Dead Stars Read online

  when together we rise as one.

  When we stand up -

  when we Stand Up To Cancer . . .

  ——it was her time, hersurvivor time, her mom loved watching Laura Linney have C on TV, kancer was in the air, kancer was hot, Telma wanted someone to orchestrate the swag, the kancerswag, copyrighted back-to-school backpacks, journals and calendars just like Taylor Swift, she wanted to go kancerdashian, entrepreneured greeting cards and keychains with hands in the shape of s logos, t-shirts, headbands & lunchboxes, maybe her own zero to hero clothing line, bandaids & babypowder & pajamas & K(ancer)-Mart pajama jeans, maybe even design the bottles the medicine comes in——the wheels were turning . . .

  . . . everything old is new again————

  She got a big idea and maybe the genesis of the big idea had something to do with Lea Michele and (an unannounced) Barbra Streisand dueting on “Children Will Listen” at the NMJC! Ball (No More Juvenile Carcinoma!) at the Beverly Hilton—she was supposed to be there but that was the weekend she went with her mom to the White House——maybe it had something to do with Miley Cyrus, Drake, Jeff Bridges (Gwen loved Jeff Bridges), Chris Colfer (Telma loved Chris Colfer) and Rihanna taking the stage at that very same event . . . maybe it had something to do with (an unannounced) Steve Perry joining all the above ½way thru “Don’t Stop Believin’”——or maybe it had something to do with the upstart Canuck’s malicious personal best . . . because Telma wasn’t interested in the silver: she wanted Olympic gold.

  Whatever it had something to do with, she already had that tried & true familiar tingly feeling in her tummy, same as when Christina Applegate flew her & two other hersurvivors (dubbed “The Pink Bucket Brigade”) to Louisville to lipsynch dance a raucous, hypomanic “Single Ladies” at KFC’s lavish corporate HQ “Buckets For the Cure” Breast Cancer Awareness Brunch.

  So her idea was to be on Glee.

  Not as a guest, and not as a Glee Project loser doing a 4-part consolation arc. No way!

  To be on Glee—permanent cast member.

  They already had cripples and fags and fat sexless mountainous black monsters & whatever. They needed a spunky funny pretty girl being stalked by an unseen predator, the one that would come for us all, it’d be like Lea or Heather or Matthew suddenly got a fatal disease. It would be hot and awesome, & it would rock.

  With newly minted brainstormy resolve, the fear receded—that wild, vicious little-girl-fearing-littler-girl poison fear—not rescinded but softly retreated, soaking her to the bone in Ellenish Hope, & the ajar world opened wide like an awesome fragrant flower blooming in the night.

  EXPLICIT

  [Reeyonna]

  Everyone’s a *

  (*and deserves the right to twinkle)

  Reeyonna’s

  mother insisted she go with her to the Central Library for an event. She rolled her eyes and took more pills.

  “You’re going to go, Jerilynn, and you’re going to like it. And no texting. For one whole hour.”

  She used to call herself Jeri but it’d been Reeyonna for a while now. Mom was the only person left who called her by the hideous birthname. She could h8t on her twice—for calling her that, and for naming her that.

  Friends sometimes called her Ree, for ReeRee (the singer’s nickname tho Rihanna spelled it RiRi; Rihanna’s closest friends/family called her Robyn). Every girl at middleschool had a mad crush on the Rihannaissance Woman, with different cliques having different ogle alerts: Rihanna fashionwatch, (secret)body(spray)watch, hair&wigwatch, chrisbrownwatch, S&Mwatch. Ree liked RiRi way more than Nicki—Nicki was awesome, she was genius, an amazing actress, a comedienne, OMG that song shitted on em was so hardcore, LMFAO, but Nicki was kind of cartoony, she liked being cartoony, all that Barbie stuff + she had that cartoony Kardashian ass—but Rihanna was a woman, not that Nicki wasn’t but maybe Rihanna was more of a woman. Sometimes it was just too hard to relate to Nicki, like she was moving too fast or whatever, but you could always relate to Rihanna, or aspire to be like her, or relate to aspiring to be like her. Plus she was more upfront sexier than Nicki, or maybe it’s just that she was more upfront about sex period, you never really heard too much about Nicki’s hookups, maybe Nicki had some hangups, but Rihanna was out there. ReeRee & her friends didn’t like what Chris Brown did but they all loved Chris Brown & didn’t care if they were fucking again as long as he didn’t hit her, everyone thought it was swank when Rihanna changed the restraining order so it wouldn’t interfere with Chris performing at award shows Rihanna was at because before she changed it he couldn’t be like within 100 yards of her meaning he couldn’t even go to the same award shows she went to even if he was nominated, swank that she could move on & swank that she told all the hashtag h8trs to back the fuck off. Besides, no one could dance like Chris flying thru the air on the VMA, Reeyonna’d been getting stoned and watching that performance every day for a year now——& that youtube of him dougie-ing OMG it made her cum, Sex in the air I like the smell of it, she was sure they’d get back together one day, a fairytale that began grimm but frogprinced in the end, Ree just wished she’d seen the hacked foto of his dick Chris sent her to make nice but Rikki couldn’t find it on the Internet.

