The driver suddenly turned back around and faced the front of the car, pressing on the brakes due to Damen’s warning. They sat at another red light, the driver thinking that Damen was crazy, he said, “Okay, okay, you’re not lying, I believe you.” Boy, I got to stop picking up these weird ones...
Damen calmed down for a moment, seeing that the traffic light turned green, and feeling the air blow into the cab window from it starting to move faster as the traffic receded. He spoke, “Listen, I’m sorry for blowing up at you. I know it’s hard to believe, but I do know him. At least I did at one time.”
The driver looked at his mirror again, and seen a single tear flushing out of Damen’s right eye, lingering down to his nose, and standing frozen at the tip of it. This made him believe Damen, and caused him to ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”
He wiped the tear away from his face, wiped the excess salt trail, which led to his eye, away with a brush of his hand, and responded, “What’s to talk about? It’s just an ordinary problem.”
“Well, if you don’t mind me saying, I don’t think it’s an ordinary problem. Not many people tell me that they know some movie star up on a billboard, yet alone, tell me it’s their best friend.”
“Well, it’s a long story.”
“I got time,” the driver said, looking at the meter.
“Alright, it goes like this. It began at a Valley.”
Damen explained his story in detail; he explained it for an hour straight. The cabdriver never heard a story like this, but he’d heard similar stories from other starving artists. Damen finished his story with these words, “Now, I’m here in a taxicab, and I don’t even know where I’m going.”
“Well, all I can say to you is, don’t give up, kid.”
Damen smiled; hearing those words of hope caused sincere happiness to fill his soul. He said quietly, “I know, I’ve only been here for seven months, I guess it’s a short time compared to other actors.”
The cab entered Beverly Hills; passing the sign, he stated, “That’s right, kiddo, some actors are here for seven years, but they’re still trying.”
“Yeah, they’re still trying. I wonder what makes them go for that long. You would think they would get the message after two years that agents, casting agents, and even directors just don’t want them.”
The driver turned his head toward him for a moment, explaining, “You know why they keep going? Because it’s their dream.”
Damen closed his eyes, and imagined Sugar Valley, saying, “Yeah, a dream that is one of the hardest to achieve. I’m gonna make my dream come true. Yeah, I’m gonna make it alright, if I have to die trying.” He imagined Sugar Valley more as they passed through Beverly Hills; his mind manifested to the Valley, seeing all of them there again, talking about their dream and talking about that one day they’ll make it come true, and that one day they will have pure happiness.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Darell sat there looking up at the camera, buckling up his winter coat, and trying to memorize the final lines to his script. Darell desperately tried his hardest to memorize them, standing in the middle of downtown New York, feeling the cold wind blowing up against his image, seeing the snow dancing on the ground with it; he was beating down his short-term memory, pleading with it to work. The set was in the middle of the street, actors and extras of all races and nationalities stood there, waiting for Darell to give the okay that he was ready, and the last scene would be shot soon. But he still fought with this one page of the script, trying to memorize these words and put to his own craft of acting, so it would work for him. Suddenly, he looked up at a billboard. Seeing his face, smiling upon it, he said to himself, “Man, they’re already advertising it, and we didn’t even finish yet.”
Suddenly, without a moment’s notice, the director showed his presence to Darell, saying, “Alright, Darell, we’re gonna do this scene again. Do you need more time with the script?”
He knew he got most of it down, but the cold caused him to forget a little bit about his character. He was supposed to be a hero, called ‘Timmy’ who was loved by all women, and who lived a troubled life, knowing that he was an undercover spy starting at the age of twelve. He knew the character had to be strong, witty, and passionate toward the women he drew into his eyes, but this cold wind allowed the certain craft to discharge, and leave his thoughts. Yet, everyone was ready, so he got up from the cold curb, and responded with, “No, I memorized it all.”
