The Brand

by M. N Providence

  They disappeared into the thick crowd inside the loud dancing hall, leaving Joelyn in tears. She quickly made her way through the crowd and found her way out of the club. Outside, she flagged down a cab that took her home. Crying like a baby, she drank herself senseless until she collapsed inside her living room. In the morning, she decided she was going to have to make some friends. One needed a loyal ear at times like this. She made a long-distance phone call to her friend in South Africa, Samantha, and for more than an hour Joelyn recited the story of her disappointment to her best friend.

  Welcome to Los Angeles, baby.

  Chapter 2

  Cupid was treating Jansen Vermuelen better. She had found love at the Australian Open. His name was Thomas Mandell, a twenty-two-year-old originally from Las Vegas, but who now lived in New York City and had dreams of becoming the next big US tennis star since Andre Agassi. For the simple reason that Agassi originated from Las Vegas, Tommy worshipped the man’s achievements. Tommy carried around a tennis ball that the legend had signed for him while Tommy had been a ball-boy at the age of twelve during a match in Los Angeles in which Agassi had defeated Sampras to set the record straight on who was the greater between the two of them.

  While Tommy was by no means Jansen’s first boyfriend, he was, however, fun to be with and a good companion in bed, though this last claim could be disputed on the grounds that Jansen had not had that many sexual partners to be an authority on the subject. They were suited to each other, the common ground being tennis, naturally, and provided entertainment for their legions of fans, who couldn’t stop chatting about them on Facebook.

  In January of 2011, Jansen did not win the Australian Open, but she reached the finals of the tournament. Soon afterwards, she was contacted by Nike, the US sportswear giant, for an endorsement deal that would net Jansen $60 million over five years.

  Speckman rejected the offer forthrightly. ‘It’s too early in your career for the corporate guys to corrupt you. You need to win tournaments…win all four Grand Slam titles and then perhaps you can be bought. Not yet, Sunshine. Not just yet. You need to prove why you should be bought, not bought to prove your worth.’

  ‘Maybe they recognize talent,’ Jansen argued pointedly.

  ‘Doesn’t matter. They’ll corrupt your mind and erode your abilities to focus on the game. With money like that, they’ll want to make you a star, but the pressure to win’ll kill you, because what’s a star without winning games?’ He went on before she could answer. ‘You don’t need their money. You’re already rich, for heaven’s sake!’

  ‘Are you jealous of me because I’m a far much better player than you ever were?’ Jansen shot back acidly.

  Speckman fell silent and looked away from the eyes of his young protégé. He sighed resignedly and sat down.

  She saw by the prominent veins at his temples that he was controlling his temper. ‘I’m sorry, Gary. I can be a bitch sometimes.’

  Speckman sighed again. ‘It’s okay, Sunshine. You’re right. I can’t expect to train you and run your life at the same time. You’re above eighteen. It’s your decision to make. And I really should be congratulating you, because you’ve made it. They want to make a brand out of you, and that’s an achievement to be proud of. And as someone who was there when it happened, I am happy for you. And I’d like to say it’s been a rewarding experience to see you grow from a kid who couldn’t hold the racket properly and went on to become a star. I—.’

  ‘Are you quitting on me, Gary?’ she interjected, her eyes worried.

  ‘You decide,’ he said softly.

  ‘I want you as my trainer,’ she said plaintively. ‘I can’t work with anybody else.’

  ‘Here’s the deal,’ Gary said seriously. ‘If I’m in, I want it to be clear that my job is to train you. And I will train you to win games. I cannot handle the other side of things…the sponsors, the publicity stunts and all ’at shit…I don’t want to be a part of it. And lastly, I cannot control your private life.’

  ‘It’s clear,’ Jansen said.

  ‘I should warn you, Sunshine. When you sign your name on the dotted line on that Nike deal every other sponsor will come hard and fast at you and with them will be vultures swooping in for every piece of you. You’re going to need a professional agent to deal with the sponsors and someone to manage your finances. History has taught us at least one basic rule about the American psyche.’

