Coke And Mirrors
Thespian Will Make You High
Which hot actor is currently moonlighting as Hollywood's biggest supplier? We can't tell you because, well, we don't have the money to fight off the civil lawsuits that will follow. But we can give you a few hints. You probably had his poster on your bedroom wall a few years ago. You probably still do. Know who we're talking about now? Of course you do. Well Mr. Hearthrob is the industry's most popular dealer. No, we don't mean street corners. We're talking about the most elite (elitist?) Chateau Marmont soirees and rooftop festivities. No one who's no one can get into these places, luckily for this film star who's able to live his uber fabulous life without his illicit ways interfering with his stellar public image. Well, every cloud has a silver (gray?) lining!
"It doesn't hurt," Daniel Grayson stood by his kitchen sink letting soothing cold water run over the bloody gash on his forearm. "Not as much as the last time."
"Well, that's great," Emily Thorne wrapped a flesh colored gauze bandage around Daniel's wrist. She flashed her signature Pan Am smile. The more time you spent with her, the less eerie that smile became. "But how did it happen darling?"
"I don't remember. I thought I was getting better, but now I'm not so sure." This hadn't happened to Daniel in ages. He was getting regular roles, in both television and film. He had a hot new girlfriend. He'd come off his meds last year. There was no reason for him to hurt himself anymore. Life was perfect, or so he thought. That was, until he woke up bleeding profusely, completely unaware how he became injured.
Emily pulled the bandage tightly and tied it. A neat bow. He winced. It was over. And then, quiet. Thankfully, at that moment, Conrad Grayson's gravelly voice began emanating from downstairs, breaking the awkward silence. Wait a minute, was he ranting about something? Daniel couldn't hear his father clearly but he sounded angry about something. What was it?
Another not-so-productive work meeting? A bothersome colleague? "Me?"
"Yes, you Daniel!" Conrad hissed as he made that last marble step and rushed through the white pine French doors that led to Daniel's living room. There was no time for greetings or small talk. "You're going back to Cedarwoods!" The words pierced Daniel's ears like sharp silver razor blades. Like the razor blades (amongst other things) that got him sent to the "treatment center" in the first place. The three months Daniel spent at Cedarwoods were undoubtedly the worst three months of his entire 25 years on the planet. It may have been a small fraction of his life (one hundred hundredths to be exact) but his experience there continued to have a profound impact on him, even today. Even now, as he stood embarrassed and fearful in front of the two people in his life that he cared the most about and that cared the most about him. He'd do almost anything for his father, and even for Emily. But he would not go back to that God forsaken place. Not if his life depended on it. He'd rather die.
"It's for the best, Daniel", Emily reiterated. It was now clear that it was her who alerted Conrad to Daniel's predicament. She must have texted him when she went to get the bandage out of the first aid box. Sneaky.
"Why, Emily? Why?" He'd trusted her.
"We're trying to help you. You're not okay Daniel." She shook her head with the innocence of a four year old but he was still grossed out by her deception. Why would she get his family involved? That was a total PR faux pas: a direct violation of Public Relations Rule 1: Spin First, Discuss Later.
"I have a movie set to go to," and with that, Daniel was gone. And no one could stop him. After all, he was hot, rich, young actor Daniel Grayson. He did whatever he wanted.