The Bigger you are...

( this story contains physical violence, minor substance abuse and one very jaded actor)

Shattering glass sounds filled the kitchen, followed by a string of colorful swearing from Raymond after dropping the bourbon and trying to return it to the top shelf. Looking at the floor, Raymond scowled at the pool of wasted alcohol and shattered glass.

"Perfect, just perfect.. Guess it just takes one big slip up to make a bigger mess" Raymond muttered quietly, the cigarette hanging limply from his lips while he rubbed his temple; grabbing a broom, he swept the shards of alcohol-soaked glass to the side. His housekeeper would pick it up later for him. Right now, he only wanted to enjoy his smoke and the glass of bourbon he had poured on his balcony.   Padding through his penthouse kitchen, he blew out a cloud of smoke.   The acrid smell of tar and nicotine was harsh on his nose, but he felt great coursing through his lungs, stopping to look at one of his numerous awards in the cabinet he kept in the living room. He briefly considered that his life coach would give him hell the next time they met for smoking and drinking again. But Raymond didn't care anymore. He had a hell of a day, and he was goddamned Raymond K Hood award-winning actor, onetime playboy heartthrob, and damned handsome who cared if he died one day sooner because of a cigarette?   Raymond admired his face in the mirror-like shine of the trophy, looking at the wrinkles that had started forming at the corners of his eyes, the five-clock shadow he didn't bother to shave the other day, the cold look in his eyes that had lost the passion and life he once had. 

"God, Raymond, you look like a corpse.." He muttered to himself.   "All this scandal and the divorce are finally getting to you, old man.." this made him laugh to himself, at least as he reflected on the last few months of his life that became like hell on earth.   Turning to continue walking, he passed the coffee table; the paper there had the headline outlining the scandal that was all anyone talked about anymore.   A cabal of Hollywood producers and executives were secretly a bunch of sex pests and terrible people.   Big surprise. Raymond had been in this industry since the 60s, and it was always like this. Money and power go hand in hand with corruption; if you wanted to be famous, you had to play the game. Now, personally, using his fame or power to get laid sounded extra scummy to Raymond. Sure, he would always flirt on set and get on his female coworker's nerves, but it was just how he was. He flirted with anyone he found attractive but never went beyond flirting. Until recently, he had been happily married, so why would he go beyond flirting to keep up his seductive playboy image?   That image kept him employed as a standard pick for leading male roles in action movies and dramas. Sex appeal, charisma, and image are what made people famous in Hollywood.  

He stopped at the top of the stairs as a thought occurred to him; staring at the perfect steam-cleaned white carpet, he wondered if his image was what drove the wedge between him and his ex-wife.   She had never brought anything up about it in the past. Their fights were usually about money, tabloids, and other differences of opinion. It all seemed kind of normal in a celebrity sense, but perhaps his playboy persona had worn thin on her over time. The other issues only further stressed it until the divorce started. Now, he shared a penthouse with a woman he never saw anymore. She kept her distance, and he kept his. Why wouldn't he?   She accused him of all sorts of things.  Verbal abuse, emotional manipulation, coercion. What the hell was that about?   Sure, they had screaming matches that got loud at times. He broke a vase one time… just once, and he replaced it the next day with an apology note, and now she was accusing him of all these… what relationship crimes to get more out of the settlement?   She wanted to keep the apartment she had practically moved into immediately after the engagement.   It didn't matter to her that it was his freaking apartment that he bought and paid for with his money before they met. Even the judge had pointed that out in court. 

He let out a sigh and kept moving, heading for the balcony that overlooked his rooftop pool and patio. He loved the view of the city at night there. One of the reasons he had been willing to spend so much on the divorce despite his ex dragging it out. He didn't care about this penthouse that much or his possessions, but that view was to die for… and sometimes that was enough to fight off a greedy woman trying to tear as much from his legacy as possible. Now that court dealings were stalling, suddenly tabloids had started posting petty rumors and sensational news of how Raymond K Hood, an award-winning actor, had been aware of the Hollywood sex ring and was complicit in it. Tabloids never cared to fact-check; only rumors got them sales. And sadly, the public was perfectly okay with guilt by association. Raymond was sure it was his Ex spreading these rumors. Though he had no proof but to respond and clear his name.   No matter whether the court trials involving these scandals had vetted and absolved him of involvement other than occasionally introducing coworkers to a producer on set or knowing half the producers in Hollywood. For once, all his relentless networking had worked in reverse. Suddenly, he was painted with the same brush and was online. Others made wild, false theories about how he coerced women into sex. He was Raymond K Hood. For god's sake, why would he need to coerce anyone?!   The worst thing he had ever done to a woman was call one of his female leads a bitch to a director.. In his defense, she had called him a prick to his face, so in the moment, it felt fair! 

