Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) (74 page)

Silence, calm hit the room, with Damen
looking up at Chuck again, wondering why he was still present, why
he was still here. Chuck noticed his face, and then pulled out a
newspaper from his pocket of his blue pants. “Oh, hey, I was
wondering if you ever heard of Mike Stenson?” Chuck asked, showing
Damen that he did have a motive for interrupting his memorization
and practice of the script.

Damen showed interest, answering, “Yeah, I
think so, isn’t he that director who won all of those awards for
directing?”

“That’s the one. It says here that he’s
holding auditions for a new movie he’s directing, the auditions are
on November ninth.”

He handed Damen the newspaper, with the
audition information. He looked at it, then gazed at Chuck with
puzzlement, questioning, “Why are you telling me this? I’ll be
working on my movie already. I can’t audition for this movie.”

Chuck smiled toward him again, and explained
in a father’s voice, “Because, I wanted you to read on how many
people they say are supposed to show up. They’re estimating over
3,000 are supposed to show up on that one day. That’s my way of
saying how lucky you are to have the star role in your movie. For
that movie that’s being advertised in this newspaper, all of those
people are trying out for one role, that’s the star role. Damen,
those 3,000 people would give anything to have a star role in any
movie, count your blessings.”

He grinned back to Chuck, like a son would to
a dad, showing a bit of prosperous laughter to his grin. “Yeah, I
guess I am pretty lucky.”

“Well, I’m just gonna be in the TV room if
you need--” Chuck said, stopping his words, due to the phone
yelling out its tone to his ears. “Me.”

Ring, Ring, Ring...

He left his room, closing Damen’s door behind
him. Damen then put down his script and picked up the shouting
phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, Damen, how’s your script coming along?”
Vivian asked in an excited voice.

Damen opened his eyes wider, feeling them
stretching at the corners, and answered, “Oh hi, how are you
doing?”

“Well, I talked to you yesterday, and I was
doing great.”

“Okay, smartass,” he laughed out, hearing her
voice chuckling from a distance.

She sat in a dressing room, holding a cell
phone, draped beautifully in make-up that surfaced her face so
perfectly. A hairdresser was placing curls in her intriguing hair,
showing a straight face toward Vivian. It was like this hairdresser
didn’t like Vivian, showing her a straight mouth, exaggerating her
eyes to show a bit of anger. Vivian looked at her through a
mirror’s reflection, and beamed sinister toward her, showing this
woman that she knew hatred, or some other negative feeling, was in
her eyes for Vivian. Then, Vivian smiled toward the phone, and
said, “I can’t talk to you long, Damen, I’m beginning filming in
about five minutes. I have this incompetent employee fixing my hair
for me.” She then stopped talking for a moment, and gawked at the
hairdresser again. It was like Vivian became conceited, the normal
stereotype that success in Hollywood could do to a person. Yet,
Damen still smiled toward the phone, not seeing Vivian’s change in
character, only hearing her voice that sounded the same; the same
voice he fell in love with. “Anyway, I just called to ask you what
the name of the movie is that you’re gonna be in?”

“It’s called ‘The Man Without a Heart’. Why
did you want to know?”

She jotted down the name on a piece of paper,
answering with excitement, “Because, I want to brag about you to
everyone here and tell them the name of the movie. Listen, I got to
go now, but I’ll probably talk to you tomorrow.”

“Alright, baby, I’ll talk to you then.”

Click.

He hung up the phone, still smiling at her
voice that he heard, and saw his door opening to his room. It was
Chuck, walking in it again, and asking, “Who was that?”

Damen picked up his script again, opened it,
and began going over his lines in his head, chanting them over and
over, trying to feel them, as well as feel the character’s mood.
“Oh, that was just Vivian, she wanted to know the name of my
movie.”

Chuck sat on his bed, Damen looking at him in
puzzlement, wondering why he was bothering him during practice once
again. As he sat down, Chuck spoke, “Listen, Damen, I know the
movie begins filming in a week, but I wanted to say how proud of
you I am, just in case I forget.”

