Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) Read online

  “It’s simple ... you’re going there to try to become a professional actor. Or else you’re going to try at becoming a movie star,” the woman said. “Good luck,” she added with a snotty tone in her voice. A small chuckle followed her tone, like the sound of the devil laughing at a young person, signing their soul away to him.

  He grew angered toward her, feeling that she was obnoxious, and highly rude for budging into his business, and making fun of it. So he put some attitude in his words, saying, “First off, I’m not going there with my friends to try to become a star. I’m going there because I know me and my friends will make it happen.”

  “Like I said, good luck.” She closed her eyes and put on earphones, giving Jose a sign that the conversation was over, done with; it also meant she had the last word—she won.

  While Jose thought about what the woman said, Damen was getting his own piece of advice, his own informative lecture from a person who just couldn’t mind his own business.

  “Me and my friends are going to Hollywood, we’re going there to meet a casting agent,” said Damen in an untruthful voice. He stared at this old man, trying to make himself look good to him by saying positive things about his motive of going to the land of Stars.

  “Oh really? Well let me tell you something,” the man mumbled. Damen looked at his long, gray beard and waited for the man’s next words. He noticed the man paused and rolled his eyes around, like he was thinking of what to say next.

  Damen noticed the pause was getting longer, losing itself in the man’s mind, so he decided to help the old man out by reminding him that he wasn’t done speaking. “What is it you want to tell me?”

  The man finally snapped out of his trance, his state of mute, and replied, “Hollywood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  Damen looked out the window of the plane, trying to ignore what the man said. He knew the old man’s next words weren’t going to be the type that had positive meaning in them, that would help Damen believe in his dream even more. Damen realized that the old man’s next words were going to be, in a sense, words that would literally cut him down to size, and rip all hope from his soul. “It isn’t?” asked Damen. He still stared out the window, hoping the man wouldn’t reply, but yet hoping that he would. That’s why Damen kept up the conversation, he was eager for the old man to tell him words of wisdom; curiosity caused him to ask that question. Yet, you can’t have your cake, and eat it too, and Damen realized that there was going to be a downfall to his curiosity. He was right.

  “No ... Hollywood is more than that. Hollywood is a game of survival. If you can’t survive in Hollywood, then you’ll never make it,” the man replied as he started typing on his computer. “You see, imagine a great fence, surrounding Hollywood, surrounding its fame, fortune, glamour and so on. Now, outside of this fence, are not-so-important guards, waiting there, picking out people who they think are right for this place, this ‘Hollywood.’ They’re called ‘agents.’ They’re horse manure to famous people, but to people like you or me, they’re Gods, only because you have to get past them in order to make something of yourself on the other side of that fence. Think about it, kid. Some people don’t even get a chance to talk to the guards, but as soon as you do, kid, you make sure to let them know, that you’re tough enough, strong enough, and talented enough to beat the crap out of them, in order to enter in the place to which so many people get denied access.”

  Damen ignored him for about five minutes. He knew the man was right, but yet, it made Damen feel empty inside, it made him feel scared to go to Hollywood. Even though the man’s analogy was simple but confusing, Damen was frightened of it. Nevertheless, he wanted the man to know that he was going to make it, that his dream was going to become reality to him, as well as to others.

  So, Damen turned to the old man, stared at his long beard, and thought of what he could say to make the man believe in him. He wanted the old man to say something positive to him, such as “you have a good chance at making it,” “you have a good look,” and that would help him make it, but Damen knew he wouldn’t hear that from him. He began to contemplate the situation, trying to find out how he could make the old man speak positive words toward him. It became a mission. Yet, Damen’s insecurities about Hollywood, and about his small accent, were acute at that moment. “Don’t worry, me and my friends will survive,” said Damen. He said it to make his insecurity better; in a sense, he wanted to believe that he wasn’t afraid of Hollywood. So Damen lowered his voice, to get rid of his very unnoticeable and faint accent, and added, “Yeah, we’ll survive.”

