Month: November 2015

The girl in the shower (2)

Jared sat up in bed.

“Dead?” he asked.

Artur is the head of Jared’s very modest security team and a big burly no-nonsense guy. He wouldn’t joke about a thing like this.  Not at this hour. Not in this way.  Jared breathed in deep.

“Yes. Dead.” Artur said again.

Jared exhaled. “Holy shit.” He climbed out of bed and crossed over to stand by the one window in his room. He put both his hands across his mouth then placed one on either hip. Adrenaline rushed through his blood stream and agitated his autonomic nervous system.  He fidgeted and paced as thoughts raced around his head.  He turned to face Artur.

“Where is she?” he asked finally.

Artur exited the bedroom doorway silently and led Jared down the hall past one door, hopefully locked, that led to Jared’s walk-in closet and paused at the doorframe to the next door that led to a bathroom.

“She’s in my bathroom?” Jared asked nervously.

Artur nodded his head.

Jared’s bathroom is accessible only from the hall and would normally be categorized as a guest bathroom by most standards, but, because of its proximity to Jared’s bedroom and the fact that there is no en suite attached to his bedroom, it is his de facto personal bathroom.  The girl in the shower shouldn’t be back here.  For any reason.  Ever. This entire wing of the compound is entirely off limits to guests at all times to protect Jared’s personal space.

Jared looked up and down the hall. His memory of the layout reaffirmed. His bedroom door at one end, the hallway entrance 90 feet the other direction. The entrance to the hallway was still roped up.  The “keep out” sign he personally affixed to the rope was hanging all sorts of obvious just as it should be.  All the other doors in the hall were shut – likely locked too.

Why would she come back here? He thought. What would attract her to this dimly lit hallway so far removed from the party space?  Jared couldn’t think of a single logical reason for it. If she was looking to rob him, this is the last place a thief should end up.  His room is more like the maid’s quarters than a room built for the master of the house. No one would ever guess that of all the rooms available to him in his enormous compound, that these would be the ones he’d reserve for himself.  Being the weirdo that he is, he likes the location’s basement like qualities. It’s minimal and functional and likely served as soldier’s quarters.  Anyone who knows him well might understand but there are less than a handful of those people on the planet.  It just doesn’t make sense.

This was not the spot to take a quick shower with the intent to sober up. Not somewhere to wash the barf out of her hair.  Or a secret spot to have sex with a stranger … They would have had to wind around through the original buildings, additions, two galleries, endless hallways and doors that should have been bolted just to get back here. Way too much effort to undertake for a quickie anything.  They’d have found a suitable spot ages before finding this wing…They…

Jared got a chill.  Artur looked at him expectantly.

Focus! he thought. If he could quickly figure out who she is …er…was…he’d probably be able to figure out the answers to the hundred questions lining up in his brain.

“Do you know who she is?”  Jared peeked around Artur and saw that in fact there was an unmoving body in his shower. He felt emotional seeing her. Sad. She was very real and very dead.  Upright but sitting on the floor.  Her back against the brown tile and her feet splayed out in front of her.  She looked stiff, just like a mannequin, except she was soaking wet.

Jared looked beyond her, to the glass windows that lined the wall of the shower.  The sun was coming in – the room would be hot in a few hours. He looked all the way through the room to the outside, to the line of overgrown hedges that are just beyond the windows.  Everything looked undisturbed. Jared was perplexed. No one would fit through the hopper style windows in this room.  Not even a child could climb in or out. Barely enough air circulated through the narrow opening.  She must have wandered back here by accident, he thought.

Or was placed back here … on purpose.

Whoever she was with walked out the doorway he’s standing in.

“Don’t touch anything.” Jared blurted out.

Artur looked down at Jared quizzically.

Jared registered the look on Artur’s face and how completely inappropriate his own utterance was “Have you touched anything?” he asked in a kinder tone.

“I had to.” Artur said defensively “I checked her pulse … shut off the water.”

“The shower was on?”

“Yes and the water was ice cold but the hot knob was turned on.  She must have been in there a while.”

Jared started to generate a timeline in his head. With the exception of a few people who work for him, the compound was cleared out before he headed to bed roughly two hours ago.  There is no way she was in his bathroom when he came inside.  He’s pretty sure he used the toilet after changing into his pajama bottoms.  He would have heard the running water if she came in after him.  He’d have heard something if she climbed over or under the ropes…he realizes in that moment how silly that whole rope concept actually is.  It’s not a portcullis for fuck’s sake.  She could get back here easily but he’s pretty sure she wasn’t.  Not until after he went to sleep.  That freaked him the fuck out.  Were they in his room?

“Who is she?”

“I don’t know Jared but she’s young.”

“How young?”

“Like eighteen or nineteen…maybe?”

“Shit.”  Jared stepped back from the door.  All at once, the enormity of what happened in his bathroom hit him.  “You have to call 911.  Now.”

“Ok, Jared.  I will.  But …did you look at her …?”  Artur asked carefully.

Jared responded dismissively “I did.”

“No, really …did you look at her Jared? She didn’t just die in there …”

“What do you mean?”