In frustration, he chewed the end of his cigarette filter as he walked onto the balcony and took a long sip of his bourbon. This view always served to calm him despite the chaos of fame. No matter what happened, this was his place of meditation and happiness.   Letting out all the tension from his thoughts, we let the wind blow through his hair. The faint smell of traffic ozone and the honking sound tickled his senses, but it was proof that the city was alive night and day.   This penthouse view. The feeling of the wind in his hair, the evidence of his ascent to the great heights of fame, made all the pain worth it. 

The sudden sound of his ringtone broke the happy silence and brought Raymond back to reality with a resigned sigh.   He used to love the song he used as a ringtone—the theme to one of his award-winning action dramas, which he was the star of. But now that ringtone only signaled problems and work. Bringing it out, he noticed the name of his lawyer on it. Accepting the call, he brought the phone to his ear.

"It's Raymond talking to me." He said, playing with the cigarette in his teeth. 

"Ray baby, it's good to hear from you. I know you're not in the mood for any more divorce talk, but..." His lawyer started on the other end. 

"But she's at it again, isn't she?" Raymond guessed, feeling a sense of anger filling him.   "What's she doing now, Robert.." Robert seemed to hesitate on the other end for a moment before continuing.

"Ray, I got a call from the judge. She's still not budging, and worse, she keeps sending him messages implying things. Not outright saying them because, you know, defamation and all, but well, she's always been an excellent dancer when it comes to implying things about you, Ray." Robert quickly said his anxiety was evident in his tone. "Even I'm kind of wondering if you have any involvement."

"Rob, please don't you too. How many years have you been my legal aide? How many years have you known me?" Raymond asked, shifting his weight on the balcony railing.

"I know, I know, Ray. Please understand. I don't believe her at all, but with these rumors and this messy divorce, you're getting crucified in the news." Robert added, making Raymond sigh.

"Listen, Rob, I know I am. But I addressed them in multiple interviews at this point.   What more do you want me to do?   I can only deny so much without looking more guilty!   This already ruined the next movie I was supposed to star in.. the director dropped me like I was radioactive."

"Ray, you might as well be.."

"Rob.. please, what do you want me to do?"

"Just keep your head down, man. Try not to get into shouting matches with your ex or anyone else!   Maybe take this as a chance to take a vacation. Maybe write a book?" Robert suggested trying to be positive.

"Rob, you and I both know I can't write to save my life." This at least got a chuckle on Robert's end of the call. "Look, I will try and keep my head down, Rob. I know you're looking out for me, but I can't just recede out of the public eye. I'm not getting younger- whoa!" While we were talking, the railing gave way with a loud clang, and his cigarette, glass of bourbon, and the rail fell to the concrete patio below. He had only barely stayed on by grabbing one of the railing supports that hadn't come loose, dropping his phone to the balcony floor as he did so.. Roberts' voice sounded from the phone as he straightened himself up. 

"Ray?   Raymond, are you okay?   What's happening?!" Roberts' voice asked from the phone as Raymond looked down at the railing that had just seemingly broken at random.. 

"What the hell. I just had the contractor here the other day to renovate.." Raymond's voice muttered as he peered down at one of the bolts that secured the railing in place until a moment ago. Several of the bolts were loose and now strewn across the balcony. If he didn't know better, he would have thought someone had deliberately loosened them.   "I'm going to need to talk to that contractor Tomarr-" He never got the chance to finish his sentence as he felt something large smash against the back of his head, and he felt a hand push him forward past the broken section of railing.   The world slowed as he felt himself falling. Closer and closer to the ground, his life and achievements all flashed across his eyes at that moment. He looked at the ground where his half-drunk glass of bourbon had landed, and all he found himself thinking was how he never got to finish that drink. He turned away as his body approached the ground; he didn't want to see himself hit the concrete below; maybe that would make it hurt less. But the sight he saw made him hurt more than any fall could.   The shock of blonde hair and those cold brown eyes he used to love looking down at him. Did she really hate him that much now?   What had he done to deserve such a fate?   He didn't even realize she was home that evening.   This day had been the perfect worst day ever; that was his last thought when he hit the ground.