He put down his champagne glass, lit up a cigarette, and just gawked at her confusing laughter, wondering why she is chuckling, and what the cause of it was. He looked at his shirt, thinking that he might have a stain or something on it, but nothing could be seen to his view. He then smeared his face with his hands, imagining that there was lipstick still on it, but nothing rubbed off on his flesh. He was out of tests, experiments, he was all through with trying to find the reason on his own. So, he inhaled a quick breath of smoke, and exhaled, “What’s wrong, why are you laughing?”
“Oh, I was just thinking about something funny.”
Ring, Ring, Ring, Ring.
She was caught in luck, hearing her cell phone ringing its tune, having an excuse to not answer his question any further.
She picked her phone up, from her red satin purse, and before she answered it, Jose questioned with a smart-alecky giggle, “Oh, what were you thinking about?”
She placed her soft index finger up to Jose’s lips, signaling for him to be quiet, hush. She placed her mouth by her cell phone, and spoke, “Hello?”
It was the one, the only, Tom Fryer on the other end of the phone, shouting out with massive abomination, mixed with anger, “What the hell happened?”
Julienne heard his tone, feeling the vibes running up her spine, staring at Jose and smiling, not wanting him to know of Tom’s anger. As she still faced Mr. Rodrigo, she questioned with a comfortable voice, “Oh, Tom, how are you doing?”
“Listen to me, you bitch, guess who I’m looking at right now?” asked Tom in a semi-calm yet aggravated way.
Julienne started smiling to Jose more, feeling the urge to not want Jose to get suspicious; so she began acting again. Julienne giggled, like Tom said a joke or a phrase that was humorous, and questioned, “How are you doing?”
Tom peered his eyes at the movie stars, short and tall, glamorous and not so attractive, beginning to walk into the building of enchantment. He stared at them, lingering down the red carpet, and paused for a second to see this glorious sight. He then turned back to his cell phone, and asked with the same type of fury, but grander, “What do you mean ‘how am I doing?’ Listen to me, Julienne, I’m outside at the Academy Awards right now, and guess who I see? If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, that answer is ‘yes,’ you stupid, motherfuckin’ bitch, I see Damen Schultz’s white ass. He just arrived about a minute ago. I thought you said you were going to take care of him last night, what the fuck happened?” Tom was angry, vicious, forgetting about all morals, how to treat a woman, how to talk regular English, instead of cursing, profanity. He was full of edginess and anxiety as well; seeing Damen’s suited-up figure standing near the beginning of the red carpet, he became furious at this sight.
Jose looked suspiciously toward Julienne, hearing her say with a stupendous smile, “Listen, everything is taken care of, you silly goose.”
“What do you mean? He’s still alive, and my ass is on the line. Listen to me, what did you tell Mark to do? When is he going to finish the job?” Tom whispered, but in loud fashion. He saw Damen walking past him, giving Tom a sinister ogle, showing his hatred toward him, chanting his eyes of hate with every blink they gave toward him. Mr. Fryer turned away and tried to catch his breath, knowing that his career was on the line if Damen stayed alive any longer, feeling his own fate being thrown off a mountain, if Damen’s life wasn’t thrown off first.
Her limousine pulled up to the Oscar building, getting as close as possible to the cemented curb. Julienne was still holding the phone, smiling toward Jose, and replying to Tom with giggles, “Tonight. Everything’s going to be taken care of tonight, silly. Listen, I got to go now, I’ll see you in approximately two minutes.”
Click.
The chauffeur stopped, got out of the limo, and opened up the door to Jose’s side. He didn’t want to get out yet, watching Julienne hanging up the phone, he questioned with a straight face, “What’s taken care of? Who was that?”
