by Ryan Schow
“I don’t understand.”
“We share things, like this room for example. Have a seat, Ms. Baldridge,” he said, pointing to a shiny silver couch sitting across from two silver chairs and a square, mirrored coffee table.
Beneath the furniture was a fluffy silvery rug, and beneath that, dark hardwood floors. The floor’s colors worked perfectly against the tall arched windows, the cream colored walls, the smoke colored floor-to-ceiling draperies and the abundance of natural light. Mirrored surfaces were everywhere, on the nearby bar, along the inner walls, even on the furniture. How everything came together so flawlessly, it was how the penthouse looked modern yet dripped with Old Hollywood charm at the same time.
“I can see why you like it here,” she said. “This is the most beautiful hotel room I’ve ever been in.”
“Knowing people has its perks,” he said, withdrawing his cell phone and putting it on the table.
He hit the PLAY function and a recorded phone call began to play through the small, external speakers. It was a late night call to her father by a girl who sounded young, about her age. Sabrina leaned forward, listened in horror as the girl—who later called herself Savannah Van Duyn (I know about her)—said she killed Tavares as part of a mind control program played out in her head.
Sabrina sat back, covering her mouth involuntarily, felt her eyes glisten. She could hardly believe what she was hearing.
When the recording ended, Garrison said, “Having friends at the NSA has its perks. If it helps, I can hand this recording over to the District Attorney, who will then know who your brother’s killer is, rather who unleashed her. Your father’s defense team can then claim temporary insanity, which they’ll use to get a reduced sentence in a country club like prison. And you?” he asked. “Well, everyone loves a tragic story. The point is, we can put the right spin on this heart-rending tale of yours. We can tilt things in your favor.”
“It’s hard thinking my brother’s murder and my father’s temporary insanity could earn favor in the eyes of…what? Potential fans? Casting directors? You?”
“Many a budding career was built and fortified on sacrifice alone,” he said, a dark glint in his eye.
“What are you proposing, Mr. Rich? For my career, I mean.”
“Please,” he said softly, with a smile that would’ve had her sopping wet with lust under different circumstances, “call me Garrison.”
“Okay…Garrison.”
“If you agree to our terms, we will introduce you to our most talented publicists who will then weave your many calamities into a story that is…unique. And touching. I mean, aside from your career, the tragedies that have befallen you are most unfortunate.”
“Thank you.”
“Obviously, we’ll lean heavily on your ability to stay strong through such grave misfortune. You are an actress, Sabrina, so keeping your emotions believable long after the effects of your brother’s death have worn off—”
“They won’t wear off,” she heard herself saying in a slightly defensive tone.
“—will be a manageable ruse.”
“It’s not a ruse.”
“Whatever. Stay with me here. Your career will not launch right away. People must feel your grief long before they accept you back into the fold. After all, your father murdered a man. A state senator no less.”
“I know what he did,” she replied tersely, not liking how forthcoming he was about her father’s crime, even if it was just the two of them in a private suite.
“You will need to work yourself into the fold, as I said.”
“And how do I do that?”
“Naturally, you’ll spend some time working as an escort to Hollywood’s A-listers.”
3
An escort to the stars? A hooker? Sabrina started to object, but Garrison held up a hand, silencing her. She closed her mouth, but that didn’t mean she was going to stick around much longer for this. She was preparing to steal a glance toward the exit when his voice stopped her.
“Everyone in a position as untoward as your own participates. This is but one sacrifice. In this world—a world few even know exist—you’ll learn how a small segment of Hollywood’s upper, upper crust really operates. What separates certain A-listers from everyone else. As an initiate, you’ll mingle with your future co-stars, nurturing them away from the prying eyes of the press. Your time with them, your experiences, will gradually inspire their trust.”
“So me being a hooker, that’s how they come to trust me?” she said, incredulous. There was no way she was going to participate in such a thing!
“There are no secrets inside the inner sanctum. Besides, this is Hollywood,” he said with a sly grin, “we’re all hookers.”
“So basically I have to screw my way to the top?” she said.
She used a tone of irritation to disguise her mounting fear. Already she was gathering her courage to get up and leave. She knew, however, that leaving this suite meant leaving her career in Hollywood behind. Could she do that? God, she didn’t want to.
But what he was suggesting…
“Sweetheart, don’t be so naïve. Everyone fucks everyone in Hollywood. It’s a function of our mostly closed society. You see, if everyone is guilty of adultery, then no one is guilty of adultery. It’s like that in the inner sanctum.”
“Do I have a choice, though, on who I sleep with?”
She didn’t want to tell Garrison the only person she ever had sex with was the creep who ran the Lies & Lays casting couch. It’s how she landed her first big role, and a shameful secret she vowed to take to her grave. She felt a little better when two of her co-stars said they were forced into the same sexual predicament. Apparently surviving the casting couch was a rite of passage for newbies like her.
“You always have a choice,” Garrison said. “Let me tell you, though, this choice will propel you into the entertainment stratosphere. Choosing otherwise will not.”
“I don’t understand how me being an escort to Hollywood’s elite guarantees my future.”
