Death Ride

by Sebastyen Dugas

  Jimmy had to take charge. But how? No one would believe him. It was one thing for the character played by Laura to die in the show. But it was something else for her to suffer the same thing in real life.

  Not under his watch.

  Jimmy admitted that the actress’s death ploy was well planned. No one could have predicted that such a thing would happen. At least, no one who wasn’t paying attention. No one had been as methodical as him in analyzing the clues and discovering the plot; no one had put in as much effort as he had.

  Jimmy had asked Laura to chat with him privately on Facebook, but there was no answer. He had no choice but to communicate directly with her agent.

  The show started while Jimmy was biting his nails, worried sick. He screamed in rage when Martine’s character stumbled as she dropped the tray full of wine glasses she was carrying, while the crowd laughed. They wanted to humiliate her, and everyone was an accomplice. Laura’s face twisted with shame. How could they do this to her? What had she done to them to be treated so cruelly?

  Jimmy had assessed all the possibilities: contacting the police, confronting the producers of the show, notifying his agent, her famous friends, but he didn’t do anything about it. He feared that alerting her loved ones would speed up the attack on Laura, or make him look like a madman. They would never understand the logic behind Jimmy’s conclusion that Laura was at risk. It would take too long to explain, and he didn’t have time to waste.

  He thought of going to the TV studio, but the broadcasts were not live, and he didn’t know the filming schedules. Time was running out, especially since they were probably close to shooting the fateful scene. He had to act now.

  He decided to act the next day. The situation was critical. His brother Dominic had challenged him to do something about it. Dominic was the only one who believed him, and he had encouraged him to follow through with his plan.

  Jimmy headed to his bedroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror over his mahogany desk. His features looked drawn, the stress having deepened wrinkles on his forehead. He was only 25 years old but looked ten years older. His black hair was messy, and he hadn’t showered for at least 72 hours. He was not sleeping, consumed by the anxiety of what was going on. He had made at least fifty different plans without finding a suitable one. But right now, he resolved that he would shower, put on clean clothes and be presentable so as not to frighten her. She didn’t know him; she wasn’t going to trust him just like that simply because he wanted to protect her. The old maxim repeated itself in his head: “We only have one chance to make an excellent first impression.” It all started from there.

  “She’s attracted to blue-eyed blonds,” Dominic said to him from the hallway.

  “I know all this very well.” Jimmy was disgusted by what he saw in the mirror. His reflection showed the black of his hair and the brown of his eyes back to him.

  He had bought the dye earlier at the pharmacy, and had coloured his hair that evening. But there was nothing to be done about his brown eyes: he was unable to wear contact lenses. He couldn’t stand to put his fingers in his eyes.

  He analyzed his silhouette in the mirror for several seconds and was disappointed with the protrusion of his stomach. He didn’t take care of himself. A woman like Laura was used to dating supermodels, like those found in magazines. Jimmy had only a limp and a disappointing body to offer. He was going to have to wear loose-fitting clothes to hide his disadvantageous looks. Dominic had kept telling him to get in shape, but he didn’t have the energy. His brother’s disgusted looks did nothing to help his self-esteem.

  He showered and rethought his plan several times, talking to himself as if he was talking to Laura. The echo of the shower amplified his voice.

  He took two melatonin pills, hoping to get a good night’s rest.

  Exhausted, Laura Labelle was lying on the couch of her chic apartment on Plateau Mont-Royal in Montreal. She had worked hard in recent years. Although many people had warned her about the load of working in a daily TV show, she had underestimated the impact of the long days of filming on her body and her mind.

  She had no energy left.

  The end of her relationship with François Béliveau had been challenging. The inevitable breakup had gathered speed when she developed a crush on a cute cameraman she’d met on a late-night talk show. She was not in love with Béliveau; she never had been. The relationship had been instigated by her former agent, who thought it would be beneficial for their respective careers to be in a power couple. She had tolerated the situation until she’d fallen in love with Bruno Morency, a young man three years older than her. She thought he was very mature, at least compared to Béliveau’s frivolous and immature teenage temperament.

  Her agent didn’t approve of her relationship with Morency. For him, the cameraman was a nobody who could only damage her brand. Laura had met Bruno a few weeks before she’d told François Béliveau that their relationship was over. Béliveau had not taken it so well, not at all. He had always taken her for granted, believing that she would never dare to question their arrangement.

  But when he felt he was losing control of the situation, Béliveau had suddenly become kind and caring.

  Too little, too late.

  Anyway, Laura only had eyes for Bruno. When she broke up with Béliveau, she knew that she was leaving behind her status as half of a prominent couple, which had brought them both enormous visibility and generous contracts.

  Clearly, her new boyfriend would not attract the same interest from sponsors, but she didn’t care. Her love for Bruno was more important than anything else. She had never known anyone like him before. She had never felt such an attraction for a man in her life.

