“Calm down. All we need to do is get professional acting experience. How hard can that be?” questioned Darell.
“Oh, it’s easy for you to say, you already have an agent wanting your ass to be in his agency,” Jose shouted. His jealousy glistened through at that moment, and gave Darell an uncomfortable feeling.
Darell felt guilty: he felt bad for what Jose was feeling, and showing toward him. He looked at Jose, with puppy eyes, and said in a whiny fashion, “I said I would help you guys out too.”
“Yeah, whatever,” spoke Jose with a strong attitude. He was acting like a five year old. The cabdriver just smiled toward them, looking at this argument through his rearview mirror; he clearly found it amusing. Jose was already losing his trust in Darell, and that was something they all never thought would happen. So, Damen had to bring the situation down a degree, and show Jose that everything would be alright.
“Guys, guys, calm down... It’s gonna be okay. We’ll all make it to the top, however corny it may sound. After all, we’re blood brothers. Right?” Damen questioned, putting his hand over his backpack, on his lap, and awaiting an answer.
“Right,” Darell replied, putting his hand on top of Damen’s.
Darell looked at Jose, hoping he would do the same in placing his hand down. Jose saw the sincerity in Darell’s eyes, saw how much he wanted him to place his hand down on his. “Fine,” whispered Jose. He slapped his hand on Darell’s and added, “I’m sorry, Darell ... I was wrong for barking at you like that.”
“More like bitching,” laughed Damen. Jose began to laugh as well, and the cabdriver just kept on smiling at this interesting entertainment.
“It’s okay, Jose, I understand. Apology accepted,” Darell spoke with a gracious smile.
The guys finally reached Hollywood, after getting to be in a traffic jam and a little protest for Women’s Rights. They stepped out of the cab and looked straight up at the tall buildings; this sight was new to them as well. They’d never seen a traffic jam, they’d never seen protesters, and they’d never seen the structures of Hollywood; they were captivated once again. Jose said, “We’ve made it, we’ve actually made it.”
“I know,” Damen announced. He walked over to a motel called the Hollywood Inn, and left Jose and Darell behind once again. Damen was a type of person that knew what he wanted—without mentioning it, he knew. Once he saw something that he wanted, he wouldn’t bother telling anyone, explaining his reason for going to that thing he wanted; he would just do it.
“Where are you going?” asked Jose.
Damen turned around and faced them, even though they were across the street. He looked through the expensive cars, through some people with birds on their shoulders, and concentrated his sight on Jose and Darell. After he focused, through this maze of exotic new stuff, he shouted, “I think we should go and get a room. I’m tired and I know Darell’s tired too.”
Damen then walked into the motel. “Come on, we could go out later on tonight and look around. Right now we should get unpacked and rest a little,” he added, seeing Jose and Darell entering the motel as well.
“He’s right, we should get a room, take a shower and rest a little bit,” Darell agreed. He followed Damen to the check-in counter and watched this tropical setting in an awed way. He stared at the palm tree that was inside the foyer of the motel, and smiled toward it. Darell thought it was funny to have a tree inside of a motel without having any reason to do so, except for decoration.
“Didn’t you guys get any sleep on the plane? I know I did,” asked Jose. Damen grabbed the room key after he paid for the room and Jose still waited for an answer.
“No, I didn’t get any sleep. Would you just cooperate, please,” confirmed Damen. He walked to the room, with Darell and Jose walking behind him, straggling along like they always did. Damen was tired and cranky, he didn’t want to have to explain himself to Jose; at least, not now.
They walked into the room, opening a cheap, blue door, and closed it half way. Staring at this room, cheaply made up, with pink, flowered wallpaper, gave them all a sense of being disappointed. “Fine, you’re right, we should get some sleep,” replied Jose. Darell closed the door, the door that protected them from Hollywood, the door that should never be opened again, and looked at his friends with tired eyes. The boys had found a new setting in their lives; the setting that was called “reality.”
