The Price Of Stardom

The Price of Stardom
Copyright: Demented Thinking Producitons 1998

Sally  Kincaid was a beautiful woman. Her dark red hair draped down across her  small, milky shoulders. Sally adorned herself with lavish facials and  massages, treating her beauty to the finer things in life. Once a week  it was an expense she endured, but it was all for the best. Sally could  afford it, she could afford anything, she was rich even beyond her own  belief. She was a Kincaid and the very name bred wealth and prosperity.

Sally  arose early, excited about the possibilities of another day in the  comfort and complete pampering she had been receiving every since she  was a little girl living in that big mansion on Timber Lane. It was a  beautiful place with great huge oak trees lining the long pebbled  driveway and more roses a person could count everywhere. The roses, of  course, were her mother’s idea. She loved them so, and Sally tended to  think they were rather nice herself. The old mansion on Timber Lane was  especially pretty in the summer time. They had a huge pond to swim in  with the ducks lining the sides, taking their sweet time drinking and  eating on the lush vegetation surrounding the pond.

Sally  brushed her lovely long hair 100 times this morning in front of her  mirror on the make-up table as she did every morning like clockwork.  Gazing into the ancient mirror with gold inlays, Sally marveled at her  spectacular beauty and puckered her lips in a pretend Marilyn Monroe  kiss. Vanity, Sally felt, was one of her strong points, and to this day  no one has disputed it.

She’d  gaze in the mirror for hours if she didn’t have such a busy schedule  these days. A gorgeous model like her has numerous photo shoots,  layouts, and commercials planned for months to come jumbling up her  schedule to the brink.

Smiling  to herself as she carefully put on her backless black dress Sally  remembered being a young girl of twelve enrolling in every beauty  pageant that was offered. Quite frequently she won first prize. Sally  gazed up at her many trophies littering the shelves in her room and  smiled.

Talent  was another strong point of Sally’s. She was an accomplished violinist  and that, as well, came with certain responsibilities just like the  modeling career. Next month she had been invited to play with the  London Symphony Orchestra, and because of her stardom and talent she  would respectfully accept their gracious offer to fly her first class  to England all expenses paid and play for a few songs. Sally was quite  excited about this prospect and talked about it in length with other  friends and family. How she refuses such an honor? She could not let  her public and fans down, after all they awaited her every move all  over the world with bated breath. The only thing that concerned her was  flying. Sally did not like to fly. It terrified her if the truth be  known. Planes are small and cumbersome and have been known to catch on  fire from time to time. And if there was anything she hated the most,  it was fire. It burned and hurt so bad... Sally shook her head clearing  the thoughts rummaging around within. No, Sally Kincaid was an  honorable woman and she would go to England and serve her public with  her enormous presence. But, the fire... Sally violently shook her head  back and forth shaking the vision from her mind’s eye, “Best not to  think of that, darling,” Sally said to herself.

Sally  sat back down at her dressing table and blinked for a moment. She had  no knowledge of how she came to be standing at that point in time, but  there she was standing there in the middle of the room in a coiled  position. “Well, that was strange, darling,” Sally spoke to herself  again.  Shaking her head she began to apply her make-up  evenly and carefully. Starting with the eyes Sally mused, “Must look  natural. That’s good for your public, darling, always look natural.”  Sally administered the rest of her make-up quickly.

Once  finished, Sally looked at her watch and realized it was almost time for  Ruthledge to bring her the big breakfast she’d had ordered. She always  took breakfast in her room now that she was a star. Sally never knew  when a adoring fan would pop up and want an autograph, so a few years  back she took to having breakfast in the quiet of her own bedroom.

Taking  one last noticeable lasting look in the mirror, Sally began to turn  away when out of the corner of her eye she noticed an ugly flaw in the  mirror itself. Sally stepped closer to get a better look and the flaw  shifted around the edges and into the middle. It seemed to sway and  melt before her eyes. Sally stood agape as she helplessly watched the  mirror perform its transition. Quickly closing her eyes and wishing it  away, Sally took a deep breath slowly counting to ten. “One, Two,  Three...” Sally mumbled incoherently, “Four, Five, Six...,” Sally’s  voice intensified and began to tremble ever so slightly, “Seven, Eight,  Nine, Ten!” Sally slowly opened her eyes and looked, hoping, praying  the appendage was gone. It was and Sally breathed a sigh of relief.  “It’s got to be all this pressure I’m under. I must have Ruthledge take  a look at that mirror. My mind is just playing tricks on me,” Sally  said with more assurance than she truly felt.

The  huge steel door to her room unlatched with an uneven clanking sound  giving away to a high pitched squealing. If Sally noticed she certainly  did not jump or react in any way. Sally always kept her room locked  tightly against any of her public who may want to pry into her private  life. Even though she loved her fans, she did not want them barging  into her room and parading around asking all sorts of questions while  she was trying to dress or make herself beautiful. It was just plain  rude, and one thing Sally Kincaid did not like was rudeness.