  It was not only the infernal rhythm of the shooting of the TV show that exhausted her, but also the promotional activities to which she had to submit herself contractually. All these public appearances, all these interactions with the fans, represented a tremendous strain for her, due in large part to her introverted nature. She would far more prefer to spend the evenings in her pyjamas, watching TV series and movies, wrapped up in a blanket and snuggled up against her lover.

  She couldn’t imagine why people would want to be famous at all costs. For her, fame was the dark side of her job. If there were a way that she could make a living as an actress while remaining anonymous, she would be willing to pay a lot of money for it.

  Given her agent’s opinion of her life choices and her new lover, Laura had decided to fire him and have her affairs handled by Mike Tougas, another prominent agent in the industry who had been highly recommended to her by a colleague. She had told Laura how understanding and humane Tougas was and that he did not put any undue pressure on his clients. His role was to advise them as best he could, but the final choice was up to the artist, even if it was against what he was advocating.

  His mantra was that the agent was working for the client and not the other way around. Laura had appreciated the few meetings she had had with him, but it was mainly her immediate complicity with Anouk, Tougas’s wife, that convinced her. She was a sublime woman who immediately put you at ease with her warm smile and big, comforting green eyes.

  Even though she hadn’t yet discussed the subject with Mike, Laura wanted it to be clear that her relationship with Bruno was paramount to her, that it was non-negotiable. She wouldn’t hide him. He would be at her side in public outings, and it would be evident to everyone that he was her lover. She didn’t care if it offended some of her fans; that would be their problem. She would tell him all of this soon; the four had agreed to share a meal, to establish their expectations of how things should go and to seal the deal.

  Tomorrow, Laura would attend a signing session with another actress from the TV show. The simple thought of facing a horde of admirers made her shiver. She had wracked her brains for a way to avoid being present but had found no sufficiently credible reason that would not be a breach of contract.

  It was getting late. Bruno was working, but he
’d join her in bed after he got home. Already in a bathrobe, Laura was wearing her big moose-head slippers that her mother had bought her a few years ago. She smiled as she remembered the moment she had opened the Christmas gift under her mother’s mocking eye. Mme. Labelle knew very well that her cute little girl was not fond of this kind of attire.

  But over time, Laura had come to appreciate these big slippers. They were indeed comfortable, but it was above all the memory of that crazy laugh shared with her mother that gave them such a special cachet. She had only her mother left; her beloved father had died suddenly of a heart attack when she was 13 years old. She had wondered a few times whether her failed relationships with men were not related to the lack of a fatherly presence at a crucial time of her development. With that said, she was convinced that Bruno was different, that he was the right one, and that it was going to work.

  “Dad would have loved him,” she thought melancholically.

  The memory of how they’d fallen in love at first sight was still vivid in her mind. As one of the guests of a popular late-night talk show, she had scanned the crowd with her eyes during a commercial break as she always did, and had encountered the intense look of a cameraman she’d never seen before.

  Unlike other men, most of whom were intimidated by her, the cameraman had maintained his gaze with such insistence that Laura’s heart had begun racing. She had never felt this before, such magnetism at first sight. She didn’t know how to handle all this, but one thing was for sure: this man had a strong power over her.

  The cameraman had put his face back into his camera when the signal came back on the air, but she kept looking at him until she realized that the host had asked her a question she hadn’t understood, still immersed in her new fantasy. She had come out of her stupor after a few seconds and asked the host to repeat the question, blushing like a little girl caught red-handed by her parents. She had recovered her composure, and the rest of the evening had gone smoothly.

  Laura had glanced furtively at the cameraman once or twice after that, but he had paid only brief attention to her between breaks. The long, languid gazes had given way to short, discreet glances.

  At the end of the program, the host had invited the team and guests who wished to join him for a meal in a nearby restaurant. Laura had agreed to go there in the hope that the handsome cameraman would also be there. She had been happy to see that this was true and had sat across the table from him. They had not talked much, just giving themselves more and more intense looks as time went by. The young man’s cheerful smile, the brightness in his eyes… Laura had the impression that he was reading his soul. They had agreed to meet again alone a few days later in a Montreal bar.

  Laura had a gift for knowing whether a man was interested in her or not. This guy, Bruno—it was apparent he was completely gaga for her; she could swear it.

  And of course, the feeling was mutual. Laura wanted to explore that chemistry they had felt for each other, see where it would lead them.

  The evening had gone very well. Bruno had a very good sense of humour, and he was very endearing and reassuring. Laura had detected no signs of mental flaws, no suspicious reactions, no prolonged silence. Everything had flowed perfectly.

  She thought it was too good to be true, but she didn’t care. She was embarking on this adventure without restraint. Either she would fall madly in love with this guy, and it would be the beginning of a beautiful story, or she would run straight into a wall and get rejected. It wouldn’t be the first time. It was okay; she knew how to reconstruct herself.

  As they left the bar, discussing a trivial matter that she had already forgotten, Bruno had grabbed her by the waist and pulled her towards him, then glued his soft lips firmly against hers.

  Laura felt like her legs had been sawn off. Luckily Bruno was holding her firmly. She closed her eyes, dazed by the intoxicating dance of her surroundings revolving around her. They had kissed for a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity to her. Not because it bothered her. On the contrary. She didn’t want it to stop.

