Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) (41 page)

“Whatever you say, sir,” the cabdriver said
as he faced the rearview mirror and stared at Damen’s face, a face
of confusion and sadness, a face that seemed lost. “So, do you know
Mike Montgomery personally?” the driver asked, passing Darell’s
billboard.

“No, not really.”

“Hey, that movie looks good, I saw the
previews on television. It has a lot of drama and action to it,”
the cabdriver stated, pointing toward the billboard as it passed
even more.

Damen looked through the back window and
observed the billboard, smiling a little bit, he mentioned, “That
guy up there’s my best friend.”

The cab stopped at a red light, looking at
Damen in the front mirror, he questioned, “You mean that guy on the
billboard? What’s his name? It begins with a D?”

“Darell, Darell O’Conner’s his name.”

The light turned green, and the cabdriver
honked his horn at an idled school bus in front of him. It began to
move slowly, so the cabdriver peeled off into the next lane,
cutting off a black Corvette, and asking in a very calm tone,
“That’s right, Darell O’Conner. He’s your best friend?”

“Yeah, that’s right, we’ve been almost our
entire lives.”

The cabdriver’s hairy face turned toward
Damen, still driving the cab. Damen’s face had fright to it, scared
that the cab may crash, due to the driver’s incompetence. As he
stared at Mr. Schultz, he said with sarcasm, “Yeah, right, I’m sure
he’s your best friend.”

Damen’s face created a small grin, saying
under his breath, “Well, at least he used to be.” Suddenly anger
hit his mind, being that the driver didn’t believe his moral words
of truth, he shouted, “He is, alright? Listen, I’m under a lot of
stress right now, I lost my job, my friends are lying to me and I’m
not getting anywhere in Hollywood. I’m just sitting here in a
shit-smelling cab, while my friend is probably sitting in a limo
right now, and my other friend will be sitting in one soon. So
don’t call me a liar. And by the way, you’re about to hit a
car.”

The driver suddenly turned back around and
faced the front of the car, pressing on the brakes due to Damen’s
warning. They sat at another red light, the driver thinking that
Damen was crazy, he said, “Okay, okay, you’re not lying, I believe
you.” Boy, I got to stop picking up these weird ones...

Damen calmed down for a moment, seeing that
the traffic light turned green, and feeling the air blow into the
cab window from it starting to move faster as the traffic receded.
He spoke, “Listen, I’m sorry for blowing up at you. I know it’s
hard to believe, but I do know him. At least I did at one
time.”

The driver looked at his mirror again, and
seen a single tear flushing out of Damen’s right eye, lingering
down to his nose, and standing frozen at the tip of it. This made
him believe Damen, and caused him to ask, “Do you want to talk
about it?”

He wiped the tear away from his face, wiped
the excess salt trail, which led to his eye, away with a brush of
his hand, and responded, “What’s to talk about? It’s just an
ordinary problem.”

“Well, if you don’t mind me saying, I don’t
think it’s an ordinary problem. Not many people tell me that they
know some movie star up on a billboard, yet alone, tell me it’s
their best friend.”

“Well, it’s a long story.”

“I got time,” the driver said, looking at the
meter.

“Alright, it goes like this. It began at a
Valley.”

Damen explained his story in detail; he
explained it for an hour straight. The cabdriver never heard a
story like this, but he’d heard similar stories from other starving
artists. Damen finished his story with these words, “Now, I’m here
in a taxicab, and I don’t even know where I’m going.”

“Well, all I can say to you is, don’t give
up, kid.”

Damen smiled; hearing those words of hope
caused sincere happiness to fill his soul. He said quietly, “I
know, I’ve only been here for seven months, I guess it’s a short
time compared to other actors.”

The cab entered Beverly Hills; passing the
sign, he stated, “That’s right, kiddo, some actors are here for
seven years, but they’re still trying.”

“Yeah, they’re still trying. I wonder what
makes them go for that long. You would think they would get the
message after two years that agents, casting agents, and even
directors just don’t want them.”

The driver turned his head toward him for a
moment, explaining, “You know why they keep going? Because it’s
their dream.”

