The Aces – Chapter 1 (continued)

Posted: March 4, 2013 in The Aces 

The AcesGood, I’ll do it. You should have done this before though. You trust people and you can’t do that in this business,” Arthur reprimanded.

“I understand. You’re right. I’ll find a black girl as a partner now. This one will sign a contract straightaway,” Carey said.

“Good, so we do not have to think about any alternate plans,” Arthur said.

“I know. If I promote the movie during the time the media knows about the break-up, people will see the movie because they will feel sorry for me. They will like the movie, even if they think it is a waste of their time. My fan base will increase. I will be a leading man in the spotlight. This is a brilliant plan. On an interview I can tell the media I knew her heart belonged to Raphael. I told her to marry him because they belonged together. I can tell my Mum the same story. I will be made the hero,” Carey said triumphantly.

Arthur looked puzzled. “Your mother can’t find out? Why not?” Arthur asked curiously.

“It is a long story. Arthur, you are my most loyal and trusted friend. I love you as a brother,” Carey started.

“I feel the same way about you,” Arthur said, starting to eat again.

Carey looked at the calendar on his phone. His agent bought him a phone with a calendar, e-mail, and access to the Internet. His agent made him put all his appointments in his phone so he would always know what was going on. His agent also made him check his calendar once every couple of hours and Carey fell into the habit.

“Arthur, I almost forgot, I have to go to a benefit to help the disabled in New York. It seems I have a busy schedule between promoting the film and New York. I can’t wait for a holiday.”

Carey was on holiday for two weeks in England after the Joan Show interview. He wanted to see his family and friends, but the reunion was nothing but relaxing. He and Sandra were the main characters of a play in the media life, but he was also the main character in his own family life.

“Just send your schedule through e-mail,” Arthur told Carey.

“I will. Today, I must go to the studio in Hollywood to pick up a script. I do not know what the script is about, but I do know it is going to be filmed in New York,” Carey said.

Carey looked at the time on his cell phone. “Arthur, I am sorry, but I must go to the studio.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Arthur said.

Carey walked back to his car with a smile on his face.  He had a different attitude about his career and life status now. Sandra agreed to keep playing the game until the awards shows. By then, he felt he could find a replacement after they made the announcement to the world. In his heart, he didn’t like playing the game, but he needed to stay in the spotlight for his own sanity. He was the main character of two plays in his life. He had played the character so well he forgot whom the normal Carey Roland was.

At the Hollywood studio, he drove up to the security booth. There was a big black man with dreads twisted in his hair sitting there. Carey had known him since he starred in Files. The security guard looked and acted tough, but he was nice and was a big teddy bear to his friends.


“Hello to you, Mr. Roland.”

The security guard started to type on his computer. He had to enter Carey into the computer so he could have access to the studio. Since 9/11, the security had been tight around the set. He always thought, Why would terrorists bother stars? What do they have to offer?

After a few moments the black man said, “You can go.”

“Thank you,” Carey said and drove through the gate. He parked his car and walked into the studio building where everyone greeted him. He waved at the ones he didn’t know, but he gave a European kiss to the ones he did know. This part of entering the studio Carey really enjoyed: when people surrounded him and made a fuss over him.

When he walked past one of the executive offices he knew very well, he stood at the door for a moment and dropped his head. A tear ran down his cheek and he wiped it from his face. “I shall not remember,” he whispered to himself.

Carey walked past the office like a mouse trying not to wake up a cat. He continued to walk down the long hallway, although it wasn’t long to the door. At the door, he knocked as if he were a child knocking on his parents’ door ready to receive a lecture.

“Who the hell is it?” the man’s voice on the other side yelled.

“Carey Roland, sir,” Carey said quietly.

“Come on in, love.”

Carey opened the door and there was a fat white man sitting at his filthy, cluttered desk. Carey put his hand over his nose when he first walked in. The walls of the office were painted gray, with two nude white female models and four neon beer signs mounted on the walls. The carpet was blue with food and drink stains caked in. Carey closed the door behind him and walked over to the red couch known as the Casting Couch, in the office. He sat on the chair with hesitation because it smelled like other people, but he surrendered to his body and sat on the chair with caution.

While the fat man looked at him, Carey knew what he was thinking. When he was introduced to the U.S.A. as a good-looking English actor, the fat man made a deal to work with Carey’s agent to get him the best of scripts. When he first started to get international roles, he made the two biggest mistakes in his life because of his lack of confidence in himself, which he deeply regrets. He was vividly reminded of it when he saw the fat man and his associates and Carey tried to think about the two mistakes as nightmares, instead of confronting him.

“So love, I have the script. You’re going to love it! It has romance, mystery, passion, and a steamy sex scene, two in fact. You get to have sex with a hot black girl. Hopefully it’s one of those hot mamas in those rap videos. This script is smokin’. It’s so hot it almost burned a hole in my hand!” the fat man said to Carey while he moved his arms wildly.

The fat man struggled to get out of his leather chair and walked over to Carey to hand him the script. Carey scanned it quickly. Each time Carey flipped a page, the fat man sucked his bottom lip in full ecstasy.

Carey finished looking over the script and set it aside. “It seems the main character is a New Yorker. I do not have a New York accent.”

The fat man struggled to get down on one knee; he put his hand on Carey’s thigh. Carey flinched and scooted away from the fat man. Disappointed, the fat man struggled to stand up because his eye candy didn’t want to play.

“Don’t worry about it. If you could be cast in Young Boys you won’t have a problem with New York Minute. Yeah, you have to audition. Now, as I understand, the girl who wrote the script is helping out with the casting. She’s a bitch. She is a true, rude, nasty New Yorker.”

The fat man walked back to his desk and struggled to sit in his chair. Carey saw the folly in front of him without laughing or a smirk on his face. In Carey’s mind, the fat man was an old dirty man without ethics, but he admired him for not hiding his true self. This was how the fat man acted 24/7 without a rest. Carey wished he could do the same. He sat in the chair, wanting to get out of the office, but as usual, he had to show his attention to the fat man.

“You would think, since the planes collapsed the twins, New Yorkers would be nice people. New Yorkers, I spit on them,” the fat man said while he spit in his garbage can next to his desk. “They had this I’m important attitude, which I don’t care for,” the fat man continued, putting his fat fingers in quotation marks.

“Listen, Carey,” the fat man said. He wanted Carey to focus his eyes on him. The fat man leaned over his desk with the clutter under his arms and continued. “I don’t know much about this rude girl, but I know this, she’s tough and doesn’t bite her tongue. I don’t know if she’s a lez or not, but if you act handsome enough, she will hand you the part.”

Soon Carey couldn’t take the smell of the room and the fat man’s advice any longer. He stood up like his butt was on fire and said, “Thank you for the advice. May I go?”

“Yes, love. Have fun. By the way, are you still banging Sandra?”

Carey frowned. Could I stand to put up with this man, he thought.

“Forget it, love. See you soon. Think about banging the bitch.”

“Thanks,” Carey said.

Carey walked down the hall to the entrance of the studio as fast as he could. He hopped into his car and laid his head on the steering wheel.

“Why am I in this bloody business?” he asked himself.

More to come on Wednesday!

About Aliya Leigh:

Aliya LeighSince being the host of her drama gossip news driven popular podcast, she have been keeping her life busy with producing  and directing anime webshows, acting, writing books, designing skateboards and running a social media company while holding down the fort at home with her professional poker playing partner.  Her current show is entitled, “Mercy Me – Deadly Professional”; which is an animated web series about a drug and sex addicted medical doctor who practices euthanasia for a fee.


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