Killing Reality

by Bob Henderson

  Daphne was the fourth in the group, who indeed was gorgeous and was a dead ringer for Christina Aguilera.“Uh, nice to meet you all,” I said, “This is Greg and I’m…”

  “Oh, we know who you are, honey,” Stella chimed in, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. “Spitzy already told us you were coming.”

  I looked at Greg, who was mouthing the word Spitzy? at me.

  “Everyone knows you, Marc. You’re the kind, handsome man who had the tragic confrontation with that vicious Lync Prime. Listen. We all knew Lync, if you know what I mean, and let’s just say,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, “the community won’t miss him at all.”

  “Stella, Marc doesn’t want to hear that,” Daphne snapped.

  Stella frowned, but quickly got over it as she began snuggling up to Greg, who looked a little uncomfortable. And I, well I was getting a kick out of watching Greg all squirmy. Mr. Never Gets Flustered getting nervous? Priceless.

  Apparently, Daphne was the leader of the pack. So, I focused in on her. She was delighted to give us her background story, which would hopefully motivate the other three to open up as well.

  But I shouldn’t have worried about that. These girls were all talkers. It became apparent that this was going to be a reality gold mine, just as Spitz had envisioned. Each drag queen had an interesting, if a bit peculiar, background. And they were all very eager to share their stories of hardships, growth, and eventual success.

  Sam was a happily married heterosexual man with two kids who unfortunately got laid off from his corporate job at AT&T. Finding meaningful work that could provide the same income for him was tough, especially as the days dragged on into months. He was one of thousands of white-collar workers who’d been downsized, all in the name of corporate greed. Then one lucky day, Sam ran into Cherish at the grocery store. He’d known Cherish from high school, but back then, Cherish had been known as “Charlie.” Both had spent a lot of time in the school’s drama & music departments, performing in concerts and plays together. After that bump-in, they quickly became friends again, always grabbing a coffee or a beer to catch up.

  Charlie was thankful that Sam had never judged his lifestyle and that their friendship remained solid. When Cherish heard Sam explaining his job situation, she told him there was a job opening at the club where she worked. And that with his terrific voice, Sam should audition for it. The pay was not only good, but it could be a stepping stone to new opportunities. After many failed attempts at landing “normal” 9-to-5 jobs, Sam was open to any and all suggestions.

  So, Sam went home and discussed this new opportunity with his wife. To Sam’s surprise, she not only gave him her blessing and support, but she was more than happy to be his makeup and wardrobe stylist. Before he knew it, Sam had become one of the “girls.” His only caveat, however, was that he wouldn’t change his name. He thought it’d be too confusing to answer to anything else. Besides, Sam could easily be used as a man or woman’s name.

  After getting everyone’s background stories, Greg and I talked about what was expected from them and the rules they would have to follow during the filming of the show. It felt pretty cool to stand in as a liaison between Spitz and his clients. I could see how all this could become a little addictive.

  Once we finished, we gave the ladies a chance to ask questions of their own, answering what we could and ironing out any potential issues they raised. Greg asked them if they were ready for television, which was answered with delighted squeals and shrieks from all four. I had to smile. I was reminded of the time I’d taken Audrey to see Bruno Mars in concert for her birthday, and all the females, including her, were screaming as loud as they could.

  As Greg and I said our goodbyes and started heading out, Stella grabbed me by my back pocket and spun me around with ease like a ballerina and said with a wink, “So, how long until we’re famous, cupcake?”

  23 Introducing: Armando

  I spent the whole night dreaming of different scenarios where we could best use the cast from Reality is a Drag. My mind was taking me places I wasn’t sure I wanted to go, as I found myself thinking of one bizarre situation after another.

  I was startled out of sleep by my cell phone beeping. It was Greg, asking if he could get a ride to work with me, because apparently, he had decided to hang out with our new “girlfriends” and watch them perform their entire show at The Venetian Blind. He said he’d had so much fun and that he’d gotten smashed drunk. He had wisely taken an Uber home, but now needed to pick up his car in the club parking lot. I told him I was glad he’d done the right thing and that I would swing by and pick him up.

