Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) (21 page)

“I’m sure he won’t, sir. Do Damen and Jose
have appointments too?”

“Who?” Mr. Fryer asked as he walked behind
Vivian and faced the mirror. Tom stood behind her, Vivian seeing
his eyes in the mirror, staring at hers; she felt horribly nervous,
observing the destination of his eyes.

“You know ... Darell’s two friends. What
about them?” Vivian tried to keep up the conversation. Putting on
an act as if she wasn’t uncomfortable, she tried to keep things
professional and calm.

He extinguished his cigar, still staring at
the mirror, and questioned, “What about them?”

“I thought they came in your office too.
Aren’t you interested in them?” Vivian spoke in a sad way. She
stared at Mr. Fryer’s reflection, watching his eyes look at the
reflection of her chest; her act of being calm was slowly melting
away and revealing her fear.

“No, I’m only interested in Darell. Now, go
make those phone calls,” Mr. Fryer said in a demanding tone.

He walked away from her. Feeling relief
coming to her mind’s eye, she walked toward the office door and
left Mr. Fryer’s world behind.

Vivian made phone calls one after another.
Her fingers began to pulsate from the tapping sensation against the
rugged edges of the digits on the phone. She finished the final
call and slammed the phone down on the receiver. Walking back into
Mr. Fryer’s office and looking at the clock, which read 9:00 p.m.,
she knew it was about time for her to vanish from Fryer’s Talent.
She saw Tom facing the window again. Not knowing if he saw her
entrance, she stood by the office door once more, and waited for
the right time, when she felt comfortable, to make her presence
known to him. “I’m finished, Mr. Fryer.”

“Good, now sit down, I want you to do
something else before you go,” said Mr. Fryer in a quiet manner.
The way he invited those words to come of his old, fragile mouth
with such austerity and quietness to it, made Vivian’s mind
conscious of the fear she was feeling at this moment. Standing, in
a dark, wall-papered room, as cold as can be, with a man holding
her future, standing and facing a window, she didn’t know what to
expect, or if need be, where she could go. He was in control right
now, as he was every day.

“I thought you said you wanted me to stay
late tonight?” Vivian said those words with some happiness to its
tone. Realizing that she could still make it to the get-together
and see Damen, Vivian’s fear was releasing its blood through her
sweat. The thought of seeing Damen again, even though she just met
him, allowed her to forget about the fear of this room, this man,
this coldness she felt blowing against her sweat, and handle this
moment’s cold reality. Vivian knew she’d finished the calls early,
there was nothing else for her to do, and that made her grow a
small smile upon her face, escaping in the possibilities of what
could be.

“I did say that ... it is going to be a late
night.” He stared out his office window at the Hollywood lights,
still feeling Vivian’s presence behind his cold back.

“What else do I need to do?” Her voice and
question showed some confusion to its waves.

“You need to answer some questions that I’m
going to ask. Is that okay with you?” Mr. Fryer’s light, from his
cigar, was reflecting a bright image into the window, showing
Vivian his mouth, and how a grin was forming. Her happiness, though
not with him, made her more enticing.

“Yeah, then could I go home?” Vivian asked as
she stared at the light from the cigar, it resembled a lighthouse
in the darkness of a beach. She didn’t know what else to say. This
was her boss, the agent she wanted, so she pleased him, like almost
anyone would do.

“Well, that all depends on your answers,” he
enlightened, walking over to the mirror and blowing a puff of smoke
against it.

“Okay, then let’s begin ... but could you
make it quick, sir?” she questioned after she inhaled a gulp of
cigar smoke.

“How much do want to be famous? Do you want
it really bad, Vivian?”

The questions began to run around in her
head, forming into little, heavy balls that fell into a pile of
thoughts that had monstrous shapes to their formations.

Why is he asking you that, Vivian? Maybe he
wants you to be in his agency?

She couldn’t believe he asked her that,
questioned with such assuring motions as the words came out. It was
like he thought it was a normal question to be asked, and to be
answered without thought. Her confusion allowed one thought to
travel through her brain, enter into her vocal cords, and start
vibrating against them to make a sound. “Why are you asking me
that, sir?”

