“Whichever one you’re interested in, Fred,” Mr. Fryer replied, lighting a cigar.
The agents sat around a circular, fold-up table, which was smack-dab in the middle of the office area. The window, which coruscated the California sun through its body, reflected off this glowing, shiny table, and allowed it to create some heat to its texture.
The photos sat in the middle, while the agents all held photocopies of them, staring at them like a microscope was impressed into their eyes; this was a serious matter, as Mr. Fryer already discussed with them.
As they looked, one of the casting agents caught the cloud of Tom’s cigar smoke, and asked while covering her mouth, “Excuse me, would you mind extinguishing that cigar?”
“Oh, excuse me, Martha, I’m sorry.” Tom Fryer pushed the cigar deep into an ashtray, seeing the excess smoke rise into the middle of the sun’s road of light, creating a flat surface-like cloud, floating mysteriously in the air. “The main reason I called you all over to my office is that I want your expert opinion on these photos. I discussed with you, when you came here, the reason for me doing this. I know you wouldn’t normally do this kind of meeting for a regular talent agent. So for that, I thank you for coming. All I want to know is which one do you like the most? That’s it. Being that I’m the number one agency in California, I know that I have some importance to all of you, and I want to have the right client for you, as well as for any casting director that needs the right talent,” Mr. Fryer spoke, sitting down by his desk, away from the round table. “So, which one do you think has star potential?”
“I’m interested in this one,” Martha replied, holding up a photo that had Vivian’s image on it. Her skinny hands held up Vivian’s photo, making it known to all the people, that this was the one with potential. “She has a great smile, her hair is beautifully formed, her teeth are stunning, her eyes are deep, and according to her resume, she’s had a good amount of teaching, so she knows the craft pretty good.”
“Yeah, me too,” Fred agreed, looking at the photo as well as his photocopy of Vivian’s face. “She’s soap opera material, or even leading lady status.”
“Well, let’s have a show of hands. All those in favor of this photo, raise your hand,” Mr. Fryer announced, pointing at Vivian’s picture. All of the casting agents raised their hands immediately, without any hesitation. They were positive that she would be the next star, showing their smiles of truth, with their hands high in the air, made Vivian’s photo smile more. Mr. Fryer was the only one without a hand in the air. “Well, what about this photo?” he questioned in an anxious tone while holding up Darell’s image on a photocopy sheet.
“No ... I don’t like the way he looks. He could only play the parts of drug addicts, or even a troublemaker, maybe a boy being a nuisance on a series about friends. Overall, he just doesn’t fit the standards of a star, but I’m sure he would make it. None of us could be right on the money about a face, but when it comes to knowing for sure about an actor having star potential, this young girl has all of it and more, and just by looking at her composite,” Martha replied.
“Well then, why don’t we choose him? After all, you said he’d make it,” Tom mentioned, squeezing Darell’s photo at the same time.
“Listen, you asked our opinion and we gave it to you,” Fred replied, grabbing Vivian’s photo and holding it up in the air. “But, I know for a fact that she would definitely make it big in this business.”
Mr. Fryer looked down at his office floor while trying to think of some way he could make them change their minds about Vivian being the next star. For some reason, he didn’t want her to make it in this business, reasons that we’ll soon find out. But then he smiled. The casting agents looked at it, trying to figure out what was on his mind. Maybe he decided to go along with them, and choose her? Maybe he didn’t? Who knows.
He thought for about two minutes, silence taking over the room, when he gave up thinking and looked up at them. He said, “Okay, fine ... I made my decision ... thank you all for coming.”
“You’re most welcome,” said Martha with a smile on her face.
Tom Fryer guided them out of his office and into the main lobby where Vivian sat. They all watched her as they exited the lobby and smiled toward her. Vivian knew the meeting was about her, or at least she hoped it was.
Mr. Fryer sat down in his chair and looked at all of the photos. He ripped one after another into little pieces and threw them in the garbage. Ripping the last photo up and closing the lid of the garbage can in an angry manner, Tom sat there, holding the last, single picture, the photo in which a person’s dream will come true. He lit a cigar as Vivian called on his speakerphone. “Sir, I’m going to leave now.”