“Oh, that was Tom Fryer, he wanted to let me know about the Oscar party that’s taking place tonight,” answered Julienne. She paused her words, and looked through the door at the movie stars, seeing the gigantic, golden Oscar statue that stood nearly twelve feet in height. It was like a whole new world, a world that Julienne wanted to be a part of again, and was. It was a brief out of body experience, or like a dream, where your greatest imaginations of beauty, dances in your eyes, showing itself to you, making you believe that this is real, when really, every star that’s out there, either was lent their dress, the same with the jewelry, or was given them by a famous designer to be shown off. It was weird, surreal, the way she looked out the door, Julienne didn’t realize, or else didn’t want to, that all of these stars, this red carpet that shines its glamour to her, and the cameras that flashed their lights, trying to make this evening seem like royalty, when in fact, all it was for was a statue that would be given to an actor; that’s it. Still, to everyone, as well as to Jose and Julienne, even if these people were spurious, counterfeiting their characters by wearing masks of beauty, and wearing apparel of grandeur and elegance, it still was beautiful to see, witness, feel, experience, and well worth it. It was an out of body experience, and it was Jose’s first time, as well as Damen’s, so this evening was special to them: very special indeed.
Julienne turned to Jose, leaving the doorway of majesty with her sight, and spoke in a terrific, exhilarated, yet romantic tone, “Come on, are you ready to show the world ‘Jose Rodrigo’?”
Jose turned away from Julienne and glanced out the door at the red carpet, the Oscar statue, movie stars, movie cameras, and the flashing lights coming from regular people, as well as professionals. He gave a deep breath, knowing that this was his dream, no longer a mirage or hallucination, but finally seeing its reality, inescapably getting a chance at prevailing that statue of mused dreams and aspirations, and answered with a subtle yet sure way, “Julienne, I was born ready.”
Chapter Seventy-Four
He still continued down the red carpet, seeing fans on opposite sides of him, being separated by a red velvet rope that stretched all the way toward the building of delight. He made sure to slow his steps, seeing movie stars around him, movie cameras that hid in the near distance, Damen Schultz wanted to remember this moment of seeing the reality of his dreams, traveling from imagination, to a true, plausible experience that he was apprehending now. Through this tense but excited moment, feeling the cameras of journalist’s behind his back, and hearing the loud screams of fans that were chanting his name, Damen abruptly saw the image of Sugar Valley in his mind’s eye. The feeling to him was like a bird finally realizing it had wings and then using them to fly; the only thing is, the bird has to fly alone. That’s what was in Damen’s understanding, thinking of Jose and Darell, on how they were supposed to share and divide this moment with him, being his best-friends, but losing their place beside him, for different, terrible reasons that life arrayed for them. Damen still lingered down the red carpet with John Smitherson and Chuck by his side, not hearing a word, except for the sound of birds chirping that he used to hear in the Valley. This was true reality, and it was too much for him, so he closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath, exhaling at the same time as opening his eyes again, feeling a little bit better.
Damen Schultz had a feeling of proudness to him, pride that was realized through struggling, and watching his friends become enemies, but still surviving it all, and still holding in the strength to move on. Nevertheless, little did he or Jose know, that the fate of their destinies, changing after tonight, lay in the rafters of the Majestic building, where dreams were going to come true, and nightmares would show their authenticity.
Damen turned, for a moment, to face what was behind him, and saw Julienne and Jose stepping gracefully out of a black limousine. Damen turned back to Chuck, pointing his finger toward Jose, and speaking, “There’s Jose.”
John Smitherson overheard Damen’s assertion and turned
to see Jose as well, questioning, “Is that the guy you were telling me about in the limo?”
Damen didn’t answer him yet; it was as if he had to cool down his nerves, and anger after seeing Jose’s silhouette and face. He felt sick to his stomach, his anger was so high, that it was causing vomit to rise, but he kept it down. Then, with Damen still observing Jose and Julienne, he responded with an attitude, “Yeah, that’s the one, John.”
John took Damen’s head, gently, and turned it around to face opposite of Jose. Damen was confused, but then he seen John smiling, and heard him speak in frankness and honesty, “Don’t let him spoil your night, Damen. Come on, let’s show these people that we’re real celebrities. Stand up straight and smile.”
