by Morgan Black
Jasmine just stares at me.
“Just fucking say it, pussy!” I say.
“She’s manipulating you.”
“Jason ... Jasmine ... who the fuck ever you are ... get out. I have work to do.”
“I’m serious, Damien.”
“Yeah, I’m serious, too. You and Anna ... and Trent have been saying that since day one. Nothing new.”
“But the feeling is back. With this movie and everything. Damien, she’s a user. She hides it well. Better than others. But she’s using you. I’m afraid ... just afraid, that’s all. Because I don’t want to see what might happen to you when she leaves you. Which she will.”
I laugh.
Marcellina leave me? Me? Damien Cage. Rock star. Yeah, right.
I chuckle. “You’re funny, Jason. That’s very sweet of you. Now go shopping for a new purse, you fucking faggot tranny.”
“Damien! I think you know what you’re doing. Deep down, you know she’s manipulating you, but you’re letting her for some reason.”
I take another swig.
“And you’re drinking yourself to death as a result,” she says. “Because you know.”
“Fuck you, Jason,” I say. “You’re fired. Get out.”
“She’s no good, Damien! And you know it!”
I feel the bile rise in my stomach. “What did you say?”
“She’s no good,” she says. “I sense it when I look into her eyes. Everything she does is manipulation.”
“You will take that back or I’ll knock you out right now.”
“Then knock me the fuck out. Punch me. Go ahead. You want me to speak the truth, don’t you? That’s what I do. I tell you all of the shit you don’t want to hear. I know it, Damien. She’s using you. She’ll destroy you. Don’t let her do it.”
My hands shake. I grit my teeth and clench my fists. I so want to leap over the couch and punch Jason/Jasmine in the face.
“I see that you’re mad,” she says, “and that’s a chance I will take. Because I will always speak the truth to you. I know what I see, and if the truth costs me my job and a punch in the face, then it’s worth it. Because our friendship is worth it to me.”
Part of me shouts, She can’t talk to you that way! But the part of me that built Eon Sphinx—the part that crunches the spreadsheets and writes the marketing materials—says, Jasmine is wise. You’ve always known that. Listen to her.
“I care about you, Damien. You’ve done more for me than anyone I’ve ever known. I never thought I could be so close to someone. You’re my best friend. If you want to fire me, fine … but friends always help out friends. And trust me, you are being duped by Marcellina.”
The world is spinning out of focus. I take a deep breath. “Have you said your piece?”
She holds my gaze for a long moment. “Yes.”
“Good,” I say. “Now get out.”
She just shakes her head and walks through the door, slamming it shut behind her.
I take another swig from the bottle.
Chapter 8
Park City, Utah, 7:23 p.m.
We’re waiting in the line of limousines outside of the theater. The driver is the only relaxed one. Fuck, is that George Clooney I just saw get out of a limo three ahead of us? Yes it is! Beyoncé and Jay-Z get out of the next one.
I’m surprised to see such big names here. They must have stakes in one or more of the independent films being shown.
Throngs of movie fanatics are everywhere. This film festival is their annual pilgrimage to the gods of cinema.
I glance over at Marcellina, who is in the most stunning yellow dress I’ve ever seen. Her hair is done up in little curls rolling all over the place. There’s a funky-looking spot on her arm right above the elbow. Lighter than the rest of her. What the fuck is that?
I look over at Arely. His tux doesn’t remove his scumbag-ness. He has that nasty smirk on his face. I didn’t want him to ride in our limo, but Marcellina insisted.
I take a swig of Jack Daniels from one of the limo’s highball glasses, and turn to stare at Jasmine. I can’t believe it. She’s in a shiny dress and looks ... dare I say it? Fucking hot. She’s had the most amazing boob job I’ve ever seen. They look as real as real can get.
You know, I think I’d fuck her. There, I said it. I seriously think I would. Maybe one of these nights I’ll have Jasmine join Marcellina and me. I’ve never sucked a cock, but I think I would suck Jasmine’s. I bet it’s huge.
