A Dying Star

Courtney Chester

No amount of Hollywood parties could have prepared fledgling actress, Leigh O’Day, for the extravagance that was a Roland Ashford party. The gilded front doors of his mansion gave way to a spacious entryway with a large double staircase. Black Portoro marble, swirled with white and gold, lined the expanse of the room. A chandelier hung from the ceiling with thousands of crystals dangling from its various branches like fresh teardrops. It was the most gorgeous thing that she had ever laid eyes on, and served as proof to Leigh that her career was on the right track.

Waitstaff milled about the space carrying silver trays of champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres offering them to the party goers. Live jazz music spilled out from one of the adjoining rooms, yet Leigh’s focus remained on locating the man that could truly lift her into stardom. Her eyes skimmed over plenty of familiar faces whether from previous parties or even the silver screen itself. To her genuine surprise, the color barrier, that was commonly enforced everywhere else, had been broken tonight as there was a small group of Black stars present. Though for the most part, they seemed to still be isolated, whether by choice or accident, from most of their White counterparts. Perhaps in another life, she would be a member of their world, no longer feeling the need to hide away a part of who she was to be accepted by the masses. She refocused her efforts on finding the host, but there was still no sign of Roland Ashford himself.

A raucous laugh rang out followed by a chorus of others and Leigh turned toward the sound. There, obscured in the shadows of the staircase stood the host surrounded by a pack of men. She recognized some as major players from Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, but the rest remained nameless to her. Though she couldn’t hear him, but it was clear to her that whatever Roland was saying had the rest of the men enraptured. His right hand was firmly grasped around a half empty glass while he used the other to gesture wildly to his friends. His mannerisms reminded Leigh of her father when he preached, nothing but poppycock; nonetheless, Roland held the keys to Hollywood, and she would stop at nothing to get her hands on them. She started to walk towards him, but a firm yet gentle grip held her in place.

Leigh turned her attention to her beau, Oscar Terry, or as he had been dubbed by the media, the King of Hollywood. Underneath the dozens of crystal lights, his jet-black hair shone like obsidian from the oily pomade used to slick it into a pompadour. His green eyes sparkled as he looked down at her. “Not yet, sugarpie. We’ll get to him in time. There’s no need to seem desperate.”

She nodded, wholly ignorant of the pointed tone that his voice belied on the last word. After all, Oscar had never failed her. This world of bright lights and excess had been his far longer than it had been hers. His hand lowered from her arm to her hand, and he flashed her an effortless smile underneath his pencil mustache. She followed obediently as he led her into the room on their right.

“Isn’t she one of those WAMPAS Baby Stars?” A voice whispered as they walked past, and Leigh practically beamed at the recognition. This year’s list of 13 young actresses believed to be on the cusp of stardom had just been published, a few weeks prior, featuring both her name and picture. It was proof that she was destined for this life, the one that she had dreamed of since risking her hide to sneak into theaters and watch the stars on screen. One by one everything was becoming reality.

Leigh smiled in the direction of the voice as she continued to follow Oscar. He wove his way through the throng of people with an ease that only a man of his caliber could illicit. When he finally stopped, they stood in front of an older woman. “Leigh, this is—” Oscar started but found himself interrupted as she let out an excited yelp.

“—Constance Sterling! It’s an honor,” she said. The older woman was the very picture of elegance from her silvery grey hair in a neat chignon to the pearls strung across her neck and wrists.

“Ah, this one has respect for those that have come before her,” Constance nodded in approval. “How refreshing!”

Truthfully, Leigh knew very little about the retired actress outside of what tidbits Oscar previously told her. Constance had been a giant in the silent film era and though her career survived the transition to talkies, her popularity had stagnated in comparison to the likes of Greta Garbo. Oscar’s relationship with the woman had begun early in his career when she portrayed his character’s mother in one of his very first films. Since then, the seasoned actress had taken on a matronly role to the heartthrob.

“Giving away your approval so easily Connie? I’m shocked.” Oscar teased.

“Well, given the trollops that you have previously deigned to associate yourself with…this one is a welcome surprise. Now, what did you say your name was again, dearie?”

“It’s Leigh. Leigh O’Day, Ma’am.” she said as Constance reached out to touch her hair. The older woman twirled a few of Leigh’s ginger strands around a heavily bejeweled finger.

“Well, that explains the hair.” Constance chuckled to herself. “Now, I’m normally not the fondest of the Irish on account of—” Oscar cleared his throat loudly and signaled over a waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes.

