by Kyle Rutkin
I was there, kind of. I was watching myself. Everything was static. When the guy was on the floor in a puddle of blood, the rage retreated. The monster was fed, satisfied.
Kelly’s bodyguards entered the bar. I grabbed her hand and led her toward the exit. She held on tightly and waved off the bodyguards. As we stepped out into the cold air, a smile played at the corner of her mouth.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Tell me,” I demanded.
She kissed me on the cheek. Still grinning.
“What?” I asked again.
“No. You’re just . . .” She paused. “Thank you, Perseus.”
She gave me one last smile before she lowered her head onto my shoulder.
“Why did you kill them?” Donaldson’s nose was almost touching mine. My head stopped spinning, just for a second. The video was still playing. His aftershave made me sick.
“You took it too far, didn’t you?” Donaldson seethed. “You lost control? You shot her manager. Then you attacked, Kelly. You’ve done it before.” He sat down. “What did she do to deserve this?”
I wondered, how many times he had gotten his confession? How many times had the killer given in, adorned in his filthy sin? They think it will make them feel better. Alleviate the guilt. Lighten the shame. How many times had Donaldson’s eyes widened in anticipation? Eagerly awaiting. Oh no. He wouldn’t get that satisfaction from me.
I started laughing hysterically. Laughing and laughing like a fucking madman. Staring at a video of myself doing something I don’t remember doing. My rage and shadows on display for millions of viewers.
“You know what, detective?” I lifted up my Styrofoam cup. “I think I will take a refill.”
Lizzy: It was his eyes in that video. There was nothing human left inside him. As if he was some feral animal. Kelly called me that night, crying. The pattern was so predictable. She claimed he was trying to protect her, and a bunch of other excuses. The truth was, he was out-of-control wasted. Did you know he vomited in the cab on the ride home? Bet he didn’t tell you that. The bodyguards had to drag him to the airport and everything. He was a junkie.
Jez: Kelly crawled into my bed crying that night in Philadelphia. I used to love when she put her warm feet on top of mine. I loved her soft skin. The way she would tuck her little head into my shoulder. It was Lizzy who made her upset, not Kaleb. Lizzy was always reprimanding her, judging her. Kelly was quiet at breakfast, then out of nowhere she blurted, “I think Kaleb is going to move in.”
Lizzy: I told her to watch the video. Just watch it! But no, of course not. Let’s not be rational. I’ll never watch anything those gossip sites put up. How naive can you be? I don’t care who put the damn video up. Look at his eyes! Look at his rage! That shit was real. He was a psycho! But Kelly wouldn’t hear it. Instead, she buried her head deeper in the sand.
Jez: Kelly and I watched that video a thousand times. He was her knight in shining armor.
Lizzy: Kelly and I stopped talking when he moved in with her. She tagged me and DM’d me a few times, trying to make contact. But I stood my ground. If she wanted to self-destruct, I couldn’t watch. Not this time. But I should have. I really should have. I should have tried harder. I could have done more.…I regret being so prideful. I left her to her band of merry misfits. All those so-called friends who gave her drugs and encouraged her obsession with an emotionally disturbed man. I hated them, especially her assistant. None of them were real friends. They told her what she wanted to hear, not what she needed. They weren’t like me.
The Real Kelly Trozzo
TheInsideJuice.com Interview 2019
INSIDEJUICE: You have one of the largest and most loyal fan bases of any artist out there. What about your message do you think resonates with them?
TROZZO: When I get on that stage, nothing else matters. All the pain. All the suffering. None of it. My fans understand that it is our duty, our mission to spread our light, to resurrect ourselves into new beings. They bear witness to my rebirth, and in doing so, they become my disciples. More than that, they become my combatants. In the brokenness and evil that lives among us, my fans must be vigilant and resilient. They must stand up to the bullies in their lives. They must fight against the forces that wish to see them stay small. That’s why I call them the KTroops. And I will do everything in my power to help them find theirs.