I slap that image out of my head.
“You look amazing!” Marcellina says to Jasmine. “I’m so proud of you!”
“Thank you,” says Jasmine in a feminine voice that finally works.
Our limo pulls up to the red carpet, and a valet in a tuxedo opens the door.
I’m taking a huge chance, being seen with Marcellina in public like this. Anna Price had a conniption over it … but fuck it. I’ll be seen with Marcellina if I want to be seen with her.
Oddly, very few people pay attention to me. Only a couple of, It’s Damien Cages. Different crowd than my usual fans, I guess.
Inside of the theater lobby, Bob Tisker greets us in his tuxedo. He hugs Marcellina, and then me.
The two other producers, Max and Mike, join us. Their names are on the movie. Mine isn’t. I insisted. No stealing the spotlight from my girl. Even the background music I wrote is credited to someone else.
The valets get us seated in the large theater. Center front. Programs are handed out. I look around for George Clooney, Jay-Z, or Beyoncé. Damn, they must have gone into a different theater. There’s like a thousand movies playing here. Would have been very cool if they had been at ours.
Whatever.
The lights dim, and I glance at Marcellina. She bites her hand. She’s shaking. “Are you all right?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she says but she’s a million miles away. Her foot is jumping.
The movie starts. The streets of Brimford—Halifax really, but Brimford for the audience—come to life. Salsa music. Kids on bikes. Fragrant dishes cooking in tiny kitchens.
Then the camera zeroes in on the window of an abandoned building. Inside a young girl and her older brother shoot heroin. Then they go to an outdoor family block party, flying high while friends and family barbeque food and dance.
I feel Marcellina’s hand clamp down on mine. She’s biting her lower lip.
“Excuse me,” she whispers. “I need to go to the ladies’ room.”
Now? Really? What the fuck?
I rise with her. “Up!” I shout at the row of people.
They respond, one bald, bearded guy with a nasty glare. I resist the urge to knock him out.
“It’s okay,” she says. “Don’t come with me.”
“I’m coming with you.”
Outside in the lobby area, I wait. I can’t fucking believe this. The movie just started and she has to go the fucking ladies’ room? Something is way wrong here. Way the fuck wrong.
While she’s in there, a couple of girls come up to me and ask for an autograph. I sign them quickly. As I’m doing the last one, I notice a familiar shape out of the corner of my eye.
It’s Arely. He walks up to me. What the fuck?
“Compadré!” he says with outstretched hands and that ugly little smirky thing he does.
I just nod at him, not smiling. I’m not his fucking compadré.
“You’re missing the movie, Arely.”
“Let me buy you a drink,” he says. “A congratulatory one. Come on.”
Arely has never been this interested in being nice to me. Something is up.
“Let us go to the bar,” he says.
“No thanks, I’m waiting for Marcellina. She’s in the ladies’ room.”
“Oh?” He puts a surprised look on his face, but I see something behind his eyes. He’s not surprised at all.
He knows Marcellina is in the ladies’ room, doesn’t he? He came here because she texted him, didn’t he?
“What’s going on,
Arely?”
“Going on?” he says with a nervous laugh. “Nothing. I just want to buy you a drink.”
He looks down and to his right, scratching behind his neck. The thought that has been boiling up from underneath me for weeks explodes outward.
“So you can sneak some H to Marcellina, right?” I say.
His jaw drops. “What?” Another fake laugh. “That’s ridiculous. Marcellina is clean. We know that. It’s in the movie.”
“You don’t like this, do you?” I say.
“I’m confused, my friend. What do you mean?”
“You don’t like Marcellina being independent. Going off on her own, do you? It was always you and her, wasn’t it?”
“Damien Cage, Damien Cage ... please, not tonight. Let’s just enjoy ... and only enjoy.”