The waiter was a tall Black man and Constance sniffed the air warily and turned her head to the side refusing to acknowledge the man’s very existence. Oscar plucked two flutes off the tray and passed one to Leigh. She smiled in appreciation and accidentally caught the eyes of the waiter. He stared at her curiously as if there was something about her that he was determined to work out; she knew this type of recognition had nothing to do with her rising stardom and everything to do with who or rather what she was. The likes of which if revealed would spell out her downfall. She looked away from the waiter, clinked her glass against Oscar’s and downed the drink. Warmth blossomed through her body as the liquid made its way to her stomach. They returned their glasses to the tray and finally the waiter was gone. Constance looked just as relieved as she was.

“I do hope that one day Roland will refrain from his attempts to challenge what’s normal. This may have to be the last one of his parties that I attend.”

“Naturally, you’ll be sorely missed, Connie.”

“That, I’m certain of.” Constance said and as the aged actress continued to prattle on, Leigh’s attention withdrew from the conversation entirely. It wasn’t until the hairs on the back of her neck stood up that she realized she was being watched.

She turned her head to locate the source of the stare and found a tall, thin brunette woman smoking from a pipe. Dressed in slacks and a blouse, the woman stuck out like a sore thumb in comparison to the abundance of dresses and skirts that filled the room. Everything about the mysterious woman screamed trouble yet Leigh felt inexplicably drawn to her.

“Valerie Rockwell.” Constance sneered. “Leigh, my dear, you must be sure to stay away from the likes of her. Such a nasty little hussy! She would sour your reputation before you ever got the chance to truly make your mark.”

Leigh nodded her head as the final connection that she needed was formed. Valerie Rockwell was her sole competitor for the lead role in Roland’s next big picture and regardless of the negative reputation that Valerie had acquired, Leigh knew that securing the role for herself wasn’t going to be an easy feat.

Valerie had been a child star signed to 20th Century-Fox and viewed as one of the company’s top stars until scandal after scandal struck shortly after her 18th birthday. Most had been innocuous enough up until the news of an alleged affair between her and the married Montgomery van Houghton. News of the affair cemented the public’s ire toward Valerie and was made all the worse when it was reported that van Houghton’s heavily pregnant wife had gone into premature labor after finding out about her husband’s infidelity from the media. The baby had died shortly after being born and while the public assigned blame to both alleged cheaters, Valerie took the full brunt of the criticisms and faded from the spotlight. Until now, when it just so happened to be the most important year of Leigh’s life.

She afforded one final look Valerie’s way and Valerie smirked at Leigh before ducking away. Leigh decided that she would wait until Oscar was distracted and then she’d gather up the moxie to speak to her competition directly. Perhaps, she could convince the other woman to give up on the role entirely and save herself a heap of trouble.

“Connie is right Leigh. Valerie is—”

Mid-sentence, a man walked over and tapped Oscar on the shoulder impatiently. His pupils were dilated, and he seemed jittery as if he had drunken an entire coffee pot.

“What?” Oscar asked.

The man held his suit jacket up in a manner that reminded Leigh of Bela Lugosi in Dracula and produced a small plastic baggie containing a white powdery substance. “Ro wants to know if you’d like some snow?”

A smile spread across Oscar’s face as he eyed the baggie hungrily. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me.” He squeezed Leigh on the shoulder before he and the man slipped off into the crowd.

“Boys will be boys.” Constance chuckled. “You needn’t look so concerned dear. It’s much healthier than alcohol. I’ve dabbled a few times myself and been fine…” Leigh nodded as the older actress continued to drone on and on. She didn’t know how much more she could take of Constance without Oscar being around. Sooner or later, Constance would realize that she hadn’t been listening and besides Leigh was much more interested in speaking to her competitor. Fortunately, she hadn’t yet used up all the information that Oscar had bestowed upon her about Constance.

“Is that Winston Harrington?” She asked Constance as she discreetly pointed in the direction of an older man. Truthfully, she had no idea what Winston Harrington looked like or if he even truly was here but what she did know, according to Oscar, was that the man had had a whirlwind romance with Constance that she had never quite gotten over in the years since.

Constance immediately perked up and glanced in the direction that Leigh had pointed in. “Why, I think it could be,” She said as she began to smooth out her dress and readjusted her jewelry. “Leigh, I hope you won't mind if I go and catch up with an old friend.”

“Of course not.”

Without a second to waste, Constance made her exit in search of Winston and Leigh headed for where she last saw Valerie.