The Blog of Kaleb Reed
(Continued)
After Philadelphia, I moved into Kelly’s mansion. Full of splendor, delight, a never-ending thrill ride. I became nocturnal in Kelly’s castle. The days were for rest, cleansing. Weeks blurred together. I’d wake up, hungover in her bed. Find her meditating in her study. The house was always spotless in the morning. The sun was always shining.
Everything changed at sundown.
The fantasy began.
Dancing.
Singing.
Jubilation.
Every night, I watched Kelly dance and play around her packed house, full of Hollywood misfits and pleasure-seekers. It was hard not to stare, with her skimpy outfits, her subtle flirting, her playful smile, her bright eyes, always spinning and twirling with a red cup in hand. Everyone orbited around her like she was the sun. They all wanted something. A smile, a gesture, a picture they could share. Most of all, they wanted to be close enough to feel the great power that she wielded—Fame. It was a special magic that made you feel worthy, significant. Loved by association.
I wanted something, too.
But what I wanted was far greater.
I never slept in the guest bedroom, always with her—at least in the beginning. Kelly wasn’t a cuddler. Too intimate, I guess. Too sticky. Bad dreams pushed her toward me. I held her close because I missed having someone. I wished it was Sara. But I had Kelly, for now.
There were some mornings when she was mine. The few mornings she didn’t slip out before dawn. She’d put her head on my chest, kiss my cheek. She snapped pictures of us, reaching her arm out so both our tired faces were in frame, her wild blonde hair, my matted brown hair. Her favorite silver pendant glued to her neckline. She stared at the images on her phone, smiling. I liked that.
Most days, I’d accompany her in the study while she wrote. For inspiration, she pulled out a box of memories from a safe hidden behind her favorite painting. The box was mostly filled with pictures from her years on Zoe Loves. Kelly and her former co-star, Lizzy, dancing in her trailer, blowing bubbles in oversized shirts. Playing their guitars together on set. Celebrating birthdays with cake covering their faces. Being kids.
She lingered on a postcard of the real Castle Heart, a picturesque château off the coast of France.
“Lizzy and I are going to go there someday.” She beamed.
“What happened with you guys? Have you talked since she took over the show?”
She stared at me curiously.
“Lizzy and I are fine.”
“But you miss the show, don’t you?” I asked. “What happened?”
She didn’t respond.
“I’ve read things…about your manager,” I said. “He uses people.”
She ran her fingers along the postcard. “You’re not ready for that, Kaleb.” Then she put the memories back into the safe.
My eyes lingered on the scar on her forearm. She pulled it away from view.
She kept her secrets. I kept mine.
Every night, I went downstairs into the strobe lights, into the darkness, into the abyss, into the swirling smoke. I surrendered to the night. The fantasy washed over me. There was no past, no sin in the madness. No rage. No guilt. No shame. Kelly’s loyal subjects danced in the fog. They drank. They left behind their cares and worries.
I waited until Kelly was ready. She walked over to the couch and ran her fingers along my shoulders. My favorite part of the night. I would watch her ass as she walked up the stairs. She knew I would follow.
She led me to her bedroom.
She led me to her hot
tub.
Her library.
She led me to her home theater.
Her movie had been cued. She shoved me against the wall, her hands clawing my back while larger-than-life animation flashed across the screen. I slid my hand beneath her underwear and rubbed my finger against her flesh. Pinned her arms against the wall. She bit my neck. She moaned and shoved me into the couch. I had a front-row view of the enchanted princess.
“The storm brings darkness, darkness brings fear,” Kelly sang the opening number as she gyrated her hips. She closed her eyes. Thunder and lightning flashed across the movie screen.
A young Princess Jade fell overboard, deeper into dark waters, sinking into the shadows.
Kelly scratched my chest and screamed.
The head of a vicious monster rose from the depths of the dark sea, his jagged fangs extended. Before he could devour the princess, golden light poured out of her heart, into her hands.