Before any of them went to sleep, Damen looked at each of their faces and said, “Don’t worry, things will get better for us.” Sleeping on the floor, and staring at Jose and Darell’s closed eyes as they slept on a single bed in the room, Damen mumbled under his breath, “I promise... ”
Chapter Eight
Mr. Fryer paced around his office looking at photos of actors. Some photos he kept, others he cleaved, ripped up without even having a motive to do so. He looked out the window of his Hollywood office at the sun, watching it slowly go down, into the earth, and staring at the lampposts, in the streets, on how they clicked on. Each piece of sweat that fell down from his face, meant a new photo being ripped to shreds, a dream being destroyed right in the mist of the sun’s rays going down into the depths of the Hollywood lights.
Tiredness came over his mind, his thoughts, so he left the window behind, and walked over to a mirror. He looked at his image closely, staring and examining it like he was trying to find some form of meaning to his complexion. He looked at his wrinkles that had been covered up by years of plastic surgery, and then stared at his eyes, very deeply. During this examination, Mr. Fryer thought about the actors that he made stars; all those years wasted on humans that couldn’t handle stardom. Every actor that he made famous would only last in the Hollywood spotlight for a little while.
You can say that he made bad judgments on the people he thought could make it. The thoughts kept on coming back to him, on how he’d wasted all this time on people, who couldn’t handle Hollywood, who weren’t strong enough for its world, and that caused him to close his eyes suddenly, blocking out his reflection, and pound the mirror with his fist, without breaking it.
“All these years wasted,” he said in a low manner. Mr. Fryer then made up his mind on how he could please himself with his own career, and make a judgment that would put his mind at ease. He said to himself that he would only make one more actor a star. If he or she didn’t make it, he’d retire. Knowing that the clients he had now only did small, low-paying commercials, he knew that he had to do this. This was something that he’d thought about for a long time, and now his thoughts were final, completed, and would be placed into action; exercised.
Walking over to the phone, he called his secretary, telling her to come in his office immediately. He wanted to tell her his plan before it went away once again, and he forgot about it. Mr. Fryer was serious about this, and his seriousness could be seen when he called his secretary into his office again, but with a much louder voice.
His secretary went by the name of Vivian. Vivian was the one who helped Tom Fryer with these kinds of judgments; sort of like a counselor. Being that she was only twenty-two years old, and an actor herself, she still helps him out a lot by being a good secretary and talking to him about decisions. Also, she was very beautiful—seeing her long, chestnut-brown hair made him feel good, and above all, motivated.
“Yes, Mr. Fryer,” Vivian said, walking into his office and getting her notebook ready. Vivian looked at him, seeing his anxiety within his wrinkles and staring at his sweat; she knew something was bothering him.
“Vivian, I just want you to know that this is not a mid-life crisis that I’m suffering from, nor is it some desperate attempt for change in my life. But, anyway, um, well, I made a decision about my occupation, a decision that might end it or begin it,” Mr. Fryer stated. He looked out the window at the smog-covered night, and Vivian still waited to hear what else he wanted to say.
Vivian’s eyes widened as she asked, “A decision? What kind of decision?”
“Vivian, I’m fifty-two yea
rs old. I’ve been in this business for over thirty-one years and I’ve only found actors that lasted less than a year at the top. Once a year goes by, they either get arrested for drugs, or else ruin their reputation by saying something stupid on a talk show, or being caught by those cheap, but highly paid gossip magazines. I’ve had it... That’s why I’m going to give it one more shot. I’m one of the top talent agents in Hollywood, for the time being, and I have come to this,” he replied with a sigh. “I’m going to take one more actor... I’m going to try my best at making that actor a star. If he or she can’t last in Hollywood, then I’m going to retire or go into some other occupation,” he announced as he turned around and glared at Vivian. “I’ve been an agent, and a manager many times, this is what I’m gonna do.”
“Wow,” she said. Small tears generated, undefined as they may be for now, they still began to show, slowly but surely, in her eyes. “Um, are you for real?” Vivian questioned, still staring at his back.
