Slash Skin Flick - new chapter from the book Pt1

Have at it - critiquing, I mean.

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Tom did not take the news that his station had been virtually “fired” by Vercini very well. It angered him that he would sacrifice so much for Jules only to have the producer withdraw from the agreement at the very last moment, leaving the president with an empty prime time hour. Competition was brutal between stations, and a vacant slot was a considerable problem, although Tom managed to finally fill it with a new situational comedy. Still, the injury left him bitter at Jules’ betrayal and, being a rather spiteful man, he could not forgive such a grievance. Therefore, at the earliest opportunity, he hired a private investigator to inquire into the producer’s past. What he found so pleased the station president that he sent the information anonymously to the tabloids. Jules would pay for his insult to him, and he would pay with a scandal so appalling it would surely bury the producer for life.
The news hit the internet and the gossip columns on a Friday in mid-September, the same date Jules and Ana arrived for filming in West Virginia. The timing of their trip was deliberate, representing the ten-year anniversary of the brutal murders that had forever altered the course of their lives. As they drove to the hotel Ana recognized the beautiful fall foliage that was “Nature’s Tapestry”, but found the sight unsettling due to the painful memories associated with it. To avoid the view she closed her eyes while Jules instinctively drew her close, wrapping his arms around her protectively. Though neither said a word, both felt the tragedy of the moment: that nature, dressed in her glorious array, had become a source of torment for them rather than pleasure.
No sooner had Jules pulled up to the hotel than his cell phone rang. It was Stephen calling to tell him his father would be contacting him shortly and that it was imperative that Jules should take the call. Although the anxiety detectable in his mentor’s voice caused him some alarm he was much too tired to sustain it, and so after checking into his hotel room, he flung his suitcase and then himself languidly on the bed, and rubbed his tired eyes as he awaited his phone to ring.
The call came soon enough.
"This is Jules."
“Julian, have you perchance seen the day's paper, or listened to the news?” his father asked.
“No,” he grumbled into the receiver. “I got off the plane an hour ago, we checked into the hotel just now and I literally haven’t even opened my luggage yet. I’m jetlagged, tired and dehydrated and besides that, I look like Hell worn over – several times. Why do you ask? What is so important that it overrides sleep? I’ve got promo to do in the next few days and I can’t afford to look less-than-beautiful.”
“Well, you may not wish to do PR work after what I tell you,” his father cautioned. “Apparently a video tape with you has emerged.”
At these words Jules suddenly sat upright. “What kind of video?” he asked suspiciously, although in his heart he already knew the answer.
“A perverted one,” his father muttered under his breath.
Both men fell silent.
"How perverted?" Jules swallowed hard.
"I would think you would know, son. How can you not know?"
"Well I don't remember everything, dad," he whispered apprehensively. "I've had blackouts, memory lapses…there are blocks of time I can't recall when I was younger."
"Well you can reminisce on the internet," Mr. Cromwell said in a sarcastic tone. "There are currently several sites hosting a free preview of my son engaged in shameful acts."
Jules felt his face flush hot with embarrassment. “Who do I have to pay and how much do they want to make this go away?”
He heard his father sigh on the other end of the line. “Jules, some things in life cannot be bought; they have to be paid for in other ways. This, I fear, is one of those things over which we have no control, and which, unfortunately, you’re going to have to pay for in terms most public.”
Suddenly the full weight of his own disgrace and his father’s humiliation bore down on Jules, and he gasped as he fought back tears. "It’s Tom; he’s revenging himself on me for canceling at the last moment, and now you and mother have to suffer. I’ll wear my Scarlet Letter because I earned it, but you and mother have done nothing but be supportive of me, and I am so very sorry for embarrassing you. How can I make it up to you? How can I make things right again?”
Mr. Cromwell sat taciturn on the phone for a moment, and then he spoke. “You cannot fix this situation, son. It’s something we’re all going to have to live with, or live down at least. I’m sending you a link– you should watch the video because you’re going to have to answer for it at some point. I’ll call you later on this evening and we’ll discuss how to handle this matter. I will talk to you then.”
Jules heard a click on the other end of the line and knew his father had hung up the phone on him. In the solitude that ensued, the producer felt an utter loneliness and vulnerability he had not previously experienced before in his life. Here there was no drug or drink to chase away the pain, no woman or man with whom he could amuse and distract himself. No, here there was only himself, and as Jules stared, petrified, into the abyss of his own soul, the overwhelming emptiness threatened to engulf him and he started to cry. He wondered with morbid curiosity about the razor blades in his luggage and about the bottle of sleeping pills he kept stored for a rainy day, but then he remembered Ana, Ana who had never once abandoned him but whom he had abandoned, Ana, who would love him always despite his vices. She was only next door in the adjoining room. All he had to do was unlock the deadbolt that separated them from one another, and let her in...such a simple matter...
...and so, running to the door, he unlatched it and flung it open, collapsing almost at once into the open arms that seemed to be awaiting his arrival on the other side. For the first time in his life, he felt the peace that attends unconditional love, and he cried no longer for himself, but for the joy of knowing nothing could break their bond, and no one could divide her for him.