“Okay, Vivian, don’t forget to come in Monday at 10:00 a.m. Have a nice weekend.” Tom just stared at the photo; even while talking to Vivian, he still fixed his eyes on the image he chose.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Oh, Vivian, could you please step in my office really quick?” Tom’s question was quick, putting the photo into his desk drawer. Vivian wondered what he wanted all of a sudden.
“Sure,” she replied. A scared expression came over her face while she put her hat and coat on, standing by her desk, not knowing whether she should enter into his world again.
She walked into his office very slowly, mildly, and stood by the door, glancing at Mr. Fryer. She saw the vacant round table, his desk, him behind it, sitting upright in a chair, and began to fidget, moving her body around unnoticeably, like her nerves were trying to make her move and leave this man’s office.
He said, “Please, close the door and lock it.”
“Sir, I really got to go, I’m supposed to meet someone,” she said in a shaky voice. Fear came over her mind again, not knowing, or at least, imagining a little bit of what he was going to do to her, like he did before. A low, silent cry came to her mind, with only her to hear it.
“Just do as I say ... this will only take a little bit,” he said, putting down his cigar. “As a matter of fact, you’re going to be late, I need you to do some other work for me that will take a while.”
Work, he said work, Vivian, that’s all he wants you to do. Good, wait a minute, but what kind of work is he referring to...
He got up and closed the drapes on his windows, and still Vivian’s mind ran thoughts through it, thoughts of panic, of fear. He walked over to her and took off her hat that was filled with fake daisies. “I just want to thank you for being such a hard worker.”
“Oh, you’re welcome,” she said, feeling beads of sweat forming on her forehead.
“Now, how badly do you want to make it in this business?” he asked to her, unbuttoning his shirt and loosening his tie.
“Sir, please, I already told you over and over again,” she replied as a single tear came from her right eye. She stared at the drapes, being closed and locking the light from pursuing the office. She stared at the locked door, knowing that she could unlock it and leave this horrible place; but she didn’t want to upset him.
“Well, I want to hear it again,” he said, grabbing her fragile chest, rubbing it all around, caressing it to a point of friction being her pain.
“More than life itself. Okay, I said it. Please, let me go now,” she cried out, even more tears followed. The sweat from her forehead and face, mixed in with her tears, allowed her image to be drenched in see-through liquid that reflected Tom’s image.
“I’ll let you go when I feel like it. Besides, you know where the door is, and you can unlock it. But, I know you don’t want to,” he stated in a controlling voice. “Right?”
She stared at him only for a moment. Looking at her reflection in the mirror that was right in front of her, and thinking about his power, how he could destroy her dream in a blink of an eye, she accepted this moment once more. Vivian closed her eyes and allowed the nightmare to continue, the nightmare she hoped would make her dream come true. Her tears flushed out through her closed eyes, pressing against
her lids, and forcing the overflow of pain to be released. She allowed him to do it once again, and all she thought of and hoped for, was if this was worth it...
Chapter Seventeen
Damen paced back and forth in the motel room, his mind holding so many difficult thoughts, thoughts that were selfish, and mean, that allowed him to literally fight with them, trying to shut them up, so he wouldn’t go mad, crazy. Thoughts like, “how he was going to get a job,” “how Jose and Darell lied to him,” and what words he could say to Vivian. Back in Sugar Valley, he never had these kinds of difficulties with problems developing out of nowhere, and etching at his consciousness, to a point where he felt like he was gonna lose his sanity. Whenever he did have a difficulty, he always went down to the Valley, talked to it, talked to God, and then talked to Darell or Jose; but now it was different, because Sugar felt like it was a million miles away.
He went over to a window and stared through a cobweb at the heavens; through the smog and clouds, he concentrated on the stars. Closing his eyes, he tried to manifest his mind into believing he was in Sugar’s belly, with the green grass that tickled at his bare feet, and the same wind that echoed around the Valley, being trapped there for eternity. But suddenly a roach popped out from under his bed and tampered with his right foot. This allowed Damen to snap out of the daze he was in, look down, and have reality show itself to him; he stepped on the roach, causing it to burst all over his foot.
