Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) (9 page)

“You expect us to believe that story?” the
guard asked, releasing Damen’s arm from his grip. Jose and Damen
tried to think up of another excuse, tried to find a way out of the
explanation, that Darell had totally and utterly screwed up.
Suddenly, another train stopped in the station, and that’s when the
guard said, with force to his words, “Come with us.”

Jose and Damen saw that a large amount of
passengers were exiting the second train and beginning to surround
them. A plan of action was seeping into Jose’s mind, breaking into
his conscious state, and getting ready to explode orally.

Jose nudged Damen’s arm, winked his right eye
very unnoticeably toward him, and said in a fast way, “Listen, he
really does need an operation.” Damen looked at Jose with wide
eyes. He couldn’t believe, couldn’t begin to accept that he still
was going along with this story, even after it died, and showed
itself as a lie to the guards.

The guard asked in a snotty manner, “Oh yeah,
could ya prove it?” Damen and Darell just looked at Jose, the same
way as the guards’ did, and awaited an explanation from him. They
were all curious on what Jose was going to pull out of his ass
next. Damen Schultz crossed his arms and waited for Jose Rodrigo’s
voice, while the guards put their hands behind their backs, grabbed
onto handcuffs, and waited for Jose to screw up his words.

“Yeah ... I could,” responded Jose. “You see
... when you need a kidney operation, it kind of feels like this,”
he added before he punched the guard on the side of his gut. Damen
watched as the other guard began pulling on Darell’s arm; that’s
when he punched him in the face. The officers fell to the ground,
passengers from the train began walking over them, and Damen,
Darell, and Jose started to run out of the station with laughter in
their minds.

Running with grand speed to their motion, the
boys flew through the station, passing and hitting people
accidentally, and looking back every so often to see if anyone was
chasing them. They looked to their right, left, forward, and
finally, for the hell of it, looked up toward the ceiling of the
station. As they ran through the center part of the station’s
heart, still staring at the ceiling, they saw a huge, domed window
that stretched for miles to their sight; it caused them to stop for
a moment. But then, they all looked at each other, realizing that
they’d just broken a zillion laws, and started the motion to their
feet once again.

When they reached the outside of the station,
Damen spoke with laughter, “I can’t believe we got away with that.”
Even though people, on top of people, walked by them, Damen still
kept up the laughter; he was amused by their capture, as well as
their escape.

He started to look up at the tall skyscrapers
with intrigued thoughts to his mind, and that’s when Jose
questioned, “I know, man, doesn’t it feel great?” Jose’s feelings,
his laughter, mixed with supercharged adrenaline, made his question
more interesting when he added, “It feels like winning something,
like having sex and knowing you were good.” Damen looked at him
with shock, with strangeness, a small grin on his face.

“Well, I like the other analogy, it’s more
believable, coming from you,” Damen laughed. Jose punched him
lightly on the shoulder and started chuckling himself.

At the same time, Darell’s ear’s blocked out
the little joke, and his eyes concentrated on the monsters, made of
steel. He was captivated by the sight of these buildings so he said
jokingly, “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”

“Wow, I’ve never imagined that Chicago was so
big,” added Jose. He began twirling around slowly, still staring
upwards toward the buildings.

At that point, Damen noticed a bookstore
directly across the street. Without saying a word, he walked toward
it, not listening to the cars as they beeped at him, warning that
they’d almost hit him. When Damen reached the middle of the street,
Darell questioned, “Jose, where’s Damen going?”

“I don’t know, but we better get out of here
fast, or else those want-ta-be cops are gonna find us.” He then
screamed out, “Damen, where’re you going?” Jose dropped his bag
that held four pairs of clothing and three scripts of old plays,
and waited for a reply from him.

“I’ll be right back, I have to get
something,” he answered. Damen walked into the bookstore and began
searching it quickly.

He came out five minutes later with a bag
that held a newly bought journal, a journal that would help him in
the future. He walked back across the street to Darell and Jose.
“What did you get?” asked Darell as Jose was waving down a cab.