  Jansen stared back at her trainer with a blank expression.

  ‘America likes to build these larger-than-life characters and then takes pleasure in watching them destroying themselves.’

  Chapter 3

  Besides the money, the only other part of the Vermuelen legacy that Joelyn had obtained from the dissolution of her marriage with Hudson Vermuelen was a plaque that had always hung on one of the walls in Ugly Joe’s office. It was gold-framed and always shined to an immaculate luster by the cleaning ladies. Hudson had been happy to give it away to her ex-wife.

  It read: DON’T WAIT FOR THINGS TO HAPPEN. THEY WON’T.

  It now hung on the wall directly opposite the headboard of the king-size bed in her favorite bedroom at the Malibu mansion. It was the first thing she read each time she rose from bed in the morning. It reminded her now as she went to brush her teeth in the bathroom that she had to take the initiative and find herself a film to act in. Her agent had found a part for her in a romantic comedy where she would be useful eye-candy for the male audience but Joelyn had declined. Apart from the fact that the picture would go straight to DVD, she didn’t relish the thought of being typecast as a rom-com softie.

  Joelyn realized that like in most towns, success in Hollywood was about who you knew. Her agent knew people, and that was a start. So, Joelyn skipped breakfast and made an appearance at the Rebecca Lindland Talent Agency at the fourth floor of a building on Hope Street and requested to see Ms. Lindland herself. She did not have an appointment, but if the receptionist could be so kind as to inform Ms. Lindland that it was Joelyn Smith there wouldn’t be a problem at all. Grudgingly, the receptionist picked up the phone and put a call through to her boss’ office. A little while later, Miss Smith was sitting on a red leather couch that complemented the red-and-white paint sequence of the agent’s office. Rebecca sat opposite her.

  ‘I need a good writer,’ Joelyn was saying. ‘Somebody I can work with at short notice.’

  ‘That’s no problem. I can give you a list of good writers. When do you need it?’

  ‘Pronto, please.’

  By the end of the day, Joelyn had made various calls and narrowed her list to twelve. She spoke to the twelve writers and set up appointments to see them on the next day. On the following day, she spent the entire day explaining to the twelve writers the kind of screenplay she was looking for; basically an action-comedy that was going to make people laugh, with a prominent female lead a limited budget. She gave each of the twelve writers two weeks to come up with a story and then set about establishing her own production house. She had learned from various sources that she would need to have a licensed film production company in order to make a movie. She called her movie business JOY-LINE PICTURES.

  In two weeks, Joelyn, with the help of a hired assistant, sifted through the twelve film-scripts until she found one that she thought would work as an action-comedy and, most importantly, sell well to the public. She instructed her assistant to call the writer of the chosen script, Chris Pizzello, and find out if he could come to see her at his earliest convenience. When he arrived two hours later, Joelyn gave him her briefing, after making him sign a confidentiality agreement with JOY-LINE PICTURES.

  ‘I liked your script, Chris, and I want to work with you. There’s some changes, of course, that we’ll effect to it in order to accommodate certain elements in the film. But basically, it’s a good story. There’re the two guys who are mean, reckless cops. One of them must be played by the WWE’s biggest star of the moment. He’ll bring a guaranteed audience for the film. His partner should
be Black, because we need Black people to watch the movie. Any of the current, hot Black stars should do, but he will have to be a Hollywood action hero who’s slipping out of people’s minds, badly in need of a movie to resuscitate his dying career; it will make him inexpensive. For his partner we can gamble on an unknown, who has this gorgeous blue-eyed girl for a wife – me.’ She stared inquisitively at Chris Pizzello. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘It’s workable,’ he responded. ‘And I’m not just saying that because you’re the boss. The problem is this: nobody ever knows which film is going to work or not. Sometimes you think you got a hot one and it bombs at the box office, and then sometimes something that initially looked ordinary explodes way out of proportion. It’s all just a gamble.’

  ‘Let’s gamble on this and put our systems in order. I’d like production to start tomorrow, if it’s possible.’