  “Man, you look terrible,” I said, watching him gingerly ease himself into the car. “Please don’t tell me you did an all-nighter.”

  Greg winced, closed his eyes, and said, “Not so loud. Just drive and don’t ask questions.”

  When we pulled up to the Proven Killers set, we saw Benny and the rest of the crew sitting on the front porch, smoking cigarettes and drinking something that looked like Kool-Aid out of red plastic cups.

  After helping Greg stumble out of the car, we slowly made our way to the building’s entrance. “Man, you guys have any idea who’s here?” Benny asked, slapping me on the stomach. “This place just got real, “I heard from the Joe Pesci look-alike.

  “Yo Arms, come here and meet the new warden!” Benny said enthusiastically. “Arms, this is Marc.” He gestured towards a good-looking Hispanic guy who looked to be dressed a couple of notches up from the rest of the crew.

  “Hi, nice to meet you” Armando said, staring at the ground.

  “Hello, Armando—or uh, Arms—whichever you prefer. I’m Marc and this sick-looking puppy is Greg,” I said, extending my hand for a shake.

  Greg muttered, waved, and continued on his way to find the coffee station.

  “I saw you on the news,” Armando offered, finally looking me in the eye as he shook my hand with a powerful grip.

  We had a brief, pleasant conversation while I proceeded to show him his bunk and outlined the rules of the set. From just meeting him, I could tell that he was a little different than what I had imagined from hearing his story.

  When Armando was only a few days away from turning sixteen, he made a bad choice. He felt like a man at that point and decided to take fate into his own hands by seeking vengeance for his brother’s murder. When Armando was only fourteen years old, his older brother Carlo had been caught in the crossfire of a shoot-out between rival gangs. Carlo hadn’t been a gang member, just an innocent bystander who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It took Armando a long time, but he finally learned the identity of the gang member whose bullet had killed his brother, and he paid him back in kind. Unfortunately for Armando, he was caught and tried as an adult, which resulted in him receiving a prison sentence of 22 years.

  After serving 14 years in prison, the system decided it was time to cut him a break due to good behavior. They gave Armando a choice: stay in the halfway house and appear on the show for one season, with his parole time being served while on the show, or stay in prison for another year, until he would officially be eligible for parole.

  While incarcerated, Armando had been a model prisoner and became very passionate about helping others; more specifically, he decided to dedicate his life to helping young gang members turn their lives around in honor of his late brother. He expressed to me just how much he was looking forward to helping others avoid getting caught up in the violent gang-banger life.

  As we were talking, I could hear Spitz yelling for me. I excused myself and walked out of the conference room to see Spitz looking a bit disheveled and fired up, which was odd, as he always prided himself on staying calm and in control.

  “We are done with the Stronge show!” he erupted. “I have had it with those ungrateful motherfuckers.” Spitz proceeded to explain how the boys wanted revenge on Milo for how he allegedly mistreated their mother.

  “I had half a mind to let those punks teach th
at piece of shit Milo a lesson, until they said they wanted to do it on one of our shows,” he said, visibly shaking.

  “Those Stronge bastards are insane, Marc!” He paused and I could see him force himself into a calmer demeanor. “Driving over here, I gave this some thought. We’re going to have to make this show our focal point. We need Killing Reality to be our main show! The drag girls can fill in some extra time until we can manage to come up with something else. I know they won’t mind more air time.”

  “I’m no lawyer,” I said, “but don’t we have a legal obligation to continue?”

  He put his hand on my shoulder, “Kid, this is reality television. We can do whatever the fuck we want.” I stared at him blankly.

  “Okay, I need you to ramp up the schedule on the shooting of this show, now!” he said, clearly back in boss mode. “All the focus is going to be on you and Proven Killers. I want Greg to start taking more of a leadership role on the filming of the Reality Is a Drag crew, since from what I’ve been hearing, he’s been doing great work with that sort of stuff. Plus, it’ll free up time, so you can stay focused here.”