“You got her into porn, didn’t you? You saw a way you could make a lot of money. But you had to make sure she never got off the heroin, didn’t you? Because without it, she wouldn’t need you. Too bad you had to go to prison for a couple of years. That messed up your plans because she got clean while you were inside.”
Arely steps closer to me. His friendly demeanor disappears. “You stupid white boy, you know nothing about us. You know nothing about our struggle. What it’s like to grow up in the barrio. It’s nothing like you think, asshole. You think I got her into drugs? There are no young girls who aren’t into drugs. And you know why? Because the realities of life are so fucking bad they need the drugs. We all need them just to get through the day. And if we die, then we die. Life isn’t worth living anyway.”
“You’re one sick, fucked-up, twisted bastard.”
“No, my friend. You are the sick, twisted bastard. You had everything handed to you.”
“Fuck you. I created everything I am from scratch. I did it by working my ass off twenty-four seven. I sang until my vocal cords bled. I didn’t sleep for weeks. You think I had shit handed to me? No. I know you, Arely. You know the score. You know that each one of us has the power to break out. Any one of us can decide to say fuck it, I’m outta here and go start a new life. But people like you exist to keep them imprisoned. Dependent on you. You don’t want anyone to be free. Because you figured out the game, Arely. You’re free. You’re living off the money you make from Marcellina. You get to be free. But Marcellina doesn’t. That’s your game. She’s your meal ticket.”
“Fuck you!” He moves toward me.
“Fuck you right back, pal!” I say as I shove his chest.
“Boys!” Marcellina appears from nowhere and slips between us. “What’s going on? No, don’t answer. We need to get inside quick! I don’t want to miss any more than we already have. Let’s go.”
She’s glowing. Smiley and happy. Fuck, she got some. I can tell.
I look at her arm. There’s some kind of makeup on it. I grab it and rub. Underneath are fresh trackmarks. Her big, brown-yellow eyes meet mine. They’re confused. And high. Very high.
Did he have someone else sneak the stuff in to her? Or did she have it on her?
I take her arm and lead her back to the theater. As we walk in, I glance back at Arely.
He winks at me.
Fucking smug bastard should never wink at me.
Ever.
* * *
We don’t say anything on the ride back to the hotel. Even Jasmine is silent. Arely vanished.
Nothing adds up.
We should be triumphantly happy. The audience loved the movie. There was even a standing ovation. Lots of glad-handing and back-slapping.
Regardless, Marcellina and I are in a fog. She’s high on heroin and I know it. She can’t hide it from me anymore. I’ve been hiding behind Jack Daniels myself, pretending not to see what is plainly obvious to everyone else.
Once we’re back in the hotel room, I unleash. “Arely’s got to go. And you’re going into rehab.”
“He can’t go,” Marcellina calmly says, lighting a cigarette. “I need him.”
I go to the bar and pour a large shot of Jack Daniels, throwing it back. “He controls you, Marcellina. I can’t have that. You’re an addict again. My girlfriend is no heroin addict.”
She turns and faces me with hatred oozing from her eyes. “You only want him gone because you want to control me!”
Folding my arms, I briefly hang my head, but then look up at her. “You know that’s not true, Marcellina. You know I’ve done nothing but help you become your best self.”
“For you! So you can have me. So you can keep me here. Trapped. Damien Cage’s personal princess.”
What the fuck? She’s irrational. The drug is infecting her ability to think.
“You know I can have any girl I want, don’t you?” I say. “They line up. You think you’re here because of your pussy and ass?”
“Of course!” she says. “I’m Marcellina Montero! Porn star! All men want to own me! To control me!”
“First of all, I’m not all men. And second of all, the only reason I’m with you is because of who you are. There is a human being in there! I saw her even before her fist went flying into my face. Pussy and ass is not a problem for me. But someone with your brains, your intelligence, your drive. That’s rare. Almost nonexistent in my world. So if you think it’s because I want to control you or own you, you’re sadly mistaken. The truth is I love you.”
She takes a drag of the cigarette. “What?” she says, exhaling a stream of smoke.