  It was so good; it was so beautiful.

  On her way home, alone in her car, she had a blissful smile on her face. For a rare time in her life, she allowed herself to be happy without wondering what would go wrong to counterbalance her joy.

  Then, a car coming in the opposite direction on Jacques-Cartier Bridge had crashed into the guardrail, causing frightening fire sparks to spill out. The vehicle had then zigzagged dangerously towards Laura’s car. She had been terrified, sure that they would collide; it was inevitable. The moment of exaltation she had experienced a few seconds earlier would evaporate and plunge her back into the depressing reality in which she had been wallowing for so long. Nothing good could happen to her without being followed by something terrible.

  A friend had once told her that she was nurturing an unhappiness gene. That if she had a positive attitude, she’d attract good things. Laura had rejected this esoteric theory out of hand; she didn’t believe in that nonsense.

  The other car’s headlights blinded her; it was a matter of milliseconds before the two cars struck each other.

  For some reason, the images of her kiss with Bruno came back to her mind as clearly as if she was still living it, and suddenly she believed that no matter what happened, nothing would darken that magical moment she had experienced. Not even a dazzling collision with that out-of-control car. No one could take away the plenitude she’d felt when she thought about the kiss.

  She closed her eyes, ready to face what life was going to throw at her.

  Then, just like that, the car had veered away at the last moment, barely avoiding Laura’s vehicle. She had sighed with relief as she continued on her way.

  When she told her positive-thinking friend about what happened, he had smiled in satisfaction and told her that she could not have had a better proof of the power of the mind. Laura didn’t know if he was right or if it was just a coincidence, but she had played along. Maybe he was right after all. He looked so happy all the time, while even though she had everything a person could hope for, she was the saddest person she knew.

  The next day, another task awaited her; she had to break up with François Béliveau. The relationship had been over for a long time, but she hadn’t been willing to admit it. Mostly because of the pressure from her former agent and everything she was likely to lose. She did the deed a few hours after she got up, driven by a sudden urge to put an end to all this. That was another proof that she should plunge right into her relationship with Bruno.

  Bruno was so charming, so well-rounded. Always in a good mood, he never got angry. In fact, the only time she had seen him out of control was during an argument with his ex-agent. He had told Bruno—or rather, ordered him—to stay away from Laura in public. The fans had to believe she hadn’t left François Béliveau to throw herself into another man’s arms right away.

  He said that she had to live through her heartbreak, even if it was only smoke and mirrors to preserve her brand image.

  Secretly, the agent wanted Laura to grow tired of Bruno and return to her senses. Being in a relationship with a “civilian,” as artists call people who are not from their field, would be damaging to her image.

  Bruno did not appreciate the agent’s tone and told him so. Even though Laura felt uneasy seeing the two men fighting, she was charmed by her lover’s character and how he didn’t let himself get trampled on, by the way he cherished their relationship. At the end of this thunderous argument, Bruno had left and slammed the door behind him. Laura had told her agent that if he didn’t accept her new relationship, she would fire him. The agent had tried to reason with her by being less than complimentary about Bruno, a miserable freelancer who had no money, no clout, and no potential for the future. A man who would take advantage of her and her wealth. He guaranteed her that her fans would never understand that she had left a man of François Béliveau’s calibre for this loser.

  It was too much, and she had fired him on
the spot and left to chase after her boyfriend. As she walked out the door, she heard the agent scream that she was a stupid little bitch, that she was going to lose everything, but she ignored him and kept running.

  She had given enough attention to that jerk.

  She was hoping Mike Tougas had more judgment. Because it was clear to her: no one would get between Bruno and her.

  No one.

  She turned off the television. She wanted to wait for Bruno to return, but he wouldn’t be here for two more hours, and she was falling asleep. He had his key anyway, so he could let himself in and join her later.

  After a quick shower, she went to bed and quickly sank into a deep sleep.

  2

  “Wake up, lazy head. It’ll be a great day today. The world belongs to those who get up early.”

  Jimmy opened his eyes and looked at the clock.

  5:15 in the morning.

  “For God’s sake, Dominic, let me sleep.”

  “No, wake up. Come on.”

  Jimmy saw his brother’s shadow leave his room, and he got up, growling.

  Dominic could be such a pain in the ass.

  Jimmy looked again at his reflection in the mirror to contemplate his thick, now blonde hair. He was disappointed to realize that the colour did not look natural. There was nothing he could do about it now; he didn’t have time for this.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow passing behind him. He jumped as he stared at the shape but saw nothing other than the white wall at the other end of the room. His heart went crazy, and he took two deep breaths to calm down and lower his pulse.

  “Dom?”

  His brother didn’t answer.

  A quick look at his front door confirmed that both latches were locked. The patio door was also closed. Besides, it creaked so much that even if someone were to try to sneak in, it would be impossible. He took one last deep breath and headed for the living room, where he found his brother staring out the window.