  “I’m sure you will,” the man stated with sarcasm.

  “No, we will make it happen, we will survive,” Damen argued again, looking out the window. He was upset; he was agitated by this man that he just met. What Damen didn’t understand, was this was a learning experience, that this moment would help him in the future.

  “You sound like you were intimidated by what I said. Were you?”

  Damen turned his head to face him.

  “No, just a little upset,” he retorted. Pulling out the newly bought journal from his bag and opening it immediately, Damen did not want the old man to say another word.

  “You shouldn’t be upset at all... I thought you said you were meeting a casting agent there?” the man asked with an evil smile, a smile that meant he knew there was “no agent.”

  “Yeah, that’s right, we are meeting an agent out there.” He closed his eyes immediately, trying not to talk to the old man again, and keep his lie to himself, without the man seeing it and realizing it.

  The man’s last words before closing his eyes were, “Well ... good luck.” Damen turned to him once more, opening his eyes quickly, and just stared at this man. “You know, in Hollywood, you’re going to have a lot of criticisms, you should get used to it. But, for the time being, good luck,” the man spoke, trying to calm down Damen’s mind, and eyes.

  “Thank you,” pouted Damen in a loud and ticked-off tone. He began to write vigorously in his journal, and the old man had a small grin on his face, developing it because of Damen’s anger. He was amused at his annoyed face.

  Damen and Jose thought about the reasons why they were going to California, due to their new, obnoxious acquaintances. Now they had to focus on the positive feelings of their dream. Jose and Damen were surprised that they got so upset at the negative things they’d heard from these people. They thought they were going to be prepared for those kinds of things that people would say to try and demolish their ambitions, to destroy it. They got hurt, because it’s different when you hear it from a complete stranger, but in a way it prepared them for Hollywood, prepared them for life. On the other hand, Darell was getting positive words from a businessman sitting right next to him. He was hearing everything that he wanted to hear, but from the wrong person.

  “So, you think you’re going to make it in Hollywood?” the man asked, taking his glasses off and cleaning them. Darell watched him clean his glasses very closely, while thinking of what to say.

  He watched the man blow toward the glasses, and saw the fog develop on them. “Yes, I think we will, we’ve always thought that way,” Darell responded. The man put his glasses back on and reached into his wallet. He grabbed a business card out of it and handed it to Darell.

  Darell read the words on the card as the man placed it into his hand. “Here,” the man said.

  “You’re an agent?” asked Darell. A smile came upon his face; he couldn’t believe his luck. He was still a little nervous from the airplane ride, but the business card made Darell’s phobia forget that he was presently riding on the flying contraption.

  “Yes ... my name is Tom Fryer. I’m a talent agent,” he replied. Darell grew a smile in his head, his mind; a sort of glowing, positive aura surrounded his body, and showed itself to the man, the agent. Darell chuckled, began to laugh like a little child; he felt like he won the lottery.

  “No way,” laughed Darell. He held onto the card tight
, it was as if he was holding a block of gold. This card, this piece of paper with numbers on it, symbolized a key, a way into Hollywood’s body, a way into the reality of his dream; a way in through the fence that was surrounding it.

  “Yes way, I guess you can consider this your lucky day,” Tom announced. He started to explain to Darell that he was looking for new actors, searching the states to find new looks and show them to the business of acting, as well as modeling.

  They talked all through the plane ride, laughing and getting to know each other’s characters. Mr. Fryer talked to Darell about coming in for an interview. He told Darell that he definitely wanted him to be in his agency, his family of faces that he used to make money off of. Darell couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t accept that this was real, was in reality, instead of in his mind. It was like a script Darell studied his whole life; he imagined this moment, everything about it, every time he went to the Valley. Everything was perfect, every word that Mr. Fryer spoke, and every answer that Darell gave was just right. But, the perfection of the conversation died as the plane came closer to the ground. Mr. Fryer asked Darell just before the plane landed, “Do you have a composite or a photo of yourself?”