“I said I love you. Marcellina Montero Porn Star, I love you.”
She puffs again and links her left arm over to her right, looking down.
Are those tears in her eyes?
“You shouldn’t love me, Damien Cage Rock Star. Nobody should love me. You know why? I can’t love anybody! When I hear normal girls ... stupid little idiot fuckhead girls ... talking about their first time with their boyfriend, I want to smash their heads! My first time was my cousin in a basement with a wet towel over my mouth. I was six years old! I barely remember being alive without some sweaty man fucking me.”
I glance over at the cold night sky outside the window. She takes another puff.
“Look,” I say, “I don’t know what you went through. I don’t know what it’s like to grow up on the streets, or to do porn ... so I can’t speak to that. But I can tell you that we’re all human. We’re all the same underneath. And there is a human inside of you who is worthy of love. Whatever happened to you, whoever did this to you ... no matter how many thousands of men have fucked you, it is the person inside of your soul I love. Do you hear me, Marcellina Montero, human being?”
She can’t seem to speak. Tears flow down her cheeks. A long ash has formed on her cigarette.
Then she looks up at me … and I see the girl.
I see the confused young girl in a world that wants to control her, use her, abuse her, take her for all she’s worth, then throw her in a trash bin when they’re done with her.
For a second, I think I’ve reached her. For a moment, I actually believe that somehow I’ve gotten to her. That my words have pierced that ironclad exterior.
But in a flash, it’s gone.
Her seductive smile is back. Her eyes brighten up like giant planets. She leans toward me and melts into my arms. Like always. The wall of steel is back up. She can’t trust me. She can’t trust anyone. Maybe she’ll never be able to trust anyone.
All I know is that I love her. Not the girl on the outside. Not the entrepreneur, the screenwriter, the actress. The lost little girl inside, who wants nothing more than to be happy.
Will I ever be able to reach her?
As I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight, I commit myself to loving her as much as possible. To setting her free.
I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I commit to it. I have the power.
I’m Damien Cage, I can do anything.
Chapter 9
Miami, 7:12 a.m.
I’m trashing the house.
Marcellina is gone. Can’t find her anywhere. J
asmine hasn’t seen her. Nobody has seen her.
I call Miami-Dade PD. I’m transferred to Detective Goffman.
Fucking fantastic.
“Cage, what the fuck is going on?” he says.
“Detective Goffman,” I say. “We have a situation.”
“Do you have our marriage license? Because last time I checked we weren’t married.”
“Fuckhead! Put your goddamned vendetta against me on hold! We have a missing girl! She could be dead! I need you to find her! You need to find her! It’s your job!”
“I don’t need you to tell me what my job is, asshole. I’m not your goddamned servant. Someday, I swear, I’m going to settle the score with you. Okay ... who’s missing?”
“Name is Marcellina Montero.”
“Date of birth?”
“8-12-87.”
“Got a social?”
“Not offhand, but I can get it.”
“Description?”
I tell him.
“Fine. What’s your best number?”
I tell him that, too.
“We’ll put out an APB,” he says. “In the meantime, do you have any pictures of her you can send us?”
I hesitate.
“Just Google Marcellina Montero. Two Ls.”
There is silence on the other end of the line. I hear keys tapping. Goffman laughs.
“Why am I not surprised?” he says.
“Shut the fuck up, Goffman!”
“The famous rock star is finally running out of groupies. Now it's porn stars, huh, Cage?”
“Goffman, I swear I’ll kill you.”
“Oooh, was that a threat to a police officer? This call is being recorded, you know.”
“Just fucking find her!” I say, slamming down the phone.
I go to my cabinet, pour a hefty amount of Jack Daniels into a glass, and swig the entire thing down.
Arely.
Where the fuck is Arely? He knows where she is. I bet she’s with him.
Jasmine bursts into the room. “Damien, we found her.”
“Where is she?” I ask. “Is she all right?”
“Hospital. O.D. Heroin.”