They began the scene again, the final scene to the movie that Mr. Fryer said will make Darell a star. He began the scene, trying once again to wake up his short-term memory. What he had to do, was walk up to a girl, who was the leading lady, and kiss her passionately, saying some dialogue to each other and then kissing her again, while a building exploded behind him, filled with the bad guys. Before he finished the scene, the director said in a loud tone, “Cut, cut.” Darell stopped in his tracks, hearing the director adding, “That was perfect, but I want you to kiss her with more feeling.”
“More feeling?” Darell questioned, looking at the actress he was going to kiss for the tenth time in that scene.
“Yeah,” the director replied before he looked back into the camera. “Okay, background action, and action.”
Once again, Darell’s lips fell upon the actress, kissing her with coldness to them, suddenly hearing, “cut, cut, cut,” coming from the director. The actress, who was agitated and irritated with Darell’s lack of good kissing, pushed him away from her.
The actress said with loudness, “Excuse me, sir, but Darell doesn’t know how to kiss right.”
Darell stood in a New York street with embarrassment on his face. He heard what she said, but the director didn’t, seeing that he showed some puzzlement on his face toward her. Darell O’Conner was hoping the director wouldn’t ask her what she said, but he did.
“What did you say, Judith?”
Judith, a young girl, sat down in a seat that had Judith Seaver engraved on the back of it in handwriting. She then responded, “He doesn’t know how to kiss.” She turned to her agent, who was an obese woman, with a hare lip that caught some frost from the winter’s magic. She added to her, “Beth, this pisses me off, how come Darell gets to be on all the billboards? I should be up there with him.”
The director walked passed Judith and her agent, seeing them converse about the billboard, and hearing her jealousy toward Darell with loudness, he walked up to Darell casually. “Darell, could you just kiss her correctly?” asked the director, seeing Darell sitting in his own chair, a chair with his name engraved on it too.
“I am kissing her right.”
Mr. Fryer approached him with a bottle of water, handing it to him quickly, he smiled toward the director and then lit up a cigar.
Tom blew smoke out of his frozen mouth, asking, “What’s going on here, Darell?”
“I don’t know, maybe it’s just the coldness,” replied Darell, buttoning up his winter jacket some more. “But, I know that a big part of it has to do with that bitch being jealous of me for being up on the billboards, and now she’s giving me a hard time,” he added, seeing Judith look over at him, wondering if he was referring to her as “bitch.”
“Darell, this is the last scene of the movie, please, tell me what’s the matter, other than her being jealous,” Tom mumbled, feeling the coldness freezing his upper lip.
Darell looked around, feeling embarrassed for what he was about to say, and whispered, “She said I’m not kissing her right.”
Tom shouted, “What? You’re not kissing her right?”
Darell closed his eyes, opened them, looked around and saw the extras standing in the snow from a distance. He was so embarrassed, saying, “Would you please not say it that loud, I don’t want all of New York to know.”
“Listen, just kiss her right, after this we’ll be able to meet with that other director,” Mr. Fryer said, turning his head toward the actress and then looking back at Darell. “Please kiss her right,
Darell.”
“I’m not attracted to her, I think she’s very unattractive,” he stated into Mr. Fryer’s ear as Judith tried hearing what he was saying.
“So, that means you’re going to throw away a quarter of a million dollars, just because she’s ugly?” Tom spoke those words loudly, noticing that Judith was looking at Darell in an evil manner. “Just get up and do this already, please say you’re going to kiss her even if she’s ugly,” he added. Judith heard those words, so she let out a gasp of shocked air and walked away from her chair.
“Tom, she is so stuck up, and she is very conceited. All she does is bicker and whine,” explained Darell. He got up from his chair, and started walking toward the street; the street in which he was going to finish the last scene.
“Listen, just close your eyes and pretend she’s a supermodel, okay?” Tom pleaded, watching the makeup woman blotting some powder onto Darell’s face.
“Alright, let’s get this over with.”
Tom Fryer patted Darell on the back. The makeup woman finished her job on Darell and walked away with Tom, hearing the director asking, “Alright, is everyone ready?”
Judith rolled her black eyes toward Darell, shouting, “Yeah, I’m ready.”