“Yes, I’m for real,” he returned with seriousness. “I know that this is a moment to moment thing, but I’ve been contemplating it for quite some time now, traveling from city to city, trying to search for that perfect face, that perfect talent, and finally today, just a few moments ago, I made up my mind. I’m sick and tired of searching, and searching for talent, for a face that could meet my standards, as well as the world’s. And now, I realized, that I have to take action where action is finally needed, and do this,” he explained as more tears filled Vivian’s eyes.
“Well, are you, are you going to choose someone that you know already?” Her voice, and the way it trembled, meant she wanted to be that actor, that face he was going to choose. Muting on and off, and battling with her speech, and at the same time, trying to keep her tears in, she said, “Because, um, well, if, if I were you, which I’m not, but if I were, especially for this drastic decision, I would definitely, without a doubt, choose someone that I work with, I mean, someone that I already know. So, are you, are you going to choose someone you know already?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have got about seven in mind,” he said, sitting down in his chair and lighting a cigar at the same time.
“I thought you said you only wanted one?” she asked. Vivian got up from the chair and looked out the window at Hollywood, hoping that he would say her name, would say he was going to choose her.
“Yes, I did say that. I am only going to choose one out of those seven.” Tom then blew smoke out of his mouth that resembled a circle.
“Really, well, why don’t you choose two?” she asked, feeling a tear slip out of her eye, a tear that meant she wanted to be a star. “I mean, two would be better.”
Tom Fryer looked at the reflection of her face, on the window, and saw tears coming from her eyes. That’s when he questioned, “Why should I choose two?”
“Never mind, it’s up to you what you want to do. If you want to choose one, then fine,” Vivian said, brushing away her tears, not knowing that Mr. Fryer already saw them. He knew what the tears meant, symbolized, but for some reason, he didn’t want to talk to her about them; it was as if he was playing a game with her emotions.
“Listen, I don’t know what I’m going to do ... but right now it’s only going to be one person. I think I already know who it’s going to be,” he said. He was staring at her face very heavily, as if he was about to say whom he wanted to choose when the phone began to ring, loudly.
“Hello,” spoke Tom, holding the phone with a tight grip. That’s when Vivian walked toward the door of his office, still trying to wipe away her tears unnoticeably.
“Yes, hi, this is Darell O’Conner calling. Is this Mr. Fryer?” he asked while Jose and Damen listened by the phone.
“Yes it is, could you hold on for one moment?” asked Tom, putting out his cigar quickly, staring at Vivian’s walking figure.
“Sure.”
Mr. Fryer covered up the speaking part of the phone and said, “Hey, Vivian.”
She froze, with her hand on the doorknob. Vivian thought about all those years she spent working for him, trying to get a good resume and trying to get him as an agent. She said in her mind, Three years I have been working for you. Slaving to get noticed by him each day she came into work, and constantly putting up with his arguments with her, and many other negative things, Vivian grasped onto the doorknob tighter as each of these flashbacks came to her thoughts. Turning around slowly, with just a crack in the door from her almost closing it shut, Vivian fixed her watery eyes on Mr. Fryer’s emotionless face. She said in a low tone, “Yes, Mr. Fryer?”
“Maybe that actor I’m choosing could be you,” Mr. Fryer stated as he smiled at her.
Knowing that Tom Fryer was a businessman allowed Vivian’s mind to not believe his sincere words. She wasn’t going to get her hopes up; but still, to her, there was a little chance that his words had some truth to them. “Well, just give me a list of at least some of those actors you chose. I’ll look up their resume and picture for ya.” It was back to work for her; and for the time being, that was all she was going to concentrate on, to avoid not going crazy with Mr. Fryer’s new decision. “Um, are all these actors already listed with your agency?” Vivian questioned with a mild voice.
“Yes,” he replied, noticing his cigar was still smoking in his large glass ashtray.
“Alright, then, I’ll have the resumes and photos for you within this week. Okay?”
“Okay, thank you,” replied Tom before Vivian closed the door. To her, it was like she was closing the door to an important moment, a sector in her life that could have, and should have, been her big break. She stopped, waiting outside of his office, with her hand still on the doorknob, wondering if she should go back in there and beg him to be her agent. But the door was already shut, and the moment was already lost, so she let go of the doorknob with her sweaty hands, and walked away from his office.
