Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) (25 page)

“Jose, I only got a fifty,” Damen mumbled,
pushing his other money deep into his pockets.

“Okay, I’ll pay the other fifty.”

They paid the man and took a piece of paper
that had the date when their pictures would be ready. They got into
the cab and found Darell sleeping, sweat became his blanket. The
cab drove off and Damen said one sentence, and one sentence only,
to Jose. This sentence, or question would be the first sign that
Jose was already changing for the worse. “So, I thought you didn’t
have any money, Jose?”

“I was saving the money for an emergency.”
Damen ignored his excuse and just gazed out of the window. Anger
that Jose lied to him about the money situation left Damen at a
loss for words, not even longing to argue with him.

“What’s wrong?” asked Darell, waking up from
his sleep and brushing off the blanket of sweat from his face with
his perspiring hands.

“Damen’s mad at me.” Jose felt and sounded
guilty; after all, he was.

“For what?”

“Never mind,” Jose said, facing toward the
opposite window.

“Damen, why are you mad at him?”

They didn’t talk at all. Silence. They each
faced toward the window, with Darell whining over and over again.
“You guys never tell me anything...”

Chapter Sixteen

“Mr. Fryer, Darell O’Conner’s photos came in
yesterday, they were lost underneath all of the other junk mail,”
Vivian said over the speakerphone. “Would you like me to bring them
in for you?”

“Yes, bring them in right away,” Mr. Fryer
replied. Ten casting agents sat patiently in his office awaiting
the arrival of Darell’s photos.

Vivian brought them in his office and gave
them to Mr. Fryer, standing there for a moment staring at each
casting agent, hoping that one of them would be interested in her.
As she handed the photos to him, each casting agent popped their
heads up to have a glance at Vivian; it was like the domino effect.
Vivian smiled at the agents as Mr. Fryer said, “That will be all,
Vivian ... you may leave now.”

“Sir, today I get off early, I just wanted to
remind you,” Vivian announced, still seeing the casting agents
staring vigorously at her beauty.

“Oh, yes, thanks for reminding me. Now
leave,” he ordered. “Okay, let’s get started, shall we?”

Vivian exited the office in a strolling
fashion, reaching the outside of it, she closed the door ever so
slowly. She watched as each agent became blocked by the door,
pulling it closer and closer to shut. Finally, the door sealed and
she stood motionless against it, trying to listen if the meeting
was about her, mentioning some form of a female, knowing that she
was the only female in this so-called contest.

“Tom, which one of these photos are you
interested in?” one of the casting agents asked.

“Whichever one you’re interested in, Fred,”
Mr. Fryer replied, lighting a cigar.

The agents sat around a circular, fold-up
table, which was smack-dab in the middle of the office area. The
window, which coruscated the California sun through its body,
reflected off this glowing, shiny table, and allowed it to create
some heat to its texture.

The photos sat in the middle, while the
agents all held photocopies of them, staring at them like a
microscope was impressed into their eyes; this was a serious
matter, as Mr. Fryer already discussed with them.

As they looked, one of the casting agents
caught the cloud of Tom’s cigar smoke, and asked while covering her
mouth, “Excuse me, would you mind extinguishing that cigar?”

“Oh, excuse me, Martha, I’m sorry.” Tom Fryer
pushed the cigar deep into an ashtray, seeing the excess smoke rise
into the middle of the sun’s road of light, creating a flat
surface-like cloud, floating mysteriously in the air. “The main
reason I called you all over to my office is that I want your
expert opinion on these photos. I discussed with you, when you came
here, the reason for me doing this. I know you wouldn’t normally do
this kind of meeting for a regular talent agent. So for that, I
thank you for coming. All I want to know is which one do you like
the most? That’s it. Being that I’m the number one agency in
California, I know that I have some importance to all of you, and I
want to have the right client for you, as well as for any casting
director that needs the right talent,” Mr. Fryer spoke, sitting
down by his desk, away from the round table. “So, which one do you
think has star potential?”