“I bought a journal,” he answered. A cab
finally acknowledged Jose’s hand, slowly stopping four feet away
from them. They all felt the wind, of the city, grasping at their
hair and pushing them toward the taxi, with a grand, great force to
its invisible body. They could hear the howling of the wind,
blowing through corners of the skyscrapers, sort of like a
labyrinth, having great tides of water rush through its veins.

Jose turned to Damen through the force of the
wind, and questioned him in a puzzled voice, “You wasted your money
on a journal? After this, no more buying things, we have to save as
much money as we can for California.” Jose jumped in the cab and
stared at the bag, which Damen held tightly in his right hand.

Damen and Darell hopped into the cab, and
suddenly Damen felt angered by Jose’s controlling words.

He didn’t think it was any of Jose’s
business; it was Damen’s money, and he could buy anything he wanted
with it. Yet, he didn’t want to begin an argument; after all, this
was only the first day in Chicago. On the other hand, he didn’t
want Jose to think that he was going to accept that sort of tyrant
tone to his voice, and follow his orders. So, that’s when Damen
Schultz decided to agree with him but in a snotty fashion. “Okay,
okay, fine, I won’t buy any more things.” Jose was pleased to hear
that, and Damen also was pleased to say it in a smart-alecky
tone.

The boys looked outside of the window,
forgetting about the tiny argument that just took place, and stared
at the city with smiles that slowly grew. They imagined the cab
being a limousine, instead of its yellow, hideous shape. They
imagined the windows being tinted, and the ugly, gray seats, that
had burnt holes and bubble gum attached to it, being pure, genuine,
black leather, with shine to its texture. They imagined the hairy
cabdriver wearing a black suit, with a shaved face and a black hat
made out of velvet. “Well, after this, it’s going to be limos all
the way,” Jose said with a laughing smile.

Darell began to laugh at what he said, but
his laugh was interrupted by the cabdriver asking, “Where to?” in a
very abrupt manner.

Jose looked at Darell, and Darell looked at
Damen; confusion set in their minds. Jose answered, “Well, take us
to the nearest airport.”

The three boys sat in the cab with smiles on
their faces; they were still imagining the cab being a limo.
Reaching an airport, O’Hare Airport, in no time at all, the boys
looked at each other in amazement; they couldn’t believe the cab
was already there. Damen stared out the window, at the airport, and
saw so many people, carrying luggage that looked as if they cost
more than a car. He then looked at his bag, cheap and dirty, and
closed his eyes for a moment. He wanted the bag to turn into
leather, or else real luggage, but too bad this wasn’t a fairy
tale. He opened his eyes, gazing out the window again, and then
slowly opened its door. It was like he was scared, frantic, and
nervous to enter into the airport of Chicago; he’d never seen a
real airport before. He slowly stepped onto the pavement, which had
spit, gum, cigarettes, and litter to its surface, and slowly stood
up and out of the cab.

Once entering the airport, they walked slowly
through it and went to a travel agent. Not knowing what to do, or
what to say, Damen took over the plan, realizing Jose and Darell
had already done a lot to get them here. “Hi, miss, we want three
tickets to California ASAP.” Damen waited for her to reply, and
started to stare at the airport, like he belonged, like he wasn’t a
traveler from a small town. The way Damen looked around and then
stared back at the agent, it was as if he was trying too hard to
be, or look, accepted; he didn’t want to look like a tourist.

But suddenly, Damen realized he had a very
faint accent to his speech, a type of accent that could almost be
characterized as a Southern accent. Since that one security guard
caught his minutely different accent, he became self-conscious
about it. So, he lowered his voice a bit, trying his hardest to get
rid of that small accent he had, and asked again, “Yeah, um, that’s
three tickets, please.” Damen looked like a fool, even though he
was trying really hard not to; he still felt he sounded like an
ignorant ass.

Jose looked at him with a small, confused
smile, and whispered, “Damen, what’s wrong with you?”

Damen tried, once again, his hardest to play
it cool by slowly turning his head toward Jose. “We have an accent,
I don’t want her to think we’re from Mississippi, or even from the
South,” he replied with a generic smile toward the agent.

