Jose took out the pager from his pocket, and held it in his palm, showing it to Damen. “Remember, remember that movie star we met at that club, it was the place we went to when we first got to Hollywood? Remember it was called the Starbox?”
“Yeah, and you went home with her.”
“Well, before she left--” Jose’s words were cut off by Damen’s voice, wanting to understand everything about his explanation as possible.
“Left to go where?”
Damen lit up a cigarette, waiting for Jose to explain, he wanted to have some shape, form of stimulant to control his nerves. Damen watched Jose’s eyes, trying to see if he was sincere about the story or not; Damen’s sight was like a lie detector test; he knew the truth.
“She left Hollywood to go make a movie, she’s going to be the main star in it. Well, she told me that she likes me a lot, I mean a lot. She told me that when she got back, she would introduce me to a lot of very important people in the film industry.” As he explained it, Damen let him in the apartment. “Julienne gave me this pager, she said that as soon as she finishes the movie, she would page this pager, and that way I’ll know where to go to meet her. That’s why I got so excited when it went off,” he explained. Jose realized he was actually telling the truth. He came back to reality for a bit, he came back to being a true friend to Damen, but it wouldn’t last.
Vivian jumped in the conversation, questioning with joy, “Wait a second, you met Julienne Wells?”
“Yeah, honey, remember I told you?”
“No, but anyway, Jose go on, you were saying,” Vivian spoke, suddenly seeing Helen walking in the door.
Helen started to throw presents at all of them, shouting, “Merry Christmas.”
Helen had a Santa hat on. Sitting down, Vivian said, “Come here, Helen, listen to this.”
Jose explained everything that happened that night in Beverly Hills. Yet, he thought to himself the whole time, Should I be telling them this? What happens if they want a piece of the success? What happens if they decide to go to the dinner?
He finished explaining the story to all of them while they opened up presents. After he finished, he asked, “So, do you guys understand now? That’s the kind of stress I’ve been under.”
“In a way, I do, but you should never turn on your friends like you did today,” replied Vivian. She then opened up her present, filled with golden wrappings upon it, and discovered a brand new watch, ticking its time in a formation that had silver hands to its body. She gave Damen a hug, knowing it was his present to her, and kept her hug frozen, while Jose looked at them and knew that these people were really his true friends.
“I know, I’m sorry.” Jose’s apology was real, not just an act to get back into the apartment; it was true to himself, as well as to their ears. Through his realization that they were really true to friendship, he felt bad for acting the way he used to in the past months; by keeping secrets from Damen, allowing jealousy to get the best of him, and by acting like an ass.
Suddenly, Damen showed a puzzled look on his face, saying, “I just can’t believe that, Jose, I’m sorry, but that’s an unbelievable story...”
Jose’s mind became angered at Damen’s accusations, at Damen’s words. “What, you don’t believe me?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just that’s too good to be true. How often does that happen to a person off the streets, let alone, a person from Mississippi?” questioned Damen.
Jose’s mind turned him into believing that Damen was not an authentic friend for saying that. His mind made him believe that, but in actuality, Damen was correct for asking such a question. His hate toward Damen was beginning, and this type of hate, only could be caused by the Devil showing its mental presence.
“Well, it happened to me.” Jose showed a serious voice, having his mind go back to not remembering his close friendship with Damen. The jealousy came back of how he was always envious of Damen when they were little kids, the jealousy of Damen’s rich family and how everyone in their town would be so intrigued by their rich and vast farmland. You could say Jose was beginning to “lose it.”
“Okay, okay, let’s drop it,” Damen said. He tried to switch the conversation, seeing that Jose was showing anger. Damen changed it to, “So, Jose, do you want to go back to the motel with me tomorrow?”
“Why?”
“So we can see if any calls came in from Darell. They have to have some way of knowing what calls came in that room,” Damen replied, opening up his present that Vivian gave him.
