Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) (33 page)

He lifted up her head lightly with his hand
and noticed the tears that she left behind. So he asked, “What’s
wrong, baby?”

Without answering him, she looked at Darell
and said in a low voice, “Um, Darell?”

Darell replied in a jealous tone, “Hold on,
I’m trying to talk to Helen.”

A tear began to work its way out of her left
eyeball, slowly saying, “Well, I just wanted to say, um, that Mr.
Fryer wants you to come in his office...”

“What?”

“You heard me, Mr. Fryer chose you, Darell;
he just wanted to discuss something with me,” she replied. The tear
cheated and ran first from the starting line, the starting line
that holds the memories of seeing Mr. Fryer caress her in a sick
way and fondle her. The images grew strong as even more tears
birthed, some were even falling from the tip of her nose. “So get
on in there, you asshole,” she added with a grin. She tried acting
like everything was fine, but her tears gave it away.

Darell ran into his office as Vivian and
Damen started walking to the exit of the building. They got
outside, when Damen asked, “What happened in there?”

“I don’t want to talk about it now, I just
want to go home.”

“How about this, you tell me in the cab?” A
cab stopped at their feet due to Damen’s hand signal, and his other
hand held onto Vivian’s. They got in the cab and Damen whispered
the destination to the driver, not wanting his voice to interrupt
her pain of some kind. Vivian lay on Damen’s shoulder, and the cab
drove off to the street, the cab that would go to the Hollywood
sign.

She cried all the way there. Her tears became
dry when the cab stopped at the Hollywood sign hill, feeling their
stickiness on her face, she was tired of feeling them, and yearned
to find a way to end her tears from ever coming from her eyes
again. Vivian looked up at the sign and felt the depression
building up inside of her, slowly but surely rising to her soul and
squeezing it with all of its might. Getting out of the cab, Vivian
ran up the hill; running without a purpose. Damen paid the
cabdriver, turned and seen Vivian’s silhouette chasing the hills
heights, and yelled, “Wait for me.”

They both reached the Hollywood sign, with
dark clouds forming in the heavens, it became pitch black to their
eyes and brighter to their thoughts. Damen took her in the
darkness. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” she replied with thunder
reaching their ears. “The asshole fired me today.”

“Why?” A flash of lightning allowed him a
glimpse of Vivian’s face, seeing her torment, and eyes of
shallowness, and lips that quivered for a brief second of the
flash’s life.

“He fired me because, because of you, Damen.”
Vivian turned to look at the Hollywood sign. “That’s all I’ve ever
wanted, Damen.” She touched the sign’s bright body, feeling the
letter “H” with her quivering hands, adding, “That’s all I ever
wanted...”

Damen looked at the sign, and touched it,
while touching Vivian’s hand in a slow manner. “It’s all I ever
wanted too, and I know I’ll get it someday...”

“What do you want?”

“I want fame, fortune, and...” he replied.
Damen paused, feeling and seeing the rain suddenly showing itself,
and pouring down on them at this moment, he didn’t know whether he
should finish his sentence or not. Vivian still stared at him, and
he still stared at her, while the forests moved their foliage
around from the wind’s speed, and feeling each raindrop crashing
down on the plants, hearing the noises that it made.

Vivian ogled at the sign again, and then
gazed her eyes upon Damen once more, seeing the rain falling upon
his face, she whispered, “Go on, and what?”

The vacuum of his eyes caught Vivian’s sight
and sucked her in his mind, saying, “And you...”

She turned away from the suction of his
pupils, questioning, “You want me?”

“Yeah, but I want to know something first.” A
bolt of lightning lit the sky for a moment, and they saw each other
in a brighter sense, feeling this moment of love even more.

“What, what is it you want to know?” she
asked while being startled by a flash and crash of lightning, that
allowed her to be frightened for a second or two.

“I want to know, okay, here it is. You knew
that you were against Darell, but you didn’t tell me. Why didn’t
you tell me?”

The rain poured harder, and started to flow
down the hill and create a small river at the bottom of it. “I
didn’t think you wanted to know, Damen.”

“Oh come on, you could lie better than that,
you’re an actress for crying out loud.” He walked away from her and
the sign, stopping for a moment, adding, “Just tell me the truth,
Vivian. I don’t want any secrets in our relationship.” Damen turned
around to face her in the dark, showing his cravings for the truth,
and nothing but that.

