Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret)

by Stephen Andrew Salamon

  “But...”

  “No buts. I made you, I could destroy you. All I have to do is make a few phone calls and your so-called career would be finished. You got it?” he roared as Darell looked away from Tom’s reflection.

  Darell sat down on the bed, agreeing, “Yeah, I got it.”

  “Now, I want you to go over that script, over and over until you have it all memorized,” shouted Tom, throwing the script at Darell. “By the way, I have other copies of that contract. Face it, Darell; you’re stuck with me for good. If you ever decide to leave me, then you could pack your bags, because that means you’re leaving Hollywood.” Tom walked out of the room and left Darell with a quiver of fear in his mind.

  What do I do now, Darell?

  Even though Darell’s thoughts were confused and highly relevant to his fears, he still obeyed Tom and practiced the script. He looked through the crack in his door and saw Tom sitting on the couch in the front room, saying, “You’re not in Mississippi anymore.” Darell’s anger got the best of him, so he got up and slammed the bedroom door, leaving Mr. Fryer’s evil self to be alone, and away from him for at least one night.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Damen waited patiently in the waiting room of Dennis’ agency, opening up a magazine, and flipping through the pages, trying to make time go by fast. Before he could start reading it, he closed it and looked at the front cover; it was Darell’s photo. He opened up the magazine and turned to the page that Darell’s article was at and began reading it. Once again, before he could grasp any understanding of what the article was saying, the secretary asked over the phone, “Sir, your 4:00 o’clock is here, should I send him in?”

  Dennis took off his glasses, scratched his beard, and pressed down on the phone, saying, “Yes, send him in.”

  Damen watched the secretary, hanging up the phone, and gawking at him with a smile. “You may go in now, Damen.”

  He meandered very, very slowly over to his office, with excitement bursting open a new can of butterflies, soaring around his tummy, making his vomit rise up to his throat. He swallowed, trying not to let his excitable nerves get the best of him, and came up to Dennis’ door. He lifted his hand, made it into a fist, and before he could knock, he heard Dennis’ voice say, “Come in, door’s open.”

  Dennis saw Damen’s figure, but it was a blur, due to his glasses being off. All Dennis heard was, “Hello, Mr. Schultz.”

  Squinting his eyes, Dennis spoke, “hello, what brings you here? I don’t remember you being my client. As a matter of fact, I don’t remember you at all.” He suddenly dropped his glasses on the ground. “Oh great,” he added in a sarcastic way, picking up his glasses and discovering the lenses had broken.

  Dennis put on his broken glasses, and found he could only see through one small part of the lens that hadn’t broke. He looked at Damen more clearly, hearing him explain, “My name is Damen Schultz; you told me you had an acting job available for me in February.”

  His memory and sight focused on Damen’s face, questioning, “What are you doing here?”

  “You told me you had a job opened for me in February,” he replied, watching Dennis as he got up from his chair while Damen sat down in one. “You said you wanted me to try out for a few roles in the film.”

  “That job has already been taken, Damen. I think you should go back to wherever you came from and stay there,” Dennis said in a snotty way; Damen’s face and mind became puzzled.

  “What are you talking about, sir?”

  Dennis showed anger, picking up the phone and shouting, “I’m talking about you, Damen, you and those drugs you’ve been abusing.”

  “What are you talking about, sir? What drugs?” Damen became angered in his mind toward Dennis’ accusation toward him, adding with a bit of an attitude, “I don’t do drugs.”

  “I don’t want to hear it, Damen.” Dennis then began to talk on the phone. “Hi, Security, I have a situation in my office, could you please remove it?”

  “Why are you calling Security? What’s going on?” Damen got up from the chair and looked Dennis straight in the eyes. “I came down here today, because you said you had a job opening for me in February, or else you wanted me to audition for a few roles.”

  Dennis sat down calmly in his chair, stating, “That job has been filled.”

  “But, your secretary told me you wanted me for it, she read it off of my files you had.”

  “Those files must have been the old ones, I meant to erase them a long time ago. Goodbye, Damen.”