  Darell looked at him with confusion, puzzlement in his eyes. But as an actor, he made his confusion vanish, yet answered truthfully, “No.” Darell felt like he said something wrong, like he was going to get punished by Mr. Fryer for not having photos of himself.

  Suddenly, they felt the plane’s wheels hit the runway, and Darell just stared at Tom, realizing he had only a few more minutes to capture Tom’s interest in him. He knew, that once the plane’s door open, Tom Fryer would leave him be, either with his interest in Darell still fresh, or without it, due to him not having the things Tom asked for.

  “Do you have a resume of any acting roles you’ve done in the past?”

  Darell didn’t know how to answer, he was afraid of replying. The plane came closer to the terminal, and Mr. O’Conner’s anxiety, of losing this agent, ran through his mind like water falling down from the sky. “No,” he confirmed with a scared tone. He knew that this was strike two, and two was good enough to lose interest in anything.

  “Do you have an S.A.G. card?” Darell looked at him with perplexity on his face again. He was about to make two strikes, jump up to three, and the fear of that happening raced through his mind.

  “What’s an S.A.G. card?” questioned Darell. This was it, he screwed up, didn’t have the material that this man, this agent, asked for, and that would mean that Darell was going to lose him, lose his interest in him. But, suddenly, a small smile appeared on Tom’s face, and that positive, physical emotion caused Darell’s anxiety to vanish, a little, to cease and cause a smile to appear on his face as well.

  “Do your friends have any photos or composites of themselves?” Mr. Fryer asked, seeing that the plane came to a complete stop through the window.

  Darell knew that this was it, if he didn’t answer the question with a “yes”, then the agent would either get upset, or lose interest altogether. Yet, what Darell didn’t know was that Mr. Fryer wanted his face only, not a photo or resume of his talent.

  “No, but we can get those things,” he replied with a moaning tone. He still wanted to answer the question truthfully. He didn’t want to lie, to change his character into a form that was immoral and uncivilized.

  Darell watched very closely how Mr. Fryer’s reactions were. He didn’t show any emotion on his face, and that frightened Darell. Yet, his fear vanished and excitement took over his soul when Mr. Fryer explained, “How about this for starters? Call me tomorrow and my secretary will set an appointment up for you.” Tom then got up from his seat, and Darell still sat in amazement, with his speech impaired by happiness coming too fast.

  Darell then sprung from his seat, cutting into the line of people, trying to exit this plane. “What about my friends?” Darell followed Tom out of the plane, while knocking and bumping into people, like a car trying to get out of a traffic jam. Darell didn’t want to leave out his friends, he didn’t want to abandon them, but this was another learning experience that he was going to feel and see very soon; every man for himself. He questioned again, “So, what about my friends?”

  “Well ... tell them to get photos of themselves and mail them to my office. Listen, right now I just want you to be in my agency, I feel very strongly that you’ve got the look for this business. I’ll set you and your friends up with a very good photographer... but right now I’m focusing on you, Mr. Darell O’Conner.”

  He then walked away from Darell and left him with happiness, mixed with guilt. Yet, his guilt somehow lessened because Mr. Fryer still said that he would help them out as well, and that helped Darell, in a sense, to trick his mind into believing that Damen and Jose were positively going to be in Mr. Fryer’s agency. But, that wasn’t good enough for Darell’s mental state, and he had to hear Tom Fryer actually say positive things about his friends from Ridge Crest.

  So, Darell pointed his mouth toward Tom Fryer’s silhouette, and yelled, “But you will give them a chance, won’t you?” Darell stopped his words, his vocal cords from speaking anymore, and concentrated on the question he just asked. Darell couldn’t believe, couldn’t begin to imagine that he could be so pushy into asking about his friends. He realized that he just met this man, just got discovered in an instant, and now he was asking about Damen and Jose’s careers. He knew that Tom gave him an inch, and now he was asking for a mile.

  Mr. Fryer turned around only for a brief moment and affirmed, “We’ll talk about it later, don’t worry.”

