Joa Damons Chronicles Ch 04

This story is a spin off of the successful and wildly popular "Journal of an Agent" by Carnage Jackson. At the end of Carnage’s story, the main character, Dean Simonds, faces a major dilemma, where he has to choose between staying in Hollywood with Alyssa Milano, or heading back east with Natalie Portman. Please note that this might not necessarily have been the ending Carnage had in mind, but is my own interpretation.

I hope you all like this series, and all feedback is welcome at the link below. To the readers of my other series, "Dangerously in Love", I have no intention of ending that series anytime soon. I would like to thank Carnage Jackson for not only letting me use his characters and set-up, but for his constructive suggestions and criticism.

If you are under 18, please refrain from reading this. To the rest of you, note that this story is completely fictional, and all similarities to real life people and occurrences are strictly coincidental.

JOA: DAMON’S CHRONICLES 4: Tyra Banks

It had been a very shitty couple of days since Christmas Eve, and I was thisclose to passing out due to frustration. My respect for the two Simonds men reached new heights after I realized that they had to go through this for so long. While Christmas season was the time of the year when people relaxed, families got together, and everybody had so much fun, the reverse seemed to be the case for agents. Not only did the stars expect us to do their bidding as usual, they even seemed to get out of hand more often than usual during this period, and naturally expected us to be at their beck and call.

I had returned to the office on the night of Christmas Eve after my tryst with Andie, and pleased that the entire office was deserted, I settled to do a little more work, but I had hardly begun when I began to receive a barrage of phone calls. The stars were out partying as usual, and so many of them had gotten themselves into trouble with the law, and I had to go and bail them all out of trouble. At around 5 a.m. on Christmas morning, after bailing an ungrateful Shannon Doherty from a nightclub spat, I managed to get home and sleep through the entire morning. In my opinion, Dean had pampered these spoilt brats, and they had gotten used to their agent waiting on them hand-and-foot. If it were up to me, I would have handled them with an iron fist, since baby-sitting was not in my contract, but I did not want to screw up Dean’s legacy.

Later that day, I went over to Mama’s place and enjoyed a very sumptuous Christmas dinner with my whole family. Several of my cousins had come from New York, and it was really nice to see everyone. My younger sister even announced that she was getting moving in with some white dude, and though it did not go too well with everyone in the family, Mama was her usual understanding self and encouraged Beverly (my sister) to go ahead with it as long as it made her happy.

Naturally, everyone was interested in me and wanted to hear all the details of my interaction with all the stars. I was not so keen to talk about work, but they were so eager that I had to describe to Aunt Brenda what Denzel looked like up close, and tell my little nephews some details from the upcoming Matrix movies I had been able to wrangle out of Keanu (and swear them to secrecy). I couldn’t even fight off Cousin Jerry, who was begging me all evening to give his demo tape to Dr. Dre. All in all, it was a good evening, and it felt really good to be around loving family, and not bitchy actresses or egotistical actors. We all opened our presents (and I cursed myself for forgetting to open Ashley’s gift earlier in the day) and sat round the Christmas tree singing carols. I had to work the next day, so I left about midnight, and got stopped by a cop for speeding.

The next day at work was rather uneventful. I had given Ashley the day off, so I had to do most of the work by myself. I think I made quite a bit of progress with my end-of-the-year accounting, and managed to successfully place some orders for some high tech equipment to replace the archaic stuff we’d been using since Dean’s era. I had a few actors come in to renegotiate their deals, but all in all, the day passed without much ado.

On the 27th of December, two days after Christmas, I was in the office as usual, working my ass off, when Ashley knocked on my door, and I called for her to come in. She appeared to have had a makeover during Christmas, as she looked almost stunning. Her blonde hair was all nice and straightened out, and she was wearing this tight pink dress. I almost did a double take when I glanced at her, causing her to smile demurely.

“Thanks for the bag, Damon” she said, still smiling

“I hope you liked it”, I said, quickly adding, “I’ve been really busy, so I haven’t had time to open any presents. I am so sorry”.

