Hollywood's Not America

“You’re kidding me, right?” Alex half slurred through his eighth beer of the night. His words muffled by the bottle, “You can sing like that, and you’re working in a place like this?”

Ray peered over as he swept up the remnants of the late night crowd. “Hey, watch it. That’s my bar you’re talking about.”

“Just ‘cause you’ve got a voice doesn’t mean you’ve got the whole package.” I pointed at him with the beer bottle clenched in my hand. “It’s all about luck nowadays. I could probably get a Disney gig, but that’s not the kind of road I want to go down.”

“Girl, a Disney gig? With those tits? Impossible.” Ali shook her head.

“Do you write your own music?” Rian asked me, the most sober of the group.

I shrugged, “I try to, dunno how good they are.”

“Play us one!” Jack slammed his bottle down laughing. Alex steadying him as well as he could with his buzzed hand on Jack’s trashed shoulder.

I simply shook my head as the table of guys started riling themselves up over the idea. I wasn’t sober enough to play anything without screwing up, and I sure as hell wasn’t drunk enough to sing original material either.

“Nah,” I said, “Not tonight at least.”

“C’mon!” Jack whined, laughing at the invisible joke that apparently hung in the air before him. I merely smiled and gathered up the empty bottles on the table and made my way back to the bar. Alex quick on my heels while Ali and Lulu stayed with the other boys, keeping them company.

“You all right?” He asked, his eyes on my hand while I wiped my forehead.

“Yeah, just too drunk for this.” I winked, “And not drunk enough at the same time.”

He smirked, “I feel you, girl.”

His brown eyes traced my face for a moment, his bottle dyed hair shifting slowly into his line of sight. “In all seriousness though, Lyric, you really have something special there.” He reached for my throat but ended up poking my cheek, sending himself into a round of hysterics.

“Well, thanks.” I smiled.

“Where did you say you were from again? Chokadoah?”

“Checotah.” I corrected him, “It’s in Oklahoma.”

“That’s rough.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” I laughed, my attention caught by Ray running into the back room to answer the phone this late at night, but in his drunken stupor, Alex had no idea.

“Lyr-ick-uh.” He over-pronounced, bottle resting on his cheek, “You got a boyfriend?”

“You don’t want to play that card Alex.” I assured him, the one percent of my body that was sober slowly taking over.

He seemed to sober up pretty quickly as well, “And why is that?”

“Because guys like you don’t need girls like me.” I stated.

“That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard in my life. Why the fuck would that be even the smallest bit true?” He asked, pushing his beer out of his reach and looking me straight in the eyes. “Tell me.”

“One, we’ve just met, and secondly—I have too much baggage.”

“But shouldn’t that be the guy’s decision, whether or not we feel it’s worth taking on?” He asked.

“Not when you clearly don’t understand the extent of what you’re asking, and getting yourself into.” I explained. “I know exactly what kind of person you are.”

His eyes lit up, slightly offended, “I’d love to hear your theories.”

I leaned over the bar and pointed my finger in his face, “You’re not like the rest of them. You’ve got dick jokes and a sailor’s mouth, but there’s something deeper buried beneath all that flannel. You’re the kind of guy who never sees merely the surface of anything, you have to look deeper, dissect it so that you can understand it. And when it’s a girl, you stick your nose up in the air to find the burning house in her life and put out the flames yourself. A hero complex, brought on by your unnatural ability to connect with other people.”

He just looked at me, his mouth hanging slightly open before he finally spoke. “I’m slightly impressed.” He shifted his weight, “And because of this hero complex you think…?”

“That you hear the word baggage and dive in head first, with no understanding of what the hell you’re getting your ass into.” I finished.

“Well I know who you are, too.” He said.

“Nope.” I turned on my heel to put the last few handles back on the display shelf, “Because I don’t know who I am. Therefore, your view of me is completely skewed to whatever face I decide to put on in front of you.”

“Now I’m not drunk enough for this.” He laughed, reaching for his bottle and sliding it down the bar with his fingertips until he could grasp it tightly and chug what was left of it.

I shrugged, “Like I said, not a question you wanna ask.”

“Wait a second-“ He started, but Ray quickly cut him off, bellowing through the back door like a freight train, phone in hand.

“You need to get home.” He huffed. “John just called asking for you. He thinks you’ve got a couple of unwanted visitors.”

I ripped off my apron and jumped over the bar, “God fucking damn it.”

“What’s going on?” Alex asked, but I could hear Ray pull him back, “Not our fight, champ. Let her go.”

I grabbed my keys from the back room and started out into the warm Los Angeles air, but my skin was fuming at the thought of what was going on at my apartment. It was routine for him. Darren couldn’t ever let anything go, especially after I made him feel worthless. Or, you know, broke a television. He had to start shit, push me over the limit, and solicit a response. He would fight until I gave in or broke down, always determined in every aspect of his life.