He whipped it off with an old sock, and then continued to fight with his thoughts, feelings on his problems that came to him so quickly, but yet, unnoticeably. He stared at the phone for a while. It was like the phone was infected with a virus that he didn’t want to catch. Damen wanted to get one problem out of his mind, by answering it, and treating the difficulty like a newborn baby; the problem of Vivian. As he stared, Jose came out of the shower and said, “Just call her already.”
“I will, I just have to think of something to say,” he mumbled, suddenly seeing Darell grabbing the phone, knocking it out of his transfixed view.
“What are you doing?” Damen snatched the phone from Darell’s grip in a tremendous frenzy.
“I wanted to order some food. Besides, you’re not using it,” he answered, snatching the phone back from his nervous hands.
“Yes, I am. Well, I’m going to.” Damen whipped the phone away from Darell again.
“Okay, okay, I’ll call her,” Jose announced. He took the phone away from Damen, and started dialing a number on the piece of paper that was on the bed.
Damen yelled, “No, don’t.” It was an urgent sound, coming from his voice, it jolted through Jose and Darell’s ears, like a baby boy being ripped from his father’s hands. Damen tried to get the phone away from him, but Jose made sure to roll up in a ball, and place his back as a shield toward him.
“Here, listen.” Jose placed the phone by Damen’s ear. Seeing the nervousness in his eyes, he got off on it, just like an older brother picking on his little brother.
“I’m gonna get you for this, you son of a bitch,” he shouted as Helen answered to the last word that came out of his mouth.
“What did you say?” she asked with anger.
“No, I wasn’t talking to you. I mean, I was talking to you, but I didn’t mean that toward you.”
“Is this Damen?”
“No, I mean, yes, um, yeah, well, is Vivian there?”
“No, she hasn’t gotten off of work yet, she was supposed to be back thirty minutes ago.” Helen’s voice showed some seriousness to it, like a mother’s voice, looking for her kidnapped daughter.
“Okay, um, then tell her, when she gets home, to call me, please,” he spoke, looking on the motel phone for a phone number. “The number is 485-2233.”
“Okay, got it, stud, bye.” Helen listened for Damen’s voice, but suddenly he slammed down the phone, due to his nerves.
“Why don’t you just go to her work?” Jose insisted while brushing his teeth. The toothpaste dripped out of his mouth, allowing his voice to be drowned in the mixture, and covered with yellow tar that his cigarette smoke caused.
“What did you say?”
Jose took out his toothbrush and shouted, “Why don’t you just go to her work?” He hated when he has to repeat himself; it aggravated him.
“You mean tonight?” Damen was nervous alright, he sounded like a little third grader, having a crush on a girl in his class, but not knowing exactly how to tell her.
“No, I mean next year... of course tonight. Buy some Chinese food and surprise her with it.” Jose then handed Damen’s jacket to him, urging him to go, only because he knew he really liked her.
“What happens if Mr. Fryer’s there?” Damen noticed toothpaste on the arm of his jacket, but ignored it and added, “I don’t want to get her fired.”
“You’re not going to, Damen. If Mr. Fryer’s there, just tell him you’re dropping off some Chinese for her. As a matter of fact, just tell him you’re dropping Chinese food off for the both of them. That way you’ll get in good with him and Vickie,” Jose replied; impatience was showing through his mouth.
“It’s Vivian, not Vickie.”
“Whatever...”
“Okay fine, I’ll do that.” Damen opened the motel room door and added, “I mean, what do I have to be afraid of? I’m a man, I can do this.”
Darell jumped in the pursuit of building up Damen’s self-esteem, jokingly saying, “You go, boy. Hey, remember, don’t stay out too late, lover boy.”
He went out into the smelly hallway, suddenly turning around and facing the both of them. “By the way, when I get back, I want you to clean my jacket for me.” Damen pointed to the toothpaste stain, and Jose began laughing—he’d hoped that Damen wouldn’t notice it.