Leigh had scarcely a moment to react before a woman’s pale hand seized her own and pulled her into a small room. It smelled heavily of cigar smoke and on the far back wall was a fully stocked liquor cabinet surrounded by two columns of shelves. Each shelf contained a variety of cigar paraphernalia ranging from thick wooden cases, wrappers, and trays. The rest of the space was furnished by a brown leather sofa, where a blonde woman sat, its accompanying two wingback chairs and a coffee table. Atop the table was an older looking bottle of Glenlivet whisky, two glasses and an ash tray.

The blonde woman looked up at Leigh with disdain and shifted uncomfortably where she sat. Something that Leigh attributed to the fact that the blonde’s dress was bunched together in several places and struggled against her chest. It was clear, to Leigh at least, that the dress truly belonged to Valerie. Speaking of whom, the other woman held her pipe up to her ruby red lips and inhaled. When she exhaled, a puff of smoke freed itself.

“That’s Maggie. She was just leaving.” Valerie announced and Maggie frowned in response to this. The blonde cast a dirty look Leigh’s way before she exited the room still pulling at the hem of her dress. Valerie pulled the door shut and plopped down on the sofa where Maggie had been sitting. She looked at Leigh expectantly.

“Hi, I’m—” Leigh started but was quickly cut off.

“—the one that’s attempting to take my role.” Valerie said, and yet Leigh noted that there was no bitterness in the actress’ tone.

“You haven’t been officially casted yet.”

“Yet you know as well as I do that Roland intends on casting me.” Valerie smiled as Leigh frowned. “Have a seat. You’ll see that my intentions are good.” And so, Leigh took a seat in one of the chairs. Valerie grabbed the whisky and poured herself some into a glass already marred by her lipstick. She filled the other glass and pushed it towards Leigh, who spared it a simple glance but made no move to grab it. The brunette then produced a pill bottle, shook out a few of its contents into her hand and swallowed. She chased the pills with the whisky.

“I know you think that this role will give you everything you’ve ever wanted but I can assure you that it will lead to you becoming as awful as the rest of us,” Valerie said.

“Awful? Perhaps that’s more reflective of your experiences lately but I have met plenty of good people. And I’m sure that you have as well.”

Valerie smirked. “There are very few, if any, good people in this industry. If they seem nice now, then it is only because you have something to offer them.”

“You’re quite cynical.”

“Go ahead then. Name your good people.”

“Oscar.”

The other woman snorted as if Leigh had told her the funniest joke imaginable. “I hardly see what’s so funny about that. Oscar is a good man.”

“I would hardly label anyone that’s friends with Roland as being good. There are plenty of people in our industry, especially women, that know about what kind of activities your beau has gotten up to with him.” Valerie paused to take another swig from her glass and drained it. Leigh eyed the actress carefully. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know about Oscar’s past as a playboy, but the woman’s words implied something far more sinister. “Aside from just that, it’s hardly appropriate for him to be dating someone your age. You’re practically a chi—”

“I am 19 and I can’t help it if I’m mature for my age.” Leigh glowered at Valerie, but the other woman paid her very little mind. Instead, she topped off her glass.

“Did he tell you that?” Valerie asked with a bemused look on her face.

Leigh rose from the chair angrily. “You’re hardly one to talk given your business with Montgomery van Houghton. And if they’re all so awful, then why are you so intent on havin’ this role?”

“Perhaps I am doing it to save you or some other young fool from suffering at the hands of Roland. Or perhaps, I merely wish to get rid of the competition.” The actress shrugged and looked up at Leigh.

“And what protects you from Roland?”

“Very little.”

A moment of silence passed between the two actresses.

“If you’re smart, you’ll go back home while you still have a shred of innocence left.” Valerie said.

Leigh finally reached for the glass and drank the whisky slowly. Home. It was a word that should’ve brought her comfort but instead brought back memories of hunger pangs, sunburn and talk of a savior that she had lost faith in. The home of her past was scarcely one that she intended on revisiting. She set the glass onto the table and locked eyes with Valerie. “This is my home now and you won’t be runnin’ me off. That role is goin’ to be mine.”

Valerie smiled sadly at her and shook her head.

Following her less than inspiring conversation with Valerie, Leigh had found the closest waiter and downed three more champagne flutes. Her brain was fuzzy by now and she came to the realization that she still hadn’t accomplished what she came here to do in the first place. Regardless of the other actress’ warning, she was still determined to have that role. She needed to meet with Roland immediately, with or without Oscar’s help.