The  cumbersome door skidded to a halt and Ruthledge appeared from behind  like a man on trail. “Oh Ruthledge, it’s so good to see you, darling!”  Sally exclaimed, “I’m absolutely famished. What did you bring me this  morning, dear?” The man gave Sally a puzzled look and confessed, “I’m  not Ruthledge, Miss Kincaid.” Sally glared at the man and for a moment  he wasn’t sure what she would do. A big bright smile came over her face  and she politely said, “Well, sure you are, darling. You wear the same  thing every day. It’s the same white uniform I picked out for you three  years ago at the department store, don’t you remember?” Without  allowing the man a chance to answer, Sally turned her attention to her  plate signaling that the conversation was closed. It was the only way  she could do it. With help these days you just had to be abrupt, they  never knew when to go away. The young man rolled his eyes in disgust  and quietly left the tiny box-like white room.

Sally  ate slowly chewing each bite 32 times and savoring the wonderful flavor  of each morsel. She put down her fork in a robotic fashion after every  bite and fiddled with the napkin she always placed in her lap. Manners  were another strong point of Sally’s. Sally always demonstrated good  manners every since she was a tiny child. She always ate with her  elbows off the table, she always picked the correct fork, spoon and  knife, and she chewed with her mouth closed. She was so perfect even  God smiled down on her and said, “Wow! That is a perfect specimen!”  Whisking away the last bite, Sally checked her watch again. “Oh dear,”  she gasped, “I have a meeting with my agent in 10 minutes, I’m going to  be late!” Sally quickly gathered her purse and gloves, checked her face  one more time in the mirror and left her tiny room to greet her public  on the way to see Mr. Stevenson her brilliant agent.

As  she glided down the white, immaculate hallway she greeted her public  enthusiastically with smiles, hugs and autographs. Sally was usually  quick to explain she was in a hurry for an important meeting with Mr.  Stevenson and she could not spend the time with them that she would  like right now, but later she would sit with them and talk. For the  most part, most of them understood her busy schedule with the exception of Miloh Tillston. Miloh was a dear, sweet friend whom she cherished  beyond any other. He was a smart man, and just like her he was a star  too. Sally relished in his tales of what goes on during the filming of  the action movies he acts in. Miloh is a regular rough and tough Arnold  Schwarzenegger, but cute and handsome just like Mel Gibson. Sally adored  Miloh with all her heart, and if she wasn’t so busy with contracts and  endless photo shoots she would settle down and marry Miloh or at least  have a fling with him. But, for now she had a groundbreaking meeting to  get to. Miloh escorted her down the sterile white corridor while they  discussed both of their careers and the importance that they above all  remain friends no matter what.

As  Sally approached Mr. Stevenson’s door the reminiscent butterflies  scrambled around in her stomach. Every time right before their twice a  week meetings the same sense of dread crept up and gave Sally a nasty  bout of nausea. Taking a deep breath to relieve it as much as possible,  Sally rapped lightly on the door and without waiting for a reply barged  in and sat across from Mr. Stevenson on a black leather couch.

Mr.  Stevenson sat behind his desk glancing through a rather large file  making notes on the sides. Without looking up Stevenson said, “How are  we doing today, Sally?” Sally fidgeted for a moment and said nothing.  She rubbed the edges of her purse while intently watching Mr. Stevenson  write the last bit of notes he had and put down his pen on the desk  next to the file. “Well?” He said, prodding. Stevenson waited for a  reply as Sally squirmed slightly as if in deep thought. After a long  pause and overwhelming silence, Sally replied, “Ruthledge came by this  morning with my breakfast.” Stevenson’s bushy eyebrows rose in  disbelief, “Did he now?”

“Yes, and he insisted he wasn’t Rutledge all. Isn’t that the funniest thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Indeed  it is.” Stevenson replied as he began jotting down notes again on the  enormous file sitting opened on his desk. “He rolled his eyes around  when he left. I had my back to him and he thinks that I did not see,  but I know. I felt it,” Sally interjected excitedly. “Of course, you  did.”

“I’m not stupid you know.”

“Oh,  I know Miss Kincaid. You’re quite a smart one aren’t you?” Ignoring the  sarcasm in Stevenson’s voice Sally began to rattle almost so quickly  that Stevenson had to really listen without telling her to slow down.  “Not like some of my public, you know.” Stevenson scrawled a few notes,  briefly looked up and commented, “No, not at all like them, are you?”  Sally kept babbling as if she never heard Stevenson’s comment, “Some  them just stare blankly at me as if they are in awe of my beauty. They  know a star when they see one.”