  It wasn’t. Production started the following week, and it drew on for a month and eventually took seven weeks to complete and consumed $55 million of Joelyn’s personal money. Some of it went towards advertising, publicity campaigns and promotional work. When the film premiered, it gathered $7,4 million on its opening weekend in America alone and would eventually realize $33 million worldwide. It was a loss for JOY-LINE PICTURES, but it had given Joelyn the exposure she needed. She had been on prime time talk shows, had been interviewed on radio, and had even graced the covers of seven different men’s magazines.

  When Rebecca Lindland arranged for her to audition for a film slated for a late summer release that year, to be directed by Chris Woodyard, one of Hollywood’s current brightest young talents, Joelyn went with her head held high. There were four interviewers present; acclaimed director Woodyard, a female casting director, as well as the producers of the film, one male and the other female. The woman producer was plump and chubby at the face. She hated Joelyn at first sight – and the feeling was mutual. Chris Woodyard gave Joelyn a smile that conveyed that he liked what he saw. They gave her a particularly difficult scene to try out and she did what by the two men’s facial expressions was a marvelous rendition of the part.

  The plump producer was not amused. She demanded to know, ‘What other work have you done, Ms. Smith?’

  Joelyn answered politely that she had been in the action-comedy written by Chris Pizzello, starring the hugely popular WWE superstar, John—.’

  ‘A funny movie,’ broke in Woodyard. ‘I must say, I quite enjoyed it. You were brilliant, Ms. Smith.’

  ‘Please call me Joelyn.’

  ‘It bombed, as I recall,’ the chubby woman said disdainfully as if swatting at a repulsive fly that had sat on her forehead.

  Definitely, the remark was meant as a snide. Joelyn returned it smoothly. ‘Most people do not realize that movie-making is an art, and in art not everyone is expected to understand the artist.’

  The two men visibly stifled laughs. The plump woman colored. ‘And what other qualities do you possess, Ms. Smith, besides being an artist?’ The last word was spat out contemptuously.

  Joelyn stared back at the insolent woman and felt herself losing her temper, but when she spoke, her voice was surprisingly calm, and she was looking directly at Chris Woodyard. ‘I have a rather cute pair of natural breasts, and it is an established fact that I dance very well naked.’

  * * * * *

  A grotesque and incomprehensible form moved under the sheet in a profoundly confusing manner. Closer inspection would reveal that it was actually the shape formed by two bodies, conjoined in a furiously passionate act of lovemaking. The figure at the top sat up, and with a sudden scream of delicious pleasure threw back the sheet and revealed itself to be the naked form of the beautiful Ms. Smith, straddling the crotch of acclaimed film director Chris Woodyard.

  Her body became very still and she fell very quiet, staring down at Woodyard with unmoving eyes and a foolish expression on her face. He pulled her down to lie flat on his bare chest. Gently, he stroked her back and fleshy buttocks. While she was of average height, she had a perfectly trim body – obviously a woman who took great care in her appearances. From the moment she had stepped into the audition room, swaying her hips with the slightest hint of provocation, Chris had known that he wanted to be inside her and show her who was boss, and when she had looked at him with those blue eyes and challenged him with the proclamation that she had an amazing pair of breasts he had known that his wish was granted.

  She sighed contentedly and moved her legs. He slipped out of her. She slid off him and lay beside him, stroking his hairy chest. ‘Did I pass?’ she asked in her normal voice, quickly recovered from the maddening effects of her orgasm.

  ‘Yes. You fuck like a maniac. Your ex was a fool to let you go.’

  Joelyn had been referring to the audition, not the examination of her sexual prowess. Men could be so one-track-minded sometimes! ‘I don’t think there was actually any deep love between me and him; at least not in the way of lifelong partners. He married me to fill a void within himself, and couldn’t. I married him for his money, to be frank, but with time I learned to love and respect him. Not once during our marriage did I ever cheat on him.’

  Woodyard, who had no kindly inclination towards marriage, fully intending to be young and a bachelor forever, fell into a telling silence.