  This made Darell feel better; it made his mind rest at ease, a little. He just stood there while watching Mr. Fryer walk away, through all the people that passed in his view; he still was able to keep Tom’s silhouette in his sight. It was like he was watching God walk away from him after saying, “Darell, you’re going to Heaven, but Jose and Damen might not; we’ll talk about it.”

  Jose Rodrigo and Damen Schultz met up with Darell finally. Darell told them what happened, he explained everything down to the last question. The boys walked out of the airport and caught a taxi; the desert heat was already beginning to burn their Southern skin. Jose told the taxi driver their destination. “Take us to Hollywood.” He then turned around really fast and looked at Darell. “So, what happened next?” questioned Jose.

  “Well ... he said that we need some composites of ourselves.”

  “What are composites?” questioned Damen. He looked at Jose with a confused look on his face, not knowing a word that all actors should know. Then Damen looked out his window, and buildings that resembled architecture of a tropical place caught his sight. Such as buildings with palm trees on them, brown hay-like decorations that hung on their roofs. Then he saw how they became bigger buildings as the cab drove deeper into the tropical setting’s land.

  “Photos, I guess,” Darell answered in an unsure manner. This caused Damen’s attention to focus on Darell once again.

  “So, Mr. Fritter said,” began Jose before he was cut off by Darell’s voice.

  Darell rolled his eyes and stated, “His name is Mr. Fryer, not Fritter.”

  Jose stared at Damen and laughed; he thought it was funny. “Oh, excuse me. So, Mr. Fr-yer said that we all get to go in and meet with him?” Jose’s laughter seized along with Damen’s, waiting for a reply. This moment of Darell’s reply was a serious one; it was a moment that would change their lives.

  “No, not exactly. He said that I get to go in for an appointment, but he’ll talk to me about getting you guys in too. Jose, don’t worry, I’ll get you guys in. After all, we’ve only been in California for about twenty minutes.” His voice was reassuring, but yet it had shakiness mixed in.

  “Don’t worry, Jose,” spoke Damen. He put his journal back in his bag, and started to pack it in deep within his belongings.

  “Why do you carry that journal wherever you go? Why don’t you just keep it in your bag?” J
ose asked out of nowhere. Damen was surprised at his change in conversation, and how it was so abrupt.

  Damen thought it was rude, uncalled for, that such a question would be brought up, shown to him with such an attitude. So he answered with a bigger attitude. “I was writing on the plane, that’s why I had it out.”

  “Anyway ... let’s get back to the story, go on, Darell,” Jose rudely said. Damen blew a big gasp of air from his lungs, he was upset at Jose, and angered that he totally was in control of the conversation, and even of the criticisms toward Damen’s journal. But, that was just it, he didn’t criticize his journal, he just asked a question in a criticizing form, an ignorant way. So Damen couldn’t say anything, or else he would look like the ass.

  Damen chose the high road and decided to keep his anger inside. But then, he thought that it would be foolish to not let Jose know that he was angry for such a question, to be brought out with such a tone. After analyzing it, Damen turned to Jose, and opened his mouth, but Darell caused him to forget what he was going to say to Jose, by speaking something of grand interest.

  “Okay, he said that we need to have a resume of our acting that we did in the past,” explained Darell. Damen turned to him with interest on his face, and then looked at Jose with a smile.

  “We have lots of acting experience, that resume is no problem to us,” Jose stated with a smile. Damen and Jose were happy; they both realized that they’d had more experience, probably, than any other actor can get.

  “No, he said we need some sort of resume of things we did either on film or in the theater,” explained Darell. He stuck a piece of gum in his mouth and waited for one of them to say something.

  “But, we don’t have any of those things,” Damen slurred. He pulled a piece of candy out of his shorts, and popped it in his mouth, while waiting for one of the guys to say something.

  “Oh ... that’s just great,” Jose said in a sarcasm. Putting his arms in the air and slapping his hands hard against his thighs, Jose showed that he was angry toward the situation.