  Before I could say anything, he marched out the front door. He was a man with a plan. The Stronge boys must’ve made one hell of an impression. I smiled.

  Finally. Good riddance to the Stronge family.

  24 By the Numbers

  The rest of the week was spent doing some behind-the-scenes filming for Proven Killers. After the debut of the pilot episode, I was eager for the show to be a hit, and although reality television seemed like a cash cow, it all depended on the numbers, which we were still waiting for. The more viewers we had, the better our future looked.

  I felt the makeup brush tickle my nose as I heard an overstimulated Spitz call for me from the hallway. “Marc? Marc, there you are! Feedback from the Proven Killers pilot came back from the brass today and it looks like we brought in a pretty decent review.” I could see it in his face that he had more to say. “But not exactly what we had hoped for with all the hyping we did.”

  He must’ve seen the disappointment adorn my face, because he added, “Hey, I’m not telling you this so you worry. Marketing has already gotten a few focus groups together to screen the pilot and take a look at some of the other footage we’ve put together. Depending on what they like, we can see what works and what doesn’t. Then we’ll just do a little tweaking and we’ll be as good as gold. Cheer up, pal,” he said, patting me on the back as he turned to leave.

  We ended the day early, because all that was left to do was to take a few candid shots and get some filler coverage for the transitions. The exec team didn’t want to invest much more into the new episodes until they had heard back from the focus groups.

  Spitz called me early Saturday morning to tell me he had some news and that he was sending someone over to my house that afternoon to review data from the focus groups. My doorbell rang a little after one, and as I opened it, my mouth dropped to the floor. One of Spitz’s marketing “Mactor Girls” (model/actor) from his office was standing at my door. Her name was Laura, but at her insistence everyone called her “Laurey.” She was around 5’7” and had long, sleek brown hair. She spoke very quickly, as if she’d rather be anywhere but my house on a Saturday afternoon. It took a little bit to catch what she was saying. I was sure I heard “terrific news” in there somewhere.

  I asked her to slow down a bit so I could better understand. Apparently, one of the focus groups scored us through the roof. The group consisted of females between ages 18 and 49.

  “They LOVED the segment you did with Armanda and have been asking to see more!” Laurey said.

  “You mean, they really liked what I did with Armando’s interview and want a follow up?” I asked, trying not to stumble over my words. Hmm, this didn’t sound that bad, and the ladies liked me too? Not bad, Marc. Not bad at all, I thought.

  “Well, kind of,” she said. “You see, they loved Armando! And of course, your work, also.” She hastened to assure me. “Don’t get me wrong. It seems like this Armando character in particular is quite appealing to the ladies. Here, take a look at this.”

  She pulled out her phone and scrolled through some of the focus group reviews: “‘Sexy,’ ‘Dangerous,’ ‘He can save me anytime.’ The list goes on and on, Marc!” she said, waving her arms and laughing as if this was the funniest thing she’d heard in a long time.

  I got a huge pit in my stomach, and I had the funny feeling that she wasn’t here just to give me the news about the focus group.

  She continued, “So, this is what the team is thinking. We either scrap the other segments and make this interview with Armando longer so it runs the entire episode, or at the end of it, we bring in Armando as your...as your right-hand man, your number two. What do you think? It’s pretty fresh, right?”

  It wasn’t pretty ‘fresh’ at all. What it was, was pretty fucked up. I had to put the brakes on this fast. “Laurey, I agree that it’s fresh and all, especially with the ladies as part of the audience, but this concept is way too different. What will Benny and the other guys think? What would I be doing? It’s my show, right? That is why Spitz gave me the big bucks, right?” I said, thinking I sounded like a whiny little brat.

  She shifted her feet and went into full Spitz mode. “Listen up, Marc. You didn’t score that well on your own as a solo lead. You didn’t do as well as we had hoped. So, we’re giving the audience, and our shareholders, what they want. And what they want is a little more Armando. Your ass is lucky they didn’t pull the plug on this show, so you need to get on board. Got it?”