“I’m interested in this one,” Martha replied,
holding up a photo that had Vivian’s image on it. Her skinny hands
held up Vivian’s photo, making it known to all the people, that
this was the one with potential. “She has a great smile, her hair
is beautifully formed, her teeth are stunning, her eyes are deep,
and according to her resume, she’s had a good amount of teaching,
so she knows the craft pretty good.”

“Yeah, me too,” Fred agreed, looking at the
photo as well as his photocopy of Vivian’s face. “She’s soap opera
material, or even leading lady status.”

“Well, let’s have a show of hands. All those
in favor of this photo, raise your hand,” Mr. Fryer announced,
pointing at Vivian’s picture. All of the casting agents raised
their hands immediately, without any hesitation. They were positive
that she would be the next star, showing their smiles of truth,
with their hands high in the air, made Vivian’s photo smile more.
Mr. Fryer was the only one without a hand in the air. “Well, what
about this photo?” he questioned in an anxious tone while holding
up Darell’s image on a photocopy sheet.

“No ... I don’t like the way he looks. He
could only play the parts of drug addicts, or even a troublemaker,
maybe a boy being a nuisance on a series about friends. Overall, he
just doesn’t fit the standards of a star, but I’m sure he would
make it. None of us could be right on the money about a face, but
when it comes to knowing for sure about an actor having star
potential, this young girl has all of it and more, and just by
looking at her composite,” Martha replied.

“Well then, why don’t we choose him? After
all, you said he’d make it,” Tom mentioned, squeezing Darell’s
photo at the same time.

“Listen, you asked our opinion and we gave it
to you,” Fred replied, grabbing Vivian’s photo and holding it up in
the air. “But, I know for a fact that she would definitely make it
big in this business.”

Mr. Fryer looked down at his office floor
while trying to think of some way he could make them change their
minds about Vivian being the next star. For some reason, he didn’t
want her to make it in this business, reasons that we’ll soon find
out. But then he smiled. The casting agents looked at it, trying to
figure out what was on his mind. Maybe he decided to go along with
them, and choose her? Maybe he didn’t? Who knows.

He thought for about two minutes, silence
taking over the room, when he gave up thinking and looked up at
them. He said, “Okay, fine ... I made my decision ... thank you all
for coming.”

“You’re most welcome,” said Martha with a
smile on her face.

Tom Fryer guided them out of his office and
into the main lobby where Vivian sat. They all watched her as they
exited the lobby and smiled toward her. Vivian knew the meeting was
about her, or at least she hoped it was.

Mr. Fryer sat down in his chair and looked at
all of the photos. He ripped one after another into little pieces
and threw them in the garbage. Ripping the last photo up and
closing the lid of the garbage can in an angry manner, Tom sat
there, holding the last, single picture, the photo in which a
person’s dream will come true. He lit a cigar as Vivian called on
his speakerphone. “Sir, I’m going to leave now.”

“Okay, Vivian, don’t forget to come in Monday
at 10:00 a.m. Have a nice weekend.” Tom just stared at the photo;
even while talking to Vivian, he still fixed his eyes on the image
he chose.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, Vivian, could you please step in my
office really quick?” Tom’s question was quick, putting the photo
into his desk drawer. Vivian wondered what he wanted all of a
sudden.

“Sure,” she replied. A scared expression came
over her face while she put her hat and coat on, standing by her
desk, not knowing whether she should enter into his world
again.

She walked into his office very slowly,
mildly, and stood by the door, glancing at Mr. Fryer. She saw the
vacant round table, his desk, him behind it, sitting upright in a
chair, and began to fidget, moving her body around unnoticeably,
like her nerves were trying to make her move and leave this man’s
office.

He said, “Please, close the door and lock
it.”

“Sir, I really got to go, I’m supposed to
meet someone,” she said in a shaky voice. Fear came over her mind
again, not knowing, or at least, imagining a little bit of what he
was going to do to her, like he did before. A low, silent cry came
to her mind, with only her to hear it.

“Just do as I say ... this will only take a
little bit,” he said, putting down his cigar. “As a matter of fact,
you’re going to be late, I need you to do some other work for me
that will take a while.”

Work, he said work, Vivian, that’s all he
wants you to do. Good, wait a minute, but what kind of work is he
referring to...