***

Ana never intended to eavesdrop on Jules' discussion with his father but then the thin wall that stood between their adjoining rooms made it impossible for her not to overhear it, and so with a modicum of guilt she half-heartedly listened to his conversation. Though his words were muffled by the partition, she detected a severe strain in her lover's voice and knew immediately that something was wrong. Inclining her ear to the wall she concentrated intently on his elocution, hoping to grasp a word or two that would enlighten her regarding the subject, but all she heard was a rambling barrage of nervous excitement. Whatever was plaguing Jules had him at his wit's end, and she was just about to knock on the door when it abruptly opened from within and Jules poured out directly into her arms. It was all she could do to prevent him from crumbling at her feet, and so she gently guided him over to the bed and sat him down beside her, hugging him close like a mother with her child. Only then did she dare to breach the silence with her questions, and hope to gain some understanding as to his struggle.
"A bad day at the office, love?" she asked playfully, hoping to alleviate his suffering with a good-natured jest, but all it effected was a feeble smile.
"Well that depends on whether I get royalties for my new venture," he retorted sarcastically.
"New venture?" Ana asked inquisitively. "You mean the movie?"
"Yes, Mining for Jules. Currently it is one of the most downloaded films on the internet."
"Mining for …what are you talking about, sweetie? I know we're not speaking about our movie any longer."
"It's all over Ana," he whispered softly into her ear, then sat up and stared at himself in the bureau mirror. The reflection in the glass appeared to mock him now, jeering as if by its perfection it were chastising him about his own failures. "I'm finished," he said at last.
"Finished? How can you be finished when you haven't even begun, Jules?" Ana inquired in frustration. "We're just now starting to shoot the West Virginia scene, and that isn't quite half-way through the entire movie."
"Love," Jules began, grasping her hands in his as he turned to study her face, "someone has uncovered a rather seedy film with me in it, and apparently it's been posted just about everywhere on the internet. It's too late for me to control its distribution; I have no other choice but to gracefully bow out of the limelight, if that is humanly possible at this point."
"So you're going to let them win," Ana responded.
"It's not a matter of winning or losing," he answered reflectively, "it's a matter of having class and avoiding the disgrace that will accompany the flick once it reaches the mainstream media. I have my mother and father to think about, as well as you and even Nate. I don't want my sordid affairs to cast shadows on the people I love, so it ends here."
Abruptly Ana pulled away and crossed her arms petulantly in front of her chest. "So you throw away your dreams at the first sign of trouble. You've always done that Jules - it's practically your trademark now: - run as soon as difficulty rears it's ugly head. For once why don't you stand up for yourself and refuse to be humiliated into silence? I bet you'd be surprised by people's responses to you - they'd respect you for it."
"Ana, they won't respect me after seeing the clip - they can't."
"So, it is a skin flick film" Ana retorted determinedly. "It isn't as if you're the first person whose life has been marred by something so controversial. Others have overcome it - so can you."
"Not this."
"Why not?"
"Because…" his voice trailed off. Rising, Jules walked over to the window and stared out it. "Because it's gay," he whispered sensitively. "When Nate died I felt so guilty, I made some friends - we were rich and young and had all the time and money we needed for pleasure. The world was our oyster, to take and make of it what we would and naturally - well, I was extremely promiscuous for a period. I vaguely remember this film, but I know enough about it to realize it will be my end."
Ana let out a hearty laugh, and then rose and sauntered over to where Jules stood, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I hate to tell you this, hon," she said gently into his ear, "but your sexuality is the worst kept secret in Hollywood. Everyone already knows you're bi; do you not recall playing kissy-face with Chris for the cameras?"
"I’m not gay," Jules retorted somewhat defensively.
Ana started giggling. "Okay love, whatever you say."
"I'm not."
"Fine Jules."
"It was a phrase I went through. It's not unusual for people to go through periods where they question their identity and sexuality," he countered.
Deeply amused, Ana continued to smile as she gazed into his eyes. "Whatever you say, sweetie. The important thing is that we are here together and we will confront this travesty as a team."
"Ana," he said turning towards her, "In this case it's best to let the situation run its course. I'm going to pull funding from the project - we can always ramp up next year, or the year after."
"Jules, if you let this project go you won't start it again, and then the story will remain untold forever. Once you've settled into anonymity it will be all too easy for you to remain that way, to avoid stirring up old ghosts or playing with skeletons in the closet. If you want to right past wrongs and balance the scales, you have to go forward now, despite any backlash or revelation of heretofore previously undiscovered slash flicks. Confront your enemies head on and you'll unnerve them, understand?" she asked rhetorically. "They all expect you to remove yourself from the public spotlight. No one could possibly anticipate you going head-to-head with these controversies."
Jules stared deeply into Ana's eyes, as if he were searching her soul for some morsel of strength, and having found what he was looking for, embraced her in his arms, hugging her tight and then pulling her away to plant a soft kiss upon her cheek. "Alright. I'll watch this sordid memoir and then schedule some interviews with the press. I suggest you stay out-of-sight to avoid becoming a target for journalists, okay?"
"Okay, but I will watch it with you." Ana countered.
"No you won't. I won't have you watching such squalid bunk; plus, it's embarrassing."
"As if I haven't seen you already in compromising positions," Ana chuckled loudly. "Let me watch."
"You're a pervert."
"Probably, but I'm your pervert," Ana quipped smartly. "I should know, shouldn't I? It's going to come out in the papers, and you know what they will say. Don't you think it's best I see it for myself, or would you prefer the tabloids to tell me what I should think?"
Jules grumbled and then sat down at his computer and booted up. "To spare you pain I'll allow you to watch it verbatim but please, Ana, please don't…." he started but then his voice trailed off.
"…don't what Jules?" she asked.
"Don’t….don't mock me," he whispered, "or tease. I'm humiliated enough as it is."
Ana saddled up beside Jules and squeezed him tight. "Don’t be ridiculous; I love you more than my own life, Jules. I could never hurt you," she insisted seriously. "Whatever gave you the impression I would do otherwise?"
Clearing his throat, Jules muttered "nothing", then proceeded to locate and launch the film online for their perusal. Truthfully he had no doubts regarding Ana's staunch loyalty; nevertheless, he could not help but wonder what sort of impact his utter and complete debasement would have the woman whose love for him had never faltered and who had otherwise retained a purity of body, mind and soul.