I skipped couples of steps at a time, racing up as fast as I could towards the apartment, only to find my door cracked open slightly, and what sounded like an elephant gallivanting around. I tried to brace myself for the image I knew I would see, but somehow I still caught my breath when I swung the door open and saw an unrecognizable room. The couch was flipped, glass shattered on the floor, and the stench of alcohol coating the air like a thick syrup.

“I know you’re here Darren!” I called out, throwing my keys at the now broken bowl on the countertop. “Come out and face me like a fucking man.”

I heard a bottle break, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind as to what it was. The bottle of Jack Daniels I had on my bedside table. He was in my room, that fucking bastard. I started past the kitchen and into the back room where I could make out his dark silhouette against the early morning shadows. I could see his eyes gleam as he turned to face me. I tried to flip the light switch, but my empty pockets hadn’t paid the light bill this month.

“You got some balls, Darren. Get the fuck out of my apartment right now or—“ Before I could finish, his dark figure swung in my direction, his fist landing in the wall next to me. I could hear his bones crackle next to my ear without a single word falling from his mouth. We just stood there for a moment, my startled heart and his heartless chest.

“Fuck you.” He seethed, pulling his hand back only far enough to shoot it right back at my throat, pinning me against the wall with a thud. “You fucking bitch.”

“Get off of me.” I choked, gripping his arm with both of my hands.

“That’s not what you used to say.” He growled.

I lifted my arm and slammed it against his, twisting and kicking so that he ended up stumbling over the mattress on the ground, letting go of my throat. “I didn’t used to hit back like that either, but I guess people change. Huh?”

“You don’t even get it!” He yelled, kicking the mattress as he got up. “You can’t even fucking understand! You’re a fucking idiot, you always have been!”

“Then why are you back, Darren?” I shook my head, “Why the fuck do you waste your god damn time hanging around here?”

“Because I fucking love you!” He screamed, “And you love me too, I know it. I can see it, deep down you still fucking love me.”

“You need to leave.” I said, level-headedly, “You need to leave, right now.”

“I’m not fucking leaving.” He said, “Without you.”

I looked down at him, “I’m not doing this again, Darren. Not when you’re this drunk. Just go home, leave me alone. Please, just leave me alone.”

His body shot up and his hands grabbed at my hips as his tongue forced its way into my mouth. I tried to push him away, but it was nearly impossible with his entire body weight pressing against me. His hands gripped too hard and I felt my body crumple over into him, his arms taking advantage of it by gripping my throat and slamming me back into the wall. Our mouths never separating so the world couldn’t hear my muffled screams.

And suddenly, I couldn’t fight back. Not when his lips let me go, and he threw me onto the mattress, and definitely not when he made his way on top of me. There was something about the way his body felt against mine that made me nostalgic for who we used to be, but that was quickly shattered when his hand ripped at his belt. I put my hands on his chest and pushed him back, “No, Darren. Stop it! I’m serious. We’re not playing these games anymore! I’m done!”

“We have to be together.” He slurred, “You’re the only one who knows me.”

“We’re never going to be together.” I sighed, trying to push him off entirely, but he wasn’t having it. He grabbed my shoulder and flipped me over pulling both of my hands behind my back and tying them with his belt. I tried to wriggle out of his grasp but to no avail. He was and always would be the stronger one, and no amount of fighting would ever save me from him. This wasn’t the first time he’d snapped, but as he grabbed a scarf off the ground and gagged me, I knew that this time was different.

“If we can’t be together,” He stumbled onto his feet, pulling a matchbook out and lighting a single match, “Then you can’t be with anyone.”

He tossed the lit match at the makeshift curtain and it caught almost immediately, the flames bellowing upwards towards the ceiling and the match itself catching the floor and licking the edge of the mattress. He crouched down and took my face in his hands, kissing my forehead, “I love you.”

I felt my heart beat out of my chest as he left the room. You never understand just how quickly fires catches until you come eye to eye with it. It seemed like only seconds before the curtain, or what was left of it, fell from the window and the edge of the mattress scorched. I tried to get up, but my tired body refused to do anything but writhe to the farthest edge of the bed. I heard the front door slam open, as Darren’s muffled voice but the crackling of the flames were exploding into my eardrums and the thick smoke clogging my airways. I didn’t even want to move anymore.

I didn’t even want to fight.

This was just like my life. I wasn’t allowed to be strong and happy. People always say to walk away from the things that make you miserable, but no one ever mentioned that you might end up tied up on your own bed, waiting to be burned alive by the very things you walked away from. I’m sure there’s a beautiful metaphor in that, but the flames probably ate that too.

I could hardly keep my eyes open, my body curling into a ball in hopes of pulling me farther away from the flames, but it was no use. By the time anyone found me, I would be long gone.

And just like that, I heard thumping against the door, the wood flying off the hinges and slamming against the floor. I tried to open my eyes, and through the dark smog I saw an all too familiar face crouch down to me, pulling the gag out of my mouth and ripping the belt off my hands.

“What was it you were saying about trying to find the burning house?” He asked, scooping me up into his arms and hastily making his way out of the apartment.

“Ha-ha,” I coughed, my eyes sinking into unconsciousness, “Very funny, Alex.”