“Okay, fine, I didn’t tell you because,
because I knew he was your good friend. There, I said it, are you
happy now?” she asked. Her long, blonde hair became tangled from
the wind, blowing it around.

Mr. Schultz walked slowly toward her, smiling
and saying, “Yes, I’m happy now. Listen, whatever happens here, it
happens because of, of, of fate. Do you understand?”

“Yes I understand, but I didn’t think you
thought that way too.”

“Listen, who cares about Mr. Fryer. He made a
bad move, he should have chosen both of you, but he didn’t,” he
spoke, feeling the rain starting to blow in an angle.

“You really mean that?”

“Yes, one hundred percent.” He grabbed onto
her head lightly and kissed Vivian on her soft, wet lips. “Now come
on, let’s get out of this rain,” he added, releasing his lips from
hers and looking up at the sky.

“Look, the rain is stopping. Look over there,
Damen.” Vivian pointed her finger toward the heavens. The rain
vanished into a big, bright rainbow, and the colors extinguished
her pain for a moment and lit happiness for a bit.

“Wow, that’s the kind of rainbows we have
back home.” Damen and Vivian looked up at the sky; they both
thought it was a sign of some kind, a sign from God. They both
stood there and watched it, they watched it with a vision in their
minds. A vision of fame to Vivian and a vision of love to Damen.
Once more he forgot about fame and why he came to Hollywood. Once
more Damen forgot about his dream.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Damen and Vivian walked in the motel room
drenched with water, dampness and its cold texture pressing against
their wet clothes, soaking on their skin. Vivian threw her hair
back and began squeezing the water from it like a mop, trying to
get, at least, her hair semi-dried. They both felt the
air-conditioner on full speed, blowing at the wetness of their
flesh, causing their teeth to jitter up and down, making a strict
and fast rhythm that made them colder while hearing it. Damen threw
Vivian a towel, after seeing her attempt to dry her hair by
gravity’s help, and she grabbed onto it with her frozen fingers,
running it through her hair, pressing it down over her scalp, like
a sponge. As she dried her hair, squeezing the towel up and down
her head, Jose exited the bathroom, walked up to their wet,
trembling silhouettes, and asked, “Where were you guys?”

Damen replied, “We were outside for
awhile.”

Jose gawked at them, seeing that the time was
late, and watching the excess water from their bodies, seeping down
to the floor, he questioned in a father’s voice, “Do you guys have
any idea what time it is?”

Vivian, with the towel over her head, cracked
it open, like looking through a tent’s door, and grinned at Jose.
Her jaws were still trembling, so she jittered, “No, what time is
it?”

“It’s 9:00 p.m.,” he answered, throwing a
towel to Damen. “How did the interview go?”

Mr. Schultz watched as Vivian’s hands paused
from pressing down on the towel over her hair, and saw her face in
the crack of the fabric, showing no expressions on it, or in it. As
he stared his eyes toward her expressionless face, he said, “Well,
I guess it went alright.” He then saw her eyes through the towel’s
crack, and looked away from her, questioning, “Did Darell get home
yet?”

“No, I got home about an hour ago.” Jose lay
down on the hard bed, and looked at Vivian, adding, “So, which
one’s going to be Mr. Fryer’s new client?”

Vivian paused for a moment, and slowly took
off the towel from her head. Damen could see that her eyes were
puffy, realizing that maybe their puffiness was due to her crying
under the cloth. But, then she grinned at Jose, picked up a
hairdryer from off a brown, paint-cracked dresser, and answered
before turning it on, “I guess Darell is.”

Damen wanted to change the subject, so he
tried his hardest to beat the noise of the hairdryer by shouting to
Jose, “How did your day go as an extra?” Vivian walked into the
bathroom, to muzzle the noise, and closed the door behind her in a
very slow way.

Jose answered with a voice of proudness,
“Well, I quit.”

“Why did you quit?”

“Because, Damen, I’m better than that, I do
not want to embarrass myself by being an extra—that job is
pitiful.” Jose suddenly got up from the bed, and turned on the
television, trying to make it look like it wasn’t a big deal for
him quitting his job. He knew that Damen would be angry, so when he
turned on the TV, he made sure to turn the volume up a notch.