part three please. I feel unnerved myself as if there is something beyond what even Ana can handle. I hope not.
I cannot imagine how in real life this thing could fix itself except probably thru humour. I know that Hugh Grant used humour to diffuse his sleeping with that Divine woman.It seemed to work.

Hey Rachel,

First, thanks so much for reading. You do not know how much I appreciate it. The next chapter is called "The Handsome Prince" and has already been posted. You should easily find it if you scroll down titles.

Again, thanks for sacrificing your time to read my work. I consider it a great honor and a great service to me.

Hugs
C

no on the contrary, once I actually paid attention to this part of the forum I was thrilled to read your work. honestly you have a way of pulling a person right in and having been a woman's editor i am not easily pulled in. kind of like a whirlwind, you see it and try to look away but there is something so compelling you can't help yourself.
I urge you to be like Tolkien, never give up. Be a fierce editor and detach yourself and read your work over and over from all angles and trim and trim some more. Having been in the newspaper business I learned a couple of things" first never use too complex words for a general audience because many nowadays simply do not know theri meanings and have not the time to look them up. about grade six or seven words that are descriptive and compelling,that will satisfy. leave the wordy intellectual speech for literary magazines and endeavours.
second tighten each and every line. by cutting and forcing yourself to say the most in the least space you will grab the attention of the reader and hold them thru each chapter. That is why in a good newspaper first you read a gripping crisp headline. next in the first paragraph you pretty well give the synopsis and then you fill things in as compactly as possible. you will have a winner and I cannot wait to buy my copy.
I find it terribly hard to settle down to Clancy because he is so wordy and technical that he loses me in the first chapter.
On the other hand even though Tolkien's work was over a million words, each paragraph stood alone in thought and was so compelling you could not forget it.
the best to you dear Countess and I certainly will read the other part.

I came and read this because you complained that no one ever came and read your stuff. Personally, I disagree with Rachel's advice. Don't dumb it down, and don't speed it up. My main advice would be to slow it down. Slow it wayyyy down. It reads like a newspaper, which I consider a negative. Shorter sentences, more descriptive imagery; in other words, show me, don't tell me.

Thanks Rachel and Emily for your advice. It seems that you both have different preferences in terms of writing style (uh-oh!) Personally my writing is more classical / literature-driven because that is what I love and that is all I read. (--:

This is a character-driven story as opposed to a plot-driven story, so the focus is on the characters themselves, the plot serving as a vehicle to carry them along. I prefer getting inside their heads and hearts, so like Tolstoy or Wilde or even Doestoevsky I like to stick my characters in a room and let them battle it out.

If it seems unconventional to you that's why. You all might prefer "Black Panther", which is going to be completely different from Jules. There will be deep characters but plot is a major theme, and will be the major driver. You'll get alot more external description (as opposed to internal description here) and action. Here you simply have a man fighting against the internal forces that would destroy him.

I will consider your advice, Rachel and Emily, as I write the next few chapter and see what I can do.