  Now I could see why Spitz had sent Laurey over—she was a mini Spitz. What choice did I have? If I didn’t go along with the plan, I could get kicked off the show altogether.

  “Fine,” I said. “Got it.”

  “And one more thing,” she said, smirking. “We need to find out some more information on this Armando character. Spitz isn’t going to waste a big check on someone who isn’t going to deliver. And seeing as you’d be his new cohost, we think you should be the one to do the digging.”

  She really was the mini Spitz. The two together were a scary combination. Had there been this much conniving before I was brought onto the team? I pushed the thought away. “And how do you suggest I do that?” I asked.

  She shrugged with a devious grin. “I’m sure you can figure it out, Marc. Let’s just hope everyone’s following the no weapons rule when you start asking questions.”

  My heart raced. Crap. What did criminals hate more than an outsider asking too many questions? “Yeah,” I said, my mouth going dry. “Let’s hope.”

  25 Brothers in Arms

  The next day, I still couldn’t believe Spitz was sending me to snoop on Armando. After asking around—while trying to be inconspicuous—I came across Claudio and Felix, two of the younger resident gang members from East LA, who were outside playing a dice game called “Dudo.”

  “Hey, what’s up guys?” I asked, walking confidently through the backyard, careful not to surprise them. “I need a little help. I’m hoping you could tell me a little more about Armando, seeing how tight you all are with him.”

  Felix and Claudio looked at me like I was speaking Chinese. My request had obviously put them on alert. “What do you want to know about him for?” Felix asked, sneering at me, rolling the small dice between his stubby, tattooed fingers.

  I was completely out of my element trying to be “one of the guys” amongst these two. But I couldn’t go back to my old life, living paycheck to paycheck, so I wasn’t going to give up so easily. I reached out and gave Claudio what I intended to be a friendly clap on the back. But before I knew it, Claudio had pulled out a kitchen knife from inside his sock and had pinned me against the patio door.

  Holy shit. These guys had clearly violated the no weapons rule. I had to be careful with what I said here.

  “Guys! Seriously, there’s no problem here. I just wanted to learn more about him. Spitz wants to have Armando take on a
bigger role on the show, and I just want to see if he would be a good fit. I swear, that’s all.”

  Honesty was sometimes the best policy, right?

  Claudio cautiously backed off. I adjusted my shirt, still trying to recover and gather my composure. Not wanting to be left out of the fun, Felix got in my face. “Why do you think we know anything about Armando? We ain’t no snitches!”

  “I heard he came from the same gang as you, so I figured you all were friends,” I said. “You know, stick-together-type stuff. That’s why I’m asking you about him.”

  Felix answered, “Come on, man! What did you think? Armando ain’t one of us, Homes. He ain’t no gang banger. Watchu talkin’ about?”

  “I...I’m not sure I understand,” I stuttered in confusion.

  “Armando just checks in with us, ‘cause he knows we ain’t too popular with the other boys in the hood no more. Thanks to this fuckin’ show. They think we sold out—that we got legit coin and they don’t. He looks out for us, you know? He keeps preaching and saying what we’re doin’ ain’t good for our community, that P Killers is making the gang life look all cool and shit. You all ain’t keepin’ it real.”

  Claudio nodded and added, “That’s right. He hates this show, and if he had it his way, we’d all walk off. Boom. Gone.” They began to laugh, “Yeah, like we got a choice.”

  Felix further explained, “I’m telling you Homes, he only let you boys give him a small part so he could stick around and do his thang.”

  “Okay. What’s his story?” I asked, trying to get to the point. “I mean, where’s he from and how did he decide to turn his life around?”

  Claudio answered, “I know what you want, man,” he shrugged. “He’s your show’s Brad Pitt and Enrique-fuckin’-Iglesias all wrapped in one. And the chicas love him!” Claudio Laughed, punching me in the arm.