She Died Famous

by Kyle Rutkin

She smiled. “Fine. How about we look at the pictures of Alice again? Your precious Sara.” She handed me the phone.

  I took the bait.

  “I never asked how you found her.” I scrolled through the pictures, staring at the strange man putting his arms around her. Pictures of him kissing her cheek. Sara looked happy. “How did you know where she was…who she was?”

  “I have my ways.” Kelly wiped her nose and reached for her phone.

  I didn’t give it to her.

  She was taken aback.

  “You know, when your fans read my book, they all want to know what happens after. What happens to AJ? What happens to Alice? But you never asked. All you want to know is about Alice’s husband. Why is that?”

  Kelly smiled. “Because I know the other stuff.”

  “I don’t think you do,” I said harshly. “Whatever relationship I had with Alice died on those pages. There was no ending, Kelly. It was fiction. Alice and AJ were personas, characters. My characters. Based on real people. But characters, Kelly. The same will happen if I write our story. I’ll let you go when it’s over,” I said. “Because you are a fucking character.”

  Her brow furrowed.

  “But I will tell you one thing,” I continued.

  I had her full attention.

  “I made a pact with God before I wrote a single page of that book. I was walking in the forest. It had rained the night before, and I remember the smells of the trees and wet grass, the sounds of renewed life. Just perfect. And I was thinking about Sara. I was always thinking about Sara back then. But I hadn’t written a damned thing. I was still terrified of facing the shit in my basement.

  “But I looked up to heaven that day, and I felt—” I paused. “I felt something. Something like that moment you had on your kitchen floor—that open space you talked about. An open line to God. And I started talking, and I said, ‘I will never look for her again. I promise you. I will never text her, call her, anything. Just let her be happy.’ Those were the words I prayed.

  “When I got back from my walk, I sat down with a notepad, closed my eyes and wrote the first six words that opened the floodgates—AJ Daniels was a persistent man.”

  Kelly looked off into the distance. “What if that wasn’t enough? What if she was still being mistreated or beaten or abused?”

  I didn’t say a word. I stared at the pictures on her phone.

  “Would you drive by her house and check on her then?” she asked.

  I avoided her gaze.

  She took a deep breath, grabbing her phone back. “Fine. Keep your secrets. Either way,” she said, preparing the next line on the mirror. “I made a pact too.” She snorted. “But I’m not going to bother God with it. Now get the fuck out.”

  The Real Kelly Trozzo

  TheInsideJuice.com Interview 2019

  INSIDEJUICE: There’s one thing I don’t understand. Why did you return to Barry’s management company after everything that he put you through?

  TROZZO: It was liberating to return. I knew he would stare at the bandages on my wrist. I knew he would see my suicide attempt as a sign of weakness. In fact, I knew exactly what he was thinking. How could some frail little girl be a threat to me? She’s harmless. But I played that to my advantage. Barry forgot how much he taught me over the years. He had no idea what happened to me in that house, and because of that, he welcomed me back with open arms. His prizefighter had returned to restore his empire. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

  Lizzy: Trust me, nobody was happier than I was—my best friend was back. Except she wasn’t the same person. It was all so strange. Take our first meeting, for example. Kelly told me to drive out to some crappy café in the middle of the desert, just because it reminded her of this great scene from a book she was reading. Had I only known. You should have heard her talk that day. Spread light on evil. Build an army. Bring down the empire. Blah, blah, blah. But what she didn’t seem to realize was that I was part of that empire she wanted to destroy.

  Jez: Kelly’s fans saw right through Lizzy’s fake blonde hair and whiny pitch. Of course, that didn’t stop Lizzy from getting a big head. But Lizzy always knew in the back of her mind that Kelly could destroy her career with the push of a button. She needed Kelly’s support. Deep down, that drove her crazy.

  Lizzy: She wanted to destroy everything I had built.

  Jez: Oh please, Lizzy didn’t build anything!

  Lizzy: I worked hard on my show. I did. They never gave me a chance.

  The Real Alice

  New Mexico, 2015

  Three days sober. I steadied my trembling hands on the sink. I wiped vomit from my mouth. My face was swollen, my eyes bloodshot, my body weak. How could I let her see me like this? Sara agreed to meet me at a ratty diner near my motel. I was lucky to get that. It was wrong of me to show up outside her gym, but I was desperate. It was the only way to get her attention.

  I spotted her through the window, running on the line of old treadmills. Sweat poured down her forehead as she pumped her fists. Just the sight of her was worth the ten-hour drive. I loved her high cheekbones, scattered freckles, dirty blonde hair. I loved everything about her.

  Blood drained from her face when she spotted me. She ripped the headphones out of her ears, leaping off the treadmill. She burst through the front door, grabbing my arm and shoving me into a nearby alleyway. She pushed me against the brick wall, glancing around suspiciously.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  I didn’t have an answer.

  “Where are you staying?” She spoke through gritted teeth. As soon as I told her, she whispered, “I’ll meet you at the Hopper Café at six.”

  She put her headphones in and left.

  The entrance bell rang, and ceramic plates stacked.