Her face fell when I said this, but she brightened up almost immediately, and almost looked relieved

“I’m sure I will love whatever it is you give me”, I added

“Thanks”, she said, “well, there’s someone here to see you”

“Who is it?”, I asked, not really eager to meet anybody at present

“He refused to give me a name, he says he’s a relative of yours”, she said

I assumed it must be one of my cousins or something, so I asked Ashley to let him in. She nodded and left, and about a minute later, I heard a loud knock on my door.

“Come in”, I yelled

I had only seen him once in my life, and that was almost 25 years ago, but I immediately recognized the large black man who stood at the door as it opened. Intense anger prevented me from showing my utter shock at seeing him. What the fuck did he want?

“Merry Christmas Damon Junior”, he said with a smile, revealing a few gold teeth

“How may I help you?”, I asked without betraying any emotion

“Come on son, you might at least call me Dad”, he said, coming into the office and shutting the door behind him

“Once again, how may I help you?”, I asked firmly

“Can’t a dad come and say hello to his little boy?”, he asked, looking hurt

“You are not my dad and I am not your little boy, so tell me what you want before I call security to escort you out”, I bellowed with anger

“Take it easy, I just came to tell you how proud I am of you, Mr. Hotshot Agent”, he said, sitting down

“I did not ask you to sit down”, I said, though I knew that would not make him get up, “I need you to leave. I don’t need you, I became everything I am without you, and I do not need you now that I am big”

“I will not be spoken to like that”, he said in a surge of anger that eerily reminded me of myself whenever I got angry, “I am your father”

I sat down and stared at the man who was sitting across me, the man whose blood I shared, the man I hardly knew. I was a spitting image of him physically, although he obviously looked like he was well into his 60’s. I wanted to scream at him, tell him how much I hated him, but I knew it would be a lie as I knew that I was incapable of hating him. We stared at each other in silence as I flashed back to my childhood days, to the numerous times when I cried and cried because I so wanted to know this man who sat right in front of me.

Having a father-figure would have been so helpful as a kid, growing up in the hood. Being picked on by neighborhood bullies, withstanding the temptation to give in to peer pressure and experiment with drugs and crime, even in college when I got injured and it seemed like my entire world was crumbling, where was the asshole when I needed him? I had seen him only once in my life, when I was six years old. Without Mama’s knowledge, I went looking for him after figuring out his identity from my birth certificate.

I remember knocking on the door of his apartment with trepidation. It was a dilapidated and scary-looking building, and I clearly had no business being there all by myself. I knew Mama would give me a major ass-whooping if she found out, but even then, it would be worth it if I got to meet my Daddy. Full of beans, I continued to knock as hard as I could, until I heard a deep and raspy voice usher me in.

I opened the door, and was immediately blinded by smoke. I did not know what kind of smoke it was, but I did not care. I coughed a little and looked closer, and saw on the couch a man whom I immediately knew had to be my dad, flanked by two female companions, who were totally naked. My father was topless, but was thankfully wearing a pair of shorts. My heart swelled with excitement as I whispered, “Are you Mr. Damon Bradley?”

“Yes kid”, he replied, “what do you want?”

“I think you are my Daddy”, I said breathlessly

He looked rather bewildered for a few moments, and was obviously a bit taken aback. Eyeing me up and down, he asked me who I was

“My name is Damon”, I said excitedly, “Damon Brill”

“Oh, Lisa’s son”, he inquired, looking wary

“Yes”, I said, “her name is Lisa Brill, and she is my mom. I think she named me after you”

“Look boy”, he said, lazily stretching his body while still seated on the beat-up sofa, “I don’t know what that bitch told you, but I don’t have a son”

“But look”, I said, pulling out a piece of paper from my pocket, “this paper says that my Daddy is Mr. Damon Bradley. That’s you”

He suddenly got up, almost looking venomous, and walked towards me as if he was going to attack me. I walked backwards towards the door, looking scared, and totally unable to believe what was going on. I had been anticipating a triumphant homecoming, with my dad happy to see his long lost son and giving me hugs and kisses, but staring into his bloodshot eyes, I could see that was the case

“Tell your mom”, he barked, “never to send you here again”

Without saying a word, I tearfully backed out of the door and ran all the way down the dark stairwell outside, and for the ten blocks till I got to our house. I never forgot that incident, even though I never once mentioned it to Mama or any of my sisters. I had never set eyes on him since that day, and looking across the table at him, I pictured the angry man with the bloodshot eyes fiercely walking towards me as he was going to attack me

“I am not going to ask you this again”, I said firmly, “how may I help you?”

