by Kyle Rutkin
“Is there a question?” I asked.
She took a tiny sip from her glass. “Well, isn’t everything that transpired his own fault? Furthermore, did Alice even love him or did she just pity him?”
My hands clenched beneath the table.
Entitled motherfucking pop star.
“Well, I guess I would have to disagree with you, respectfully, because they are my fucking characters and you don’t know shit,” I snapped. “And, to address your question, neither of them are—” I stopped midsentence. People at the tables around us were snapping pictures, pointing. There was a ringing in my ear, a constricting in my chest.
“Innocent,” I mumbled, then cleared my throat, shifting my gaze back and forth. They were all staring, whispering, laughing. What did they want? I reached for a sip of water. The glass trembled in my hands.
“Are you okay?” Kelly asked.
“I’m fine,” I choked out. “You see, AJ thought he could exploit love to eradicate his. . .”
Demons.
I heard his voice again, hissing in my ear. Slithering into my veins. He was here. I could feel his shadow lingering in the background. A wave of hollowness settled deep inside my gut. I scanned the tables. Where are you? The feeling was too familiar. That dread. That fear. Pulsing to the surface, throbbing. He was in the restaurant, somewhere. He had to be.
People were still snapping photos of Kelly.
My eyes moved wildly across the bar. A man in a dark jacket materialized, his back facing me. Could it be him? The man turned. He was laughing with the guy next to him, a longneck bottle in his hand. My body and mind calmed. It was just my imagination. Yes. Everything was going to be fine.
Kelly grabbed my hand. “Kaleb, what were you saying?”
“Huh?”
“You were talking about Alice and AJ? That neither of them is innocent.”
“Yes.” I regained my poise. “I was saying that AJ’s love for Alice is flawed, and in some regards, not genuine, because it is entirely self-serving. So, obviously, I agree with your dull epiphany, but how can you say Alice is innocent?”
She shrugged, grasping her silver sparrow necklace.
I continued, “Do you think that blanketing your actions with ‘I didn’t ask you to fall in love’ gives you immunity to act recklessly with someone else’s emotions? That it gives you the right to let someone grow increasingly closer to you when you know there is no fairy-tale ending?”
“Fairy-tale ending.” She grinned.
“Yes. True love,” I was heating up, regaining conviction, “does not exploit another’s vulnerability and limitations. To me, Alice and AJ share accountability. It’s not Alice’s job to coddle him, but she should have been willing to risk their relationship and not enable a guy whose obsession transcended rationality. So, forgive me for being rude, but your assessment is wrong. They are both at fault. And furthermore, how could you possibly interpret Alice’s love for him as pity? Did you even read the whole book? It was love. In the end, she loved him.”
A triumphant smile swept across Kelly’s face.
And that’s when I knew.
“You’re fucking with me?”
“A little bit,” she admitted.
I took a sip of water, a deep breath.
“I just wanted to know that the main character was you,” she said. Her voice was warm and soft, calm, gentle. “You don’t have a good poker face, do you?” Kelly crossed her legs. She glanced back for the waiter, then reached under the table and grabbed my knee. “Sorry I got you all riled up.”
“I have a question for you,” I said.
She traced her fingers on her glass.
“I think your endorsement was deliberate. You want me indebted to you. You’re going to ask me for something.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
I snickered. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Your fans are truly something else. But memoirs aren’t my thing. Especially if it’s one of those self-help ones with a bullshit title like—” I swept my arms dramatically across the air, “Redemption.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Kaleb, have you seen some of my recent projects? A self-help book wouldn’t quite . . .” She paused to find the right words. “Fit my brand.” She paused again. “Can I be blunt with you?”
“Don’t stop now.”
“If you don’t write something for me, your next book, if there even is a next book, is going to be a shitty ‘poor me’ love story for a dwindling fanbase that I created. They won’t give two shits about anything you have to say. I didn’t endorse you to help you sell books. I want to push you. I want you to evolve as a person and as an artist. You’re limiting yourself, Kaleb. You’re talented, but you can do better. We can help each other.”