As the party waned on, the number of people had dwindled considerably, and she found it easy to head back to where she had first seen Roland by the staircase. He was still accompanied by the same group of men as before in addition to Oscar, who was stooped over in laughter. As she walked up to them, Roland’s pale blue eyes fell upon her body like a predator sizing up prey. So powerful was his gaze that she felt as if he was undressing her in his mind.

“Well now, who is this firecracker?” Roland asked and Oscar turned around and seemed surprised to see her standing there. Just like the man from before, she noticed that many of the men’s pupils were dilated though they were handling their high much better than he had.

Oscar cleared his throat and pulled her close to him and locked his right hand with her left. “Boys, this is Leigh.” She smiled shyly and waited for him to introduce her as his girlfriend. But it never came.

“Hi.” She said as she attempted to ignore the fact that Roland’s eyes were planted firmly on her chest instead of her face. He smiled at her before he took her right hand and kissed it. His lips were warm, almost feverishly so.

“Say, I like this one, Os. You should send her my way sometime.” Roland said and Oscar tensed next to her. The group of men behind Roland looked around uneasily amongst themselves.

“No can do. This one’s special.” Oscar said as he squeezed her hand so tightly that she winced from the sudden pain. Roland’s lips twitched slightly before they reverted to a smile.

“Suppose there’s a first time for everything,” Roland said.

“I spose’ so.” Oscar replied and the two men’s eyes remained locked on each other in what seemed to her like a brotherly quarrel. She knew that given their long history with each other that it wasn’t entirely uncommon for the two to feud, but the timing couldn’t have been worse. The tension in the air was growing thicker with each passing second from the unspoken challenge between the two before finally Roland relented. He threw his hands up in exasperation and headed off to a different room. She snatched her hand free from Oscar’s.

“Wai—” She started to call out after Roland.

“—forget it.” Oscar said.

“But I needed to speak with him, you know that.” The other men were now looking between her and Oscar curiously. She desperately wanted to chase after Roland and apologize for Oscar’s actions in the hopes that she could finally convince him to let her audition. Instead, her feet refused to move, and she watched hopelessly as Roland walked away. How could he have done this to her when he knew how much it meant to her—what it meant for her career? He had gone as far as to promise it to her and now he had taken it away just as fast. Resentment boiled in her stomach, and she knew that her face would soon turn the color of her hair if her rage persisted.

“I know what’s best for you.”

“But—”

“Leigh.” He cautioned. She frowned and stared at the floor. It would do her no good to upset Oscar further, especially in front of powerful men. If she kept at it, she ran the risk of humiliating him, an offense that would result in the end of their relationship. A risk that she dared not take.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she said and forced a smile. He nodded and began to talk to the other men about the war effort amongst other things. She paid very little attention to their conversation, hoping that Roland would eventually turn back up.

A good thirty minutes passed by before she spotted him in her peripheral vision. To her dismay, he was with Valerie and carried two glasses in his hands. She turned her head further towards them and watched as he passed one to the other woman. Leigh’s heart sank as the two clinked their glasses together in what appeared to be a celebratory toast. She couldn’t help but fear the worst. Despite being able to handle her liquor just fine earlier, Leigh watched as Valerie’s face scrunched up in disgust as she downed the drink that Roland had given her. He laughed and they started to walk in Leigh’s direction. Valerie stumbled slightly and Roland caught her. He mumbled something and Valerie nodded in response before she leaned against him. As they grew closer, Leigh quickly turned her attention back to the conversation that Oscar was having. She tensed when the two walked behind her.

Oscar, be damned, she would not let this role be stolen away from her. She deserved a fighting chance; therefore, she decided to wait before she followed them. Perhaps if they were caught in the middle of something then she could use it to her advantage and demand the role in exchange for her silence. It was risky but even for a man with Roland’s reputation, it would still be unseemly for the press to find out that he was propositioning women for his films. Though, if her plan backfired, she’d be making a very powerful enemy. Nonetheless, she felt it was worth the risk.

“Excuse me for a moment. I need to powder my nose.” She said.

“That way.” Oscar pointed without sparing her a glance, thankfully still too wrapped up in the conversation that he was having.