He looked up at Chuck as if he was his
father. Damen always wanted his father to say those exact words,
echoing in his ears, feeling the proudness that he wanted his real
father to feel for him. He turned his face away from Chuck, wanting
this moment to be real, having his real dad present, but he wasn’t.
So, looking away, Damen manifested his mind into believing Chuck
was his real father, back at Ridge Crest, saying those words of
honor and sincerity. “Thank you, Chuck. You know what? I always
wanted to hear my father tell me those exact same words. You know,
in a weird way, you’ve been like my father figure, and I thank you
for that.” Damen looked at the phone, gawking at its small body,
wanting to pick it up and call a certain person.

“Well, Damen, you’ve been like a son to me,
and I thank you for that.” Chuck looked at the phone as well, also
wanting to grasp onto its small shape and call out to someone he
wanted to hear from.

Damen closed his script, got up from his bed,
and explained, “You know what, Chuck, you should give your son a
call, I’m sure he misses you.”

“One of these days I will, but not right
now.” Chuck got up from Damen’s bed and walked to the doorway of
the little room. He then stopped before exiting through it and
traveling to his TV room, turned around and faced Damen. He added,
“You know, Damen, I think you should make a phone call that should
have been made a long time ago.”

He then shut the door and left Damen alone,
thinking about his words, contemplating and analyzing the phone.
Damen looked at the phone and began thinking about Chuck’s words
more, wondering what would happen if he picked it up and called his
parents. Wondering what they say to him, would they hurt him or
not? He picked up the phone and lit a cigarette at the same time,
his hands beginning to shake every time he punched in a digit. His
fears became reality as the phone started to ring, it was like his
fears were growing every time the phone’s rings grew to a higher
number. All of his emotions were locked in his eyes and ears,
hearing the sounds of people yelling, came from the television in
the TV room. Damen put his hand over his free ear, to block out the
sound of Chuck’s loud and obnoxious TV. Abruptly, without warning,
without him being prepared, the phone stopped ringing and a sound
appeared, a sound that asked, “Hello?” Damen just stood there and
listened to the voice say again, “Hello, hello?”

Damen swallowed his saliva, wanting to say
something, but too afraid to say it. So he gave a gulp,
metaphorically speaking, he swallowed his fears and answered, “Hi,
Father.”

Silence came over the phone, the father
looking out in the distance, staring out a window at the trees that
surrounded his home. He was ready to pass out, or have a stroke,
feeling Damen’s voice, hearing his presence, his father’s eyes
started to assemble a shield of tears, forming themselves in a
matter of seconds. “Damen, is that you?” his father asked before a
tear fell from his eye. More tears followed, drenching his kitchen
floor, wanting to hear his son’s voice again. “Where are you,
son?”

He didn’t say a word, tears formed in his
eyes, falling out of his deep sockets, drenching the script that he
placed on his bed. Damen had no thoughts to speak, or no words to
give, he was filled with a rapture of sadness, missing home, and
missing his father that he loved so much. Melancholy was his motive
now, and guilt was his alibi, yearning to hear his parent’s voices,
craving home, like an infant craves for his mother’s breast. Then,
Damen wiped, buffed a bit of the stubborn tears he had left, and
finally answered, “Yeah it’s me, I’m in California. I was just
calling to see how you and Mom are doing.” He stopped his voice
again, lull was in the air, noticing that his cigarette was soaked
from his tears. “So, how are you doing?”

“Me and your mother have been worried sick
about you, son. Why did you put us through this?” his father asked
before Damen’s mother walked in the kitchen and grabbed the phone
away from his dad.

His mother started crying, her tears bouncing
off her face, like they were made out of rubber, and yelling,
“Damen, where are you? I have been worried sick about you, baby,
where are you?”

“Mom, I’m alright. How have you been?”
Damen’s tears were starting up again, like a water sprinkler,
feeling the hurt and pain that he caused his parents, missing them,
and wanting to see them again, even more.

“I’m okay, but I would feel better if you
were home,” his mother replied in a sincere tone.

“Hey, did you see my commercials yet?”

She blew her nose with a cloth tissue,
replying, “Yes, your father went out to the store and bought a VCR
for us, we have them all on tape.”

“Guess what? I got a star role in a
movie.”

