Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) (79 page)

Vivian’s sadness turned to anger, knowing
that he was the one who was dumping her. She screamed, “Fine, you
jerk, I never want to see you again.” She wiped her tears away with
a tissue, seeing that Damen was looking around the hallway in
confusion.

“Hello? Jose, Julienne?”

Vivian was still angry, yearning to tell
Damen some hurtful words that would please her own self, and make
her feel like the one who was dumping him. She didn’t want to feel
like the bad guy, even though she was, so she pulled Damen back
into her dressing room, faced his eyes, and yelled, “You know what?
Damen, you’re right, I was wrong for cheating on you, but could you
blame me?”

“What, blame you? What the hell are you
talking about?”

“Well, look at yourself, you’re pathetic,
you’re a loser, and you’re a dreamer. I warned you, a long time
ago, that I would allow nothing to come in my way when it involves
success in this industry. I warned you, Damen, and now you’re
making me out to look like the bad guy,” she shouted, staring at
his perplexed, bewildered, and confused look, watching the
intensity of his rage building up in his eyes.

He started to see red; his fury was so great
now, that Damen felt like he was about to lose consciousness from
it. “You warned me? Vivian, you’re going to be so sorry, in the
future, mark my words, you are going to be so sorry that you hurt
me like you did,” he shouted.

“Spare me the speech, asshole, why don’t you
just cry and go back to that landfill of a Valley. I mean, you’re
crazy, you’re a lunatic, no wonder I cheated on you. You actually
think that that stupid Valley is alive. Hearing voices in it? Well,
Damen, keep on dreaming, because me ditching you was the best thing
that I have ever done in my entire life,” she yelled back.

Damen stood silent for a moment, looking at
every inch of her face, watching the way her image reacted to what
she just said, and understanding that Vivian really, truly meant
those words, giving pain to his mind. So, he gave a bit of a grin,
ironically finding that his oxymoronic smile was due to the pain he
was aware of now; his intuition was being baffled by her confusing
change in character. He found it funny that everything that
happened to him since he left Ridge Crest was nothing but hell,
pain, tears of sorrow, and now his girlfriend, or soon-to-be ex,
was announcing things that Damen already knew, but kept locked away
in his mind. She unlocked it, showing him his weaknesses, mirroring
his pipe-dream, and letting him know that he was a loser. Yet, the
thing was, he wasn’t a loser, so that’s when he wanted to mirror
back words of anguish toward her image, her mind, to let her know
how it felt to speak words of assumption, to judge a book by its
cover. He yearned and desired, because of his misery at this
moment, to hurt her, as she hurt him, so he spoke with evil to his
voice, “Oh yeah? I thought fucking Tom Fryer was the best thing
that you did.”

She slapped him once, slapped him again,
shouting, “How dare you.”

“How dare me? Vivian, I bet that whomever
you’re cheating on me with is probably the director of this soap
opera. Vivian, you are nothing but a fame-digger, screwing your way
to the top, and then crying about it later, saying that you were a
helpless victim just so you can trick your mind into believing that
you’re not a whore, when all along that’s exactly what you are,” he
yelled out with tears in his eyes.

She slapped him again, and his neck jerked to
the side. Coming toward her eyes once more, he finally knew why she
cheated on him. It was all so clear now, a piece to this particular
puzzle fit into place, and revealed a picture of truth to him,
seeing Vivian’s true colors, being colors that her beautiful mask
didn’t show; colors of ugliness. He then added with calmness, “I
bet you wanted to keep me, while you were dating that other guy,
just for insurance, just in case I became successful in this
business, so then when the time comes, you could decide whether to
ditch him, or me, am I right? Am I, Vivian? You never cared for me.
To you, I was just an investment, with my good looks and my charm.”
He paused, looked at her eyes, and saw tears falling from them, and
then abruptly roared, “Am I right?”

She turned away from his hurtful glare,
craving for him to go away, to not allow her to answer that
question in front of him. Yet, he wasn’t going, he deserved this
answer, and she wanted to be truthful with him. She whispered
through her tears, “Yes.”

