Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) Read online

  When they reached the outside of the station, Damen spoke with laughter, “I can’t believe we got away with that.” Even though people, on top of people, walked by them, Damen still kept up the laughter; he was amused by their capture, as well as their escape.

  He started to look up at the tall skyscrapers with intrigued thoughts to his mind, and that’s when Jose questioned, “I know, man, doesn’t it feel great?” Jose’s feelings, his laughter, mixed with supercharged adrenaline, made his question more interesting when he added, “It feels like winning something, like having sex and knowing you were good.” Damen looked at him with shock, with strangeness, a small grin on his face.

  “Well, I like the other analogy, it’s more believable, coming from you,” Damen laughed. Jose punched him lightly on the shoulder and started chuckling himself.

  At the same time, Darell’s ear’s blocked out the little joke, and his eyes concentrated on the monsters, made of steel. He was captivated by the sight of these buildings so he said jokingly, “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”

  “Wow, I’ve never imagined that Chicago was so big,” added Jose. He began twirling around slowly, still staring upwards toward the buildings.

  At that point, Damen noticed a bookstore directly across the street. Without saying a word, he walked toward it, not listening to the cars as they beeped at him, warning that they’d almost hit him. When Damen reached the middle of the street, Darell questioned, “Jose, where’s Damen going?”

  “I don’t know, but we better get out of here fast, or else those want-ta-be cops are gonna find us.” He then screamed out, “Damen, where’re you going?” Jose dropped his bag that held four pairs of clothing and three scripts of old plays, and waited for a reply from him.

  “I’ll be right back, I have to get something,” he answered. Damen walked into the bookstore and began searching it quickly.

  He came out five minutes later with a bag that held a newly bought journal, a journal that would help him in the future. He walked back across the street to Darell and Jose. “What did you get?” asked Darell as Jose was waving down a cab.

  “I bought a journal,” he answered. A cab finally acknowledged Jose’s hand, slowly stopping four feet away from them. They all felt the wind, of the city, grasping at their hair and pushing them toward the taxi, with a grand, great force to its invisible body. They could hear the howling of the wind, blowing through corners of the skyscrapers, sort of like a labyrinth, having great tides of water rush through its veins.

  Jose turned to Damen through the force of the wind, and questioned him in a puzzled voice, “You wasted your money on a journal? After this, no more buying things, we have to save as much money as we can for California.” Jose jumped in the cab and stared at the bag, which Damen held tightly in his right hand.

  Damen and Darell hopped into the cab, and suddenly Damen felt angered by Jose’s controlling words.

  He didn’t think it was any of Jose’s business; it was Damen’s money, and he could buy anything he wanted with it. Yet, he didn’t want to begin an argument; after all, this was only the first day in Chicago. On the other hand, he didn’t want Jose to think that he was going to accept that sort of tyrant tone to his voice, and follow his orders. So, that’s when Damen Schultz decided to agree with him but in a snotty fashion. “Okay, okay, fine, I won’t buy any more things.” Jose was pleased to hear that, and Damen also was pleased to say it in a smart-alecky tone.

  The boys looked outside of the window, forgetting about the tiny argument that just took place, and stared at the city with smiles that slowly grew. They imagined the cab being a limousine, instead of its yellow, hideous shape. They imagined the windows being tinted, and the ugly, gray seats, that had burnt holes and bubble gum attached to it, being pure, genuine, black leather, with shine to its texture. They imagined the hairy cabdriver wearing a black suit, with a shaved face and a black hat made out of velvet. “Well, after this, it’s going to be limos all the way,” Jose said with a laughing smile.

  Darell began to laugh at what he said, but his laugh was interrupted by the cabdriver asking, “Where to?” in a very abrupt manner.

  Jose looked at Darell, and Darell looked at Damen; confusion set in their minds. Jose answered, “Well, take us to the nearest airport.”

  The three boys sat in the cab with smiles on their faces; they were still imagining the cab being a limo. Reaching an airport, O’Hare Airport, in no time at all, the boys looked at each other in amazement; they couldn’t believe the cab was already there. Damen stared out the window, at the airport, and saw so many people, carrying luggage that looked as if they cost more than a car. He then looked at his bag, cheap and dirty, and closed his eyes for a moment. He wanted the bag to turn into leather, or else real luggage, but too bad this wasn’t a fairy tale. He opened his eyes, gazing out the window again, and then slowly opened its door. It was like he was scared, frantic, and nervous to enter into the airport of Chicago; he’d never seen a real airport before. He slowly stepped onto the pavement, which had spit, gum, cigarettes, and litter to its surface, and slowly stood up and out of the cab.

  Once entering the airport, they walked slowly through it and went to a travel agent. Not knowing what to do, or what to say, Damen took over the plan, realizing Jose and Darell had already done a lot to get them here. “Hi, miss, we want three tickets to California ASAP.” Damen waited for her to reply, and started to stare at the airport, like he belonged, like he wasn’t a traveler from a small town. The way Damen looked around and then stared back at the agent, it was as if he was trying too hard to be, or look, accepted; he didn’t want to look like a tourist.