Chuck laughed toward John, chuckling, “Oh, is that the secret to being a movie star? Standing up straight and smiling?”
John and Damen started to giggle as well, living in this moment of humor, and enjoying it while it lasted. Damen laughed even harder toward John’s laughter of loudness, and then stopped in an instant, halting his cackle and saying, “Wait a second, I don’t see Darell around anywhere.”
“He’s here,” whispered Chuck.
Damen looked around the crowd of people, in search for Darell’s face, shadow, silhouette, or even scent, and couldn’t find either of them. He turned back to Chuck, inquiring, “How do you know?”
“Because, I saw him when we first got here. I saw him with Tom Fryer.”
“Well, I saw Tom as well, but I didn’t see Darell anywhere.”
Before Damen could go on conversing, a photographer came up to him, pushy as ever, and interrogated with velocity to his tongue, “Excuse me, Mr. Schultz, would you mind if I took a picture of you, Jose Rodrigo and Darell O’Conner together?” The photographer saw Damen thinking, showing bafflement to his query, and then noticed Darell O’Conner coming up to Damen, and standing directly behind him, out of Mr. Schultz’s sight. The photographer smiled, and waited for Damen to answer his question, not wanting to tell him that Darell was behind him, craving to see the look on his face after he sees Darell’s face by surprise; photographers live for these types of moments.
Damen Schultz still was bewildered toward this misconstrued query, responding with a subtle grin, “I don’t think so. Besides, I don’t know where they are. I don’t think Darell came tonight anyway.” The photographer automatically grabbed Darell’s arm, and put him on the left side of Mr. Schultz. Seeing Darell’s upset image, and then seeing him turn away from him, Damen spoke with no enthusiasm whatsoever, “Oh, um, hey, Darell.” Darell still glanced in the other direction, not wanting to see Damen’s face ever again, and having Damen feeling uncomfortable at his presence as well. The photographer then saw Jose, grabbed him, and put him on the other side of Damen, creating a small traffic jam in the middle of the red carpet, wanting to take this picture that would be worth a priceless number. The guys didn’t look at each other one bit, all feeling uncomfortable to be around each other, and all having their own reasons for it.
“Alright, now, how does it feel to be good friends and at the same time become movie stars?” the photographer asked.
Darell gawked at the camera, ordering, “Just take the frickin’ picture already.”
Flash, Flash, Flash.
He took their photographs all together, faster than the speed of the light that shot toward the three boys, desiring to capture this moment in time, yearning to have this photograph of them together. Once he was done, he ran off, and so did Darell, darting away from Jose and Damen, heading back toward his limousine. While Darell entered his limo, Damen and Jose turned to look at each other. They were speechless, mute to each other’s presence, not wanting to say anything, due to the vexation, bitterness, and rancorous resentment they both felt for one another. Yet, this was the moment of truth, the precise reality that they dreamed of. Maybe it didn’t turn out like they wanted, having their friendships still strong as ever, but still, it was the moment for their angers to show for one another; with calm momentum, instead of childish fury. They just watched, like two boxers, standing in a ring, like two swordsman ready to fight for their honor, their character, their endurance, and their image. That’s when Jose moved closer to Damen’s eyes, saying with menace, “Don’t think you’re gonna leave here with that Oscar. It belongs to me and only me.”
“Well, we’ll just have to see. Besides, I’m gonna leave here with it, whether you like it or not.”
Damen’s words struck a grand nerve in Jose’s body, feeling its multitude, like that of thunder, or lightning striking his head with all of its intriguing force. Jose went up to Mr. Schultz’s right ear, and spoke, “Over my dead body. See you later, want-ta-be-actor.” Jose walked away from him, and headed toward the building’s entrance, leaving Damen standing alone, craving to punch Jose or harm him for his own pleasure.
Chuck and John, who watched from a distance, went up to Damen. “What did he say to you??”