I straightened up in my seat.
“Your book was good, Kaleb. I meant that. It was beautiful. But no one would have discovered you if it wasn’t for me. Which means you’re hiding.”
I scoffed.
“You can’t bullshit me,” she said. “You wrote that book for yourself. You never wanted the world to read it. You hate that book clubs are discussing it.” She smiled as she put a crisp hundred-dollar bill in the black bill folder.
“Come to my house tomorrow night,” she said. “I’m having a few people over. I’ll tell you about it then.” She got up and slid her nails along my shoulder.
I snapped out of my daze. “Can I ask you another question?”
She was standing beside me.
“How did you get ahold of my book?”
She looked off into the distance, and then met my gaze.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
I stared at her ass as she walked away. My jeans tightened around the crotch.
Lizzy: Kelly had a history of shitty guys. I imagine it was an unhealthy attachment to abuse, or not having a real father figure in her life. You didn’t have to be a therapist to figure that out. Being treated like shit was enjoyable for her, plain and simple. And guess who was there for all the breakups, the crazy ex-boyfriends, the stalkers…me. I was the one who had to clean up the mess. And just so we’re clear, when I say crazy, I mean clinically insane. That was Kelly’s type. Like it was some prerequisite. It didn’t matter if they were singers, actors, photographers, authors, whatever. They were all nuts, plain and simple. But the author…he was a whole different breed of crazy.
Jez: Oh my gosh. She was so nervous before that lunch date. As if Kaleb wouldn’t like her. Please. It was so cute. She even came up with a list of thoughtful questions about the book to impress him. I helped pick out her outfit, a black maxi dress with her favorite gold earrings. She looked so hot. I’ll say this. Kelly knew how to get a guy’s attention.
Lizzy: Strangely, I think she worshipped him. The way she talked about those damn characters. He was guarded at first, according to Kelly. Then he opened up after the second beer. He admitted that Alice was real. Surprise, surprise.
Jez: Drinking? Not sure. When was Kaleb not drunk or stoned?
Lizzy: I hoped that confession would have scared her. But no, how could AJ and Alice’s tragic love story be disturbing? It’s a modern fairy tale, Lizzy. Honestly, it makes me sad. Because no matter how awful things got, Kelly still believed in happily ever after. She had this unshakeable belief that she would ride off into the sunset with Prince Charming. She always found the best in people—even if they were ex-felons with a history of drug abuse. You know how hard it is to watch your best friend put her faith into a man like that?
Jez: Kelly came home from lunch in such a good mood, skipping around the house. We were going to throw a huge party to launch the new book club! A Pay Me, Alice–themed party with Kaleb as our guest of honor. We even got a cake with the cover of his book on it!
Lizzy: Yes. I went to her little party. Once I saw the cake, I left.
The Real Kelly Trozzo
TheInsideJuice.com Interview 2019
INSIDEJUICE: Is this the first time you’ve spo
ken out about your suicide attempt?
TROZZO: In the press…yes. But I’ve been very open about it in my music.
INSIDEJUICE: Any song in particular?
TROZZO: My new single, “He’s Coming for Me.” The song is about our inner monster. It’s about the darkness we’ve all buried. Sometimes, you think that you’re safe. You think that you’ve shoved him in the basement and padlocked the door…or locked him in a tower. But eventually, he’ll break down that door. He’ll come for you. And when he does, you better be ready. Because there will be no mercy.
The Blog of Kaleb Reed
July 22, 2019
My dreams are becoming more and more vivid. Perhaps it’s the drugs. Perhaps it’s the things I’ve done. The things I’ve seen. Everything feels so real, so severe. There is no filter.
In last night’s visions, I found myself in the backseat of a police car. The lights of downtown Los Angeles whizzed by. Neon signs. Vagrants pushing shopping carts. Girls in short dresses smoking cigarettes standing next to guys in ripped jeans yelling, stumbling.