He got up and closed the drapes on his
windows, and still Vivian’s mind ran thoughts through it, thoughts
of panic, of fear. He walked over to her and took off her hat that
was filled with fake daisies. “I just want to thank you for being
such a hard worker.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” she said, feeling beads
of sweat forming on her forehead.

“Now, how badly do you want to make it in
this business?” he asked to her, unbuttoning his shirt and
loosening his tie.

“Sir, please, I already told you over and
over again,” she replied as a single tear came from her right eye.
She stared at the drapes, being closed and locking the light from
pursuing the office. She stared at the locked door, knowing that
she could unlock it and leave this horrible place; but she didn’t
want to upset him.

“Well, I want to hear it again,” he said,
grabbing her fragile chest, rubbing it all around, caressing it to
a point of friction being her pain.

“More than life itself. Okay, I said it.
Please, let me go now,” she cried out, even more tears followed.
The sweat from her forehead and face, mixed in with her tears,
allowed her image to be drenched in see-through liquid that
reflected Tom’s image.

“I’ll let you go when I feel like it.
Besides, you know where the door is, and you can unlock it. But, I
know you don’t want to,” he stated in a controlling voice.
“Right?”

She stared at him only for a moment. Looking
at her reflection in the mirror that was right in front of her, and
thinking about his power, how he could destroy her dream in a blink
of an eye, she accepted this moment once more. Vivian closed her
eyes and allowed the nightmare to continue, the nightmare she hoped
would make her dream come true. Her tears flushed out through her
closed eyes, pressing against her lids, and forcing the overflow of
pain to be released. She allowed him to do it once again, and all
she thought of and hoped for, was if this was worth it...

Chapter Seventeen

Damen paced back and forth in the motel
room, his mind holding so many difficult thoughts, thoughts that
were selfish, and mean, that allowed him to literally fight with
them, trying to shut them up, so he wouldn’t go mad, crazy.
Thoughts like, “how he was going to get a job,” “how Jose and
Darell lied to him,” and what words he could say to Vivian. Back in
Sugar Valley, he never had these kinds of difficulties with
problems developing out of nowhere, and etching at his
consciousness, to a point where he felt like he was gonna lose his
sanity. Whenever he did have a difficulty, he always went down to
the Valley, talked to it, talked to God, and then talked to Darell
or Jose; but now it was different, because Sugar felt like it was a
million miles away.

He went over to a window and stared through a
cobweb at the heavens; through the smog and clouds, he concentrated
on the stars. Closing his eyes, he tried to manifest his mind into
believing he was in Sugar’s belly, with the green grass that
tickled at his bare feet, and the same wind that echoed around the
Valley, being trapped there for eternity. But suddenly a roach
popped out from under his bed and tampered with his right foot.
This allowed Damen to snap out of the daze he was in, look down,
and have reality show itself to him; he stepped on the roach,
causing it to burst all over his foot.

He whipped it off with an old sock, and then
continued to fight with his thoughts, feelings on his problems that
came to him so quickly, but yet, unnoticeably. He stared at the
phone for a while. It was like the phone was infected with a virus
that he didn’t want to catch. Damen wanted to get one problem out
of his mind, by answering it, and treating the difficulty like a
newborn baby; the problem of Vivian. As he stared, Jose came out of
the shower and said, “Just call her already.”

“I will, I just have to think of something to
say,” he mumbled, suddenly seeing Darell grabbing the phone,
knocking it out of his transfixed view.

“What are you doing?” Damen snatched the
phone from Darell’s grip in a tremendous frenzy.

“I wanted to order some food. Besides, you’re
not using it,” he answered, snatching the phone back from his
nervous hands.

“Yes, I am. Well, I’m going to.” Damen
whipped the phone away from Darell again.

“Okay, okay, I’ll call her,” Jose announced.
He took the phone away from Damen, and started dialing a number on
the piece of paper that was on the bed.

Damen yelled, “No, don’t.” It was an urgent
sound, coming from his voice, it jolted through Jose and Darell’s
ears, like a baby boy being ripped from his father’s hands. Damen
tried to get the phone away from him, but Jose made sure to roll up
in a ball, and place his back as a shield toward him.