Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) (16 page)

But the excitement vanished, ran from his
mind without a trace, as he realized he didn’t have the tools to
show himself to the Entertainment World just yet. “I don’t have any
photos of myself or any resume.” Disappointment sunk into his
soul.

“It doesn’t matter if you have a resume or
not, I’m helping you get your foot in the door.” Julienne walked
her precious figure up to Jose, like a female fox during mating
season, and gave him a gentle kiss on his tender but saddened semi
frown.

“What about my photos?”

“After today, you’ll get your headshots taken
tomorrow. Today is just to make your name known to the casting
directors and to help my nerves. I need someone there to calm them
for me. Also, once the casting directors see that we’re a couple,
they will definitely and hopefully want you in their movies, or
future projects that come around. It’s that easy,” she replied.
“So, this way it works out for me and you.”

Jose was amazed, feeling this moment of
energy, traveling up his naked spine, and feeling the cold, damp
floor rush against his bare feet, allowed a prosperous smile to
take over his disappointed mouth. “I can’t believe this is
happening.”

“Believe it ... it’s not a dream.” Julienne
suddenly wrapped her arms around his shoulders and added, “This is
what people like to call a ‘small big break.’”

He was excited, ready to make love to her
again, but suddenly a guilty feeling and thought shadowed his mind.
“What about my friends?”

“Well, like you said, you’ll help them get in
after your fame has set in. That way you’ll be able to prove me
wrong, which so far, if I may add, nobody has done yet,” she
responded with a calculating cynicism.

He itched his scar, noticed a strange, abrupt
form of evil to her words, and questioned, “What do you mean,
‘prove you wrong’?”

“Well, I told you a little while ago that
you’ll forget about your friends once success in this business sets
in. I see you have a short memory span,” Julienne said with
laughter. She also noticed a little Southern accent when he
stressed out the word ‘prove,’ a new multi-syllable musical
version, and that sounded cute to her ears.

Blocking out Damen and Darell from his
thoughts, trying to enjoy this moment of happiness, prosperity,
this moment of fate finally showing its mold to the greatest
extent, he asked, “What time is it till?”

“Probably until 5:00 p.m., it starts at 10:00
a.m.”

The shadow, cloud, the drapes of sadness
covered his mind once more as his memory came to him. “I’m sorry, I
can’t do it. Me and my friends got an appointment with an agent
today at 3:00 p.m. Is there any way we could do this at some other
time?” He looked at Julienne’s face, waiting for her to say ‘yes.’
Jose’s naked toes began to tap hard at the cold floor, and curl up
to a tight, stiff formation, due to the tense feeling that he
had.

“I tell you what, you get your photos
together and bring them here next week. If I’m not here, than that
means I’m working on a movie. I’ll get in touch with you after the
film is finished. At that time, there will probably be a special
dinner of some kind after the premiere of my movie. You could be my
date for that dinner. I’ll introduce you to some of the finest
casting agents that L.A. has to offer,” she replied in an assured
voice.

No, just go with her, Jose, this is your
chance.

“How will you contact me?” Jose questioned.
The rhythm, speed, the height of his thinking slowed down, but not
that much. He got up from the bed, and tried to block out his
thoughts and focus on Julienne’s face and mouth.

She won’t contact you, just go with her, and
forget about them. But I can’t, they’re my friends, they wouldn’t
do that to me. But they’re not me. Oh, please, God, make her say
some words of encouragement.

Julienne saw the way Jose’s face was formed,
like he was about to have a stroke. The way his thoughts pressed
against his skull showed Julienne that his mind was about to go
haywire. “Here’s my pager... Hold onto it always. My code to you
will be 333. Any other numbers that show up on it, don’t answer
back. Only answer to my code,” she explained, handing him the red
pager. “You understand?” She said it fast, knowing that his brain
was not too far from shutting down; she hoped that her words helped
to calm him down.

He grasped onto the pager like it was a ruby
diamond, the same way Darell took Mr. Fryer’s business card on the
airplane, and stared at it with relief, and a smile. “Sure, I’ll
only answer your code.”

