Hollywood's Not America

I woke up to a crash, which wasn’t completely abnormal for L.A. I woke up at least once a week to a car alarm, or accident, or garbage truck, or music blasting from Hollywood Boulevard. Los Angeles was loud, fast and dirty. Basically, if you balled up Los Angeles into a singular person, they’d be a hooker with bleach blonde curls and an uncanny ability to rock your world in a night and then fuck you over in the morning.

It sure as hell beat waking up at five every morning to check on the chickens back in Checotah. After living through that? I could manage being rudely awakened by an L.A. car accident at ten.

As I opened my eyes and rolled over, I realized very quickly that it was one hell of an accident—but it sure wasn’t a car accident.

“Where the fuck is the cable?” I heard bellowing from the living room. I quickly grabbed a pair of basketball shorts and pulled them over my underwear and rushed out there in my bra. I knew that voice all too well.

“What happened to ‘I’m fucking done Ly. You’ll never find anything like this again.’ Blah, blah, blah.” I growled, crossing my arms across my chest and leaning against the doorway.

“Fuck you.” He barked back, “I’m here for my TV.”

“Oh.” I nodded, “Oh right, your TV that I paid for.”

He turned his face around to look at me. His thin but muscular body was clad in a black tank top that clung to his chest for dear life, and a pair of black skinny jeans hid in his blue Nike high tops. His hair was short and choppy, and nearly as dark as his raven eyes. Not a single thing had changed since he last walked out that door almost four months ago. “Don’t start with me Ly.”

“No. Don’t you start with me, Darren.” I said, shifting my weight to my right hip, “That TV doesn’t belong to you. It never has.”

“I don’t have to take this.” He pulled the TV in his arms and ripped the power cord out of the wall. “I’ll go out and grab a new cable cord. This television is mine, and I’m fucking leaving with it.”

“No you’re not.” I growled, lunging towards him and wrapping my much-frailer arms around the set.

He started pulling violently, “Let go, Ly!”

“No!” I screamed as he managed to swing the television hard enough that I went flying back into the counter. “Shit.” I mumbled, pulling myself off the floor and reaching for the broom, holding it by the bristles and swinging the handle as hard as I could into the TV set—which apparently, was much more fragile than I thought, as the screen shattered to pieces.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” He boomed, dropping the set with a resounding thud.

I threw the broom on the ground, “I’d rather have a broken television than know I let you walk away with it.”

“You’re psycho, you know that?” He ran his hands through his hair. “Thank God I’m fucking done with this shit, or else I’d go insane.”

“If you were done with me, you wouldn’t be breaking into my apartment trying to take my television.” I shrugged.

There was an inaudible snap that came from Darren as his hands shot around my shoulders, gripping me so tightly that I balled my own hands into fists. Apparently, I had not only hit a nerve, I had stretched it out and played jump rope with it.

“Listen,” He spat, “Do not ever speak to me that way again, you got it?”

I grabbed his forearms and pushed him away, “Or else what, Darren? You’ll take my mattress? How about my refrigerator? How many times do you have to break up with me and then come back here with a trivial excuse just so you can see me again? How long are we going to dance around each other like this?”

“Let’s get one thing straight—I’m done with you Ly. I’ve been done with you for a long time, so it seems to me that you’re the one who wants to see me.” He smirked.

“You disgust me.” I spat as he grabbed my shoulder again and pressed me to him so our faces were only a few inches apart. Before I could speak he crushed his lips to mine, his breathe suffocating me as he held me there for what seemed like forever, until I could manage to pull myself away.

I slapped him, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I might not want you anymore Ly, but no man can resist that ass.” He smiled a crooked grin.

I grabbed the door, nearly ripped it off his hinges and without looking up I scowled, “Get the fuck out right now before I call the cops.”

“This isn’t over.” He said nonchalantly as he sauntered through the doorway, his hands in his pockets as I slammed the door behind him. I leaned up against the door and let my body slide down until I was sitting huddled up on the floor.

“It’s not over.” I sighed, “It never is.”

Later That Day (Ray’s)

“Nice bruise Stella.” Ali shot her snide remark at me as we passed me behind the bar, “Care to explain this one?”

Lulu stopped dead in her tracks, “Did you and Darren get back together?”

“Hardly.” I shook my head, pouring a double shot for the business men who were just finishing up their night out before the late night crowd rushed in. “I woke up this morning and he was trying to take the television.”

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Ali rolled her eyes.

“Apparently a lot of things.” I let out a soft laugh, running a rag over the bar top, “I mean, I paid for it, so any reasonable person would conclude that the television belonged to me even if we did share an apartment.”

Lulu grabbed a few empty glasses from the customers who had just left, “Yeah, well, since when has Darren been anything close to normal?”

“Seriously. He’s an ass.” Ali remarked. “Such an ass, in fact, that the happiest day of my life wasn’t when Eric proposed to me, it’s when you broke up with Darren.”

“Correction,” I held my hand up, “He broke up with me.”

“Regardless.” Ali said, “The day that jackass walked out of your life, I felt like a free woman.”
I raised an eyebrow, “What, do you two live vicariously through me or something?”

“I have no idea what that means.” Lulu said, passing us and walking onto the floor, “Some of us didn’t get into college.”

“It means-“

“Doesn’t matter. The regular crowd is coming in, get that ass in gear and wait some tables.” Ali laughed, slapping my butt and nudging me out of the way as she brought a round of beers to a table of men who had just signaled the bar.

“Yeah, yeah.” I groaned, “I’m going.”