Stevenson  quickly scribbled a few more notes and bluntly said, “I’m sure they do.  Now let’s get down to business. How do you feel today, Miss Kincaid?” A  long silence hung in the air before Sally began answering, “Well...  This morning there was a flaw in my mirror, or at least I thought there  was, but I closed my eyes and counted to ten and my wonderful face was  staring back at me again.”   “Um...Hmm.” “It’s funny,”  Sally continued without paying any attention to Stevenson’s thoughtful  response, “...How one’s mind can play tricks on them, isn’t it?” Sally  smiled big and bright with a little chuckle to sell the uncomfortable  feeling overwhelming her while she talked about the mishap with the  jaded mirror. Mr. Stevenson put his pen down and looked at Sally for a  long moment before answering, “Yes it is. Does your mind often play  these...uh...tricks on you?” Sally laughed openly and out loud, “Now,  Mr. Stevenson, you know my mind is as sharp as a tack!” Stevenson  regarded Sally for a moment with slight surprise and before she  realized it was surprise he looked at her with he bent his head back  down to his notes and began scrawling furiously again. “Tell me, Sally,  has your mirror ever...uh...faltered like this before?”  Sally  fidgeted with her purse strap and said with a big pasted on smile she  had to work at to force on her face, “Well, yes, but I don’t see the  importance in really telling you. I mean, it’s such a little thing, you  know.”   “Well, nothing in this business is little,  Sally.” Sally laughed and slapped her knee hard, “Don’t I know it!  That’s what I keep telling Miloh.” Deep in though again Stevenson  replied with a, “Um...Hmm.” Sally’s smile faltered a little as she  said, “Other than that, I feel fine. I’ve many, many things going for  me, thanks to you, Mr. Stevenson.”

“Oh,  How so, Sally.” Stevenson replied with a raised eyebrow. “Well, there’s  that photo shoot. Oh, and that wonderful layout. And, the best of all,  that big commercial coming up next month! I owe it all to you, Mr.  Stevenson. I couldn’t of done it without you! You’re a wonderful agent  and I just love you to pieces for it!” Stevenson regarded with extreme  sympathy for a moment before he frowned and finally answered, “Miss  Kincaid, do you know where you are?” Sally’s broad smile fell from her  face and threw clinched teeth she countered, “Sure I do. I’m in your  office talking about my job.”

“No, I mean overall, do you know where you are?”

“Overall,  I’m not sure I know what you mean, Mr. Stevenson.” Stevenson spread his  hands out over his desk, “Overall! Outside this office, the entire  complex you live in now. Do you know where you really are, Sally?”  Sally looked at Stevenson for a moment completely dumbfounded, “Well, I  live in an apartment complex not too far from here. I share it with  some of my adoring fans and my dear, sweet friend Miloh. They all adore  me, even though they say nothing I know in here,” Sally points to her  heart with her hand, “I know, I see it in their eyes,” Sally’s voice  began to trembled as she continued, “I receive a facial and a massage  once a week and I share coffee and conversation about his and my  stardom with Miloh on many occasions during the week.” Stevenson cut  her off with a wave of his hand, “Miss Kincaid...Sally, Look I know  it’s hard for you, but you do not live in an apartment complex, this is  a hospital. Miloh is not an actor; he’s a patient just like you with a  certain amount of problems. These people here are not you fans, most of  them don’t even know who they are nor do they care. You’ve been through  an awful lot,” Stevenson’s voice softened as he continued, “You’ve been  through a lot in your life, Sally. The fire was really bad. Do you  remember the fire that killed your parents, Sally?” Sally’s face  reddened as the crocodile tears began to stream down her swollen face  racing to her neck and she mumbled, “I..., Don’t like fire,” quietly.  “Well, I would suspect not given your circumstances, Sally.” Stevenson  soothed calmly, “Look, Sally you suffered a great deal in the past 15  years. I realize it’s hard for you to come to grips with what you have  lost, but I know deep down inside you know the real truth, and you have  to dig down and remember the bad things to move on to the good ones,  don’t you?” Bigger tears rolled down Sally’s cheeks as she remembered  small flashbacks from that fatal night 15 years ago. The screams, the  flames, oh, God the pain. It hurt so bad. Sally remembered the final  inhuman sounding screams escaping from her parents’ bedroom as they  died in the flames. Sally remembered the third degree burns that  roasted 90 percent of her body including her beautiful face. Her hands  flew up to her face, “Oh God, my face, my beautiful face!” Sally broke  out into a whole new line of sobs. “They were good to me, you know.  Daddy worked so hard to get the money to buy my gowns for the pageants,  and momma sewed and stitched together the other ones we couldn’t  afford.” Stevenson nodded in agreement, but said nothing as Sally  continued, “They didn’t deserve to die! I didn’t deserve this face or  this body! Why! Why did this happen to me! I looked so...so...so  beautiful!” Sally’s body racked with sobs as she completely broke down.  Stevenson flipped a switch on his desk silently signaling the nurse for  her assistance, within seconds a tiny black haired nurse named Nancy  Brighton appeared, “Yes, doctor?”

“Make  sure Miss Kincaid makes it back to her room safely and give her this  medication from the pharmacy,” Stevenson quickly scrawled a  prescription out and handed it to Nancy Brighton, “Now, Sally, the  quicker you face what really happened and began to deal with it the  faster you will heal and you will one day go out into the real world  and do something meaningful to society. But, first you must stop this  fantasy land or else you will staying here for a long time to come,  okay?” Still sobbing uncontrollably, Sally eeked out an, “Okay, DR,  Stevenson,” in compliance and went with the nurse back to her white  room with one pristine hospital bed, one simple nightstand, and one  padded chair.

Sally  Kincaid sat for hours after rocking in her chair seeing her perfect  mirror and her perfect face in a perfectly good insane asylum.