Vivian paused, looked at him again, and added
quietly, “You’re right about everything, I just never imagined that
it would come to this. Okay? Damen, I’m a bitch, and I realize it,
but you’re very gullible. Everyone in this business, black or
white, boy or girl, everyone is out for themselves, and they don’t
give a damn about what other people think, they just care about
what they think, do, feel, and what people they hang around with.
It’s their image. The relationships that you see in Hollywood, are
nothing but acts, they’re fake, phony, they’re just using each
other to get higher than any other celebrity they’re around. And
yes, I’m also like that, I’m a bitch, and I’m sorry that you fell
in love with me, I’m sorry that you’re hurting right now.” She
stopped her words suddenly, and then continued, adding with
unpleasant carelessness, “But, Damen, I don’t really give a
damn.”

He walked out into the hallway, dried off his
tears with his shirt, and turned around to face her. “Well, Vivian,
I give a damn, it’s my heart that you messed with, and mark my
words, it will come back to you ... three-fold.” He then proceeded
to walk down the hallway, looking for Julienne and Jose, then
coming across the guard by the entrance to the building.

Damen started looking, feeling for his
wallet, desperately trying to find it while the guard asked to him,
“Excuse me, are you looking for that Julienne chick and that
guy?”

“Yeah, have you seen them?” Damen was
worried, he realized that Julienne had his plane ticket.

“Yeah, they left the building a little over
an hour ago.”

“Oh my God.” Damen was frantic; he
comprehended and understood that Julienne and Jose had stranded him
in New York City without a plane ticket and only thirty dollars in
his pocket.

He took a taxi with the money that was left
to his name, traveling back to the hotel in a panic-stricken
frenzy. He opened the hotel door, looking around it, realizing that
his checkbook was missing and their luggage as well; all that was
left was his clothes and the suitcase he brought. He became
engulfed in his own nerves by the thought of being stranded out in
New York City and needing to get to the movie set, knowing that if
he didn’t get back on time, he would piss off the director and
possibly lose his big shot at stardom. Damen was frantic, so he
called up Chuck for help, and noticed there was a busy signal.
That’s when he said in a frightened whisper, “My God, I’m stranded
out here. How could I let this happen?”

While Damen was busy trying to get ahold of
Chuck, Julienne and Jose were celebrating their accomplishment in
first class. The success of the final plan, at least as Julienne
thought, was being captured in their smiles, their laughter, like
little children seizing an ice-cream bar from an ice-cream man.

“Julienne, you were great. I can’t believe we
actually pulled this off. I mean, I actually felt sorry for the
ass,” Jose spoke, drinking his champagne, and holding a bloody
tissue to his nose.

The seatbelt sign came on over their heads,
with Julienne mentioning in elation and joy, “I know, but you were
great also.”

A stewardess, young and fragile, came up to
Jose, wrapped her right hand around his glass, and stated with a
smile, “Excuse me, but we’re about to take off now, you’re going to
have to give that champagne glass to me.” She took the glass, and
Jose gave a dirty look toward her, saying back to Julienne,
“Anyway, like I was saying, I actually felt sorry for the ass. He’s
going to have to live on the streets for a while. The hotel
reservations are up today.”

Julienne heard him laughing, and then said to
him in a low manner, “Well, not necessarily.” She was hoping that
he didn’t hear her, but he did.

His laughter came to a halt, questioning,
“What do you mean?”

“Well, I made the reservations up to November
9. What can I say, I didn’t want to be that cruel.”

He screamed, “What the hell did you do that
for?”

“Would you please mind not yelling in my ear?
Now, I didn’t want to be cruel, so I added on a few days to the
room. This way Damen won’t be on the streets, that’s it.”

“Julienne, can’t he just get a refund on the
extra days? Did you even think about that?” asked Jose in an angry
way. The plane slowly began to leave the ground, starting its
flight. “If he does, couldn’t he afford a plane ticket with that
extra money from the room?”

“Listen to me, Jose, there is no way he could
possibly do that, the room is under my name.”

At that point, Jose felt like a jackass,
arguing with her for nothing. So, he formed a smile on his face,
saying “Oh, alright.”

An hour went by as the plane flew to
California, with happy thoughts of fame in Jose’s mind, and happy
thoughts of regaining fame in Julienne’s thoughts. Later on, when
the plane was ready to land, Jose woke up from a mild sleep and
asked in loudness, “Julienne, what about Chuck?”

