily ever after?

  So there I was, neck deep in the waves, shaking in the cold water, ready to plunge, when I heard his voice. Noah Tash was screaming at me from the beach. We’d met a week prior when he was written into the script as Lizzy’s older brother, and Zoe’s first crush. And there he was, wading into the ocean, begging me to return to shore. I was angry at first—no one had ever seen me like that, consumed in my state of madness. But there was nothing I could do. He had come in my darkest hour.

  Noah reached for my hand as the waves crashed down over us. I resisted at first, but he put his arms around me and pulled me back to the beach. Then, with my sparkly dress covered in sand, and the tears streaming down my cheeks, I let him comfort me. I was tired of fighting this thing on my own. I wanted someone to rescue me from this life. Maybe I wanted the singing montage and the happily ever after. I needed to believe.

  At the end of the MTV episode, you can see me cutting the cake in front of all my fake friends and hired hands. But my eyes were on one person. My knight in shining armor. If only I had known.

  The Blog of Kaleb Reed

  July 23, 2019

  My father makes an appearance on television today. He’s on the steps of the New Haven courthouse. Seagulls soar in the background. His gray hair is parted neatly to the side; a red tie pulled tightly into a crisp white collar. He has his sleeves rolled up. The town of New Haven polls better with rolled-up sleeves. As if he could still run for office after the things he’s done.

  On the bottom of the screen, the ticker reads: Former Governor Begs Son to Surrender.

  My father tells the reporters that he’s concerned, and if I can hear him, I need to turn myself in. Do the right thing.

  Oh please. Concerned? That’s rich. He doesn’t give a shit. He wants one last moment in the spotlight, no matter the circumstances. He’ll call his old campaign manager on the ride home. How did I look? He’ll pretend your career isn’t over. We haven’t spoken since I headed west. A year after my brother died. After the felonies. The drugs. He didn’t have the guts to say it to my face. He left a voicemail. You failed me. Leave your mother alone. Both her sons are gone. Now he’s playing eighteen holes of golf in the morning, a crossword puzzle, and scotch by dusk. His next wife got a few fists to the face as well. Can’t say I’m surprised.

  The truth is, I want to believe in you, Detective Donaldson. I don’t want to surrender. I want you to find me. I want the spectacle. I imagine you are staring at a map, colorful pins pushed in around my location. You are prepping for the finale. You’ll have your man. No more mishaps. No more blunders. And yet, I wonder if I’ve given you too much credit. You’re still clinging to the evidence in front of you. You still can’t see the bigger picture.

  Detective Donaldson strode confidently around the interrogation room. His palms slammed onto the table. “What made you drive back to Kelly’s and sign the contract that night?” His eyebrows raised in excitement. “What do you remember most about that night?” He couldn’t wait any longer. Whatever he had, the surprise was about to be delivered.

  “It seems like you already know.”

  Glossy photos slid across the table.

  Donaldson stared at me with contempt. “Did Kelly know?”

  I peeked down at the picture of Jez and I having sex. The picture was blurry, taken through the window. The time stamp said 3:00 a.m. The morning after Kelly’s birthday. You could barely tell it’s me in the corner, standing behind Jez. But that picture didn’t tell the entire story.

  “That’s it? Th
at was your big reveal?” I chuckled. “You think that’s what I remember most about that night?”

  Donaldson dropped his fist on the table, “Don’t fucking play games with me.” He shook his head. “You’re going to tell me there’s something more memorable than this?”

  Seeing Sara, for starters. That first line of cocaine was close behind. Let me rephrase that—my first line after abstaining for five months. Jez poured it on the glass table. I remembered that. Kelly came to join us with a birthday tiara on her head. My heart trembled with the bass of the music. It was just what I needed. Just how I remembered. How could I ever forget that feeling?

  It made me feel indestructible, strong. Not pathetic. The beats pounded through the house, shaking paintings and mirrors on the wall. Not broken. Kids waved glow sticks and danced with their eyes barely open. Not cowardly. Not someone who gave up. I bumped into a guy, and he turned to me, eyes opened wide. His pupils were oversized and grotesque. His black hair was soaked. His smile was crooked and frozen. I smiled back. Not someone who couldn’t protect the people he loved.

  I saw Sara’s face in the fog. She was reaching for me, smiling. She vanished. Her voice echoed, reverberating through the speakers.

  “Stop it, Kaleb. You’re scaring me. Stop it.”

  I had slipped. On the eve of my brother’s birthday, Bob’s shadow appeared in the hallway. I wasn’t sure at first. I didn’t get a good look. But deep down, I knew. He had returned. And the next day, I left the house. And I got my fix. I welcomed fear. I welcomed pain. I destroyed over two years of sobriety. I returned home as the monster. I destroyed Sara’s house. Lamps. Holes in the wall. Anger. Rage. I fucking destroyed it all. I ruined my good life. I was protecting her.