Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) (28 page)

“Do you have it or not?” One of the officers
gazed deep into Jose’s eyes, waiting for him to answer; he looked
like a psycho through his stares.

“Well... no, not exactly,” Jose answered,
feeling his own eyes widen again, peeling away the sticky substance
that helped his eyes to be shut while sleeping. He thought for a
while, and smiled at the three men in silence, knowing that they’d
let him go, and finally allow him to get back into bed.

Now I get to go in my bed. What’s the worst
they could do, throw us out on the streets. Ah...

“Then guys, welcome to Hollywood.” The man,
or manager, took a step away from the door, and the security guards
rammed against it, causing the chain lock to break off, and the
door to whack open. Roaches of all sizes, shapes, and sexes ran
about the room, chasing each other toward hiding spots, knowing
that this was the person they need to fear. It was like the roaches
knew if this man saw them, they would be poisoned and killed;
little did these insects realize, this man already knew of their
existence in the motel.

Well, Jose, I guess they would...

The manager shouted to the officers, “Why did
you do that? You could have just told them to open it. Now I’m
going to have to buy a new lock.” They grabbed Jose and Darell,
with their grasps being tighter than a noose. “Take all of their
stuff and throw it in the streets with them,” he added, handing the
officers a plastic bag for their clothes and belongings.

The boys stood like statues in their robes
and shorts, watching cars drive by whistling and making faces at
them, taunting them like bums and shouting at them like they were
hookers. The hot sun baked down over their heads, Darell and Jose
feeling their own hair being boiling hot, they already missed the
air-conditioned room. The sun was unbearable, and the fact that
they’re on the streets now, it became an embarrassing place, with
Darell muttering, “I am so embarrassed, Jose.”

“I know, me too.”

“What are we gonna to do now?”

“I don’t know. All I want to know is one
thing,” Jose said, slowly sitting down on the hot, sun-reflective
curb, covering up his legs with his red robe.

“What’s that?” Darell then sat down on the
curb right beside him, covering up his legs with his blue robe, and
trying to camouflage his inner thighs with his hands.

“Where the hell is Damen?” Jose searched
through the plastic bag for his pager and pants, feeling the first
time what it’s like to be without a home, and what it was like to
be the one stereotype that he’d become; a bum.

“You think he’s alright?”

Jose found his pager, kissed it, while
thinking of Julienne, and said, “I don’t really care... I don’t
really care.”

The time went by, and as Jose and Darell were
getting their taste of Hollywood’s toughness, Damen was getting his
own taste of it too; but a taste in a different way.

Damen and Vivian finally arrived at Crox
Casting Agency, a small building near the city limits of Hollywood,
which was cheap looking, a few broken windows to its minute
structure, and spray paint that looked as if green, purple, mixed
with a tint of red was the color of the agency’s body. They walked
in the building and sat down in the waiting area, seeing faces of
actors trying to get extra work under their belts, to put on
resumes, and to have a job with pay. These faces reached the number
of one hundred.

Damen filled out a resume for doing extra
work as Vivian went to the bathroom, being alone amongst people
that watched him write, watched him breathe, and gawked every stare
that he would give to them; they were like hawks, wondering why he
was here, and if he was going to be a famous actor someday. Damen
finished filling it out and stepped into the office in which the
casting agent stood, one of the bosses of the agency. He was
relieved to walk out of that gazing, eye-filled waiting room,
saying, “Okay, I’m done filling it out.”

The agent, or casting worker, had a small
office, a lot of colors, statues and different textures to it, but
it all looked cramped in, seeing that there was hardly room to
walk; like an old person’s garage sale, seeing antiques from the
great past, but only looking from a small distance, noticing that
you couldn’t reach them, because of the rich junk that stood in
your way. “Now, all I need is a photo of you, any photo would do
just fine,” the agent said.

“But, I don’t have a photo.”

“You don’t have any photos of yourself?”
asked the agent in a surprised tone.