Kelly screamed again. This time in pleasure.
The monster screeched in agony, then retreated to the depths from which he came.
Kelly sang:
“And my golden heart shall come alive
And heal the shadows from inside”
After we were done, we reclined into the couch. Jez brought in refreshments and we passed bottles of vodka and joints back and forth as we watched. The projector lights flashed across the smoke. The animation reflected off her pupils. Kelly curled deeper into the leather seat, waiting in childlike anticipation.
“Where are we going, Father?” said Princess Jade, running happily alongside him.
“Just a little further,” said the king.
Kelly squeezed my hand as the sea witch lifted the beautiful princess off the ground.
The shadows of two serpents curled around her, penetrating her golden heart.
Kelly flinched as the bolts flashed. She hid her face in my shoulder.
With the curse in her veins, the princess was banished to the dark towers of Castle Heart—an abandoned rocky fortress on the sea, where cold, gray skies and violent waves never ceased. Every night, the monster came alive, spreading its shadows upon the castle. Until one day a hero washed ashore…
“Be my knight,” Kelly whispered, climbing back on top of me.
She leaned back, closed her eyes. I closed mine. This was my fantasy. And in my fantasy, I would protect her. She was gifted, magical, and I was her loyal subject. I was strong and courageous. I would climb the shores of her castle. It was I who would battle the beast inside.
I would free her from her chains.
“I’m about to come,” Kelly whispered. Dark clouds moved across the castle towers on the big screen. Thunder and lightning erupted through the speakers.
The knight moved through the cursed castle, a torch in hand.
Kelly slowed her hips and smiled in the dark as I watched the evil monster come alive on the screen.
The knight entered the princess’s chambers, screaming her name. But she was no longer there. In her place was the monster, with piercing yellow eyes and sharp fangs. The knight drew his sword. Back and forth they fought, until the monster’s power overwhelmed the weary knight. He fell against the wall, blood dripping from his mouth.
I was about to come.
“Don’t close your eyes,” Kelly panted as she slowed her pace on top. She shoved my head against her shoulder. “I want you to watch.”
I opened my eyes.
The knight was beaten, his helmet tossed aside. The monster’s fiery breath had scorched the metal of his sword. With fangs exposed, the beast was prepared to finish the job. But before he could do it, our hero saw her eyes. The princess was there, behind the darkness and rage. He whispered her name, “Jade.” He held his hand to the monster’s cheek. “Show me what is behind those eyes.”
“Now look at me,” Kelly said.
I put my hand on her cheek. Kelly bit my finger as I released inside of her.
The curse was dispelled. Light poured into the castle.
We fell back onto the leather couch. Kelly muted the movie. Silence. Stillness. Only our breath and pounding heartbeats.
“Can I ask you something?” She turned toward me. “What really happened with you and Alice? Why are you guys not together?”
“You’re not ready for that, Kelly,” I teased.
She sighed. “C’mon.”
“I imagine there’s an evil voice inside me… the voice of fear,” I said. “He laughs at the part of me that thinks happiness is even possible, and eventually, I fall for it. I take the bait. I hurt the people who love me. Then I hurt myself.”
“I think I get that too,” she mumbled, her breaths deepening.
I continued, “Usually, I find something that’s bad for me, like you.” I turned to her and smiled. “And boom, everything goes away. All the hard work. All the good things I’ve done. The progress. And once that evil voice is fed, they go back into hiding, but I’m always scared they will come back, and do it all over again. That something will trigger it when things get too good.”
Her long lashes flickered back and forth as her eyelids slowly closed. “So I’m bad for you?” she asked with a grin.
“You’re horrible for me,” I said, and she chuckled.
We were silent for a moment, gazing at the screen.
“Maybe I’m just like the princess,” she whispered. “There’s a monster inside of me too.”