“We left that motel a month ago, I don’t think Darell called there within that short of time. Don’t worry, he’ll find a way to contact us,” Jose said, enhancing snootiness of an exaggerated form. Jose began to forget his close friendship with Darell also, allowing him to somehow not give any care toward him; jealousy was a factor in his mental change.
Damen kissed Vivian, after seeing the present she got him; a red scarf, with white striping on the edges of it. He smiled, thinking it was funny for her to get him a winter scarf in the California heat, but it made him remember Ridge Crest, and that was enough of a present. He then put it on, gave out a yawn, and said while yawning out his words toward Jose, “I guess you’re right. Besides, I have a long day tomorrow. I have an extra job to do. I have to wake up very early.”
“Wait a second, on Christmas day?”
“Yep, it’s a small movie, it doesn’t even have a budget in the hundred thousand dollar range. But it’s still good practice. So, I’m going to bed now, Merry Christmas,” Damen said. He took Vivian’s hand and walked over to their bedroom.
“I’m going to get some sleep too,” Helen announced, throwing out some of the wrappings that she picked up from the floor.
Helen walked her hard-working, tired figure over to her own bedroom as Jose spoke, “Merry Christmas, Helen.”
“Oh, Merry Christmas.”
After she closed her door, after Vivian and Damen closed their door as well, Jose walked over to the front room window and said in a whisper, “Well, if it’s true about wishes coming true on Christmas, then I wish I became famous. But I mostly wish the one thing I’ve always wanted...” He looked out at the streets of Hollywood, seeing Christmas decorations of all colors and textures, and added, “I wish to win an Academy Award.”
He then looked over at their Christmas tree, seeing its green leaves that had a bit of brown mixed in, and noticing the star at the top of it, and how it twinkled out silver light toward his face. The thoughts ran rapidly through his confused mind, but one thought chanted over and over, causing him to fall asleep with a headache and still repeating the words over and over again in his hurting mind.
That’s one thing I wish to come true...
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Staring at memories of a little form, Darell sat in his penthouse room, gazing at his pen that Damen and Jose gave to him. A transfixed moment, his eyes on the pen, suddenly remembering Sugar Valley, and how he missed its green skin so grandly. He saw himself walking down its green pastures, and feeling the grass under his dirt-filled feet, running about with Jose and Damen, playing hide-and-seek at the age of eleven.
He was hiding behind a grand tree that his memory showed him, feeling its bark and smelling its natural scent of nature, he had a smile upon his face, knowing that this was a great hiding spot for him. The way the foliage of the tree, and its branches would hide him from Damen, or even Jose, whenever they were ‘It’, made him feel safe; the Valley’s womb made him feel safe and protected always. He saw Jose’s eleven-year-old silhouette, coming toward the tree, trying to find Damen or Darell, and tag them with all of his might. Suddenly, Darell’s memory went deeper, remembering that Jose’s body walked around the tree, when out of nowhere, the branches came down, over Darell, and allowed him to be hidden even more.
Maybe it was the wind? Or maybe the Valley was alive? Who knows. But then, Darell’s eleven-year-old eyes turned around, and saw a doorway opening up. His
flashback ended, noticing Mr. Fryer walking into his penthouse room, shouting, “Merry Christmas, you young star.”
“Oh, Merry Christmas, Mr. Fryer.” Darell lingered toward his pen, and began staring at it, trying to begin his flashback again. But the magic was gone once more.
Tom Fryer opened up the drapes to Darell’s penthouse room and stared out at the dark, snowy night of New York. “I told you, call me Tom,” he said, imagining the fame and fortune he would get through Darell. “So, did you see the billboards yet?”
“Yeah, I think they made my face too big on them,” Darell answered, putting his golden pen in the drawer of a nightstand that resembled a big dresser.
“Hey, the bigger, the better. This way, all of America will know your name and know your face.” Tom stared at one of the billboards through the hotel window, seeing Darell’s image, and noticing snow beginning to fall upon it, he added, “This movie is going to be big at the box office, that’s a good thing to know.”
Without looking at Tom, Darell’s voice showed sadness, saying, “Yeah, that’s great.”