“Son”, he said, “I’m sorry I was not there for you when you were younger, but its not too late”

“It is too late”, I cried, my voice rising, “where were you when I needed a father, when I got beat up at school, when Mama’s boyfriends were mean to us, my high school football games, my graduation? I bet you didn’t know that I was homecoming king in high school, or that I suffered a devastating injury that stopped me from playing football. Where were you then?”

“I am not going to pretend I was a good father”, he said, “but I want to start now”

“I don’t have a father”, I bellowed, “I’ve never had a father, and I never will. You are just some guy my mother named me after”

“Damon my boy”, he pleaded, “just hear me out”

“What do you have to say for yourself?”, I demanded, “before I have security throw you out”

“I am really proud that you have made something of yourself”, he said, “I don’t want your money or anything, I just want to get to know my son”

“You are twenty-eight years too late for that”, I whispered, “Please leave immediately”.

Without saying a word, he stood up and strode resplendently out of the room. I watched him leave, wondering if I had been too harsh, whether I should have given him a chance. I hoped that was the last I would ever see of him. I had heard of so many people who, after they had made it big, their fathers came back crawling. I guess I was in that category now. 2Pac’s words from his hit song “Dear Mama” resonated in my head

“No love for my Daddy cos’ the coward wasn’t there, he passed away and I didn’t cry, cos my anger wouldn’t let me feel for a stranger. They say I’m young and I’m heartless, but all along I was looking for a father he was gone”.

Maybe I should have given him a chance, I thought to myself. What if the man was for real and had changed his ways? This was another similarity between myself and Dean, I thought to myself, not having grown up with a father. At least his old man had been gracious enough to leave him this establishment before he croaked. My own father had not even been involved with my life, had not contributed to anything, and I had to get everything I owned on my own. I was so lost in thought that I did not notice that Ashley had entered the room and was standing by my side

“Are you alright, Damon?”, she asked, touching the top of my head

“I’m great Ashley”, I replied, ‘thanks for asking”

“I couldn’t help overhearing some of your conversation with your father…”

“He’s not my father”, I snapped, interrupting her. We were both silent for a few moments before I profusely apologized

“I don’t know what came over me Ashley”, I said, pulling her onto my lap, “I’m sorry for yelling at you”

“I understand”, she said with a smile, “Just know that if you ever need to talk, I’m always here”

“I hate that bastard”, I suddenly said, clenching my fists together, “I hate him, I hate him”

“Don’t let him affect you”, she said, stroking my neck while still sitting on my lap, “Look at you, you got everything in life by yourself. You’ve made it this far without him”

“Thanks Ashley”, I said, smiling at her.

As our eyes met, I suddenly sensed desire, though I did not know if it was coming from me or from her. Nonetheless, I could not take my eyes away from hers, and as our faces moved closer together, a kiss seemed inevitable. Every sense in me screamed at me, asking me what I was doing, but I did not seem to be able to stop. I knew I had no business kissing her, not only was I her boss, but we were good friends, and I considered myself like a big brother to her. She was still a teenager, how could I be doing this? We were merely inches away, and she smelt heavenly. I looked questioningly in her eyes, and could see deep desire. I decided to damn the consequences and just go ahead, and just as our lips were about to meet, I heard my cell phone ring.

“Saved by the bell”, I thought as I immediately sprang away. As I reached for my phone, I suddenly came to my senses, and thanked heaven that I did not go ahead with what I was about to do. The consequences would have been too adverse, and a vulnerable young girl’s heart would have been on the line.

I answered the phone, and the call turned out to be from Kweisi Mfume, the President of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). He was calling to remind me about the NAACP annual end of year dinner which was taking place that evening, where I was to be one of the honorees. Needless to say, my appointment as head of Shooting Star had caused a lot of jubilation in the black community, as it was rare for a black man or woman to be in such a position in Hollywood. In fact, I still felt a little guilty that I had not used my position to the benefit of black actors as much as a lot of people felt I should. It was not my fault though, there was just a dearth of good roles for actors of color, and as my good friend Vivica Fox always said, Hollywood was the only place on earth where people could refuse to employ based on race, and one could not sue for discrimination. How many times had I called a leading director to lobby for a role for a black actor or actress, and was greeted with a phrase like “Sorry, but we really don’t want to go black for that role”.