Leigh immediately headed for the hall that she assumed they had gone down, failing to notice Oscar’s eyes lingering on her the moment her back was turned. She hardly dared to breathe as she crept down the hall, listening closely for even the slightest sound to determine which room they were in. Muffled shouting erupted further down the hall, and she rushed towards it. She pushed the door open and found Roland straddling Valerie on the floor. The smell of vomit was strong in the air and the sheets on the bed had been dragged onto the ground underneath her. Roland’s belt was wrapped tightly around the brunette’s throat and despite her attempts to loosen the belt, she failed to snag a solid grip. As she lost oxygen, Valerie’s face began to turn blue, and her movements slowed.

Save her! A voice urged Leigh and she took a step further into the room. Her eyes skimmed the room for a weapon, anything that could be used to daze Roland but then a second thought took hold. If Valerie survived and told the story of the night’s events, then that would spell out the end of Roland’s career. But if she allowed Valerie to die, then there would be no choice but to give the role to her. Could she truly condemn another woman to death to further her own career? Would Valerie risk saving her if their positions were reversed? Given her comment about wanting to get rid of the competition earlier, Leigh didn’t think so. So, she watched as Valerie stopped moving entirely. Her stomach rolled at the stillness of the body and regret crept into her mind.

Still unaware of her presence, Roland dropped the belt from his hands and stood up. The anger on his face now replaced by horror as he gazed at the motionless body in front of him. “Val?” He asked. There was no response. He nudged Valerie’s body with his toe, and still nothing. He massaged his temples, messing up his once perfectly styled hair in the process. He chewed on his bottom lip. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Leigh stepped back and the floorboard creaked underneath her. He looked up alarmed.

“Hey now, it’s not what you think. Let’s talk about this. I’m sure that we can reach an agreement.” He started to move towards her, and she backed up again, only to bump into what felt like another person. She opened her mouth to let out a scream, but a hand promptly covered her mouth and pulled her snug against the figure. Panic surged in her chest as Roland seemed to relax somewhat after seeing whoever had her in their grasp. Was this how she would die?

“It’s okay sugarpie, it’s just me.” Oscar said behind her, and she felt a sense of relief. The realization that she had been followed had not yet crossed her mind. Regardless of anything that happened earlier, she knew that he’d never let anything happen to her. “Now, don’t scream when I remove my hand.” She did as she was instructed, and he nudged her into the room. He closed the door behind him.

She stared in horror at Valerie as they sidestepped her corpse. Her face was blue, and her eyes had rolled back into her head leaving only the whites of her eyes still visible. A red bruise lined her neck as did a few bloody claw marks. Bits of vomit clung to the corners of Valerie’s lips.

“Os, I messed up man. I really messed up.” Roland repeated over and over, each time his voice grew more into a distorted melody. He paced about erratically as if caught in a nightmare. Oscar guided her to a chair and Leigh found herself looking at him like an obedient pup. She marveled at his composure considering the lifeless body that lay only a few feet from them. He pinched his nose bridge before he turned back toward Roland. As the two men began to talk, her own mind descended into chaos. Their words turned into distant echoes like a conversation being held underwater.

“For fuck’s sake, Ro. Did you even need to mickey her?” Oscar questioned.

“I didn’t want to risk it. How was I supposed to know she’d…” Roland trailed off and his eyes landed on Leigh as if he just remembered that she was in the room. “Is she going to talk?” He asked jabbing his fingers toward her.

Her senses sharpened as she came back to reality and fear flickered in her eyes. Oscar smiled and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. His touch brought her a surreal calmness and she refused to look away from his mesmerizing green eyes.

“Are you going to talk darling?” Oscar asked and she vehemently shook her head, a silent promise of silence. Leigh owed her silence to him; after all, it was her fault that Oscar was now involved in all of this. Wasn’t it? He had warned her against pursuing Roland, but her stubbornness had led to her ignoring him, and now both of their careers were at risk. Though to her, it seemed as if he wasn’t worried in the slightest. His remarkable calmness was almost terrifying. She watched as he turned back to Roland with a confident smile plastered on his face. “See, she can be trusted.”

“But, what now?” Roland asked.

“Now, we call Cecil.”

After a brief phone call and what felt like forever passed before the door to the room swung upon and in walked Cecil, their greatest hope. Though his formal role at MGM was as a talent scout, she knew that he also doubled as a fixer, or in this case a cleaner, for the studio. In most cases, seeing Cecil meant that you were in deep trouble. But for Leigh, aside from Oscar, the sharp-faced man was the only other person that she had spent numerous amounts of time with, though he remained a constant enigma to her. Cecil pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and she watched as he surveyed the room and eventually Valerie’s corpse, whispering nonstop as he wrote his findings down in a leather-bound journal.

