Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) (39 page)

That’s one thing I wish to come true...

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Staring at memories of a little form, Darell
sat in his penthouse room, gazing at his pen that Damen and Jose
gave to him. A transfixed moment, his eyes on the pen, suddenly
remembering Sugar Valley, and how he missed its green skin so
grandly. He saw himself walking down its green pastures, and
feeling the grass under his dirt-filled feet, running about with
Jose and Damen, playing hide-and-seek at the age of eleven.

He was hiding behind a grand tree that his
memory showed him, feeling its bark and smelling its natural scent
of nature, he had a smile upon his face, knowing that this was a
great hiding spot for him. The way the foliage of the tree, and its
branches would hide him from Damen, or even Jose, whenever they
were ‘It’, made him feel safe; the Valley’s womb made him feel safe
and protected always. He saw Jose’s eleven-year-old silhouette,
coming toward the tree, trying to find Damen or Darell, and tag
them with all of his might. Suddenly, Darell’s memory went deeper,
remembering that Jose’s body walked around the tree, when out of
nowhere, the branches came down, over Darell, and allowed him to be
hidden even more.

Maybe it was the wind? Or maybe the Valley
was alive? Who knows. But then, Darell’s eleven-year-old eyes
turned around, and saw a doorway opening up. His flashback ended,
noticing Mr. Fryer walking into his penthouse room, shouting,
“Merry Christmas, you young star.”

“Oh, Merry Christmas, Mr. Fryer.” Darell
lingered toward his pen, and began staring at it, trying to begin
his flashback again. But the magic was gone once more.

Tom Fryer opened up the drapes to Darell’s
penthouse room and stared out at the dark, snowy night of New York.
“I told you, call me Tom,” he said, imagining the fame and fortune
he would get through Darell. “So, did you see the billboards
yet?”

“Yeah, I think they made my face too big on
them,” Darell answered, putting his golden pen in the drawer of a
nightstand that resembled a big dresser.

“Hey, the bigger, the better. This way, all
of America will know your name and know your face.” Tom stared at
one of the billboards through the hotel window, seeing Darell’s
image, and noticing snow beginning to fall upon it, he added, “This
movie is going to be big at the box office, that’s a good thing to
know.”

Without looking at Tom, Darell’s voice showed
sadness, saying, “Yeah, that’s great.”

“Yep, it is great.” Tom then noticed Darell’s
depressed image off the window’s reflection, but tried to ignore
it. “Hey, the movie will be done tomorrow. After that, a director
from California is coming in to see you, oops, I mean, he’s coming
to see us,” Tom Fryer added, lighting up a cigar.

He watched Darell’s face as it became even
more depressed. Wanting to avoid asking him what’s wrong, Tom
spoke, “Darell, we’re leaving on the thirtieth of December. We’re
going back to California.”

A small grin shimmered on Darell’s face.
“Really, that’s cool. Why are we leaving so early?”

“For the preview of your movie, it’s going to
be shown in Hollywood on January 1. It was supposed to be shown
before Christmas, but it didn’t work out that way.” Mr. Fryer
turned around to see Darell’s expression. “Aren’t you excited?
January 1 is the day you become a star.”

“Yeah, I feel great. Can’t you tell?” Darell
questioned. His sad expression caused Mr. Fryer to break down and
ask the question that he already knew the answer to.

Tom gave a short pause, breathing in and out,
taking a few drags of his cigar, and getting ready for his words.
“What’s wrong, Darell?”

“I was just wondering if I could bring my
friends with to the premiere?”

Tom’s eyes widened, asking with anger, “You
mean to tell me you haven’t forgotten about them yet?” His words
echoed through the room, especially through Darell’s mind, like a
boulder hitting water at a tremendous speed.

“No, I haven’t forgotten about them. They’re
my friends, they’re the reason why I’m here.” Darell opened the
door of his nightstand and took out the pen. He clenched it in his
hand as fast he could, like he was holding onto a memory, a
reminiscence that Mr. Fryer wanted him to let go of.

Tom put out his cigar, twisting it fast,
showing his anger through the cigar’s motion, saying, “Listen to
me, they’re losers, all of them are. They will bring you down
faster than you were discovered.”

Tom lit up another cigar, listening to
Darell’s voice say, “Why don’t you like them? What did they ever do
to you?”