She was awakened from a deep sleep, hearing
his screeching voice against her ear. “Listen, what did I tell you
about screaming in my ear, Jose?”

“Sorry, but what about Chuck?”

“What about him?” She was exhausted, and sick
of Jose yelling in her ear, yelling out her name, feeble from the
anxiety he was causing her, mainly, she was weary and fed up of
Jose all together.

“Well, Damen could call up Chuck and ask him
to send him some airfare,” he explained with nervousness to his
eyes, mouth, and voice.

“Listen, I already had that taken care of. I
had somebody cut Chuck’s phone line. Plus, I had them break into
Chuck’s café and cut all of the phone wires that are connected to
the phones. There’s nothing to worry about, Jose.”

“Oh, well, that’s good.”

She smiled toward him and whispered, “Jose,
there’s one thing about me that I do best.”

“What’s that?”

She formed an evil grin, took her last sip of
champagne, and gazed at him, like she wanted him to figure out what
she was about to say, by performing scrutiny on her and reading her
eyes. “I think ahead before planning, and I mean way ahead.”

Chapter Sixty-Four

“Listen, you just told me that I have up
till November the ninth to have my room. Now, I have no money
whatsoever, and I wanted to know why I can’t get a refund on my
room. I still have four more days left. Now, why can’t I?” Damen
waited desperately, imperatively on the phone, for the hotel
concierge to answer his direct but rambling question. He wanted
this girl, this hotel concierge, to answer his question fast, brief
and simple, saying ‘yes’ to him, saying that she would refund him
the money. He heard that there was a pause, so he asked with a
calm, but immense shout, “Hello?”

“Sir, like I said before, the room is not
under your name, it’s under a Julienne Wells,” the concierge
replied.

Damen sat on his bed, smoking a cigarette,
feeling this nervous, edgy moment, striking his veins, his mind,
injecting its poisonous venom into his nervous system, allowing his
hands to shake a bit. “Miss, lady, woman, female, tomorrow is the
day that I begin my acting career. Okay? Tomorrow is the day that I
have been frickin’ waiting for a long, long time. I should be in
Hollywood right now, but I’m not. I have no money, and I can’t get
ahold of my agent because his fuckin’ phone is being checked for
trouble. Pardon my cursing, oh fuck it, I don’t care, I’m going
crazy right now, I need to fuckin’ swear. Fuckin’, fuckin’,
fuckin’, shit, mother fucker, horse shit, bastard, piece of cow
fuck, pig shit, fucker.” He then stopped his yelling, calming down,
adding with calmness, “I’m sorry for that.”

He stopped again, his anger formed tears in
his eyes, but they weren’t immense enough to have gravity force
this confusing liquid and travel down his face. He forgot his
virtues, his morals, his divinity, his hallowed self, and respect
of others; he didn’t care anymore if he was cursing to this woman
or not. Looking at a mirror, right in front of him, feeling
betrayed by these tears of misery, he gawked at his reflection, and
then yelled in the phone, in a crazy manner, “And I broke up with
my girlfriend because she was cheating on me with some Mike guy and
my best friend. I’m shit down a river right now, but you can stop
the river from flowing if you please give me a refund on my
room.”

The girl stared at her phone in disarray,
thinking he was crazy, showing silence to him, fearing to answer
him on the phone. Yet, she felt sorry for Damen, and answered
anyway, with niceness, “I’m sorry, sir, but if there’s anything I
could do besides that, then please feel free to ask. Would you like
me to send you up a masseuse?”

He gazed at his reflection, thinking she was
crazy herself, and then abruptly yelled to her, “No, I don’t want a
frickin’ masseuse, I want to go home.” He slammed down the phone
and began to think about the word ‘home’, saying in a whisper,
“Home, I want to go home.” Sugar Valley came to his mind, seeing it
in the vanity, the mirror’s body, watching the trees flowing, and
the flowers dancing in the wind. “I want to go home.” He turned
away from the vanity, knowing that Sugar Valley wasn’t real, it was
just a fantasy in the mirror, an imaginational image that portrayed
its reality to him in the vanity. Damen walked over to his bed, lay
in it, and closed his eyes, sealing his lids tightly together,
squeezing the tears out of them, like a door slamming down on a
puddle of water.