“Okay, background action.” Snow began to fall, filling up the streets with its white texture; the director then added before Darell’s lips hit Judith’s, “Alright, and action.” They finished the scene with him adding, “Cut, print, that was perfect, now everyone get ready for the building explosion.”
An hour later, Mr. Fryer and Darell walked into Darell’s hotel room with champagne glasses in their hands. Tom sat down in a wooden chair and just stared out the window at Darell’s billboard, saying, “Well, Darell, your first movie is finally finished.”
Darell sipped his champagne, and mumbled, “Yeah, where do I go from here?”
“I’ll tell you where you go, you go straight to the top,” Tom responded, having a bit of laughter to his voice.
Darell put his champagne glass down on a Victorian desk, questioning while lighting a cigarette, “I do? How do you know?”
“Listen, that director is coming up here in five minutes: he wants you and only you. He wants you to be in his movie so badly, that he will do anything to make it happen. He is a very famous director. He has a brother that is filming a movie right as we speak, it’s a low-budget film, but it’s still a film,” Tom explained with enthusiasm, lighting up another cigar, and blowing it toward Darell’s cigarette smoke.
“What’s his name?”
“Henry Schultz.”
Darell’s mouth dropped to the floor, showing his teeth that gleamed with energy and excitement, he pushed them down together, saying, “My God, Henry Schultz is coming up to my room now, I can’t believe this. What if he doesn’t like me? He co-produced this film, and I haven’t seen him once. My God.”
Darell vigorously fixed his hair in the mirror, taunting at his image, he wanted himself to be perfect. Darell spoke, “I wish you would have told me it was him, I would have gotten ready and prepared faster.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll love you.”
Knock, knock, knock, knock....
Four knocks came at the door with Darell shouting, “My God, he’s here already? What should I do?” He drank more of his champagne to calm his nerves.
“Leave everything up to me, at least for now.” Tom put his hand on the knob of the door and began turning it. “Hey, Henry, how are you doing?” he asked as Mr. Schultz walked in the door.
“I’m doing fine. Now, where is the star?” Henry walked past Mr. Fryer and avoided shaking hands with him, for some reason or another, and looked for Darell through his thick eyeglasses.
Tom pointed his finger through the large hotel room, toward the window where Darell was standing, the window from which you could see his billboard. Tom said, “He’s right over there.”
Henry smiled, walked over to Darell, and held out his hand for him to shake it, saying, “Hello, Darell, my name is Henry Schultz.”
“Hi, I’m Darell O’Conner.” His voice was nervous. Shaking Mr. Schultz’s hand in a lengthy manner, Darell felt as if he was about to pass out.
“I know who you are, almost all of New York does too. By next year, all of Hollywood will know you also, as a matter of fact, the whole United States will,” stated Henry, hearing Darell swallowing his saliva in a loud way.
Gulp...
Tom offered Henry a seat, asking in a straight-out manner, “So, let’s get down to business, shall we?”
“Yes, I think that’s a good idea,” Henry answered, sitting down at the same time. “Darell, I think by now, Tom has already explained to you why I’m here. Has he not?” he added while Mr. Fryer handed him one of Darell’s photos.
“Yeah, but I want to hear it from you.” Darell took his glass and started filling it with champagne, getting ready to hear the words that he had always dreamt of hearing, that Jose and Damen also visioned they would hear some day.
“Alright, I want you to be the main character in my movie. The movie is called The Point of a Well, it’s a drama and action movie,” explained Henry. Then Tom Fryer interrupted him.
“When will this movie start filming?” Mr. Fryer took another puff of his cigar, staring at Henry with a smile.
“First, I want you to put out that cigar, and secondly, I was talking to Darell. I’m going to only answer Darell’s questions. If he wants to know what a bad agent you are, I will tell him,” Henry replied, seeing Tom looking at him in a scared way. “Put it out now, Tom.”
Tom put out his cigar as fast as a crying baby could cry and looked at Henry with a terrified look in his eyes. He thought about all those times, all those incidents when Henry saw him assaulting young female stars and abusing others. Tom knew Henry wouldn’t really tell Darell or anyone else. He knew because Henry realized that Tom saw him doing a lot of illegal things himself. In a sick way, Tom and Henry knew they were both even.