“Well, you are one of the actors I chose to
be in my little so-called contest. I asked all the other actors the
same question,” he replied as a string of saliva fell out of his
mouth; Vivian didn’t notice through the reflection of his face.

“Well, um, I enjoy acting, I have tremendous
passion for the craft of acting, and I want to entertain people,
because I know I will enjoy that feeling. Um,” she said before Tom
cut her off.

“Cut the bullshit, Vivian. All actors, if
they want to be in Hollywood, want to be here for A, the money; B,
the success; and C, to be a famous face that all the world will
know. Now, like I asked, before you gave me this fake,
stereotypical reply of why you want to be famous, I asked, ‘how
much do you want to be famous?’” His tone was strict, serious, and
full of some anger, mixed with high curiosity; it sounded like a
lawyer’s voice.

She closed her eyes, thought for a second,
and then gave her answer, with much gravity tied into it. “Okay ...
let’s put it this way, sir, I want it more than life itself.”

“Why did you start working for me,
Vivian?”

“Because, I needed the money.”

“No, tell me the real reason,” he
demanded.

“That is the real reason.” She became nervous
now, or once again, her thoughts of going to the Hollywood sign and
seeing her friends and Damen, vanished from her mind, and a shadow
of vomiting-like-nervousness set in.

“No, that’s the fake reason. I want the real
reason. You know, if you’re an honest person, you’ll go far in this
business,” Mr. Fryer said in a serious and low tone as he walked
behind his desk and faced the mirror. This was some other game he
was playing with her, a mind-game, which caused her nervousness to
surface, and made Tom satisfied watching it.

Vivian gave a long pause as she stared at his
back from where she was sitting. She then replied, “Okay, fine.
It’s because I knew you were one of the best talent agents in
Hollywood.”

Not knowing where this conversation was going
to, or leading, Vivian’s mind was perplexed toward Tom Fryer. She
didn’t know if he was asking this, to quiz her, or asking this to
toy with her starving mind.

“Do you still feel that way?”

“Yes ... yes I do,” she answered. Vivian
breathed in a low breath, concentrating on Tom’s old face, seeing
if she could find out what he was thinking, through his fragile but
strict eyes.

“You’ve seen the way I handle actors ... do
you believe that I can destroy anyone’s career? Do you think I am
capable of that power?” he asked in a wicked manner.

Her eyes turned away from his back and looked
straight at the window to his office. She stared at her reflection
and said, “Yes ... I do.”

“Would you do anything to become famous?” Mr.
Fryer’s questions were becoming personal, at least Vivian finally
realized they were, but she still kept on answering them. Tom
looked into the mirror, seeing her image on the window, feeling the
sympathy that she rightfully deserved, and smiled toward her.

“What do you mean?” she asked, confused as to
why he asked that.

Tom Fryer took off his sport coat, loosened
his tie, and said, “Let’s put it this way. Would you do anything
for me, to choose you out of the seven actors, to be in my
agency?”

She didn’t know what to say. She thought
about how she left her home when she was only fifteen and struggled
her way to California. She thought about how her dad would always
tell her, “You’re never going to leave Texas to be a star, it isn’t
your destiny. Your destiny’s to be a housewife like your mother.”
Vivian thought about how she started to do drugs once she came to
Hollywood and how it took her three years to quit. She closed her
eyes to hold in the tears and spoke, “Yes, I’ll do anything.”

I got her now...

“Good, now take off your clothes,” he
ordered, moving his heated, old body over to his office door. Tom
locked it.

Vivian’s fear-filled thoughts were so loud,
that a bat could hear her cries, her mind, and how she screamed
inside, but censored it to reality.

Please, God, help me, help to get out of
this. Please, God, no, not again...

She remembered Mr. Fryer doing the same thing
once before. But for some reason, she attempted to block it out of
her mind, being that she was successful, knowing the blockade was
down, and the memories of his gruesome hands all over her came back
like a speeding train, hitting a human being head on. A single,
dangling, cold tear spilled down from her right eye as she started
to undo her shirt; her hands shaking, helped her to pull off her
shirt, the beats from her nerves rang on and on. Mr. Fryer turned
off the lights and closed the drapes on the window. He left a crack
open in the drapes so the Hollywood lights would shine in. He said,
“This is your fate, this is how you’re going to make it to
fame.”