“That is but one sacrifice of many,” he explained. “Here in the aristocracy of Hollywood, the greater your sacrifice, the more robust your reward. Your first reward will be Lennox Carlisle.”
“The singer?”
Lennox Carlisle was only the hottest twenty-something on the music scene today. He had five hit singles in the top ten at the same time from two different albums, a near impossibility.
“He will be your boyfriend for six months, or perhaps a year depending on how the public warms to you.”
“What if he doesn’t like me?”
“In Hollywood, most of the relationships you see are arranged. Relationships between stars are necessary elements of the fame building machine. We’ve done the metrics. Besides, Lennox is not really into women the way most guys his age are into women.”
“Is he gay or something?”
“Lennox was born as a girl. We made him into a boy.”
“No goddamn way,” she said, covering her mouth more to stop the obscenity than to stifle her surprise.
He gave a jovial chuckle that looked good on him. “There are many secrets, Sabrina. Many deals made for those wanting the things you want. The things we all want.”
“So does he…have a dick, or like…how does that work?”
“Forensic scientists did a YouTube video detailing his anatomy several years ago. They pointed out how he was really a she. They were right. You can hide a lot of things from a lot of people, but they talked about her head-to-shoulder symmetry, her small wrists and ankles, the lack of an Adam’s apple, her rounded jawline and straight forehead, and the high break in her waist…all tells to the secret we worked so diligently to conceal. So last year Lennox had a penis transplant then got himself paparazzied and voilà, the rumors were squashed and once credible people were now discredited. Outside, he’s a boy who goes through lots of young starlets like you, but inside, he’s still a she.”
Sabrina just sat there, stunn
ed, unable to make the image of Lennox Carlisle being a girl work.
“In a world of problems created by penises,” he mused, “the very act of using a problem as a solution seemed revolutionary.” Garrison seemed particularly pleased with the colloquialism, amused even, but Sabrina was still in shock.
“Did she always want to be a man?” she heard herself ask.
“She never wanted to be a man, this is merely her pathway to fame. She signed off on it. You’ll have your own path, my dear, and your own measures of fame.”
“So I have to date him then?”
“This will be but another sacrifice. If you haven’t caught on by now, our stock and trade is sacrifice. The more you sacrifice, the more you are rewarded. You want fame, yes?”
“I do.”
“You want the lifestyle that comes with it, do you not?”
“Of course.”
He slid a piece of paper across the glass coffee table, one she picked up and read. It read: YOU’RE TO LEAVE THE COUNTRY ON VACATION NEXT WEEK. ARRANGE A SPECIFIC TIME TO CALL YOUR MOTHER WHERE SHE WILL DEFINITELY BE HOME. YOUR ROAD TO FAME REQUIRES A FAMILIAL SACRIFICE. WE’LL TEXT YOU WHEN IT’S DONE.
She couldn’t believe it. Was he actually asking her to sacrifice her mother?
4
Cold, slick horror washed over her. A sickness rose in her gut so fast she had to swallow hard several times to keep her stomach down.
“I don’t understand,” Sabrina said.
“Yes, you do.”
“You want me to…sacrifice my mother?”
“You’ll receive a text when it’s done, and then you’ll begin your service.”
“Back in Hollywood?”
“You’ll head to Vegas first. We’ll be wrapping the last six weeks of production on a four hundred million dollar summer blockbuster. We’re working on two music videos, one of which is Lennox Carlisle’s.”
She couldn’t breathe.
Sabrina was looking at Garrison Rich seeing not a man but an agent of turmoil. Wrapping her arms around herself, she wondered how it could be so cold with all that light pouring in through the windows. Goosebumps peppered the surface of her arms.
“On the twenty-ninth of January there will be a formal wrap party for the cast, and then an informal prayer of sorts to bless the production. You and several other girls will host that prayer ceremony. After that you’ll fly with Lennox back here where you will meet your publicist. As we’re building your reputation using photo ops with Lennox and the gossip mill, you’ll be cast for a new series on Nickelodeon which will lead to your feature film debut the following year. After that, your life will be whatever you can imagine and more.”
“So I’ll build a platform of child fans while being a slut to the Hollywood underground?”
“It’s the formula we’ve been using to launch A-listers in both Hollywood and on the music scene for decades.”
“I just have to sacrifice my mother, my dignity and my soul, right?”
“You didn’t think making a deal with the Devil would be pleasant on all fronts, did you?” he asked with a strained laughter in his voice.
He suddenly didn’t look so handsome anymore. Down the hallway, she heard the suite’s door open, then close a few moments later. A bedroom door shut, but she didn’t see anyone come in. Strange. This was getting weird.
Beyond weird.
“Are you expecting someone?”
“Here is the alternative,” he said, ignoring her question. “I keep the recording of your brother’s killer, your father rots in prison for the rest of his life, and you and your mother end up penniless, homeless and lost. In the end she will kill herself, and you will be broke and alone. Eventually you’ll kill yourself, too.”
“You can’t know that.”
His demeanor shifted, as did the tenor of his voice. He was no longer the gentleman who gave Sabrina the tour of the suite; he was not the man she thought smelled dreamy. The aura he put off was no longer light and airy. To her it was so heavy it was suffocating.