  Sensing his discomfort with intelligent perspicacity, Joelyn quickly delved into safer territory. ‘Did I get the role?’

  ‘Yes and no,’ Chris answered cryptically. He explained. ‘You got a part in the movie but it’s not the part you auditioned for. Andrea didn’t want you in the movie.’ Andrea was the plump woman. ‘So, we reached a compromise. She wanted to give you an insignificant role and I pressed for a part with more lines.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Joelyn modestly, grateful to be part of a project involving Chris Woodyard. She focused her eyes on him. ‘How did you ever convince the fat bitch to allow me into the picture?’

  ‘I threatened to walk out of the film, and it worked.’

  ‘You’re heartless,’ Joelyn laughed in amusement. She threw her legs over his thighs and caressed his genitals with her hand. ‘I guess I should repay you properly for your generosity.’

  ‘No. This is not part of a work arrangement. This is two consenting adults having a good time together. When it comes to making the film, we shall be professionals, and I want you to repay me for casting you in the movie by doing an excellent job. I cast you in that role specifically for a purpose. You see, baby, you have an un-American accent. I will require you to make the most of it in the project. We want to give audiences something a little different by Chris Woodyard.’

  Chapter 4

  While California is by all manner of reasoning and logical deduction a part of the United States of America, Los Angeles has a tendency to function in abnormal ways. There is within the city a pervasive obsession with celebrity culture that borders on the abnormal. When it was confirmed by Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston’s respective publicists in January of 2005 that the two actors couldn’t continue as married partners, Los Angeles came to a standstill. There was a raging war in Iraq, where American were dying in alarming numbers at an increasingly alarming rate, but Los Angeles was deeply worried that two of Hollywood’s then-biggest stars were divorcing. There are people who believe that 99% of LA’s residents either wish to, or have at some point in their lives been, involved in one way or the other with the entertainment industry. If there is any veracity to that claim, then it more than adequately explains the LA state of mind.

  In January 2011 a 22-year-old man walked up to a group of people gathered in the parking lot outside a supermarket and shot a US member of Congress in the head. He went on to shoot eighteen other people. In total, he shot nineteen people, killing six of them, before being overpowered by bystanders and victims. It was a story that gripped the American nation, except perhaps the people of Alaska, who because of their cold climate are rarely stirred up by anything; the people of Hawaii, who at most times do not consider
themselves American; and the people of Hollywood, who think life is a movie and refuse to believe anything that resembles the truth.

  Also, in January of 2011, when Jansen Vermuelen participated in the Australian Open and crashed out with a torn thigh ligament in the third round of the tournament, Los Angeles did not care who she was or what she had done. However, when she appeared as the face of Maybelline’s new ad campaign, some sections of American society took notice and started whispering her name. Soon afterwards, Jansen performed her part in solidifying her prospects at being a household name in America by becoming romantically linked to Byron Taylor, one of Hollywood’s foremost leading men of current times. More correctly, it should be stated that Mr. Taylor had used his celebrity clout to seek out and proposition the impressionable young lady, who was swayed by his charms and had welcomed him to her bosom and completely overlooked the fact that he was fifteen years her senior.

  Tommy Mandell was promptly dropped and relegated to the memory banks of past conquests. This union had, for Miss Vermuelen, the effect of making her widely popular in America and the rest of the world. She was a rising sports star and an exotic import. America loved her. For Mr. Taylor, for whom everything was a strategized act of strengthening his public image, it had the desired effect of fortifying his persona as a successful actor who had bedded a wide variety of young, talented and beautiful women. Having lost his virginity at the age of thirteen, Byron Taylor had twenty-one years of experience in sexual intercourse with women. In Jansen Vermuelen, he found a fresh, young, raw thing with inexhaustible bundles of energy, eager to learn. He introduced her to his vast knowledge, administered his practiced skill and applied his wide-ranging expertise on her until she yearned for more. He taught her how to give, and trained her how to be given. When he was done, he lay back and enjoyed the fruits of his labor.