  I spotted her in the booth with a beanie on, a cup of steaming coffee in her hands. She wasn’t smiling. No eye contact. I made her uncomfortable. I couldn’t blame her. I’d followed her seven hundred miles. I looked like shit. Three days in a motel room without drugs brought me to a scary place. Without the drugs, there was nothing to impede the darkness that seeped through the cracks in my soul.

  The thoughts were coming on stronger. I couldn’t stop picturing her husband hitting her. Then my father’s cold and angry fists. The visions wouldn’t stop. They kept circulating. Kept pushing. It wasn’t my fault. Bob’s reflection stared back at me in the motel mirror. His dark, sinister eyes. His power was strengthening within me. He placed his hand on my shoulder, and I didn’t shove him away.

  I was giving him more control.

  “Do you remember the beach house?” Bob yelled at me through the mirror. “Do you remember your brother pleading with you to come play as you listened to your father’s rage? But you just sat there, didn’t you? You were only eleven, but you knew.” He squeezed my shoulder and another wave of cold fear pulsed through me. I remembered my dad’s silhouette through the window. His fist landed on my mother’s shadow. She begged for mercy. My brother pulled on my arm, begging me to play. He was too young to understand, but he knew something was happening.

  “You did nothing, Kaleb!” yelled Bob. “You should have done something. Your family needed you. Your brother looked up to you. You were their protector.”

  I crawled into the booth across from Sara, reminded of my purpose. I had come to save her. I was here to make things right. I was here to made amends for what I couldn’t do before.

  “Why are you here?” she whispered, crossly. “I can’t believe you came to my fucking gym. What were you thinking? Have you lost your damn mind? How did you even find me?”

  My eyes scanned her face, then her shoulders, then her arms. I stared at the tattoo on her forearm. A black sparrow facing left. Her husband had the other one, facing right. A reminder of their bond. She wouldn’t leave without a fight. She caught me staring at the yellow and blue bruises that speckled her collar like freckles.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  Sh
e pulled up her shirt in annoyance. “Oh, don’t be a fucking hero, Kaleb. You’re the one who needs help. Look at you. You can’t even hold the fork. You’re literally shaking. You’re a junkie. How are you going to help me?”

  I dropped the fork, placed my hands over my face. My eyes swelled with emotion. She was right. I was a mess. This wasn’t how I wanted her to see me.

  “Listen, I’m sorry.” She reached for my hand. “He and I needed a fresh start.” She squeezed my fingers. “Whatever you thought this was, it’s over. This isn’t a game. Just let me go. And please, get help. You do know you need help?”

  “I do. I just—I’m so sorry.” Without the drugs, my body and mind were failing me, crumbling. I didn’t want to be weak. Sara needed me to be strong. I was tired of being weak.

  “I know you’re sorry,” she said. “But promise me you’ll go back. You’ll go get help.”

  I finally looked up to meet her gaze. ”And you?”

  “I’m tough, Kaleb. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  She watched me from the window of the diner. She wore a brave smile as the waitress filled her coffee. Her gaze never left my car. She wanted to make sure I left. I took a deep breath, waved. I pulled out of the gravel parking lot and onto the interstate. At least I saw her. That had to be enough. For now. It had to. I needed to get clean. I needed help. If it was fate, our paths would cross again.

  I had just reached for the radio when I felt his cold breath on my neck.

  “You were so pathetic in there. Letting her see you cry. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “She doesn’t want me here.”

  “Are you really that stupid?” he yelled. “That was a cry for help.”

  “She said she was fine.”

  “Was your mom fine?” Bob screamed, and the fear trembled in my chest. “Protect her, you fucking coward. She needs you to be strong.”

  “No. No. I need…I need…I need to get clean.”

  “That’s what you’re doing.”

  “There must be another way.”

  “There’s not.”

  “Please.”

  “Don’t be pathetic.”

  “I’m not pathetic. I’m not.”

  “Who would ever love you? You can’t protect anyone.”

  “Yes. I. can.”

  Bob’s put his hand on my shoulders, and I saw my mom coming out on the porch with black-and-blue bruises. She put on a fearless smile as my brother played in the yard. Just like Sara did in that diner. But in the middle of the night, I heard my mother get out of bed. I followed. She went back to the porch. This time, there was no brave smile. I watched the tears stream down her cheeks. She was hurting. She was trapped.

  I imagined Sara after the brave face wore off. The tears would follow. She would look out onto the parking lot of the diner knowing her protector was gone. He gave up without a fight. Her fate was sealed. She would die in this sleepy old town.

  Bob pulled his hand away. “Then fucking prove it.”

  The Real Kelly Trozzo

  TheInsideJuice.com Interview 2019

  INSIDEJUICE: I’ll just ask the question. Did you come back to bring down Barry’s empire?

  TROZZO: His empire? No. It was our empire.

  INSIDEJUICE: Explain.

  TROZZO: I was the one who stood next to Barry at his fundraisers. We were Hollywood, and they were the investors with big pockets and empty lives. Money-hungry parents eager to exploit their children. His management business was the great illusion. Would precious Princess Jade really steal your money? I was tangible—something investors and parents had seen on television, the star on the big screen. Barry taught me how to sell the fantasy. “Take them on a ride, baby, strap them in, paint the picture, give them a taste, but never the whole thing.” It was almost too easy, getting them to write checks and sign contracts.