“But, we are from Mississippi, and also, our
accent isn’t that bad. Don’t forget, we’re from Ridge Crest, they
really don’t have that much of a Southern accent. Calm down, dude,”
explained Jose. He still grinned at Damen, knowing how his new tone
sounded so charlatan, phony. “Remember, we don’t really have an
accent, and this agent won’t know we’re from Mississippi,” Jose
whispered; he wanted to ease Damen’s nerves.

“Are you boys from the South?” the agent
asked. Damen turned to Jose with widened eyes, letting him know
that he was right about the accent.

Damen turned to her, put on a fake smile, and
replied, “Um, no. Why, do we sound like we are?”

“Yeah, but just a little bit,” she said, “So,
you want tickets you say, coach or first class?” Her fingers paused
on the keyboard of her computer, awaiting an answer from him.

“Does it really sound like we’re from the
South?” asked Damen. He completely blocked out the question from
the agent, and based his thoughts only on the insecurity of his
voice.

She looked at him, with a smile, but a
puzzled look was engraved on her grin. That’s when Jose stepped in
and replied, “Coach, please.” He hit Damen on the shoulder lightly,
causing him to snap out of his question and face the reality of why
they’re here. Suddenly, Jose looked at Darell and Damen in
wonderment, questioning, “Why don’t we just take first class?” The
agent’s hands paused once again.

“I thought you said we have to save as much
money as possible?” asked Damen in his regular voice. He stared at
the agent again, knowing he’d just spoken regularly, and asked
again in a lower, generic tone, “I mean, I thought you said we have
to save as much money as possible?”

Jose hit him in the head and slightly raised
his voice toward him. “Would you cut it out and stop throwing your
voice?” Damen looked behind him, and saw that there were a lot of
people waiting in his line, showing tiredness on their faces. Jose
then answered, “Now, California’s very far from here ... and I
don’t want to be stuffed next to a bunch of people that smell... ”
Jose noticed that he said that too loud, and the people in back of
him began looking at him funny; a sort of anger came to their tired
faces. “Um, I mean, I don’t feel like sitting next to a bunch of
people, because I don’t want them to smell me, I guess,” he added
in a loud fashion. He gave a smile to the people, and then realized
that his cover-up wasn’t a very good one. Damen rolled his eyes to
Jose, showing that his cover-up, his change in words sounded
stupid, and fictional; he wanted to let Jose know that he’d screwed
up.

“You’re right, Jose, yeah, let’s take first
class to California. We’ve earned it,” mentioned Darell. The agent
still waited, pausing her fingers still, and looked at Damen to
agree with Jose and Darell.

“I don’t know guys, I think first class is
too expensive,” Damen muttered. The travel agent blew a piece of
her blonde hair up in the air, showing that she was aggravated, and
very impatient toward Mr. Schultz’s reply, his undecided mind.

“Listen, we’ve saved a lot of money on the
train here. As a matter of fact, we saved all of our money—it was
free,” Jose mentioned as Damen turned to the travel agent. Jose
crossed his fingers, as well as Darell, they hoped that Damen would
agree; Jose and Darell were also losing patience.

The agent stared at Damen very closely. Jose
and Darell watched Damen’s eyes, very delicately, and the people in
line listened, and hoped for a positive reply from him. “Okay,
three first-class tickets please,” he finally announced. The travel
agent released the pause on her hands and began to type fast and
hard; it was as if she wanted to show aggravation toward him, and
make it known.

“Okay, here’s your tickets, your flight
leaves in forty-five minutes,” the travel agent explained in a fast
way. She handed the tickets to Damen. Grabbing them with the
agent’s hand still gripped to them, he started to play tug-of-war
with this woman. “What are you doing? You have to pay for the
tickets first.”

“Oh, I forgot. How much are they?”

“Altogether it will be two-thousand seven
hundred,” she replied. A shocked look came over Damen, and a
disappointed look came over the agent’s face. She realized if Damen
didn’t accept the tickets, then she would have to start all over
with him and lose her patience once again.

“Dollars?” he asked. “We’ll take coach
instead,” he added in the blink of an eye. Darell blew a gasp of
air out of his mouth; he was relieved that Damen made up his mind,
finally. “How bad could coach be, anyway?”