Damen still gawked at Jose’s head, watching him entering the building. As he stared, Damen responded with a smile, “It’s not important. Right now, I feel like going in that building and taking that Oscar away from here.”
“That sounds like a plan,” said Chuck. They entered into the building, the structure that was a symbol of hope and dreams to Damen; the edifice that brought Sugar Valley to his thoughts once more; and the place where his life would be altered forever, and unremittingly.
Chapter Seventy-Five
The ceremony was getting ready to begin, hearing vivid sounds to their ears and mind, creating dreams that were buried deep in their bottomless subconsciousness’ that would be of grandeur, glamour, and elegance. Mark and Curtis were still sleeping, snoring away, filled with dust and dirt from the rafters that became their bed, but yet comfortable for some reason or another. Mark woke up to the sound of people talking, laughing, and saw the lights, on the rafters, illuminate brightly, shooting straight toward the stage, without anyone to manage them, or even to guide their ray’s. The heat allowed Mark’s clothes to feel warm, with the little dust mites biting at his flesh, and tormenting his imagination of what they must look like, knowing that their little ugly bugs were baking at this temperature. He tapped Curtis on the head, knowing that there must be people, many people below of elite characters, but was too afraid to look yet. Curtis still wasn’t responding to his tap, so he punched him in the arm, hard, and he awoke finally, looking at him in a state of confusion. Mark showed fear to his face, speaking with fright, “Oh shit, we overslept.”
Curtis shot open his eyes, and looked around with fear as well, asking with nervousness, “What? What happened?”
Mark peered down at his wrist, trying to read the time on his watch through his blurry vision of just waking up, and discovered it was broken. Mark then turned to Curtis, questioning “What time is it? What time is it?”
“It’s 7:35 p.m.”
Mark slowly began to get up from behind the big box, feeling the dead presence of those humans they killed not too long ago, but ironically feeling relaxed, due to Curtis’ words. “Oh, good, I thought we slept through the Oscar ceremony,” said Mark. He looked out in the distance, creeping up toward the railings of this suspended bridge, and saw hundreds of heads that resembled fire flies, due to the fancy apparel that the actresses wore. His eyes were dazzled, intrigued by this sight of high society, amazed by the beauty that the ground held. “Wow, look at that, it’s amazing, it’s beautiful.”
Curtis looked over the railings as well, chuckling, “Yeah, well, pretty soon all of those fancy ensembles will be running around like dogs chasing a cat.”
Creak.
Suddenly, the doors to the staircase made a creaking noise, showing to their ears that it was opening up fully. Mark turned to the doorway, and saw a shadow in his view, whispering to Curtis with eagerness, “Damn it, hide.” He pulled Curtis behind the box with him, covering his mouth, because he knew he would open it and speak, causing them to be found by the phantom,
by the person that they didn’t know of yet; all they knew is that it was a person.
They both looked from behind the box, very gently, and saw an old man in their sight, holding a vodka bottle in his grasp. Curtis whispered, “Who is that?”
“That must be Sam.”
The man named Sam started walking toward the box, but instead sat down in the middle of the bridge, gazing out at the people below.
“Who’s Sam?” muttered Curtis, still staring at Sam, watching him very closely to see if he showed any suspicion on his drunken face that would point to him knowing their existence behind the large box or crate.
Sam started to drink his vodka, taking a stupendous chug of it, enjoying this grand seat, with a sight of luxurious and intriguing natures. “You know, the guy that one of the guards was talking about last night, the drunk,” answered Mark.
“Wait a second, I remember now, he’s the guy who stays up here and watches for any lights that burn out.” Curtis expressed excitement through his tone; he was so happy that he remembered that.
“Yeah, and that means he stays up here for the whole, entire ceremony, you idiot.” Mark then hit Curtis on the head, feeling angered toward his stupid excitement, feeling fury toward this serious situation, but with him showing delight toward it.
Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) Page 67