  INSIDEJUICE: So you’re admitting that Barry’s company is one big scam?

  TROZZO: Yes. The investors, the parents, they all paid for the illusion. They paid for the production company, the vacation homes, his eccentric, perverted parties. It was all about appearance for Barry—the suits, the venue, the cars, and especially me. I was his best illusionist. The reason they all bought into Barry’s Hollywood hit factory long after the hits stopped coming. I was the face of his elaborate scheme. He needed me. I helped him build his empire.

  INSIDEJUICE: Why blow the whistle now?

  TROZZO: I did things I’m not proud of—things I hate myself for. I used anything at my disposal to help lure and seduce the investors. Even my body.

  INSIDEJUICE: How old were you?

  TROZZO: Too young.

  INSIDEJUICE: Kelly…I’m sorry.

  TROZZO: I’m not telling you this for sympathy. I need my fans to understand. It wasn’t Kelly Trozzo doing any of it. It was the weak little girl inside me that wanted to please a father whose heart was black as the night sky. I tell you all this because I need my fans to know the truth. They need to understand why the old me had to die. Why everything has to be destroyed. Why I returned to Barry Monroe. Because the best way to destroy an empire is from the inside.

  Lizzy: I’m not stupid. I knew that Barry was a ruthless businessman. I knew what kind of person he was. Or at least I thought so. Sometimes, Kelly would make these little comments, implying I had no idea what she had been through. Maybe she was trying to protect me from the truth. Either way, she had no right to deliberately sabotage her best friend’s career. Barry was my manager too. My fate was in his hands.

  Jez: I never talked about Barry with Kelly. No way. She hated talking about him.

  Lizzy: After Kelly left, I was the biggest name on Barry’s roster. I should have been the new face. I should have been the one at the fancy dinners. But whenever I asked, he would tell me I wasn’t ready. I knew what he was really thinking. He wished I was Kelly. That I had the same charisma and allure as she did. He never gave me a shot. I could never escape Kelly’s shadow.

  The Blog of Kaleb Reed

  July 24, 2019

  Alas, our story is coming to an end. So are the drugs. From the motel balcony, I watch the dark clouds rush in like an enemy attack. Thunder splits through the warm desert air. This will be my final night. I can feel it. I am ready. No more running. No more hiding. Lightning flares behind the clouds. There’s a certain peace inside me. This is a fitting end. The storm will add to the theatrics. The scene is set.

  I take inventory of what is left. Two bottles: one booze, one prescription. A bag of psychedelics. Both of the Ziplocs are close to finished. Less than a gram of cocaine and PCP. It should do the trick. What else? I have three pictures left. The rest have been burned.

  I hold the picture of my brother one last time. Detective Donaldson gave it back to me, a good-cop-routine souvenir. It’s crumpled and damaged. Creased from holding it during my darkest hours, my rock bottoms. I was holding it on the night of Kelly’s death. The police pried it from my bloody hands.

  I do love that picture.

  My brother is holding a baseball bat on his shoulder, outside our old beach house. His hair is all messy, his shirt covered in sand and water. I like to think there was a piece of his soul inside of it. Watching his big brother. Wanting to be proud of me. Wanting to forgive me. I place my lighter to the corner of the picture. I watch the flames move up his body, around his smiling face, charring the laminated paper. It had to be done. He can’t be here for this ending.

  What else do I have left?

  My first copy of Pay Me, Alice.

  Two more photos.

  One wrecked cell phone.

  One silver sparrow necklace.

  I twirl the jewelry in my fingers. Kelly’s most treasured piece. It’s not much to look at. It’s lightweight, a sterling silver chain. The ruby jewels inside the sparrow’s eyes are corroded, faded. I can still see her grasping that necklace. Now it’s in my hands. My lady’s favor.

  Given to her loyal knight.

  Our last few months
together.

  The parties never stopped after New York.

  The mansion never emptied. Kelly slipped into darkness. There was no more cleansing. No more morning routines, meditation. No more writing. Just madness. She stopped talking to her fans. She stopped leading them, uplifting them. When she did post, they were pictures of herself. All provocative and shocking. Either naked covering her chest or lying down with her ass exposed. Those got the most attention. After she would post, she would obsess over her body. Over the number of likes and views. She would read every comment. If she spotted something negative, she required constant validation. You are so beautiful. You are the hottest thing out there right now.

  I didn’t say anything.

  She never wanted her entourage to leave. Night after night of drugs and chaos. She became distant, aloof. There were nights I barely saw her at all. Brief moments amongst the strobe lights. I watched blood drip from her nose. Fog rolled across through her enlarged pupils. The bass of the music swayed her dazed body. I could feel her demons soaking through her heart, running out the pores of her skin.

  I stayed in the castle, watching, waiting. Using just enough to stay lucid. I slept in the guest bedroom by myself. Kelly never slept. At least not with me. Sometimes, she would sneak into my room early in the morning, still high from the night before. She would pin me down, bite my lip. Her blue eyes gone. Lost in the madness. It wasn’t her.