The bar filled up quickly enough, it was a Saturday night and there was karaoke tonight, which meant more drunk men and a lot less hearing by the end of the night. It was my favorite night to bartend, though, because by the end of the night—people weren’t just ordering shots of straight liquor, they were doing some of the crazy stunts I’ve ever seen. I got asked to do at least six body shots every Saturday. I didn’t always accept depending on the traffic coming through the bar, but it was always nice to be asked.

“Stella!” I heard a familiar voice come through the door, and I turned to see Jeremy come stumbling in with a stupid grin on his face, “Duet with me.”

“Jer. How many times do I have to tell you that pre-gaming karaoke isn’t the best idea?” I laughed as the man who just sat down at the bar signaled for a round of Stella. “Not to mention, you have yet to actually make it to the stage to sing since we’ve met.”

“I know, but tonight’s different. I can feel it.” He smiled, “Tonight’s gonna be the J-man’s night.” He pointed his thumbs at himself and I couldn’t help but laugh. It was nice to know in a town full of selfish and conceited people, there were still a few good eggs in the bunch.

“All right, I’ll make you a deal. You make it up to that stage, I’ll sing a duet.” I smiled back, hardly believing the words coming out of my own mouth.

“You’ve got a deal.” He hit the bar with an open hand, stood up and let his free hand slide through his hair. “Now time to hit on some foxy ladies.”

“Table of blondes in the corner. Give them ten minutes and the one on the left will be trashed.” I whispered and he gave me a thumbs up before walking over to the jukebox to play a few of his favorites. Tonight it was a little Grand Funk Railroad.

A few hours had passed and I was literally running back and forth through the packed bar trying to fill orders and quench thirsts. Each table was completely full, the biggest turn out we’d ever had for a karaoke night, and sitting dead in the center of the bar was an all too familiar beanie surrounded by his all too familiar friends. I had heard him call my name once or twice, but at the rate my feet were moving—I didn’t have much time to turn around and say hello.

Lulu came up alongside me, “So are you gonna sing tonight?”

“I don’t know. Do I really have to?” I asked, throwing a couple of glasses in the sink and restocking.

Ali tossed an empty glass at me, and luckily because I caught it out of the corner of my eye, I was able to get a hold of it. “Listen, you know Ray will kill us if we don’t. Especially with a crowd this large, it’ll bring in a hell of a lot more business.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, “But aren’t we supposed to draw straws to see who goes up there?”

“No, because Ali and I know you rig that shit.” Lulu laughed, bumping her hip into mine and walking back towards the bar.

I turned to her with my hand on my chest, gasping, “Do you really think so little of me?”

“Oh shut up.” Ali rolled her eyes, “You’re going up there. Even if I have to get your new beanie pal to drag you up there.”

“Alex?” I asked.

She smirked, “You remember his name?”

“You remember the fact you have three tables you’re waiting on?” I spat and she accepted the venom gratuitously, just walking away with hands full of beer.

Just like in the movies, his eyes caught mine from across the bar. A smile crawled across his face as he hit Aladdin on the arm and turned him to face me. Part of me felt this insatiable need to drive down underneath the bar and hide from the awkward stares, but the other half felt like I needed to stay—just in case there was something in his eyes I hadn’t caught yet.

“Stella!” I heard from behind me, nearly scaring me out of my apron and sending me back into the bar. Ray stood there with a stupid smirk on his face, his voice booming in a laughing fashion, “I’m sorry did I scare you into doing your job?”

“Very funny, Ray.” I pushed the loose hair out of my face, pouring and sending a shot of Bacardi to a regular sitting at the bar. “I was just--”

“No need to explain, I just came over to, uh, point your line of focus right about--” He spun my head to face the stage where Jeremy was crawling up to the mic stand after a more than lackluster performance from the last karaoke addict. “There.”

“Fuck!” I growled under my breath, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking fuckity-fuck-fuck-FUCK.”

I made my way towards the stock room in a panic before Ray grabbed my arm and spun me around in time to hear Jeremy calling my name over the microphone and the whole bar spun their bodies around to stare at me, chanting the traitor that was my name. “Stella!” They called out and I felt my body tense up as my fingers fumbled with my apron, trying to get it off. “Stella! Stella! Stella!”

“All right, all right. I can hear you, god damn.” I laughed nervously, throwing my apron over Ray’s head and making my way up to the stage as Bon Jovi started blaring over the speakers. Livin’ On A Prayer pulsated through the floor boards, shaking the glasses on the table and tapping the feet of every able bodied person in the bar. I could see Alex laughing, hollering as he pumped his fist in the air.

Jeremy started (http://youtu.be/FayhJLGUMT0), slurring his words slightly but quickly getting into the beat, letting his left hand take the mic and his right help me onto the stage. Suddenly all my nerves were gone as I looked out into the sea of people that flooded the bar. I felt so high up, like if I jumped off I could just fly. The kind of feeling my Dad never understood, that no one understood. This feeling was why I was in Los Angeles in the first place.

I came into the pre-chorus strong, my voice reverberating off the walls setting everyone’s hearts aflame. People were screaming and smiling, and I saw Alex slap Jack on the shoulder, his friends all jumping up and down to the beat.

And before I knew it, the song was drawing to a close. Minutes felt like seconds as I slid the mic back into the stand, and I looked out to see beer bottles held high like trophies, all saluting the musical gladiator that I was. Jeremy laughed and stumbled over into a sloppy hug and I was just too high to ever come down. These were the moments I lived for, but those moments—unfortunately rarely reared their head.

And with a full heart and a crowd of drunken men yelling my name, I was okay with the fact that this kind of life, a performers life, was never mine to have. And it never would be.