I felt the vinyl seats. The dried blood caked on my hands. The police were talking over the squeak of the windshield wipers. They knew who the victim was. This is going to be a fucking frenzy. Static from the police scanner. “Craziest shit I’ve ever seen. Found her naked. Thrown across the driveway. Slashed up with a knife. This guy is one twisted fuck.”
I slammed my head against the steel cage that separated us. I was desperate, frantic. I needed to go back. I needed to see her. The officer in the passenger seat turned around. Kelly’s beautiful face came into focus. Blood dripped down her forehead, running into her eyes. “I’m dead, Kaleb.”
I jolt awake. I’m in the cheap motel room.
Rays of sun drip through the blinds.
I decide to get out for some fresh air. I take precautions. Hat. Sunglasses. I even bleached my hair blonde. Getting outside is worth the risk. I need it. Food and water before my next binge, for starters. At the store, a mother of two is reading a magazine with my face plastered on the cover, along with Kelly’s. She looks up from her magazine, then quickly turns her gaze. Pulls her kids closer. I can tell she doesn’t recognize me. How could she? Besides the hat and glasses, I don’t look like the author in the photo. That was a better time. Since then, I’ve lost a few pounds. The stress, the drugs. It’s not my best look.
Kelly’s face was glowing in the photo. Your sweet, innocent princess. I can’t recall the exact headline—Kaleb Reed’s Wicked Sex Games? Sounds about right. You guys love that shit. I can relate. Gossip is no different than my favorite drugs. It feeds your hunger. Offers a little rush, a twinge of excitement.
The next chapter of our fairy tale begins in the hills of Los Angeles, far from the smog and congestion of the city. The fortress that Kelly called home, perched on the Mt. Olympus of Hollywood. I was sitting in my car, staring at the turrets of a castle built on television royalties. Engine still running. The threshold between worlds. Dragons, demons, and monsters lay on the path ahead. I wasn’t equipped for the fight. I needed meetings. I needed my sponsor, Nathan. I needed to start writing again. Work the steps. Stay in the light. Go back and check on Sara.
I put the car in drive.
I was prepared to leave.
Then I saw him.
His dark trench coat and low-brimmed hat. He was in the crowd of partygoers, ascending the steps, entering the castle. Fear crept down my spine, prickled beneath my skin. It wasn’t my imagination. Not this time. Not just stress, nor lack of sleep. It was him. He had some nerve showing his face. I turned the engine off. I opened the car door. I had to find out why he came back.
I stepped across the line.
Clouds of smoke swirled through the air.
Lights flashed and spun.
Tattooed skateboarders flew across the marble floors. The child stars had grown up. They wore brightly colored clothes and sunglasses, scruffy facial hair, oversized beanies. Heavy mist rolled through the castle. I moved past cocaine piled upon a glass coffee table. Past prescription bottles filled with my favorite white pills. My body shuddered, perked up. A familiar chuckle echoed through the room.
Welcome back, Kaleb.
I would recognize that voice anywhere. His breath. Oh, that evil, cold, menacing breath. Crawling down my neck. Where was he? I spun around and around, frantically scanning the room. I spotted his black boater hat amongst the crowd. He was weaving in and out, smiling. Bob. That motherfucker. He wasn’t real. But he was real. He was the manifestation of every pain and fear inside me. He tipped his dark hat. You missed this, didn’t you? He knew. Oh, he knew everything.
Yes, I missed this shit. Of course I did. It was my life, once. I missed how it stifled the darkness. I missed the thrill. The shakiness. The chaos. Excitement. Vigor. Yes. Give it back to me. All of it. Kids were laughing and rubbing their coke-numbed noses, placing pills on each other’s tongues. I missed the anticipation.
Bob disappeared into the crowd.
The music shook every wall. Strobe lights, black lights. Beats pulsed and echoed. A dark voice boomed through the speakers.
“CHAIN ME TO THE ROCK, BABY.
THROW AWAY THE KEY.
THE MONSTER’S ON THE LOOSE.
AND HE’S COMING FOR ME.”