  After Dennis’ crude words, Damen slowly turned his head to face the door, after hearing it open, and saw security guards waiting by it, gawking at Damen’s face, showing ghastly expressions toward him. Damen was confused; he didn’t know that Jose and Julienne lied and said he was on drugs, his mind was flustered with broken puzzles that didn’t fit together, and didn’t want to. He could feel his own tears, flushing around his mind, trying to find his eyes, his confused beacon, so they could release through them, and cause the pressure to seize a little bit. But his confusion allowed the tears to be caught inside, making his head feel like it was going to explode with bewilderment and anxiety. The security guards grabbed onto Damen’s arms, pulling them toward the door of Dennis’ office, that’s when Damen knew he was somewhat framed, and wanted to know by who. So, as soon as the guards got him fully to the door, he said, “Alright, wait a second, I just want to know one more thing.”

  Dennis waved to the security guards, to stop pulling him, and allow him to speak, questioning, “Alright, what is it?”

  The security guards let go of him, and that’s when Damen turned to Dennis, and asked, “Who did you give the part to, then? And who told you I was doing drugs?”

  “Someone who doesn’t do drugs, someone who’s truthful, and someone who told me about your little drug situation. This person deserves the part more than you,” Dennis responded before the security guards grabbed onto Damen again and threw him out of Dennis’ office.

  The guards blocked Dennis’ office door, hearing Damen yelling out, “But who is it, what’s the name?”

  “I guess you’re just going to have to wait till the movie comes out in theaters. The only thing I’m going to say is, the person knows you very well,” Dennis replied before he closed the door in his face. He opened the door again and said, “Hold on, Damen, I have one more thing to say to you.”

  Tears finally found Damen’s eyes, and flushed through them, feeling this moment of confusion and sadness, not finding this confusing beacon of his like he wanted them to; they ran down his face like they were made out of steel. Damen turned around slowly and faced Dennis’, staring through the guards that were guarding his opened door, and asked, “What is it?”

  “I saw so much potential in you, and look what happened. I don’t ever want you to come back here again,” Dennis stated, slamming his door shut again.

  One of the guards looked at Damen’s tear-filled eyes, shouting to him, “Don’t come back here again.”

  “Who said I was doing drugs?” he yelled.

  Damen ran down the fire escape and headed toward the exit of the building, with tears in his eyes still, shouting his pain through the salt they had within them. He ran outside, having the sun pierce toward his tears, creating a sort of heat to his flesh, magnifying its warmth through his tears. He wiped them away and suddenly seen Jose, a few feet away, entering into a limo. He wiped his tears fully off of his face, and ran toward the limousine, saying, “Jose, Jose, it’s me, Damen, open up.”

  “Julienne, what took you so long, it’s already past 4:00 p.m.?” Jose asked. He noticed Damen outside of the limo then, adding to Julienne, “Oh great, it’s Mr. Talent.”

  Jose rolled down the tinted window slowly, hearing Damen speaking, “Jose, I need to talk to you urgently.”

  The limousine started to move as Jose responded through the opened window, “Listen, Damen, I can’t talk now, I got to run, sorry, dude.”

  The limo m
oved faster, driving off in the distance, with Damen shouting to it, “What? Jose it’s me. Remember me? Remember me, I’m your best friend?” He crouched down on his knees, adding, “I’m your best friend.” He looked up at the sky, still on his knees, and asked to himself, “My God, what should I do now?”

  Dennis watched through his office window, seeing Damen as he fell to his knees in the middle of the street. He picked up his office phone and said to his secretary, “Hi, Thelma, I want you to fax a message from me to every agency on this side of town.”

  “Alright, sir, do you want me to do that right now?” Thelma questioned.

  Dennis watched Damen getting up from off his knees and walking over to a pay phone. “Yes, I want you to do it immediately,” Dennis replied, now watching Damen hanging up the phone and hailing a taxi.

  “What’s the message going to say?” she asked as Dennis watched Damen step into a taxi with tears of stress in his eyes.