“You shouldn’t get any hassle from this
pager, I’ll tell everyone that I gave the pager away, besides, it’s
old. But just in case, I’ll tell them; that way they won’t page it.
Don’t lose it,” said Julienne before she exited the pool house. She
went into her house and went upstairs to her bedroom to get ready
for her screen test. Jose ran into her house and began running up
the stairs, frantically, with a question in mind.

“Why are you doing all this for me?” His
voice echoed down her hallways, still searching for her, with one
of her robes on his body; he asked it over and over again, till he
finally found Julienne in her bedroom, putting on makeup.

“I already told you why.” Julienne then shut
the door in his face, hoping that his memory would serve him.

He thought, staring at an oil painting of a
little girl, lying on her mother’s right breast, but he couldn’t
remember. So, he spoke to the closed door, “Well ... tell me
again.”

Julienne walked up to her door, and spoke
back to its white frame, “Because I like you. Now, if you don’t
mind, I have a big day today.”

Jose gave a grin. Putting the pager into the
robe pocket, he suddenly began to squeeze the top part of his nose
and close his eyes. “Oh sure, I’m sorry... But before I go, could I
have an aspirin? I’ve got a headache from the champagne last
night.”

“Sure, it’s in the bathroom, on the vanity...
”

Jose walked over to the bathroom and took
some pills that resembled Aspirin. He didn’t know that the pills he
was taking were Valium. He walked down the stairs of her mansion,
put on his clothes, and yelled, “Goodbye.”

Meanwhile, Julienne was talking to her
reflection. You can say, she was arguing with it. It’s strange:
some people have better conversations with their own reflection
than they do with shrinks, but people with sinister aspects to
their souls, always have the best talks with the vanity, for some
apparent reason.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot,” Julienne said as she
blotted powder on her face. “You almost blew the whole thing. You
moved way too fast with him, but I don’t think he expected
anything. You think he did?” Julienne actually waited for an answer
from the reflection. “Remember, you have to move very slowly with
this one. He may be stupid, but he’s not gullible. I mean, saying
‘we’re a couple’ already and the ‘casting agents will discover him’
for that, I think I was pushing it a little too far. Next time,
don’t push it, take it slow... You need him... Don’t worry,
Julienne, it will only be for a short time.” She left the mirror
behind, even though it was beginning to be an interesting
conversation, and walked down her stairs. “Remember, don’t push
it,” she said to herself as she stepped out of her front doorway,
walked down her front staircase, and saw the limousine already
waiting for her presence.

Julienne stepped into her limo, and the
chauffeur drove past the front gates, entering onto the street.
During this short duration so far, Julienne still rambled onto
herself. But then, Julienne shouted, “Stop.” She spotted Jose
directly in front of her side window, and saw him staring at it,
waiting for it to roll down. “Now, remember, don’t screw this one
up, Julienne.” She rolled down her window, seeing Jose in her view,
and asked before the chauffeur opened the door, “Do you want a
ride?” The chauffeur then got out of his seat, walked around the
limo to Julienne’s door, and opened it for Jose.

“Sure, thank you. I was awfully tired back
there, I think it’s the weather,” Jose answered. His tired body
jumped into the limo. The chauffeur slammed it, got in the driver’s
seat, and drove off toward Hollywood. Jose fixed his view toward
Julienne with his drugged eyes and thought in his head, I’m so
lucky...

Chapter Eleven

“Vivian, would you please step in my
office,” Mr. Fryer said, yawning at his speaker phone. He sat in
his office, tired to the morning, as he was each and every day, and
started to put some chemical into his eyes to help them rejuvenate,
open up, and wake. After the liquid settled into his eyes and the
burning sensation began to bite at his pupils, he held his head
back, allowed gravity to somehow make this burning chemical fall
down the walls of his eye sockets, and started to push his closed
eyelids, with his sweaty fingers, inwards, thinking that this
exercise will help make the stinging feeling vanish; it didn’t. The
liquid created tears that fell out of Mr. Fryer’s sockets, and
dribbled down his old image, falling onto his black sport coat. All
this pain he endures every morning, just helps him wake up.