“I just don’t, alright? I just don’t like
them, especially that Damen character.”

Darell stared at Tom’s eyes; it was like he
was trying to read Tom Fryer’s thoughts, attempting to understand
his reasons for not liking his friends. “But why? If you don’t tell
me, I’m going to walk out of here and get a new agent.”

Mr. Fryer turned away from Darell’s eye
contact and stared at him through the window reflection again.
Darell said once more, “Tell me.”

Tom thought about what he should say to make
Darell satisfied, as well as his own satisfaction. “Okay, if you
really must know, I’ll tell you. Um, Damen and Jose are drug users,
I saw them sniffing cocaine.” Tom’s voice sounded fake, and Darell
knew he was lying to him. “That’s why,” he added after he took a
drag from his cigar and blew the smoke into Darell’s
reflection.

“Turn around, Tom,” spoke Darell in a serious
but evil manner.

Tom’s eyes went to shock, opening them up
wider as he stared at Darell’s reflection. But, he took down the
swelling from them by closing his eyes a bit, and slowly turned
around to face Darell. He tried not to come in contact with his
eyes, so he just stared at Darell’s neck, and listened to him say,
“Tom, you always tell me things through reflections, I guess it’s
easier to lie that way. You are going to look me straight in the
eyes and tell me the real reason. They’re my friends and you know
it. I have asked you many times, as a matter of fact, I have asked
you every single day if you would try to get them into a movie, or
something. You know they have the talent, but you still say no. Now
you’re saying you don’t like them. I want to know why? First, I
want to know the reason why you won’t help them. Now, explain.”

Darell saw Tom’s eyes staring at his neck,
and answering, before Darell spoke over him, “Okay, I don’t
like...”

“Look me in the eyes while you’re talking,”
he demanded, watching Mr. Fryer slowly looking up at his sight. He
was like a little boy, a little boy that got in trouble for
something he did wrong, and something he knew he would get a
spanking for.

“Alright, I won’t help Jose out because...”
After giving a short pause, Mr. Fryer stared into Darell’s pupils
and added, “Because he will never make it in Hollywood.”

“Why, Tom?”

“Because, he has a big scar on his neck, no
one in Hollywood would want him. It’s a big, ugly scar.” Mr. Fryer
took another drag of his cigar, his hands trembled as he stared
into the pupils of Darell. “That’s why I don’t want him in my
agency. I don’t want you to be seen hanging around with him, it’s a
whole image thing. You always have to watch for your image, Darell.
Never abandon it,” he added, seeing Darell’s angry hands lighting
up a cigarette for himself.

Darell stared at Tom with a sinister look
upon his face. “Tom, you’re sick. Jose has a tremendous talent
within him, and you don’t see that. You only judge a book by its
cover. I don’t think that’s the way a real talent agent should be,
especially one of the top agents in Hollywood.”

“Well, that’s why I am the top talent agent
in Hollywood, Darell. That’s why I chose you, you’re a good-looking
guy, that’s all the public is interested in, they could give two
shits about talent. That’s for the old folk, but the young crew
only craves for a heartthrob.” Tom stopped his words and waited,
prepared himself for the next question; the question he knew he had
to lie for.

“So, what about Damen?” Darell then looked
down at his pen and paused for a few seconds that gave Mr. Fryer
enough time to think up a lie.

“I think he’s ugly,” Mr. Fryer replied,
thinking about how Damen caught him forcing sex upon Vivian. Mr.
Fryer knew he had to get both of them out of the picture. He knew
if he helped them make it in Hollywood and they succeeded, they
would destroy him. Mr. Fryer thought about how they would go to the
media first, and then go to the police.

He didn’t want to take that chance, the
chance of losing his career and going to jail. Tom forced his mind
into the future, hypothetically seeing Damen as a movie star,
standing up at a podium, and telling the world about Tom’s crimes
against Vivian. He thought of how the world would believe a
heartthrob called “Damen Schultz,” over an agent of his nature. He
went farther in his mind’s eye, seeing Vivian as a star, confessing
as well about Tom’s crimes toward her, and having the media believe
her star royalty over Tom’s crude character.