She slid her underwear back on, shimmied her jeans over her legs. She fast-forwarded the movie to the next scene, unmuted the volume.
“I did what you asked,” the king pleaded. “It is not my fault the knight broke the curse. Please let my daughter live.”
“You think it will be that simple?” The sea witch cackled, her serpents slithering around the king’s body, lifting the crown from his head. “Unless you want to lose everything, you will tie her to the rock.” She smiled. “Let the sea claim her powers for their own. It is time for your daughter to die.”
The theater lights came on. A tear trickled down the length of Kelly’s cheek.
“Are you—”
“You haven’t signed the contract yet,” Kelly interrupted.
“I know. Kelly, I don’t…”
“No pressure.” She got up to leave. “But time is running out. The offer won’t last forever.”
I pointed to the screen. “You don’t want to finish the movie?” I asked, reclining in the seat with the bottle to my mouth. “You don’t want to watch your happily ever after?”
She grinned, then opened the door and retreated into the fog.
She kept her secrets. I kept mine.
Lizzy: We were kids when we came to Hollywood. It took us a while to understand that happily ever after died when the director said cut. Kelly had a tender heart, a fragile heart. And what do assholes do with tender hearts? They break them. Kelly was always a hopeless romantic. That’s not a good trait to have in Hollywood. I always told her she needed to toughen up. But she was determined to have her fairy-tale ending.
Jez: Kelly’s voice was so beautiful. It makes me cry just thinking about it. She used to sing to me every night. Talk about a fairy tale coming true! Sometimes I was waiting for someone to pinch me.
Lizzy: When we were younger, Kelly and I made these grand plans to rent out this beautiful island in France, the location that the fortress in Castle Heart was based on. It was one of those bucket list dreams you make with friends, you know? Fun to talk about, but not something you actually put in the calendar. But Kelly never let it go. She always brought it up. . . You know that I played the voice of Mada, Princess Jade’s trusty pelican sidekick? Kelly got me the part. Sometimes, she tried to convince me to use the voice when we talked on the phone. Honestly, it was a lot harder to do a squawky pelican voice than the beautiful princess. But that was always the case with us. I had to try harder. To get the attention. To get the sponsors. The followers. She was…well, her beauty and fame were effortless.
The Blog of K
aleb Reed
(Continued)
Two days after Kelly’s death. Detective Donaldson extended the half-filled pack of cigarettes.
I refused.
“I’m trying to quit myself,” he said as he lit the tip to the flame. “Wife hates it…though in all fairness, she used to smoke like a chimney.” He blew the smoke in my face. “Got into the whole New Age yoga kick. Natural foods. Kale smoothies, I can’t stand that shit. Like I should suffer because she gets all self-righteous.” He leaned back. The chair grumbled under his fast food-induced gut.
He pulled out a copy of my book and slammed it on the table.
“You know, I’ve been reading your book at my desk.” He took a drag. “Some of those scenes. . .Wow. Riveting stuff. That text message Kelly sent you, the one where she mentioned the obituaries. . . I think I’m finally starting to understand your relationship.”
He flicked ash onto the tray. “Let me ask you a question, Kaleb. Was she real? Alice? Because if she wasn’t, you sure do have a vivid imagination.” When I didn’t respond, he continued. “You know, it’s easier to get these things off your chest. Why don’t you tell me the truth? What really happened to Alice’s husband?”
“It was fiction, detective.”
We locked eyes.
I was thirty years old when I wrote it, holed up in a cabin in Oregon for three hundred and fifty dollars a month.
Two years before writing the book, I had fallen in love with a coworker. Sara. I did a variety of odd jobs during those first nine years in Orange County, including sales for the local weekly magazine, the rags that have more sex ads than articles. The plan was always to save enough money to rent a cabin in the mountains and finally write a novel. There was no subject in mind, just a vague notion that great novels came from isolation. Tucked away in a majestic forest with nothing but a typewriter and a few tins of strong coffee.