“Do speak.” he ordered.

Roland was visibly relieved by Cecil’s presence. “She had a bit too much to drink and flew off the trolley. She attacked me! I had to defend myself.” He spoke as if he were pitching the plot of one of his future pictures. Cecil rolled his eyes and Leigh could tell that he hardly believed a word that had left the director’s mouth. Cecil cast Oscar a glance before he turned his attention to her, and a chill crept up her spine.

“And how are you involved?” He asked her. She hesitated and Oscar interjected on her behalf.

“Wrong place, wrong time. You know Leigh’s a good girl.”

“How unfortunate.” Cecil turned his attention back to Roland. “Valerie’s reputation is already tarnished. We’ll use that to our advantage. I have a few contacts on the force, they won't ask very many questions. In the meantime, we’ll need to work on a story.”

As Cecil continued to talk, the gravity of the situation sank in on Leigh. She was entangled in a web of deception, a pawn whose future rested in the palms of the three men in the room. She may have been nothing more than a witness but if things went south, the association alone would be enough to tank her career. This was the true cost of chasing stardom, and she had no choice but to pay it in full.

Leigh watched in horror as Roland once again choked Valerie to death. But, this time, Valerie did not stay dead. Her limbs twitched contorting unnaturally before her upper body jolted upwards. It reminded her of Frankenstein’s monster albeit in feminine form.

“What? How are you?” Roland asked as he stumbled away from the undead Valerie. The corpse rose to its feet and Leigh shut her eyes in expectation of what came next. Valerie would tear into the director until nothing remained of him but skin and bones. It was far too grisly for her to stomach, and she’d usually awaken shortly after.

However, when she opened her eyes, she found Valerie’s lifeless eyes, only mere inches away, staring accusingly into her own. A foul odor emitted from the corpse’s mouth and Leigh stood paralyzed, tears dotting her eyes, fearing the worst as Valerie raised a hand. The strike never came; instead, Valerie placed a hand on the left side of Leigh’s chest, right atop her heart. A ghastly smirk played upon the corners of the corpse’s lips, and finally Leigh woke up.

Her face was marred by wet streaks across her cheeks and a cold sweat beaded her forehead. She turned to Oscar’s place in the bed, hoping for comfort but he was nowhere to be found. Their bedroom was steeped in shadows, save for the faint glow that illuminated from her bedside lamp which cast an eerie pallor. Leigh slipped out from the bed and pulled the robe to her nightgown tighter hoping to shield herself from the cool night air. She was unsure of how much longer she could maintain the lie and it seemed to her that even from beyond the grave, Valerie had managed to take stock of this as well.

Which was why she needed to find Oscar. Because while she had initially hidden the nightmares from him perhaps if she confided in him, he could assuage her fears if only momentarily. As she walked slowly towards the door in the darkness, her foot bumped an empty bottle of liquor on the floor and now she only hoped that he’d be sober.

Down the hall from their bedroom, the living room was awash with light, and she could make out the faint sounds of Sinatra playing on the record player. The floorboards creaked underneath her with each step sounding like a further accusation and she couldn’t help but feel as if she had betrayed something essential within herself.

“Os?” she called out as his dark hair came into view, peeking out from where he slumped on the plush sofa. He didn’t respond. There were even more empty bottles out here, the culmination of a four-day long bender paired with his refusal to allow the hotel’s cleaning crew into their apartments. “Os?” She repeated.

“What?” He asked, and she noted the annoyance in his voice.

She crept closer. “Can we talk?”

“What is there to talk about, Leigh?”

“You know what.”

“Save your breath.”

“I can’t keep doin’ this, Oscar. It’s hauntin’ me—she’s hauntin’ me.”

“You’ll get over it.”

“I see her death happenin’ all over again every night.”

“Yes, I know. You’ve made it quite hard to ignore. But remember that Roland has no choice now but to give you the role. You wanted to be a star, didn’t you?”

“Not like this,” her voice quivered as she became choked up with emotion. “She didn’t deserve to die. I’m thinkin’ of tellin’ the police the truth about what happened that night.”

Oscar rose to his feet and walked around the sofa. Leigh took a step back as anger flashed across his face. “You’re not thinking straight, sugarpie. You cross that line, and you’ll ruin yourself. Do you really want to throw away everything that you’ve worked so hard for?”