Tom always does the same ritual every
morning, to help him begin the day: he first yawns, calls to
Vivian, sprays the solution in his eyes, goes through the burning,
stinging pain of it, and smokes a cigar, in which he hasn’t taken
out just yet. After the ritual is complete, the exercise of
introducing himself to the new day, he reads a call-sheet that all
agents get every morning, showing what auditions are going on
today, and what kind of human beings they ask for, to fit the
character for the specific film, or project. Vivian usually reads
and takes care of that sheet, being that she’s his secretary; she
makes sure to call up his clients who fit the part, and tell them
the times and places where the auditions are held.

It’s a very complex method, being that some
auditions, if they’re for a big part, ask that the agencies first
fax them their client’s photo, so they could look at it, and then
tell them if they could audition or not; it was somewhat of a
hair-pulling experience which Vivian had to deal with almost every
day. That’s why Mr. Fryer hired her. But today was not an average
day; the setup on Vivian’s desk is different. Seeing that she
didn’t receive a copy of the call-sheet, Vivian knew that her job,
as a secretary for Tom Fryer’s agency, was coming to a close.

Her desk usually has old coffee stains on all
the papers she has on its top, except for a copy of the call-sheet,
which is always cleaned: Vivian saw that, beneath all of her
berets, pencils, pens, and bent staples, the clean sheet was
missing. She knew Mr. Fryer was serious about choosing only one
more actor for his agency, attempting to make a success out of him
or her, and then closing it down, if his plan failed in the eyes of
Hollywood.

Vivian got up from her desk after hearing
Tom’s voice yawn out his words, and walked very timidly, with much
hesitation, over to his office. Something was bothering her, the
way she moved in a slow, inconsistent rhythm, it was like she was
afraid of something. “Yes, Mr. Fryer,” replied Vivian after she
opened the door to his office.

She stared toward his desk, seeing the
call-sheet, and how every word and audition that was printed on it
was crossed out with black marker, and crumbled up into a ball. She
knew the ball of paper was the sheet, and the shock of seeing it
formed into that crumpled shape made her mind fully realize that
Mr. Fryer’s one plan was going to begin this morning.

“Bring me in that list of names that I chose.
You know, those seven names,” he said. Tom then finished his last
morning ritual by lighting up a Cuban cigar.

“I’m way ahead of you, sir, here’s the names
in alphabetical order,” Vivian spoke in a happy but nervous tone.
She made sure to highlight her name and place it on top of the
list. This woman wanted to show Mr. Fryer no disappointment toward
his decision, so she put on a fake smile and made her acting
ability take over.

“Did you call up the other five people
besides yourself and Darell O’Conner?” Mr. Fryer questioned,
looking at the list very carefully.

“Yes I did, sir, the first one is coming in
today at 11:00 a.m. His name is George Hardy.” Vivian then handed
Tom Mr. Hardy’s photo and resume.

“George Hardy, that sounds like a catchy
name. It says here that he went to Harvard; he got straight A’s.
Who picked him out?” he asked in an interested manner as he stared
at George’s photo.

“You did, sir, you picked them all out.”

“Oh, I must have picked him out at random.
Now, who’s this?” Mr. Fryer placed Mr. Hardy’s photo down on his
desk and looked at the next one she handed him.

Vivian felt like a juror, handing out her
verdict to the judge, but instead, handing it five times and
waiting to hear a reply. “This is Justin Oleander, his
appointment’s at 12:00 p.m. Here’s his resume,” she replied, still
standing next to his desk like a statue. Mr. Fryer looked over
Justin’s frozen image.

“Who’s next?” He placed Justin’s photo on top
of George’s photo, not even bothering to look it over, allowing
Vivian’s eyes to shimmer with a bit of hope; if he wasn’t
interested in them, the one that was left was Vivian’s image. It
caused her to give a miniature smile.

“Here, these two actors are next. They’re
scheduled at the same time, 1:00 p.m.”

He placed their photos on top of the other
photos without even bothering to look at them either. That caused a
smile to appear on Vivian’s face. She knew in her mind that she has
a better chance at winning Mr. Fryer as her agent. “Okay, show me
the other ones,” Mr. Fryer said with a stressed-out voice.

“Darell O’Conner is next; his appointment’s
at 3:00 p.m. He’s the one with the two friends,” she said, placing
her own photo down on his desk very inconspicuously.