  “First, I want you to put at the top of the message and the bottom of it, ‘warning, warning,’” he answered. “Now, here’s what I want you to write,” he added, watching Damen’s taxi driving off into the Hollywood streets.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Damen’s mind became overwhelmed with fear and confusion. Riding in the back seat of this rusted taxicab, Damen just stared out the window at the evening skies and felt consumed with the feeling of vomiting. He wanted this vision of his to be real, to be more than an ambition, and once his big break came to him, it fell from his grasp, all because of something that was not true. He knew he didn’t do drugs, knowing this was half the battle, but he didn’t know who could have told such a vicious lie, filled with malice, to the point where he lost the moment that would have, could have, and should have started his acting career in Hollywood. Nevertheless, all this time, he never thought for once that Jose would be involved in this sinister lie, and at the same time, being his best friend still.

  The rolled-down window of the cab blew in great gasps of air toward his image, but suddenly he noticed that the air was lessening, and that’s when he saw that the cab was coming to a halt; it stopped at his destination. He paid the driver and began to walk toward the building, the place that Damen felt was his last chance to fulfill his dream. He walked into the building and entered into a waiting room, small in size, but enough to be considered an agency of talent. He strolled up to the secretary and said in a tired fashion, “Hi, I’m here to see Mr. Freeman.”

  The secretary pulled a pencil out of her red, curly hair, gazed at Damen straight in the eyes, and questioned in a highly annoying voice, “Is he expecting you?”

  “Yes, my name is Damen Schultz, I just spoke with him over the phone about thirty minutes ago. He said I could come in now.”

  She picked up her office phone, pressed a single button on its pad, saying, “hello, Mr. Freeman, there’s a young man here named Damen Schultz, he said you were expecting him.”

  Mr. Freeman walked over to his speakerphone, while holding Damen’s photo, looking at it and responding, “Yeah, Joy, just send him into my office now.”

  “You may go in to see him now, Mr. Schultz.” Damen gave a small, stressed out smile to her, and then lingered his torso around to face Mr. Freeman’s office door.

  Damen walked over to his office and knocked on the door once, holding his palm there, feeling tired and distraught from the physical exhaustion that he felt today, as well as the mental exhaustion that was caused earlier on. Before he could knock a second time, the door opened, hearing Mr. Freeman say, “Welcome, Damen, come right in.”

  “Thank you so much for taking me today. I know I wasn’t scheduled till tomorrow, but I felt the sooner the better,” Damen said, sitting down on a red velvet chair and beginning to bite what was left of his nails.

  “Well, I finally found your photo that I put on file. That’s what interests me about you, and why I want you as my client; you take great photos, you’re very photogenic,” Mr. Freeman stated. He walked over to Damen and showed him his own face, adding, “You see, you have great cheekbones, deep eyes, and I think you are perfect for the movie camera. That’s why I chose you.”

  Damen’s mind was still on what Dennis Schultz said about him doing drugs, but he focused in on the conversation, still staring at his own picture, and questioned, “Do you think I’ll get any acting jobs right away?”

  Ring, Ring, Ring.

  The phone started to sound, ring its chanting echoes through Damen’s ears and mind, while Mr. Freeman spoke, “Please, call me Chester, and yes, I think you’re going to get acting jobs right away.” Chester then answered the phone; sitting down in his red leather chair, clenching the phone tight in his grip, he said, “Joy, I told you never to interrupt me during a meeting with a client.”

  Chester watched Damen while talking on the phone, seeing his face turn from a frantic frown into a prosperous smile; this news made the change in Damen’s feelings. Still listening to his secretary, Joy explained, “I know, sir, I’m sorry, but you just got a fax. I think you should read it now, sir.”

  “Alright,” said Chester before he hung up the phone. “Listen, I’ll be right back, Damen, I’m just going to step out for a minute.” Chester walked out of his office and closed his red door behind him. He walked up to his secretary and questioned, “Alright, where is that fax?”