Her fears were with her once again; with him
drifting toward her and beginning to touch her face, Vivian
screamed in her mind, and the only who could hear them was God. His
cold, rough hands began rubbing her forehead, it felt like
sandpaper. Her bottom lip began to quiver as she thought deep in
her subconscious, I want to be famous...

Chapter Fourteen

Jose, Damen, and Darell exited the taxi that
brought them to the hill; that is, the hill that led to the big
Hollywood sign. The dirt road was full of vacancy, and on its path
were nothing but cigarette butts, and endless beer bottles that
stretched as far as their eyes could see through the mist and dark.
They of course had to bribe the taxi driver forty dollars. Being
that no one was allowed on the hill, the taxi driver’s big tip was
enough to keep his old, lazy mouth shut to the law.

Damen stared at this mountain, seeing that it
was steep to his eyes, and not seeing any indentation near the big
sign, he was thinking and contemplating where the party could be
held without them sliding down the hill to their deaths. But,
instead of thinking about it, he stopped tormenting himself with
questions, grasped onto the wing of spontaneity once more, and
decided to climb the mountain and see where it lead.

Before they climbed it, Damen made sure to
get the Hollywood sign in his view, so that way they wouldn’t get
lost. He saw it, in the distance, hounding over the skies, and the
lights made the words seem endless to length; this was an awesome
and intriguing sight for him. Just as Jose was intrigued by
Julienne’s mansion, filled with intriguing rapture that tied around
his mind, so was Damen intrigued by this sign, that stands in the
night to guide dreams of thousands to its place. In a way, this
mountain kind of represented the hill of Hollywood; actors have to
climb it in order to reach their dreams of fame. That’s why the
sign was on a big hill, because if people wanted to touch it, feel
it, and be intrigued by its size up close, they would have to work
for it, by climbing the steepness of its floor.

The climb began. At first there was grass
that was small enough to be called specks of fuzz, and little
bushes that grew prematurely to life. But as they came to higher
ground, the bushes turned to tall trees, elephantiasis grew in the
veins of the bark, and the sign began to fade into the branches and
foliage. Every time they climbed higher, the sign became harder to
see. It was like the sign represented the North Star; if it ever
came out of their view, they would be lost in the mountain’s
tree-filled body.

Tired from climbing and pushing branches out
of the way, Jose, Darell, and Damen felt fatigued about the hunt
for the sign. Once they came to the middle of the hill, the sign
vanished, and so did their sense of direction.

Darell began complaining that they were lost,
but Damen didn’t want to give up; it became a mission for him,
instead of a pastime. Every time Darell would mention the word
‘lost’ to them, Damen would say, “Just keep on climbing, it’s up
there.”

Darell was beginning to get tired of
climbing, so he sat down on a pile of leaves mixed with branches;
he felt the sticky dew from the grass absorb into his pants, past
his underwear, and onto his skin. Damen and Jose turned around to
see Darell resting, so Damen questioned, “What are you doing?”

Darell O’Conner didn’t reply a word. It
wasn’t until Jose decided to sit on the ground that Mr. Damen
Schultz put his foot down. “Come on guys, we’re almost at the
top...”

Darell’s fatigue was making him angry toward
Damen’s will to move on, and keep on climbing. So, Darell turned
toward him, rolled his eyes fully around his head, and said with
snootiness, “Damen, I’m tired of walking... could we just rest for
a few minutes?”

“Yeah, Damen, give us a break,” said Jose
with attitude.

Mr. Schultz stared through the darkness at
his friends, only having the light from the moon to guide his sight
to their eyes. He watched Jose’s and Darell’s silhouettes. The way
Jose breathed in heavily and the noises Darell made through his
mouth allowed Damen to know, to feel inside of his mind that they
needed to calm down from walking, and rest.

Hearing the noises of this dense forest, and
hill of mystery, made Damen wonder if they should move on or not.
The fear, anxiety, the nervousness of this dark mountain stung at
Damen’s worst, imagined fears, and made his heart begin to start
pumping blood faster to his vessels.