“You got it,” said Jose. He closed the motel-room door and allowed Damen to be on his own for now, watching through the peephole as Damen walked down the hallway in a slow fashion.
Damen Schultz picked up some Chinese food at the corner store and took a cab to her work; knowing he had little money, but still, he liked this girl a lot. He came up to Tom Fryer’s building, noticing it was locked from the front. So he went around to the alley, found an opened door, and ran in, hoping that Vivian didn’t leave yet. He walked up the stairs slowly, seeing that some of the lights were out in this office building, but still he continued onward, rehearsing what to say when Vivian is present.
“Hi, Vivian, I was just walking in the neighborhood,” he said before hitting himself on the head. “No, you idiot, stupid, stupid, stupid, why would you be passing Vivian’s work at this time of night? Hello, I was just wondering if you wanted some Chinese food. Oh, by the way, you do look extremely sexy tonight, do you mind if I passionately kiss you,” he added as he hit himself, even harder, on the head. “Okay, I’ll just say whatever comes to my mind,” he yelled out.
He entered the waiting room of Tom’s agency, seeing Vivian’s desk, and how the lights were off, but her computer monitor was still on. “That’s funny,” he mumbled. Curiosity hit his face when he looked at the monitor and saw some material still on it. “Why didn’t she save it and turn it off?” He looked around the darkened office area, seeing that a window was open, and the silent wind blew a gasp of quiet sounds that sounded like children screaming in a constant melody. “Great, just great, I better go, she’s not here, Damen. This is breaking and entering,” he said out loud, talking to himself, trying to figure out what to do.
He walked toward the glass doors to the waiting room, grabbing onto the handle, he opened it, and walked halfway out, stopping suddenly. Damen heard a noise coming from Vivian’s phone that was off the hook, some strange noise he couldn’t comprehend from afar. He walked slowly up to it, looking around him, seeing if he was the only one present, Damen stared at the phone in a curious sight. Seeing that the button, entitled Office, was pushed down, out of ten buttons, he realized it was coming from Mr. Fryer’s office; it was the speakerphone that he left on by accident. Damen listened clo
sely to the receiver, hearing moaning and screaming that only could be justified as sex. His eyes grew smaller. Looking down with disappointment, he knew they both were making love of some kind. Hearing the screams of a man and woman, Damen closed his eyes and grinned. “Well, you almost had her.” So he walked toward the exit in a fast motion. Feeling a little angered toward Vivian’s actions, he added, “It’s her loss, not mine.”
Before he stepped out of the waiting room, he heard Vivian’s voice crying out, “Please, let me go now.” They were faint, but still receivable to Damen’s ears, enough to know she wasn’t having a good time. Then he heard a loud yell that came in the form of the word “please.” But still, to him, maybe they were having a tremendously great time, after all, sex is sex, and screaming is always a part of it.
Damen went over to Mr. Fryer’s office door and looked into the key hole in a curious fashion. He saw Vivian’s reflection in the mirror, it was the reflection of terror in her eyes with tears to follow as the light from the outside, gleaming in through the drapes, revealed her face. “That bastard,” he said, running back to the end of the waiting room and getting ready to charge for the door. Damen commenced running toward it, not knowing that his life would change, be altered by his actions. He banged into it once; the lock broke and the door flew open.
He turned on the lights in the room, yelling out at the same time, “What the hell is going on?”
He saw Tom’s naked body, pressed forcefully up against Vivian’s half-stripped figure. Tom shouted and panted, “What are you doing here? Get out.”
Damen grabbed onto Vivian’s shaky hands, asking in an angry notion,” Can’t you see she’s crying? She doesn’t want this.”
Mr. Schultz stood there, silent as could be, not knowing if he did the wrong thing, or not. But then he saw Vivian’s face, in the mirror, and stared at her eyes that showed fright and torment. He also saw Vivian just standing there motionless. She knew if she left, then Mr. Fryer would be furious with her. But, she knew if she stayed, then her nightmare would continue and her dream of becoming a superstar, through Mr. Fryer’s help, would come true.
Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) Page 19