In any case, I was still one of the guests of honor at the gala, alongside other reputable black people in the country. I promised Mr. Mfume that I would be at the occasion promptly, and hung up. Ashley had already left the office, no doubt feeling embarrassed by what had almost transpired between us. As I returned to my work, I promised never to let myself fall into that kind of situation ever again.

I arrived at the Sheraton Hotel, where the function was taking place, shortly after 9 p.m. I realized a few hours before that I was supposed to show up with a date, and since there was no way I could get anyone to come on short notice, I decided to take my youngest sister, 20 year old Erica. She had been ecstatic when I asked her to accompany me, and let me know before hand that she would desert me as soon as she saw Taye Diggs, whom she absolutely adored.

“Taye’s married”, I said to her in horror

“He’s going to leave that hoochie as soon as he sees me”, she joked as we exited our limousine and walked into the hotel.

I had been scared that I came late, but as soon as we stepped in, I realized that there was still had ample time, as the event was nowhere near commencement. As I hung around the lobby, making idle chitchat with some other people whom I was familiar with. Erica had gone into hysterics when she spotted so many famous people just milling around, and had threatened to twist my arm if I did not introduce her to Oprah. I had done so, and was talking with Michael Jordan at a corner of the lobby when the room suddenly got much brighter. Beyonce Knowles had just walked in, looking stunning in a bright red dress with slits at the side. My heart slipped a few beats, and I quickly excused myself from Michael as I prepared to go and talk to her.

I had been attracted to Beyonce for such a long time, ever since I first saw her in a Destiny’s Child video several years ago. She was so beautiful, and belied maturity and elegance beyond her years. I remember clearly the first time I ever laid eyes on her. She was a client of the firm, and had secured the female lead in the third installment of Austin Powers shortly before I joined the firm. It was a sunny afternoon in the summer of 2002, the week before the movie opened in theaters, and she came into the office to discuss some issues with Dean. I do not think I have ever been more embarrassed than I was that day.

My friend had sent me some lewd images in some email attachment, and since my workload was rather light that day, I was at my computer giggling at the naked chicks, and my hand coincidentally happened to be on my crotch area.

“It sure seems like you’re having fun there”, I heard a female voice say behind me.

I turned around, and there stood Beyonce, looking as cute as ever in a white T-shirt and blue jeans shorts. She looked so adorable despite the fact that she did not have any make-up on, and she was currently looking amused, having caught me looking at porn. I immediately stood up, and tried to explain the situation, but she did not look disgusted, only amused. I bemoaned my bad luck that the girl I had fancied for so long had to catch me in such an awkward situation. Well, I never would have had a snowball’s chance in hell with her anyways. Wait a minute, I was actually screwing Halle Berry back then, so I had to count for something, but Beyonce was so beautiful, so divine, that she would not even glance at scum like me twice. She had been linked with so many people on the tabloids, and I always wondered how much of those were true. I always felt like someone had plunged a dagger in my heart when I read the latest story linking her with another rapper or sports player.

I had of course met her a few times after becoming head of Shooting Star. The success of Goldmember had spurred her to want to take a career in acting seriously, so she came in a few times. We talked cordially, though I was always so self-conscious because I was convinced she had not forgotten her first ever impression of me. However, this evening, seeing her walk into the hotel lobby flanked by two other girls, whom I later recognized to be Kelly and Michelle, her band mates (funny how two otherwise stunning women can fade into the background when a beacon of light walks amidst them), I was determined to go and say something to her. I thanked my stars as she walked away from her two friends and headed in another direction. I quickened my pace as I walked towards her, thinking of something to say. Come on, I was her agent, I was being honored by the NAACP tonight, there were a million things I could possibly talk about. If things went well, I could ask her out, and possibly begin something. My mind was already exploring candlelit dates, romantic weekends in the Hamptons, and Beyonce in a white wedding dress, when I suddenly froze, perplexed, as she walked right into the arms of rapper Jay-Z, and they began to passionately make out right in the middle of the room.