There, in his words, spelled out a dangerous truth. She would be ruined. Even if he and Roland’s careers ended due to the scandal, they had been born into wealth and their families would no doubt find a way to protect them. She, however, had nothing and no one. She’d be shipped back to South Carolina and eventually all traces of her time in Hollywood would be erased. The idea of being returned to her parents— back to living half-starved in a two-room shack on shared land forced to help pick crops as her parents attempted to pay back the return on their lease. It was a miserable life and as the realization set across her face, Oscar smiled. She began to sob loudly, and Oscar closed the distance between them and seized her face pulling it close to his own. His breath reeked of alcohol.

“Will you ever stop your fucking crying?! You cry in your sleep; you cry when you’re awake. You didn’t even know her.” His bloodshot emerald eyes glared at her as she attempted to stifle her emotions. His grip was so tight that she couldn’t even move her head. She had never been afraid of Oscar before, and it felt odd to be terrified of someone that she cared so deeply for. He had always behaved like a perfect gentleman, which made this sudden streak of cruelty that much worse. Her tears continued to spill out and Oscar groaned as he looked at her with disgust.

“No one likes a crybaby, Leigh.” He let go of her face and headed back to their bedroom, kicking an empty liquor bottle along the way. It shattered against the wall leaving behind a mess that would ultimately fall upon someone else to clean up. Oscar slammed the bedroom door behind him, and she crumpled to the floor in tears.

Oscar is a good man. The thought repeated in Leigh’s mind as she wrestled with the validity of that statement in light of recent events. After all, since they had been introduced, he had catered to her every need. He had moved her into the Beverly Hills Hotel to live with him on his private floor and never once asked her for money. He bought her fancy clothes and jewelry and even planned out everything that she wore. The level of interest he had taken in her life was more than enough proof that Oscar loved her. He was a good man.

But… “I would hardly label anyone that’s friends with Roland as being good. There are plenty of people in our industry, especially women, that know about what kind of activities your beau has gotten up to with him.” Valerie’s words had hinted at something sinister lurking within Oscar, and hadn’t it shown that night? She thought back to the initial conversation they had with Roland, and it dawned on her. They shared women. Leigh felt her stomach lurch. It explained why Roland had felt so comfortable making a pass at her; he assumed that Oscar brought her there to serve as another notch on his bedpost. Valerie had tried to warn her, and she had been so obsessed with fame that she let her die. How many times before had Roland done to other women what he intended for Valerie and how long had Oscar known about it? He had found her quite quickly despite her lie about needing to relieve herself and while it could be reduced to him having followed her, she couldn’t help but feel as if he knew about the room beforehand.

He wasn’t a good man and given her recent actions or lack thereof, any goodness that she had was withering away.

The phone in the bedroom rang and interrupted her thoughts. It rang again before she finally heard Oscar answer it. Though the bedroom door was closed, she could hear his muffled shouts coming from the other side. She considered venturing closer to listen in on the conversation, but her recent revelations made it hard for her to want to face him again if caught. The call prattled on for a few more minutes before he came walking out of the bedroom and knelt on the floor next to her.

“You know, you’re something special to me Leigh. I mean it.” He tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled at her. His touch now made her skin crawl. How many innocent women had suffered at his hands? “I’m sorry that things got so carried away. You know I didn’t mean it.”

She said nothing and only looked back at him blankly. He slid his hands down and cupped her face tenderly. “I just want what’s best for the both of us, Leigh.”

“Who called?” She asked and while his smile never wavered, a shadow flickered in his eyes.

“It was Cecil. There’s to be a trial now. We’re going to have to testify about that night—

about Valerie’s death. It’s important that we remain consistent with our stories. You understand, don’t you?”

Leigh nodded hesitantly.

Bright camera lights flashed momentarily blinding Leigh as Oscar pulled her along to the courthouse entrance. The paparazzi shouted an endless stream of questions at them as they passed by. All hoping that they’d be given the scoop of a lifetime on what many people believed was gearing up to be the case of the century. As they drew closer to the building’s entrance, armed police officers ushered them inside.

Despite the sensationalism of the murder case in the news, the courthouse’s interior was largely empty save for a few people scattered around the lobby.

“I’ll be right back, sugarpie.” Oscar said as he squeezed Leigh’s hand before leaving. She felt relieved to no longer touch him as since her revelation constantly being around him felt suffocating. His touch made her want to recoil in disgust; whatever love she had once borne him was long gone now.