Young girls danced in glowing bathing suits. They gyrated in slow motion, drifting in and out of the fog. Lollipops attached to their mouths. Their hips turned and twisted like they were luring me in. Faces fixed in ecstasy. Their tongues slid across their lips. All extras in my beautiful fantasy.
The chorus repeated.
“HE’S COMING FOR ME.
HE’S COMING FOR ME.”
A kid bumped into me in the flashing lights. He scowled, then blew smoke in my face. I spun around. Lively faces. Blurred faces. Neon faces.
The kids laughed.
They toasted.
They screamed.
“HE’S COMING FOR ME.”
I should have tried harder to resist. I should have turned down Kelly’s invitation.
“HE’S COMING FOR ME.”
I should have signed her book and moved on. I could have driven back to Sara’s house. I could have stayed sober. I could have fought back.
I shoved my way through kids jumping, dancing, screaming.
“THE MONSTER’S ON THE LOOSE…”
They chanted.
“AND HE’S COMING FOR ME.”
I saw Kelly.
She was lying on an inflatable raft in the pool, wearing a white bikini and holding a red cup in her hand. This was what I came for. I wanted her. Oh, I wanted her badly. The way her wet hair was swept wildly to the side. The brightness in her eyes. The way the world revolved around her. Most of all, I missed the excitement. That craving. It made me feel alive.
Three girls squealed with laughter and dove naked into the pool. Jez walked up to me, dripping wet. She pointed to a towel hanging up beside me. Her breasts were completely exposed. They were incredibly large and perfect. Of course they were. This was a trap, a test. I was the main character from your favorite book, Kelly. I was AJ. And you were right. He was selfish. And weak. He was always chasing. It’s so laughable, how predictable I am.
Kelly climbed out of the pool.
Her tiny bathing suit dripped onto the cement, her bottoms scrunched, flaunting her ass—small, not overly toned, more natural. She walked over and threw her arms around Jez.
“Kelly, I didn’t realize this would be a party,” I said, beckoning to the door.
She looked at me suspiciously.
“Maybe we can just get coffee, or—”
“Kaleb,” she said firmly. “Relax. We can go somewhere quiet.”
She pulled back her wet hair. She had little makeup on. Her face perfect like a doll—soft, diminutive features. Her body was small and petite. She was stunning. She was twenty-one. Not too young. What am I saying? She was too young. What did it matter? This was my fantasy. She created this all for me.
<
br /> She grabbed a red cup from a friend, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Follow me.”
I shadowed her through the smoke and chaos. I felt the envious stares of everyone at the party. I was chosen by their leader. I knew Bob was watching me from afar. I would deal with him later. My eyes were glued to Kelly’s backside as we climbed the stairs. It bounced up and down with each step, and my mind wandered.
We were in her bedroom.
In her tower.
“Will you excuse me for a moment, Kaleb?”
She disappeared.
I paced the room, taking in my surroundings. Marble sculptures. Medieval oil paintings. Elegant furniture. All props. Everything was shiny and new. Nothing from her childhood, no photos of friends or family. I sat on the bed, hands drenched in sweat.
Music pounded through the walls. “HE’S COMING FOR ME.”
Kelly came back into the room wearing navy pajama bottoms and a white tank top, no socks, her hair up in a messy bun. A description from my novel. Chapter ten. They were stuck overnight before a client meeting. A storm kept them in a hotel. Alice came out of the shower, drying her hair. AJ had never loved her more. Pajama bottoms. White tank top. No makeup. He liked her hair up in a messy bun. Something about the state of sleep readiness.
But this was a new story.
New characters.
New villains.
New plot twists.
A new lead.
I wanted Kelly to undress. I wanted to be inside her. My heartbeat thumped in rhythm to the pulsing music. Drumming against my ribcage. It was calling to her. It bothered me that she commanded so much power.
“Tell me about the project.”
She examined me from the mirror where she was fixing her hair. “You’re so tense.”
“I’m sober,” I said. “And I have somewhere I need to be.”