  But suddenly, Damen realized he had a very faint accent to his speech, a type of accent that could almost be characterized as a Southern accent. Since that one security guard caught his minutely different accent, he became self-conscious about it. So, he lowered his voice a bit, trying his hardest to get rid of that small accent he had, and asked again, “Yeah, um, that’s three tickets, please.” Damen looked like a fool, even though he was trying really hard not to; he still felt he sounded like an ignorant ass.

  Jose looked at him with a small, confused smile, and whispered, “Damen, what’s wrong with you?”

  Damen tried, once again, his hardest to play it cool by slowly turning his head toward Jose. “We have an accent, I don’t want her to think we’re from Mississippi, or even from the South,” he replied with a generic smile toward the agent.

  “But, we are from Mississippi, and also, our accent isn’t that bad. Don’t forget, we’re from Ridge Crest, they really don’t have that much of a Southern accent. Calm down, dude,” explained Jose. He still grinned at Damen, knowing how his new tone sounded so charlatan, phony. “Remember, we don’t really have an accent, and this agent won’t know we’re from Mississippi,” Jose whispered; he wanted to ease Damen’s nerves.

  “Are you boys from the South?” the agent asked. Damen turned to Jose with widened eyes, letting him know that he was right about the accent.

  Damen turned to her, put on a fake smile, and replied, “Um, no. Why, do we sound like we are?”

  “Yeah, but just a little bit,” she said, “So, you want tickets you say, coach or first class?” Her fingers paused on the keyboard of her computer, awaiting an answer from him.

  “Does it really sound like we’re from the South?” asked Damen. He completely blocked out the question from the agent, and based his thoughts only on the insecurity of his voice.

  She looked at him, with a smile, but a puzzled look was engraved on her grin. That’s when Jose stepped in and replied, “Coach, please.” He hit Damen on the shoulder lightly, causing him to snap out of his question and face the reality of why they’re here. Suddenly, Jose looked at Darell and Damen in wonderment, questioning, “Why don’t we just take first class?” The agent’s hands paused once again.

  “I thought you said we have to save as much money as possible?” asked Damen in his regular voi
ce. He stared at the agent again, knowing he’d just spoken regularly, and asked again in a lower, generic tone, “I mean, I thought you said we have to save as much money as possible?”

  Jose hit him in the head and slightly raised his voice toward him. “Would you cut it out and stop throwing your voice?” Damen looked behind him, and saw that there were a lot of people waiting in his line, showing tiredness on their faces. Jose then answered, “Now, California’s very far from here ... and I don’t want to be stuffed next to a bunch of people that smell... ” Jose noticed that he said that too loud, and the people in back of him began looking at him funny; a sort of anger came to their tired faces. “Um, I mean, I don’t feel like sitting next to a bunch of people, because I don’t want them to smell me, I guess,” he added in a loud fashion. He gave a smile to the people, and then realized that his cover-up wasn’t a very good one. Damen rolled his eyes to Jose, showing that his cover-up, his change in words sounded stupid, and fictional; he wanted to let Jose know that he’d screwed up.

  “You’re right, Jose, yeah, let’s take first class to California. We’ve earned it,” mentioned Darell. The agent still waited, pausing her fingers still, and looked at Damen to agree with Jose and Darell.

  “I don’t know guys, I think first class is too expensive,” Damen muttered. The travel agent blew a piece of her blonde hair up in the air, showing that she was aggravated, and very impatient toward Mr. Schultz’s reply, his undecided mind.

  “Listen, we’ve saved a lot of money on the train here. As a matter of fact, we saved all of our money—it was free,” Jose mentioned as Damen turned to the travel agent. Jose crossed his fingers, as well as Darell, they hoped that Damen would agree; Jose and Darell were also losing patience.

  The agent stared at Damen very closely. Jose and Darell watched Damen’s eyes, very delicately, and the people in line listened, and hoped for a positive reply from him. “Okay, three first-class tickets please,” he finally announced. The travel agent released the pause on her hands and began to type fast and hard; it was as if she wanted to show aggravation toward him, and make it known.

  “Okay, here’s your tickets, your flight leaves in forty-five minutes,” the travel agent explained in a fast way. She handed the tickets to Damen. Grabbing them with the agent’s hand still gripped to them, he started to play tug-of-war with this woman. “What are you doing? You have to pay for the tickets first.”

  “Oh, I forgot. How much are they?”

  “Altogether it will be two-thousand seven hundred,” she replied. A shocked look came over Damen, and a disappointed look came over the agent’s face. She realized if Damen didn’t accept the tickets, then she would have to start all over with him and lose her patience once again.

  “Dollars?” he asked. “We’ll take coach instead,” he added in the blink of an eye. Darell blew a gasp of air out of his mouth; he was relieved that Damen made up his mind, finally. “How bad could coach be, anyway?”

  “That will be seven hundred and sixty-four dollars,” said the agent. The boys took out their money.

  They got the tickets for the plane and waited right by the terminal for forty-five minutes. Before they walked onto it, Damen went up to the agent who sold him the tickets, and asked, “Do really think my voice sounds Southernish?”