Damen closed his eyes, and imagined Sugar
Valley, saying, “Yeah, a dream that is one of the hardest to
achieve. I’m gonna make my dream come true. Yeah, I’m gonna make it
alright, if I have to die trying.” He imagined Sugar Valley more as
they passed through Beverly Hills; his mind manifested to the
Valley, seeing all of them there again, talking about their dream
and talking about that one day they’ll make it come true, and that
one day they will have pure happiness.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Darell sat there looking up at the camera,
buckling up his winter coat, and trying to memorize the final lines
to his script. Darell desperately tried his hardest to memorize
them, standing in the middle of downtown New York, feeling the cold
wind blowing up against his image, seeing the snow dancing on the
ground with it; he was beating down his short-term memory, pleading
with it to work. The set was in the middle of the street, actors
and extras of all races and nationalities stood there, waiting for
Darell to give the okay that he was ready, and the last scene would
be shot soon. But he still fought with this one page of the script,
trying to memorize these words and put to his own craft of acting,
so it would work for him. Suddenly, he looked up at a billboard.
Seeing his face, smiling upon it, he said to himself, “Man, they’re
already advertising it, and we didn’t even finish yet.”

Suddenly, without a moment’s notice, the
director showed his presence to Darell, saying, “Alright, Darell,
we’re gonna do this scene again. Do you need more time with the
script?”

He knew he got most of it down, but the cold
caused him to forget a little bit about his character. He was
supposed to be a hero, called ‘Timmy’ who was loved by all women,
and who lived a troubled life, knowing that he was an undercover
spy starting at the age of twelve. He knew the character had to be
strong, witty, and passionate toward the women he drew into his
eyes, but this cold wind allowed the certain craft to discharge,
and leave his thoughts. Yet, everyone was ready, so he got up from
the cold curb, and responded with, “No, I memorized it all.”

They began the scene again, the final scene
to the movie that Mr. Fryer said will make Darell a star. He began
the scene, trying once again to wake up his short-term memory. What
he had to do, was walk up to a girl, who was the leading lady, and
kiss her passionately, saying some dialogue to each other and then
kissing her again, while a building exploded behind him, filled
with the bad guys. Before he finished the scene, the director said
in a loud tone, “Cut, cut.” Darell stopped in his tracks, hearing
the director adding, “That was perfect, but I want you to kiss her
with more feeling.”

“More feeling?” Darell questioned, looking at
the actress he was going to kiss for the tenth time in that
scene.

“Yeah,” the director replied before he looked
back into the camera. “Okay, background action, and action.”

Once again, Darell’s lips fell upon the
actress, kissing her with coldness to them, suddenly hearing, “cut,
cut, cut,” coming from the director. The actress, who was agitated
and irritated with Darell’s lack of good kissing, pushed him away
from her.

The actress said with loudness, “Excuse me,
sir, but Darell doesn’t know how to kiss right.”

Darell stood in a New York street with
embarrassment on his face. He heard what she said, but the director
didn’t, seeing that he showed some puzzlement on his face toward
her. Darell O’Conner was hoping the director wouldn’t ask her what
she said, but he did.

“What did you say, Judith?”

Judith, a young girl, sat down in a seat that
had Judith Seaver engraved on the back of it in handwriting. She
then responded, “He doesn’t know how to kiss.” She turned to her
agent, who was an obese woman, with a hare lip that caught some
frost from the winter’s magic. She added to her, “Beth, this pisses
me off, how come Darell gets to be on all the billboards? I should
be up there with him.”

The director walked passed Judith and her
agent, seeing them converse about the billboard, and hearing her
jealousy toward Darell with loudness, he walked up to Darell
casually. “Darell, could you just kiss her correctly?” asked the
director, seeing Darell sitting in his own chair, a chair with his
name engraved on it too.

“I am kissing her right.”

Mr. Fryer approached him with a bottle of
water, handing it to him quickly, he smiled toward the director and
then lit up a cigar.

Tom blew smoke out of his frozen mouth,
asking, “What’s going on here, Darell?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s just the coldness,”
replied Darell, buttoning up his winter jacket some more. “But, I
know that a big part of it has to do with that bitch being jealous
of me for being up on the billboards, and now she’s giving me a
hard time,” he added, seeing Judith look over at him, wondering if
he was referring to her as “bitch.”