“Yep, it is great.” Tom then noticed Darell’s depressed image off the window’s reflection, but tried to ignore it. “Hey, the movie will be done tomorrow. After that, a director from California is coming in to see you, oops, I mean, he’s coming to see us,” Tom Fryer added, lighting up a cigar.
He watched Darell’s face as it became even more depressed. Wanting to avoid asking him what’s wrong, Tom spoke, “Darell, we’re leaving on the thirtieth of December. We’re going back to California.”
A small grin shimmered on Darell’s face. “Really, that’s cool. Why are we leaving so early?”
“For the preview of your movie, it’s going to be shown in Hollywood on January 1. It was supposed to be shown before Christmas, but it didn’t work out that way.” Mr. Fryer turned around to see Darell’s expression. “Aren’t you excited? January 1 is the day you become a star.”
“Yeah, I feel great. Can’t you tell?” Darell questioned. His sad expression caused Mr. Fryer to break down and ask the question that he already knew the answer to.
Tom gave a short pause, breathing in and out, taking a few drags of his cigar, and getting ready for his words. “What’s wrong, Darell?”
“I was just wondering if I could bring my friends with to the premiere?”
Tom’s eyes widened, asking with anger, “You mean to tell me you haven’t forgotten about them yet?” His words echoed through the room, especially through Darell’s mind, like a boulder hitting water at a tremendous speed.
“No, I haven’t forgotten about them. They’re my friends, they’re the reason why I’m here.” Darell opened the door of his nightstand and took out the pen. He clenched it in his hand as fast he could, like he was holding onto a memory, a reminiscence that Mr. Fryer wanted him to let go of.
Tom put out his cigar, twisting it fast, showing his anger through the cigar’s motion, saying, “Listen to me, they’re losers, all of them are. They will bring you down faster than you were discovered.”
Tom lit up another cigar, listening to Darell’s voice say, “Why don’t you like them? What did they ever do to you?”
“I just don’t, alright? I just don’t like them, especially that Damen character.”
Darell stared at Tom’s eyes; it was like he was trying to read Tom Fryer’s thoughts, attempting to understand his reasons for not liking his friends. “But why? If you don’t tell me, I’m going to walk out of here and get a new agent.”
Mr. Fryer turned away from Darell’s eye contact and stared at him through the window reflection again. Darell said once more, “Tell me.”
Tom thought about what he should say to make Darell satisfied, as well as his own satisfaction. “Okay, if you really must know, I’ll tell you. Um, Damen and Jose are drug users, I saw them sniffing cocaine.” Tom’s voice sounded fake, and Darell knew he was lying to him. “That’s why,” he added after he took a drag from his cigar and blew the smoke into Darell’s reflection.
“Turn around, Tom,” spoke Darell in a serious but evil manner.
Tom’s eyes went to shock, opening them up wider as he stared at Darell’s reflection. But, he took down the swelling from them by closing his eyes a bit, and slowly turned around to face Darell. He tried not to come in contact with his eyes, so he just stared at Darell’s neck, and listened to him say, “Tom, you always tell me things through reflections, I guess it’s easier to lie that way. You are going to look me straight in the eyes and tell me the real reason. They’re my friends and you know it. I have asked you many times, as a matter of fact, I have asked you every single day if you would try to get them into a movie, or something. You know they have the talent, but you still say no. Now you’re saying you don’t like them. I want to know why? First, I want to know the reason why you won’t help them. Now, explain.”
Darell saw Tom’s eyes staring at his neck, and answering, before Darell spoke over him, “Okay, I don’t like...”
“Look me in the eyes while you’re talking,” he demanded, watching Mr. Fryer slowly looking up at his sight. He was like a little boy, a little boy that got in trouble for something he did wrong, and something he knew he would get a spanking for.
“Alright, I won’t help Jose out because...” After giving a short pause, Mr. Fryer stared into Darell’s pupils and added, “Because he will never make it in Hollywood.”
“Why, Tom?”