His mother dropped the phone, showing a
small, prosperous smile through her tears, and excitement through
her mouth, gawking at the phone, as if she was afraid to pick it up
and hear more. Yet, she picked it up faster than Einstein could
think, and asked in happiness, “My baby’s going to be in a
movie?”

“Yeah, I’m doing great out here, well, for
right now I am.”

Knock, Knock, Knock.

Damen heard knocking on the back door, the
door that led to the alley. So he paused from talking to his Mom,
and shouted toward his closed door, “Chuck, can you get that for
me?”

“Sure.” Chuck then got up from the chair and
walked to the back door.

Damen came back to the phone, only to hear
his mother asking in nervousness, “Who’s Chuck? My God, has my son
turned gay?”

He started laughing, chuckling, “No, no, no,
Chuck’s my agent, and he’s allowing me to stay at his place.”

She began drying her tears more with her
tissue, saying in relief, “Oh good. Well, are you going to come
home and visit soon?”

“Um, not right now, but don’t worry, I’ll
visit as soon as I finish this movie,” he answered. He then turned
to his closed door and saw it opening, to only have Julienne, Jose,
and Darell in his view. “Oh my God.”

His mother asked in a frightful pitch, “What
happened, are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m alright, Mom. Jose and Darell
just walked in here.” Damen then shook Jose and Darell’s hands,
feeling the rapture of sadness leaving his mind.

His mother showed an attitude in her eyes,
saying over the phone, “You tell Darell that his father is very
upset with him. And you tell Jose that his father wants to kill him
if he doesn’t call home.”

Damen busted a gut, laughing loud at what his
mother just said, and saying to her, “Okay, Mom, I understand.
Listen, I got to go now, but tell Dad I love him.”

“Alright, I love you, Damen. Wait a second,
your father wants to tell you something before you go.”

Julienne gave Damen a hug, while his mother
handed his father the phone. As Damen still hugged Julienne, with
the phone still pressed up against his ear, he heard his father’s
voice saying, “Hello, Damen?”

Jose watched, very closely, at Damen, and how
he gave Julienne a hug a second ago. This made Jose feel angry
toward him, knowing that Damen attempted to mess around with
Julienne in the past but not knowing that it was all a lie. Damen
came back to the phone, and answered, “Yeah, Dad.”

“I just wanted to tell you that I miss you,
and I really wish you would come home to visit,” he said in a
sincere way.

Damen then overheard his mother shouting in
the background, “He doesn’t love me anymore. He’d rather talk to
his friends than me.”

“Listen, Dad, tell Mom I love her, and she
will see me very soon. I’ll try to keep in touch more often. Also,
I love you too, Dad, and I miss you and Mom a lot; you don’t know
how much I miss you guys.” Suddenly, tears began to drown Damen’s
voice, feeling embarrassed that they are starting to grow while his
friends were present.

“When will we see you, son?”

“Soon, just keep on watching TV.” Damen took
a drag of his wet cigarette, and before he hung up the phone,
added, “I love you.”

Click.

Jose took a tissue from his pocket, and
chuckled, “Here, do you want a tissue?”

He started laughing loudly, finding Jose’s
humor funny. “No, I’m cool. So, how have you guys been?” he asked,
sitting down on his bed more.

Darell looked at Jose with a nervous twitch
in his eyes, and thought about the photos he had of him with an
underage girl during intercourse. Darell wanted to tell, and warn
Damen about Jose, knowing that he was the one who lied and said
that he was a drug addict. Yet, little did Darell know, that
Julienne was really the one who said it, Jose just went along with
it and agreed. The room was silent, them all worrying about
Darell’s words, not wanting him to speak much, knowing that he
might slip up and tell Damen what he wanted to tell him a long time
ago. So, Julienne jumped in, and replied for all of them, “We’ve
been great.”

“That’s cool to hear. Hey, guess what?”

They all looked at Damen’s face, staring at
his great, big smile. “Um, you got the star role in a movie,” Jose
answered before Damen looked at them in a strange manner.

“How did you know?”

“Because me and Julienne are going to be your
co-stars,” Mr. Rodrigo explained in a prosperous way.

You asshole.

Jose chanted that thought over and over
again, hating Damen, feeling jealous toward him, but pretending he
was happy for his success; he really wanted to kill him.