“She didn’t just slip and fall.” Artur stated.

“I know.” Jared sighed.

“Are you sure you want me to call 911?”



The girl in the shower

“We have a problem.” Artur announced from the doorway of Jared Leto’s bedroom.

Jared stirred beneath his blankets but didn’t say a word.

“Jared?” Artur said louder this time. “There’s a problem.”

Jared blindly slapped around on the table beside his bed looking for his cell. He knocked over several items before sending the phone crashing to the ground. He cursed out loud but retrieved his phone from the floor.

He glanced at the time.  “It’s sixfortyfive” Jared said through gritted teeth.

“There’s a girl in your shower.” Artur responded carefully.

“Soooo …? Get her out …?” Jared said before rearranging himself on his stomach beneath his blankets and a pillow.

“Sir … I …”

Last night was Jared’s first, of what he hoped would become annual, Halloween party at his new home high in the hills of Laurel Canyon. It was a party for adults but that didn’t stop him from having one of the larger hangars at the former military compound dressed as a haunted mansion complete with blinking black lights, webbed tunnels and screaming bloodied ghouls.

Approximately 200 costumed guests of mixed Hollywood status made the trek to his compound in the sky to dance the night away, get high, jump around in the ball pit room, push each other in the pool, cheese it up in photo booth pictures before puking behind bushes, fucking in his guest rooms, sniffing coke right out in the open and stealing his tchotchkes.

The guest list was well controlled but that doesn’t matter much when everyone in Hollywood is an asshole. People disregarded the roped off portions of the compound as if the ropes were meant for other people, not them. Plus ones were more like plus six in some cases. They littered. Burnt holes in patio chairs. Parked in front of his neighbor’s driveways like entitled brats on his very narrow street.  Puked in their gardens.

It was loud and chaotic and stretched far beyond the bounds of his property. The guests behavior was not surprising but the next day was trash day which was the icing on the shit cake. Jared isn’t new to Hollywood but he is new to this ‘hood and making a shitty first impression is not something Jared ever wants to do. Containing the shit show to his property was the plan, not having it leak up and down the street.  Why didn’t anyone think about that?  Cans ended up knocked over by cars creeping in to every crevice up and down the winding road. Milk bottles and cereal boxes and liquified meat ended up curbside.  The neighbors complained and the cops came and sometime around 3am the party was officially over. Shut down in grand fashion.

You don’t have to go home, but you need to get the fuck outta here! 

The girl in the shower must have missed the memo and the mass exodus.

Stylists, camera men, name droppers, the elite and even a few writers poured out of the home and down the block like a stream or the L.A. River. Filled with bullshit and worms.  How no one’s car ended up at the bottom of the Canyon is a miracle.

After apologizing to the cops and his most immediate neighbor to the west who was outside in her pajamas glaring at him, Jared went to bed as the sun rose, alone and a little miffed but overall still pleased with himself as photos from the party circulated through social media and the overseas Echelon gleefully reacted. Regardless of how the night ended, the buzz was around Hollywood was positive.  Blake and Gwen?  Who knew?

That was only like an hour ago.  Why is Artur waking him up, now?  Does he have a death wish?

Agitated and annoyed that Artur still cast a shadow in his doorway, Jared tickled his inner ear with a knuckle – tinnitus relief – and said “I’m missing why is this complicated. Help her find her fucking clothes then escort her to the door …”

“She’s dead.”



About a boy… (ihatepoetry)

My thoughts were once consumed by a boy far less worldly than me. I found myself wading through everything there was to think about him, just to get to me.  It was an effortless preoccupation.  An obsession.  An escape.  That limited my own thoughts because I was too busy psychoanalyzing his. Exalting his every moment while not living my own. My mind’s own apartheid.  A shell under a spell.  Fixated but terribly lonely.

Where was he going?  Who was he with?  Would there be anyone there, by his side, who understood him like I do? Someone who wanted the best for him at all times.  Someone like me?  Do they love him?  Do they care?  Will he feel their sunshine or will they bleed him dry?  Who would watch out for him?  What are their intentions?  Is he happy?  Is he safe?  Is he lonely?  Has he asked for me?

I was his mother.
His best friend.
His lover. His lawyer.
A teacher.  A maid.
The antagonist.  The anchor.

I was in love with this boy.  And then one day I wasn’t. I left the security of his little world and I started to put effort back in to mine.  And I began to wonder where I would take me.  Who I would meet.  What adventures I would experience and I never once thought about that boy and his dreams.  Too busy making my own come true.  Quite naturally, I stopped obsessing and my own life kept progressing.  I had purpose now and great friendships.  So of course he resurfaced at that very moment but it had been far too long for me.

But he just had to know…

Where have you gone?  Who are you with?  Have you found someone else to love you? Someone better than me?  Are you well?  Are you happy?  Do you ever think about me?

And I wished him the best…because I really do and whispered “it’s never been me, it was always you.”  He was silent and he offered me nothing but stale air so I bid him adieu and went on my way.

But I have to admit, I have to say, that to this very day, I am consumed by thoughts “oh god, what if” because I was so very much in love with that boy.  Until that one day when I wasn’t.