She spotted an empty bench in a secluded corner of the lobby and headed towards it. There was a large mural painted onto the wall behind it of whom she believed to be King Solomon from the Bible. It almost made her laugh. She had fled the South partly because of her family’s religious convictions and nonetheless it seemed to have followed her all the same. Emblazoned in golden script underneath the painting read: A false witness shall not go unpunished, and whoever pours out lies will not go free.

The sudden familiarity of the words struck her with such fervor that there she was again at seven years old with her mother as they stood outside of the shack that they called a home. The sweltering summer sun was baring down heavily upon them and the warm ground beneath Leigh’s bare feet was beginning to cause her additional pain. Blood trickled down the backs of her legs and pooled in her palms from where her mother had swatted at her with the thick tree branch that she used as a switch.

“Lyin’ is a sin, Leigh,” her mother said, “What does the Lord tell us about lyin’?”

“T-that…" another sob bubbled its way up to her throat, “I-it’s wrong and I’ll b-burn in h-hell.” She finally managed to choke out.

Her mother looked at her unimpressed, her limp red curls swaying gently as a breeze stirred. To Leigh, in moments like these, what was left of her mother’s beauty withered away just as their crops had. What had once been a pretty face had been marred by a life of hard labor and malnutrition and it was a fate that Leigh was so desperate to avoid that she had taken to stealing produce from the fields of their neighbors. She only took enough to stop the aching of her belly but evidently that had proven to be too much.

“Proverbs 19:5. A false witness will not go unpunished, and whoever pours out lies will not go free.” Her mother recited. “Do you understand now?”

And instead of answering her mother as she knew she should, Leigh had simply stared back indignantly.

“Leigh.” A voice called out and she finally found herself pulled away from the memory. It was Cecil, who now stood beside her. He looked at the mural before them with little more than a passing interest.

“Oh. Cecil, I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you there.” She said.

“It’s quite alright, Leigh. How are you holding up?”

It was the first time in days that someone had even asked her asked her such a question and she felt as if the wave of emotions that surged through her might cause her to topple over. “I am surviving.” He nodded in response. “Cecil.”

“Yes?”

“If I were to tell the truth on the stand, what do you—"

“Listen, I like you, Leigh. And if you play your cards right today, you’ll walk out of here a bigger star than you could have ever imagined. When you play by their rules, you’ll be rewarded; but if you go against them then they will not hesitate to crush you.”

“But—”

“And I, for one, would hate to have to send you back to that hick town—back to anonymity. On top of which, the whole world would find out that you, Leigh O’Day, are a Black woman.” Leigh’s blood froze as her secret rolled off Cecil’s tongue with ease. He knew and if he knew, then she couldn’t help but to wonder who else he’d divulged her secret to. “There’s no need to worry. We spend our whole lives fighting just to earn a shred of respect from them. I have no intentions of taking all of this away from you so easily. Which is why, I’m asking you to consider this. Will you be a good person, or will you protect yourself?”

“What would you do if you were in my shoes?” She asked.

“What I have always done. Save myself.” He said and with that Cecil walked away.

Leigh opened her hands and stared down at her palms. Though faint, she could still make out the silvery scars left from her mother’s lashing. While lying could certainly bring her fortune and fame, it also came with pain.

The entire courtroom buzzed in anticipation as Leigh took the stand and she tried to ignore her heart hammering away in her chest. Roland’s prosecutor approached, looking exceedingly calm, fully expecting her to follow along with the narrative that had been constructed and rehearsed leading up to today.

“Miss O’Day, could you please recount the events of that night for the court?” He prompted.

She took a deep breath and looked around at all of the different faces in the courtroom. Roland, despite being on trial, looked utterly blissful almost enthusiastic. Oscar was looking at her and nodded his head as if prompting her to hurry up and speak. Cecil sat next to him with a curious look on his face. On the other side of the room, an older woman sat wearing all black and bore a striking resemblance to Valerie. If she were going to ruin herself then it would be done for the right reason and not just to relieve herself of guilt.

“Yes. That night I was in search of Roland to discuss an upcoming project of his. I heard shouting and when I located the source, I discovered him atop of Valerie strangling her with his belt. He murdered her without cause—without remorse. I refuse to be a pawn in this game of deceit any longer.” She confessed and the courtroom erupted in disbelief.

I am currently a first-year Master's of Professional Writing student at Kennesaw State University (KSU). I am one of the narrative team members for KSU's Narrative Game Lab and our award-winning first game, Incorporated INC., is set to be published in December. In my free time, I enjoy playing video games, reading fantasy novels, and discussing all thing related to Game of Thrones.