“I won’t have any real photos till next week,
that’s when my professional photos will be ready.” Damen looked
down at the floor of his office and saw a strange pattern on the
carpet; he didn’t want to look at this man, Damen wanted a job in
the worst way, he didn’t want to look in the guy’s eyes. Staring at
the carpet, while this man decided what to do, Damen noticed that
the textures in the rug resembled a dragon with fire coming from
its mouth. He was transfixed by this fantasizing creature of
flight, noticing as he looked up, that the agent also had statues
of dragons on his desk, and the same beasts all around the room,
cubical, the small area that seemed like a bathroom in
disguise.

“Well, I am truly sorry, but,” the agent
spoke, interrupted by Vivian’s entry. “Oh, hi, Vivian.” He got up,
squeezed his way through this miniature room, and gave her a kiss
on the face.

“Hello, Fred, I see that you’re still into
dragons.”

“Why yes, yes I am.”

“That’s good, I think they’re very passionate
creatures, beasts that fly through the skies, blowing fire from
their bellies,” Vivian spoke, Damen noticing that some flirtatious
tones were coming from her mouth. “Well, um, what seems to be the
problem?” she asked as she looked into Fred’s eyes. It was as if
her beauty put him into a trance.

“Problem?”

“He said he’s sorry, but he can’t take me for
the job,” Damen said with a tone of disappointment. He knew
Vivian’s game, and decided, for the hell of it, to go along with
it, and see if her seduction works.

“I did not, I said I’m sorry for the fact
that you don’t have any photos,” Fred stated in a child’s tone.

“So, he’s got the job then?” Vivian
questioned, still keeping her eyes in focus with Fred’s.

“Um, yes, of course. When could you start?”
Fred mumbled as he looked at Vivian.

“Not me, Damen’s the one looking for work,”
she laughed out, pointing her hand at Damen, allowing Fred to break
from his trance, and follow Vivian’s hand.

“Oh, I mean you, when could you start?”
Fred’s eyes were released from Vivian’s trance and settled in on
Damen’s face.

“He could start today. They’re filming that
new movie right down the block from here,” Vivian mentioned. Damen
looked at her and grinned; he knew her game worked with flying
colors.

“Oh, yes, but of course,” said Fred. He
handed Damen a voucher sheet to fill out, and a pen to use that had
a green dragon wrapped around its tube. “Now, you’re probably going
to be staying for about fourteen hours or more, Damen.”

“How long?” Damen was surprised and shocked,
he didn’t realize he would have to work so many hours in one
day.

“Fourteen hours. Extras work very hard, son,
but not as hard as the actors do. Here, take this and go down to
the set, Vivian knows the way,” Fred explained. He shook Damen’s
hand, and walked back behind his desk, squeezing his skinny body
through the tightness of it, and sat down while giving out a gasp
of air.

“What set?” Damen questioned.

“The set of the movie. Oh, I get it, that was
a joke,” Fred spoke with laughter.

Damen looked confused, learning these new
terms and phrases that the entertainment industry has, he paused
for a moment then said, “Oh, yeah, ha, ha, did you get it?”

Before Fred could answer, Vivian grabbed his
hand and walked out of the office, laughing at him for being so
funny to her ears.

They waited for an hour by the set, watching
as the casting agents chose different extras to walk back and forth
in the movie; in Damen’s mind, being an extra was the best job
ever, but he just started. Two hours went by and Damen was losing
his patience, finishing the filling out of the voucher sheet three
hours ago, he had nothing else to do but wait. This time they were
choosing extras to sit in a restaurant for the background, the
restaurant scene that they’d been working on for three hours now.
“Vivian, what’s the use of being an extra if you never work?”

“Damen, you have to be patient. It’s all
based on timing,” she replied, looking through a magazine, trying
to keep her mind occupied.

“What do you mean?”

“You see, all those people that were chosen
to be in the walking scene, most likely they can’t be in any more
scenes of the movie,” she explained.

“Why not?”

“Because, those people were already seen on
film. This restaurant scene is the one that counts for us. They are
only choosing a handful of extras to be in it. Plus, the camera is
going to be close to the actors, especially the extras. That’s why
we have to be patient,” she replied as she turned the magazine page
once more.