“That job is something you need. Now what are
you going to do for money?” Damen’s anger-stricken body saw that he
wasn’t listening to his words, so he ran over to the tube, and
turned it off by hitting the switch hard, showing Jose that he was
ticked for his single motive of quitting the only job he had so
far. Damen turned his face to Jose’s sight, making sure Jose saw
his anger, and added, “My salary isn’t going to be enough to keep
us in this motel.”

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna get another job.” Mr.
Rodrigo’s voice sounded assured, like he was positive of his
predictions.

Damen questioned, “What are you going to do
about acting? Being an extra is where you begin.” Damen’s voice
went on mute, stopping, pausing his words to the sound of a knock
at the door. He walked toward it. “Hold on for a second, we’re not
done talking yet.” He then paused for a second more, holding onto
the doorknob, he spoke, “You know, me and Vivian have a big scene
to do tomorrow. The director said that our faces will definitely be
shown. You see, that’s also why you shouldn’t have quit. Extra work
pays money and also it gives you a chance to be shown on film.”

Damen turned away from Jose and faced the
knocking door, hearing a hand of some kind hitting it with force,
he yelled, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Darell. I forgot the key.”

Darell ran in the room after Damen opened it
and jumped on the bed, forcing Jose to fall off from it, due to the
turbulence that Darell caused; this angered him. Jose got up from
the floor, and punched Darell’s shoulder, shouting, “What the hell
are you doing, Darell?”

“You guys will never believe what happened,”
Darell said with a joyful face expression. He rubbed his arm from
the punch received from Jose, and still kept on being cheerful,
adding, “Come on, guess.”

Damen punched Jose in the arm even harder,
for punching Darell, asking at the same time, “What happened?”

“I got in a movie, a real movie, I got a
co-star role.” Darell fell back-first onto the bed; it was like he
fell into a bed of roses, feeling this prosperous moment all at
once.

They both looked at him, like he was on
drugs; they couldn’t believe it. Jose asked in a vicious way, “I
don’t believe you.”

“Yeah, Darell, Jose’s right, how could you
get in a movie this quickly?” The blow-dryer, from the bathroom,
went off, but they didn’t realize it, they were so involved in
getting the real truth out of Darell, that they blocked all other
sounds out of their minds.

Darell O’Conner reached into his pocket,
asking, “You know the movie star by the name of Chris
Rickards?”

“Yeah, isn’t he the guy that won two Oscars?”
mentioned Damen.

“Yeah, well, he died three days ago. Isn’t
that wonderful?” Jose and Damen just looked at him in a puzzled
way, seeing that some rally of happy thoughts, or some happy drug
had taken over Darell’s mind, and caused him pure joy, even toward
death.

Damen broke the silence, saying, “What you’re
saying is, you’re happy because Chris Rickards died? That didn’t
sound right. I mean, maybe it’s clear and makes complete sense in
your head, Darell, but to me, I just have to say, ‘Darell, get off
the crack.’”

“Yeah, that didn’t sound right at all, please
explain,” Jose agreed, sitting down on the bed with Damen, opposite
sides of it; they both stared at Darell to make him give and show
some serious clarification to his words and story.

“Okay, they needed an actor very quickly. You
see, he died a day before they were going to begin filming, and
they didn’t have an understudy to take his place. Well, they needed
an actor fast, and Mr. Fryer suggested me. I went down to the
audition with him and, bingo, two hours later I got the part. I
signed contracts, one after another and they gave me a script. The
movie is going to be filmed in New York; it’s gonna take about
seven months,” Darell explained.

Vivian listened against the bathroom door to
each word and every bit of language that Darell spoke. Every time
he would speak more about this particular subject, it made Vivian
more depressed; but she kept on listening.

Damen reached over to his cigarette case and
grabbed it, questioning with curiosity, “What’s the movie
called?”

“It’s called The Hills of Timmy, it’s a
drama.”

A single tear began to fall from Vivian’s
right eye. Pressing herself against the door, she wiped the salt
away from her image and tried to keep focused. But, another tear
followed the drop, and suddenly a flood came out of both eyes, with
Vivian trying to control them once more.