“Because, he has a big scar on his neck, no one in Hollywood would want him. It’s a big, ugly scar.” Mr. Fryer took another drag of his cigar, his hands trembled as he stared into the pupils of Darell. “That’s why I don’t want him in my agency. I don’t want you to be seen hanging around with him, it’s a whole image thing. You always have to watch for your image, Darell. Never abandon it,” he added, seeing Darell’s angry hands lighting up a cigarette for himself.
Darell stared at Tom with a sinister look upon his face. “Tom, you’re sick. Jose has a tremendous talent within him, and you don’t see that. You only judge a book by its cover. I don’t think that’s the way a real talent agent should be, especially one of the top agents in Hollywood.”
“Well, that’s why I am the top talent agent in Hollywood, Darell. That’s why I chose you, you’re a good-looking guy, that’s all the public is interested in, they could give two shits about talent. That’s for the old folk, but the young crew only craves for a heartthrob.” Tom stopped his words and waited, prepared himself for the next question; the question he knew he had to lie for.
“So, what about Damen?” Darell then looked down at his pen and paused for a few seconds that gave Mr. Fryer enough time to think up a lie.
“I think he’s ugly,” Mr. Fryer replied, thinking about how Damen caught him forcing sex upon Vivian. Mr. Fryer knew he had to get both of them out of the picture. He knew if he helped them make it in Hollywood and they succeeded, they would destroy him. Mr. Fryer thought about how they would go to the media first, and then go to the police.
He didn’t want to take that chance, the chance of losing his career and going to jail. Tom forced his mind into the future, hypothetically seeing Damen as a movie star, standing up at a podium, and telling the world about Tom’s crimes against Vivian. He thought of how the world would believe a heartthrob called “Damen Schultz,” over an agent of his nature. He went farther in his mind’s eye, seeing Vivian as a star, confessing as well about Tom’s crimes toward her, and having the media believe her star royalty over Tom’s crude character.
“What? He is not ugly,” shouted Darell with a shocked look on his face. This caused Tom to be knocked out of his mind’s manifestation of hypothetical future events, and focus in the reality of the present. “Damen’s better-looking than me.”
“Well, I answered your questions, now get some sleep. You have to wake up early tomorrow.” Tom walked away from Darell’s fixed gaze, and entered the bathroom, with marble for a floor and gold for a faucet. Trying to change the su
bject, he added, “Tomorrow is going to be a long day. After you finish the movie, we’re going to see that director I was telling you about.” He turned on the faucet and began washing the nervous sweat from off his face, taking off his shoes and socks, allowing his feet to touch the cold marble floor and be relieved of the tension Darell caused them. He sat down on the bathtub corner and just looked straight out into the other room where Darell was at.
Darell stared at the phone, ignoring Tom’s voice, and spoke, “Great. I wanted to wish Jose and Damen a Merry Christmas.”
“Did you hear a single word I said?” Mr. Fryer was aggravated, he didn’t want to hear those two names ever again.
Tom walked out of the bathroom, seeing this massive penthouse, filled with antique furniture, and a black, tenebrous-like, velvet rug that felt relieving when he stepped his bare feet upon it. That’s when Darell answered, “Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Hey, when we get to California, I want you to help me find Jose and Damen. I called their motel room last week and another person answered. I talked to the manager and he said they checked out.”
“Fine, but after we get everything out of the way. So, for right now, I want you to get some sleep,” Mr. Fryer said, noticing Darell placing the pen into the nightstand again.
“Hey, Tom, before you go, I have to tell you something,” said Darell after Mr. Fryer shut off the lights to the room.
“What is it?”
“Sometimes you could be an ass, but other times you remind me of my father, he was an ass and a sweet guy. Promise me you’re gonna try to help Jose and Damen out in Hollywood, after you help me find them, please,” asked Darell. Mr. Fryer turned off the light to his nightstand and waited for a moment, thinking about his words.
Tom walked over to the main door, with his bare feet, and opened it, saying in a highly phony voice, “Alright, I’ll try.”
Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) Page 29