“Is it time yet?”

“Nope, not yet.”

Waiting in another small room, with a sign on
its door reading Extra Holding Area, Damen felt like he was in
prison. The room had thirty chairs against the wall, filled up with
actors of all kinds, and also had a strange aroma in its air; it
smelled like burnt rubber. He and Vivian had to stand. Damen
feeling his legs slowly crumbling down to the naked, wooden floor,
he knew he was in a prison. To top it off, it didn’t have any
air-conditioning, except for a small fan on one side of the room,
that twelve people were fighting over, trying to feel its warm
breeze that could dry up their sweat, as well as take away the odor
from their noses: body odor.

“What happens if they don’t choose us to be
in that scene?” he asked in a disturbed manner.

“Don’t worry so much, we pick ourselves,” she
answered, putting the magazine down on a long table filled with
refreshments and bagels for the actors.

Damen picked up a bagel from the refreshment
table. “How are we going to do that?” he questioned while biting
into the stolen bagel; the bagel that was supposed to be for the
actors in the movie, as well as the crew.

“You’ll see.” Vivian paused, noticing a
casting agent coming into the Extra Holding Area, she knew his
motive for doing so.

All the extras who were sitting in the chairs
got up from them, and stood in a single file line. The extras that
were fighting over the breeze from the fan ran toward the agent and
stood in the line, like soldiers being picked for battle. Vivian
and Damen also stood in the line, with Damen being bewildered about
the situation; he still stood, and followed everything that Vivian
did.

The casting agent walked slowly, looking at
this line with his huge, green eyes being fixed on all the actors
he passed, he looked at Damen and Vivian, and kept on walking.
Vivian showed sadness, knowing that the agent wasn’t going to pick
them, and also hearing the agent say, “Okay now, I want you, you,
you, you and you,” without pointing toward her or Damen.

They both watched as the actors that were
chosen, followed the agent out of the room, with smiles on their
faces. This angered Damen, knowing that he still had to wait longer
in this small, burnt rubber, body odor smell, and hot, sweaty room.
He threw down his half-eaten bagel and said, “Oh great, now
what?”

“Just wait, trust me, we will be in this
scene.” Vivian’s words sounded believable, seeing that she was
lighting up a cigarette, Damen knew she was calm.

“So, could you tell me what extra work is
again? You know, to make the time go faster,” he spoke in a speedy
fashion, feeling his nerves coming out through his shaky, sweaty
eyes; he wanted this day to be over with fast. They both found
vacant seats, so they sat down in them quick, before anyone else
could steal them away.

“Alright, you see, when a movie is being
made, the extras are the people who walk in the background of the
film, or sit at a table in a film. Extras are mainly props for the
movie,” she explained, sitting down at the same time.

“Oh, I see.”

Four hours went by and Damen was going crazy.
He fell asleep twice and went to the bathroom three times, only to
talk to himself in the mirror. His sweat was getting to him, but he
knew if he went over to the fan, he would have to fight his way
into the tunnel of wind, seeing that even more actors fought over
this hot breeze. So he fell asleep in his chair for a little while,
but was awakened by the sound of Vivian whispering, “Come on, it’s
time.”

“What?” he asked, rubbing his eyes and wiping
the saliva off his face.

“Follow me.”

They both walked past the row of chairs with
sleeping bodies in them. Not wanting to wake any extras up, Vivian
put her hand up to her mouth, and signaled for Damen to be quiet.
They exited the holding area and ran across the street to the
restaurant in a hurry, without Damen even questioning Vivian’s
reason for doing so.

Walking into the restaurant suspiciously and
quietly, she asked in a whisper, “Alright, you see that group of
people standing by the bathrooms?”

“Yeah,” he replied as he tried to catch his
breath.

The restaurant was a Lobster House, filled
with wires, and cameras for the director, and thick rounded tubes
that brought gulps of air-conditioning through it, so the major
actors wouldn’t be hot. The restaurant was packed with extras, and
it was very quiet, subtle, with very little noises. Most of the
extras were standing by a bathroom, taking a break, or else waiting
to be picked and seated for filming.