“Darell, this is the last scene of the movie,
please, tell me what’s the matter, other than her being jealous,”
Tom mumbled, feeling the coldness freezing his upper lip.

Darell looked around, feeling embarrassed for
what he was about to say, and whispered, “She said I’m not kissing
her right.”

Tom shouted, “What? You’re not kissing her
right?”

Darell closed his eyes, opened them, looked
around and saw the extras standing in the snow from a distance. He
was so embarrassed, saying, “Would you please not say it that loud,
I don’t want all of New York to know.”

“Listen, just kiss her right, after this
we’ll be able to meet with that other director,” Mr. Fryer said,
turning his head toward the actress and then looking back at
Darell. “Please kiss her right, Darell.”

“I’m not attracted to her, I think she’s very
unattractive,” he stated into Mr. Fryer’s ear as Judith tried
hearing what he was saying.

“So, that means you’re going to throw away a
quarter of a million dollars, just because she’s ugly?” Tom spoke
those words loudly, noticing that Judith was looking at Darell in
an evil manner. “Just get up and do this already, please say you’re
going to kiss her even if she’s ugly,” he added. Judith heard those
words, so she let out a gasp of shocked air and walked away from
her chair.

“Tom, she is so stuck up, and she is very
conceited. All she does is bicker and whine,” explained Darell. He
got up from his chair, and started walking toward the street; the
street in which he was going to finish the last scene.

“Listen, just close your eyes and pretend
she’s a supermodel, okay?” Tom pleaded, watching the makeup woman
blotting some powder onto Darell’s face.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Tom Fryer patted Darell on the back. The
makeup woman finished her job on Darell and walked away with Tom,
hearing the director asking, “Alright, is everyone ready?”

Judith rolled her black eyes toward Darell,
shouting, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Okay, background action.” Snow began to
fall, filling up the streets with its white texture; the director
then added before Darell’s lips hit Judith’s, “Alright, and
action.” They finished the scene with him adding, “Cut, print, that
was perfect, now everyone get ready for the building
explosion.”

An hour later, Mr. Fryer and Darell walked
into Darell’s hotel room with champagne glasses in their hands. Tom
sat down in a wooden chair and just stared out the window at
Darell’s billboard, saying, “Well, Darell, your first movie is
finally finished.”

Darell sipped his champagne, and mumbled,
“Yeah, where do I go from here?”

“I’ll tell you where you go, you go straight
to the top,” Tom responded, having a bit of laughter to his
voice.

Darell put his champagne glass down on a
Victorian desk, questioning while lighting a cigarette, “I do? How
do you know?”

“Listen, that director is coming up here in
five minutes: he wants you and only you. He wants you to be in his
movie so badly, that he will do anything to make it happen. He is a
very famous director. He has a brother that is filming a movie
right as we speak, it’s a low-budget film, but it’s still a film,”
Tom explained with enthusiasm, lighting up another cigar, and
blowing it toward Darell’s cigarette smoke.

“What’s his name?”

“Henry Schultz.”

Darell’s mouth dropped to the floor, showing
his teeth that gleamed with energy and excitement, he pushed them
down together, saying, “My God, Henry Schultz is coming up to my
room now, I can’t believe this. What if he doesn’t like me? He
co-produced this film, and I haven’t seen him once. My God.”

Darell vigorously fixed his hair in the
mirror, taunting at his image, he wanted himself to be perfect.
Darell spoke, “I wish you would have told me it was him, I would
have gotten ready and prepared faster.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll love you.”

Knock, knock, knock, knock....

Four knocks came at the door with Darell
shouting, “My God, he’s here already? What should I do?” He drank
more of his champagne to calm his nerves.

“Leave everything up to me, at least for
now.” Tom put his hand on the knob of the door and began turning
it. “Hey, Henry, how are you doing?” he asked as Mr. Schultz walked
in the door.

“I’m doing fine. Now, where is the star?”
Henry walked past Mr. Fryer and avoided shaking hands with him, for
some reason or another, and looked for Darell through his thick
eyeglasses.