“Sorry for keeping you waiting, Darell. So, when could you come in here?” Tom asked. He then lit up another cigar, waiting for Darell to speak.
“My friends and I could come in there tomorrow.”
“You mean you ... could come in here tomorrow?” Mr. Fryer’s voice sounded controlling to Darell’s ears, allowing him to fear Tom for the first time.
“Yes, that’s what I meant, Mr. Fryer, but my friends will get to meet you too? Isn’t that right?” he asked, seeing Jose and Damen putting their heads down in their laps, it was like they were waiting for an answer from God: “Heaven or hell?”
“Right, but for now, I want you to come in. Tomorrow, come in at 3:00 p.m., if that’s alright for you. Is it alright?” Darell’s face had an expression of happiness melting into empathic sadness, knowing that Jose and Damen would be upset with him.
“Okay?” Tom spoke again in a demanding way.
Darell replied, his head beginning to dawdle away from the phone, “Sure, 3:00 p.m. is fine.”
“What was that?” Mr. Fryer questioned before Darell put his mouth against the phone.
“I said yes, 3:00 is fine.” Darell just stared at Damen and Jose, as if he said something wrong.
“Okay, see you then ... bye,” said Tom. He put out his cigar and hung up the phone.
Darell listened to the dial tone and pretended that Mr. Fryer was still on. Darell said, “Okay, Mr. Fryer, me and my friends will see you tomorrow, we’ll discuss everything, bye.” Darell hung up the phone, and the heads of Jose and Damen popped up from their laps, faster than a fly could hit a speeding train.
“Yes, yes, he wants us all to come in,” Jose shouted, smiling with excitement glaring from his teeth.
Darell was full of nerves; he didn’t know what to say to them. So, he got up, walked over to the bathroom, and announced, “Uh, well, yeah, he said to come in at 3:00 p.m.”
Damen raced over to the bathroom, with excitement in his stomach, mixed with butterflies, and questioned, “What else did he say?”
“Uh, he said he wants to see me first and then see you
guys,” Darell answered in nervousness. Darell knew that he wasn’t lying at all. He knew that Mr. Fryer said to him, that he would see Jose and Damen later; he just didn’t stress how much later. Darell tried his hardest not to lie, trying to go around it as much as possible. He wanted to stretch the truth; for his own well-being, so he wouldn’t feel guilty. He finished washing his face in the bathroom and then stared at his reflection. Darell closed his eyes, and prayed to God that Mr. Fryer would take Damen and Jose as his clients also, but sometimes God leaves prayers up to the person—and this prayer, in particular, was definitely going to be left up to Darell. He opened his eyes, after praying his hardest, and came out of the bathroom, ready to go out on the town. Hoping that Damen and Jose wouldn’t mention another word about Mr. Fryer, Darell asked, “Alright, are we ready to go out?”
“So, he’ll see all of us tomorrow?” questioned Jose, putting his wallet full of money into his pants pocket.
Darell paused for a moment. He knew if he answered Jose’s question, it would either be a lie or the truth. If it was the truth, then they would be furious toward him, but if it was a lie, then they would be furious with him tomorrow at 3:00 p.m. He turned to Jose and Damen while he confirmed, “Listen, let’s not talk about this anymore, let’s just have fun tonight. Let’s, um, um, let’s celebrate by going to a nice club or something.” Nervousness came over Darell’s mind once again, and he then began to pray, silently, that Jose or Damen would agree with him.
“He’s right,” said Damen. Darell’s prayer was answered, for now, and that caused some relaxation to his mind’s body. After all, it had been through a lot of exercising today, and relaxation was something that his mind needed to recuperate.
Darell opened the door to the motel room, and that’s when Jose spoke, “Okay, I could agree with you on that.” Jose forgot the last question he asked Darell, and for that, it allowed him to totally switch the conversation, and change his thoughts into wondering where to go tonight. That was Darell’s plan, and it worked.
Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) Page 9