“Now, the movie will be shot in February of next year. That’s only two months away and you have to memorize the whole script by then. Are you capable of doing that?” Henry asked.
“Oh, yeah, yeah, I could do that,” Darell responded, realizing he didn’t even know what Henry said to him. All Darell was thinking about was why he called Tom a “bad agent.”
“Okay, that’s great. If you do choose to do the movie, our starting salary is 1.5 million,” Henry announced. Darell came back into focus of Henry’s words, the words “1.5 million” allowed him to terminate “bad agent” from his mind.
Darell stared, surveyed his eyes on Henry in a serious way, took a sip of his champagne, and questioned with shock, “What did you say?”
“One and a half million is our starting rate. Do you want more?” Henry asked as he looked at Mr. Fryer’s facial reactions; he knew Tom would make Darell ask for a higher salary.
Tom spoke, “Well, I think,” but then Henry cut into his words.
“Well, I don’t care what you think, now be quiet,” he said, staring at Mr. Fryer with a sinister look.
“I think 1.5 million is a sufficient amount,” Darell replied. Looking at his glass of champagne and taking a swig from the bottle instead, Darell added after finishing the bottle, “Yeah, that’s enough.”
“Alright then, I’ll see you guys tomorrow to discuss more about it,” said Henry, shaking Darell’s hand.
“I’ll be right back,” Tom said to Darell as he followed Mr. Schultz to the door. The both of them walked outside in the hallway and stood there motionless, staring at each other in silence. Mr. Fryer closed the door, whispering, “Why did you call me a ‘bad agent’ in front of my client?”
Henry started to walk away, responding with, “Because, you are.”
Tom grabbed Mr. Henry Schultz by the shoulder, allowing him to stop against his wishes, and said, “Hey, all that’s in the past, I’m a new person now. Besides, you’re just as bad as me.”
“Listen, we are not th
e same. You break the law by either assaulting, hitting, or doing any other sick things you do,” Henry stated in a vigorous tone.
“Used to, remember that, the key word is ‘used to.’” Tom then paused from talking, seeing that a married couple walked down the hallway and passed them slowly.
“Whatever, that’s the way you do it, I break the law by just stealing money. At least the way I do it is the American way. The way you do it is the sick way. Now, get out of my way,” Henry demanded, taking Tom’s hand and throwing it away from his shoulder.
“I changed, I really did.” After Tom’s words, Henry stopped dead in his tracks and turned around.
“Listen, just drop the whole discussion. What we did was a long time ago, I know it was for me. I don’t know if you still do that sort of stuff, and I don’t care, at least not anymore. I’ll be here tomorrow at noon. I’ll also be there next week for the premiere of his new movie, and I’ll bring the contract and some papers for Darell to fill out. Tell Darell I said ‘Merry Christmas.’” Henry began to walk down the hallway, pointing his body away from Tom’s, he started to move faster to escape Tom Fryer’s sight.
“Okay, and Merry Christmas to you,” Tom Fryer spoke, seeing Henry entering an elevator and watching Mr. Fryer wave to him as the elevator doors closed.
Henry said in a low tone to himself, “Yeah, Merry Christmas to you, you scum.”
Tom Fryer ran back to Darell’s room and saw him sitting on his bed with a shocked and timid look on his face. He ran up to him and asked with a sincere face, “Darell, are you alright? What’s wrong?”
“Tom, did he say 1.5 million?” asked Darell, looking up at Tom’s wrinkly face.
Tom Fryer started to laugh, seeing Darell falling down on his bed and passing out from the shock and liquor mixed together, he replied, “That he did, my boy, that he did...”
Chapter Thirty
Vivian paced around the apartment, staring at the time that read 12:30 a.m., she ran over to the window and looked out at the California streets, showing tears in her eyes from worry. “Where the hell is Damen?” she shouted toward Jose, looking at the star on top of the Christmas tree, closing her eyes a bit, and praying for his safety.
Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) Page 31