Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) by Stephen Andrew Salamon Read Free Book Online Page B

loud in a crazy manner; his madness
could be heard for miles. “Well, Ridge Crest, so long,” he laughed,
turning around and away from the sign, and walked rapidly toward
the train station. Following his speedy rhythm up to his friends,
he questioned, “Okay, guys, are you ready?”
    “Yeah, we’re ready, but the train station
isn’t,” Jose replied. He pointed to a sign that was hanging on the
door, the sign read CLOSED.
    “It’s gonna be closed for another hour,
that’s gonna be too late,” Darell announced.
    Suddenly, Damen asked in a voice of
confusion, “Wait a second, what’s gonna be too late?”
    “My father’s going to be waking up in about
thirty minutes, he’s gonna read the letter right away. If he does,
then I’m screwed,” Darell mentioned. “Better yet, we’re all
screwed.”
    Damen looked at Darell and then looked at the
CLOSED sign. “Your father’s not going to know where to look for
you, he’s going to probably look first in the Valley,” said Damen.
He stared at the old, used bubble gum that was lying all around the
wooded ground that surrounded the train station. He then looked
inside the building and asked, “Why is this place closed so early?
I thought it opened at 3:00 a.m.?”
    “I don’t know why it’s closed. Still, all I
know is we better find another way to leave this town,” Darell
warned. It sounded like he was hiding something.
    “What do you mean, Darell?”
    “Well...” Darell spoke with a little
child–like voice, as if he just urinated in his pants.
    “You didn’t?” Damen panicked. He knew what
Darell was talking about; he saw it through his eyes and the way he
was standing, like he was holding in his urine.
    “Well,” Darell muttered again. He looked down
at the wooden floor of the train station; he was scared of Damen at
this point.
    “You did ... you wrote in the letter that
we’re going to the train station.”
    “Yeah, kind of.” Darell then looked up at
Damen very slowly.
    “Darell, either yes, or no,” he hollered.
    “Alright, yes, but I thought we would be on
the train before my father read it.”
    Jose then broke through the argument and
asked with eagerness and confusion, “Why did you write that?”
    “I don’t know, I was tired this morning and I
forgot. I’m sorry.” Darell then turned away from them. “Okay? I’m
sorry. It was a mistake, I’m only human.”
    “Great, probably the next thing you’ll say is
you wrote what time we’re leaving at,” yelled Damen. Darell
suddenly looked down at the wooden floor again; it was the same
look he gave before.
    “Oh no ... great, just great,” Damen shouted.
“Why the hell did you write that, do you realize that as soon as
your father reads that letter, all hell is gonna break loose?”
    “Well, I didn’t know that your little plan
was gonna turn out so shitty,” Darell shouted back.
    “What? What was that? You and Jose wanted to
go, today, so badly, and you’re blaming me for my plan?”
    Jose jumped in the argument and roared, “Hey,
hey, hey, listen, you pendejo, it was your plan. You decided, for
us, to take the train, so you should have checked if it was open.
If you should blame anyone, Damen, blame yourself.”
    The arguing began to get louder when Damen
screamed, “Listen, I don’t know what the hell you just called me,
but I do know that this was your plan first, Jose. You were the one
who stood up on that rock, like a frickin’ king, and preached that
you wanted to leave today.” The arguing worsened. Their voices grew
louder, and each time the sun would show itself a bit more. But
suddenly the arguing seized, died, and buried itself in their
minds, once they heard a noise that sounded like a train.
    “Wait, what’s that?” asked Jose, staring at
the train tracks with a mesmerized glare.
    “It’s probably the mail train or the
livestock train,” answered Darell.
    “Wait a second, Jose, doesn’t that train go
to Chicago?” Damen questioned. He saw the