“What? He is not ugly,” shouted Darell with a
shocked look on his face. This caused Tom to be knocked out of his
mind’s manifestation of hypothetical future events, and focus in
the reality of the present. “Damen’s better-looking than me.”

“Well, I answered your questions, now get
some sleep. You have to wake up early tomorrow.” Tom walked away
from Darell’s fixed gaze, and entered the bathroom, with marble for
a floor and gold for a faucet. Trying to change the subject, he
added, “Tomorrow is going to be a long day. After you finish the
movie, we’re going to see that director I was telling you about.”
He turned on the faucet and began washing the nervous sweat from
off his face, taking off his shoes and socks, allowing his feet to
touch the cold marble floor and be relieved of the tension Darell
caused them. He sat down on the bathtub corner and just looked
straight out into the other room where Darell was at.

Darell stared at the phone, ignoring Tom’s
voice, and spoke, “Great. I wanted to wish Jose and Damen a Merry
Christmas.”

“Did you hear a single word I said?” Mr.
Fryer was aggravated, he didn’t want to hear those two names ever
again.

Tom walked out of the bathroom, seeing this
massive penthouse, filled with antique furniture, and a black,
tenebrous-like, velvet rug that felt relieving when he stepped his
bare feet upon it. That’s when Darell answered, “Yeah, yeah, I
heard you. Hey, when we get to California, I want you to help me
find Jose and Damen. I called their motel room last week and
another person answered. I talked to the manager and he said they
checked out.”

“Fine, but after we get everything out of the
way. So, for right now, I want you to get some sleep,” Mr. Fryer
said, noticing Darell placing the pen into the nightstand
again.

“Hey, Tom, before you go, I have to tell you
something,” said Darell after Mr. Fryer shut off the lights to the
room.

“What is it?”

“Sometimes you could be an ass, but other
times you remind me of my father, he was an ass and a sweet guy.
Promise me you’re gonna try to help Jose and Damen out in
Hollywood, after you help me find them, please,” asked Darell. Mr.
Fryer turned off the light to his nightstand and waited for a
moment, thinking about his words.

Tom walked over to the main door, with his
bare feet, and opened it, saying in a highly phony voice, “Alright,
I’ll try.”

“Oh, one more thing before you go.” Mr.
Fryer’s shadow came upon Darell from the hall lights, waiting for
Darell to ask him something, but instead, seeing that Darell
stopped his own words.

“What is it?”

“Do you think I’m going to be the next
superstar?”

“I don’t think it, I know it. Darell, you are
positively, absolutely going to be the next superstar. That I
definitely promise you,” Tom answered with a smile.

“Okay, goodnight.” Darell turned his head
toward the window of his room, while his eyes were slowly becoming
heavy from night’s nature.

“Goodnight, movie star.” Tom Fryer closed the
door to Darell’s room in a drawn-out motion, seeing Darell’s prone
body, and how he knew he was going to become what his plan wanted
it to be: a superstar.

Darell stared at his billboard through the
window, lying and watching as the snow covered his image on the
poster. He was depressed a little bit, he wanted Jose and Damen to
be up on that billboard too, but he knew he would see them soon,
and in his mind, thoughts were born and flourished quickly.

Everything is going to be great, I’m going to
Hollywood to be a star, and my friends will be there too, I will
make them stars. I promise you guys, I will.

Mr. Fryer is wrong about you guys being ugly,
he doesn’t know what he’s talking about...

Darell imagined Jose and Damen up on the
billboard right next to him, smiling with prosperity to their
teeth’s shine. He fell asleep and dreamt of the Oscars, he dreamt
of the trophy going to Jose and Damen. He also dreamt of the speech
he was going to give when he won the Award. But the thing was, he
didn’t see himself saying it, he only heard it being said...

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Background action ... and action,” the
director announced before Damen began walking past the camera on
the set.

“Cut, cut, cut, that’s all wrong,” one of the
producers said to Damen as he stopped in his tracks.

Ambulances, police cars and fire-engines
stood outside of a hospital, surrounded by cameras and lights,
props and actors, trying to admit a scene of a killing spree. Water
that surrounded the ground, tried to give out that it was raining
before, but now it stopped, and Damen’s job was to just walk past
the camera like an innocent bystander, and then stop when he heard
gunshots flying. Yet, they only got past him walking by the camera,
they didn’t get to the shooting part yet.