“Our reach is limitless, Ms. Baldridge.”
She started to stand up, but a large man appeared behind her and motioned for her to sit back down. She bit down on her fear. Looking at Garrison, who smiled like this was all normal, she thought twice, then did as she was directed. Her mind spinning out of control, she wondered, how did this perfectly civilized meeting turn to talk of sacrifices and threats so quickly? And where did this hulking guy come from?
“If your mother doesn’t kill herself, we will help her. And if by some virtue your journey through life begins to hold even a sliver of promise, we will crush your good fortune, drain you of whatever money you’ve accumulated, then wait for you to give up and die.”
Her mouth fell open, aghast. If the big guy behind her implied a threat, Garrison Rich just confirmed it. My God, how can he just say that?!
“Why would you…tell me…these horrible things? Why would you…be so brazen?”
It was all she could manage to say because her lower lip was trembling now, and her heart actually seemed to shiver inside her chest. She hadn’t realized she was crying, but then the warm drips hit her cheeks and she knew.
Garrison Rich’s aura completely changed before her eyes.
“Because you’re talented but greedy,” he said. “Because you showed up. And because until you accept this truth—that you can have everything your little heart desires for the right sacrifice—you will never be truly happy.”
“You’re telling me you’re going to kill my mother,” she says.
“In Hollywood, ‘dead mothers’ is a running theme no one talks about. Don’t you watch the movies? Can’t you see the repetition of the idea? My God, it’s in half the films we make!”
“This is insane,” she said.
“Once you know about us, you’re either with us, or against us. There is no middle ground. No grey area.”
“So you’re telling me my mother is dead either way?”
“There’ll be no easy way for you to suffer her death, Sabrina. My suggestion is get in front of the cameras as soon as you can so others may share in your grief. Everyone loves a comeback story. After all, this is how megastars are born. Your talent and charisma brought me to you, young lady, but it’s sacrifice that will keep us together.”
“You’re telling me other people do this?”
“A great human sacrifice is always followed by long periods of prosperity. You’ll see. It’s how He works.”
“How who works?”
“Our dark lord.”
“The…the Devil? Is that…that’s what you’re saying?”
“So many of these chart topping singers, these twenty-million dollar a movie A-listers, when they say they made a deal with the Devil, did you think that was a metaphor? Some sort of time-accepted allegory based not in truth but myth?”
“I did.”
“Well grow up, child.”
“I am,” she muttered.
Garrison’s eyes grew dark, serious; they sizzled with intensity. “The Devil is less of a physical being and more of an idea, and that idea is rooted in sacrifice. If you know nothing of this life, my dear, know this one thing.” With that he took back his piece of paper demanding her mother be her sacrifice, then said, “Follow me.”
Whatever charm he once possessed, it was all gone. Washed away in this unfolding nightmare.
The huge man with the barrel chest and the stern, quiet look, he fell in behind Sabrina and Garrison, which made her feel so small and weak, so vulnerable. She was but a soft white rabbit in a wolf’s den. She was being led to slaughter.
Garrison brought her into a large bedroom where she saw six men standing before a large king sized bed. Her face lost all its color and she couldn’t breathe. She had never been so scared in her life.
“Wha—?” she said, sounding drugged, her voice failing her. For a second, her world swam as she was hit with a sharp snap of vertigo. The smell in the air was ruthlessness. Uncari
ng.
“Every beginning requires a prayer for good luck and a sacrifice. Close your eyes and bow your head.”
She couldn’t believe it, but Garrison Rich—head of the largest studio in Hollywood—was praying to Satan. Right in front of her! She only heard half the prayer because somewhere near the beginning she decided to make a run for it.
The moment she opened her eyes, the guard from the living room was right there. Standing in front of her. Looking down on her with eyes cold enough to freeze her bones. She hadn’t even felt him move, but there he was, blocking her way out.
She closed her eyes again, fought the urge to pass out. She stabilized herself physically, except for the tears.
“There, there,” Garrison said to her when his prayer was over. “There’ll be time for that later.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Don’t be preposterous,” he said with a wolfish grin. “This is merely the beginning of an abounding, very equitable arrangement for us. Such an arrangement requires you to be…alive.”
She wiped her eyes, straightened up. If this was anything like Lies & Lays, she was about to relive “the casting couch interview,” but with these men of strength, men whose only intention was to most likely make sure she sacrificed. The casting couch director she lost her virginity to was a meek man with a healthy appetite for young actresses. These men were just…men.
She drew a breath, tried to steady her rumbling heart, fought not to pass out. You can do this, she told herself. She swallowed hard.
“So I’m supposed to what?—screw these guys?” she asked, wiping her eyes for the last time.
“Everyone gives up the gravy, my dear.”
“Gives up the gravy?”
“Yes.”
She let the casting director of Lies & Lays have his way with her so she could get her big break on the show. This wasn’t a show though—this was the show. Not a job. A career.
If the choice was to be rich and famous or be poor, and her mother was going to be dead either way, then it was best to preserve what she could with herself and her father, and reach for the stars.