  “Here it is, sir.” Joy handed a piece of paper over to Chester; a piece of paper that read at the top and bottom of it, ‘warning, warning.’

  Damen sat in Chester’s office with a confused look upon his face, a look that seemed sad to him as he stared into the mirror that hung on the wall next to his chair. He was upset about numerous things, but the one thing that hurt him the most was still what Dennis Schultz said to him. Damen’s thoughts went through his mind like a train going 150 miles an hour down a cliff. He thought as he looked at his reflection,

  What am I doing here? How could I possibly clear my name? Who lied to Dennis and said I was a drug addict?

  But his face grew a small smile, saying in a low tone, “At least now I got a real, live agent.”

  Chester came into the room slowly as Damen’s thoughts progressed, and his unanswered questions became larger in number. Damen saw Chester’s reflection in the mirror and immediately turned to him, seeing his face and how it seemed saddened by something; something that Damen would be saddened by also.

  Chester sat down in his chair, hanging his middle-aged head down a bit, and said in disappointment, “Um, I’m sorry, Damen, um, I can’t take you as a client.”

  “What do you mean? I thought you said--”

  Chester then spoke over his words, handing the fax over to Damen and explaining, “I know what I said before, but I didn’t know you were heavily into drugs.”

  Damen read the letter out loud, it began with, “I, Dennis Schultz warn any agent, on this side of Hollywood, to not accept a person by the name of Damen Schultz into their agency. Damen Schultz is heavily involved in narcotics and is highly aggressive when it comes to telling him this. I do not want any of those agencies which I’m sending this notice to have anything to do with Damen. I do not want him jeopardizing my project, or any other projects for that matter. These warnings only go out once in a great while. So, if you are a new agent to this business, I highly recommend you follow my instructions.” Damen looked up at Chester, pleading, “Why, why is this happening to me?”

  “Listen, Damen, you don’t seem like you’re doing any illegal substances, at least to me you don’t. But, I can’t accept you here,” Chester explained, taking the fax away from Damen.

  Tears upon tears showed themselves again, rolling down Damen’s face and cheeks. “It’s all a lie, every part of it. Wait a second, did this letter go to every agency in California?” he asked as Chester handed him a tissue.

  “No, not every agency, but a lot of them,” Chester answered in a low tone; he felt sorry for Damen. “My advice to you is to go to rehab, even if you’re not on any drugs. This wa
y they’ll think you’re clean from it. That’s when I’ll take you as a client. But, if I take you now, do you realize that you’re going to jeopardize my career?”

  Damen just stared at the mirror, gawking at his own reflection; it was like he was trying to go to his image for answers. “Well, at least Julienne tried for me,” said Damen as Chester looked at him with a confused look.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Damen turned his dried-up tear face over toward Chester, replying, “Julienne Wells, she’s the one that told you about me. Julienne Wells recommended me to you.”

  The puzzle was unraveling right before Damen’s eyes, and this small piece started to show its presence at this very moment.

  A piece to this massive, titanic puzzle fit into place with Chester speaking, “No, I don’t know Julienne Wells. I got your photo from the mail.”

  “So, you don’t know Jose Rodrigo either?”

  Another piece of the puzzle was about to fall into place, but little did Damen know, that it was a very large jigsaw indeed.

  “Listen, I don’t know either of them, and I shouldn’t even know you. So, if you don’t mind, would you please leave my office?”

  Damen wondered why Julienne and Jose lied to him, but instead of bothering and wasting Mr. Freeman’s time, he ran out of his office and down the stairs to the front door. He ran for miles with confusion, fear, and tears filled up in his mind, revealing that this puzzle was large, but still it was a puzzle. Before, Damen didn’t see the size of this jigsaw, only because he didn’t know that Julienne and Jose lied to him. But now he did, and this gigantic labyrinth of bafflement allowed simple tears of anger mixed with sadness to fall from his eyes. The tears released, but he was hoping the rest would release also when he reached the café that he worked at. He busted through the doors and said, “Sorry I’m late, Chuck.”