  Before she replied, Jose grabbed him and pulled him toward the terminal with tremendous force. They walked on the plane, handed their tickets to the stewardess, and walked to their seats. All of them were split up, categorized by their seat numbers, and that caused a little discomfort to come over them. Jose sat in the back row, Darell sat in the middle row, and Damen sat by a window in the front row. The plane took off and was set for the destination that the boys called “an adventure.” But, in actuality, it’s called “learning the hard way”...

  Chapter Six

  Wind blew with great speed through the Valley, and the sun’s moment of death was not too far in taking place. Maria stood on the highest cliff, looking ravishingly beautiful in her long nightgown, and staring out at the horizon once more, with little tears in her eyes.

  She looked to the right of her, and saw trees on trees, buried within the Valley’s body, standing high up, trying to be noticed by the regular plateau of the earth. She stared at the pond, remembering how she used to fish, used to capture memories of her friends, and suddenly a tear fell out of her right eye, falling with lingering speed toward her neck. This was it: she realized the Valley couldn’t protect them anymore, they were now in the hands of humanity, of life, and what sibyl hands they were. Maria then sat on the cliff, pushed her white, flowing nightgown toward her back, and sat motionless on the earth.

  Thinking of things, memories that would show themselves every so often, she gave a small smile, and then a frown. She smiled, frowned, smiled, frowned, her memories were coming back to her with full speed, and the Valley’s eye caught this precious, and innocent moment. She was alone. Her friends had left, with only words and promises to her that they would show their presence to Maria once again. She looked up at the sun, not even squinting from its bright sight, and said, “God, please be with them.”

  Maria then looked toward the Valley and stared at its beautiful shape. She stared at the green grass, and how it seemed like a perfect painting, not having any other form of colorization to its texture. “Let them see their ambition, God, and allow them to feel the reality of their dreams.” After she spoke those words, those emotional words that her soul spoke with such truth, tears began to drown her voice, causing her to grab a white tissue and blot her nose in a shaking way. Maria then felt her stomach unnoticeably, without due cause, and stared up at the sky again. “Please, Lord, give this to them, they’ve earned it, let happen what’s supposed to happen. Let them fulfill the destiny that was already made for them... ”

  Chapter Seven

  Sleeping like a baby, Damen, Jose, and Darell felt at peace, slowly giving out their own snores that annoyed the people whom they sat next to. An hour into the flight, the boys ceased their snores, their own language of sleep, and woke up to the sight of another new surrounding; an airplane. They’d never flown on an airplane before, and this sight was different for all of them. Jose was waiting for the plane to shake from turbulence, so his body could feel excited, like riding on a roller coaster. His thoughts shouted out with adrenaline.

  Man, this is so amazing, we’re so high up.

  If we die, we wouldn’t feel it. Cool...

  Damen closed his eyes every time the plane shook, praying to God at the same time, and hoping that his life wouldn’t be taken from the shakiness. His thoughts bellowed out mercy every time turbulence set in.

  Okay, okay, just don’t shake like that again. Alright, this is cool, this is, oh, God, don’t shake like that anymore. Man, Damen, it’s okay, this is the safest way to fly, it’s, oh, God, please don’t shake anymore. I need a drink...

  As for Darell, even if the plane’s body didn’t shake, didn’t create a vibration toward his own body, he would still pray constantly that this flight would end, by landing safely, instead of crashing horribly. His mind screamed out panic.

  I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, my God, please. I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, this plane is going to crash, I just know it. I am gonna die...

  As each boy felt their different emotions toward this titanic, gigantic flying contraption, a new emotion was being discovered, being felt for the first time by the people they sat next to. The people whom they sat by began to talk to them, like they knew them from the past. This was new to the boys: they first had to travel to a strange city, and now they had to talk to strange people. Each boy had one thing in common, they could justify their emotions being the same toward these strangers; they didn’t want to talk to them at all. Jose lay back in his chair when a woman asked, “So, are you going to California alone?”

  He tried desperately to get some sleep, he was still tired, but in his mind he had to answer the lady, only because it would be very rude if
he didn’t. “I’m going on vacation with my friends.” Hoping that he answered her for the last time, out of her first question, Jose closed his eyes and showed that he was sleeping. But his eyes being sealed shut didn’t stop her.

  “How long are you gonna to stay there for?” the woman asked, itching her big beer belly and popping a peanut in her mouth.

  Jose slowly unsealed his eyes, stared at this gruesome sight with his vision almost shut, and began thinking of what to say. “I don’t know ... I say about, I don’t know,” he answered with confusion.

  “You look like an actor,” the woman spoke. She gave a smile toward him, and that caused his eyes to open completely; he couldn’t believe she guessed right.

  “Really? Well, I am an actor.”

  “So that explains why you’re going to California,” the woman stated in an evil manner. Jose noticed the change of tone in her voice, and became angered, but yet confused, as to why she sounded like that. He didn’t know, or even imagine why she said those words with such an ominous tone to them, so he tried to ignore her, block her presence out of his sight and mind. He stared across the aisle, looking at a little girl with blond pigtails, and hoped that the lady would get the message that she’d upset him.

  But, Jose had to find out, had to see the answer as to why she asked that. So he turned toward her and questioned, “How does it explain it?”