  One day ReeRee wanted to be in a magazine with perfect abs, perfect tits, perfect tatts. Rihanna had about 20 of them so far, she & Chris Brown got matching s, how awesome was that, hers was on the back of her neck, his behind his beautiful little ear. She kept it after he beat on her but added more stars. How awesome was that. (She loved the idea of getting a somewhere, maybe near her pussy, she loved the Marilyn quote Lindsay had everyone’s a star and deserves the right to twinkle, Lindsay had a on her wrist too and a live without regrets and clear as a crystal sharp as a knife I feel like I’m in the prime of my life on her ribs but Rikki said rib tatts hurt like fuck no matter how loaded you got.) Ree had the idea to get one of those totally lifelike portrait tatts of her baby when it was created (the Kardashians used created instead of born), which was only like 7½ months away, no one but her 2 BFFs even knew she was pregnant, them and her bf Rikki. ReeRee wanted to get her baby’s face on her arm or thigh or even maybe on her ribcage below the tit, they could do tatts of photos so amazingly real and eerie, she saw one on an old LA Ink, a gal got her nephew on her shoulderblade, he was thrown from the car & died when they were hit by a drunk——maybe a poem on the ribs that swept below her , like in keltic or Hebrew or maybe in Buddhist, lots of movie stars had those, but how could you even pick a poem, there were so many? The trouble with getting a baby pic or a poem under your tit was one day your tit would sag & cover the pome ;(

  Reeyonna googled what celebs had, Angelina had one about praying for the wild at —Ree wanted something trés femme on her back, not the usual disgusting tramp stamp but like a psalm from the Bible, or whatever about a biblical woman————huge-ass angelwings like Natalie Portman in Black Swan? or maybe was that Mila. Natalie probably doesn’t have any in real life, she’s the kind of girl who’s too beautiful to get tatts. Angelina’s beautiful too but tougher, Natalie you just want to protect. I love you Natalie! ReeRee thought it might be awesome to have something hardcore for the top of her butt (Rikki called them ass antlers) or the side of the V right above her puss or maybe wrapped around her thigh—something tight like a snake or barbed wire or lyrical like from a song by Drake or Eminem or even the bible that would be so tight—she imagined everybody clicking on her TMZ slideshows, looking so fly, topless or in a black&white Chanel bikini diving off Jay-Z/Beyoncé’s (Queen B’s nickname: JuJu) yacht (dubbed by Ree the HMS Bed, Bath and Beyoncé) in Martinique or Sardinia or Cannes (a circled ZOOM-IN pic of Ree’s fresh raised-up skinswollen tatts, which would do in her mind until she found the right pome/lyric), with her new Justins friends Timberlake/Theroux/Bieber, Natalie (Ree & Jujubee & Natalie could share the same nanny for their babies), and Gwyneth & Reb’l Fleur, which is the nickname meaning wildflower given to Rihanna by her grandma, & the name of RiRi’s fragrance d
eveloped by or maybe just in partnership with Jay-Z. Nicki & Beyoncé & Kreayshawn/Katy Perry/Gwen Stefani had fragrances too (& Marc Anthony, but you could only get it at KOHL’S!!!!!!) . . . . . . . she put Snoop, Kreayshawn & Usher on the yacht, and Adele, and Rikki of course, Rikki the b.f., Rikki the current&future father of her child, their child (soon to be Blue Ivy’s bff), tho maybe instead of its babyface tatted on her it’d be tatted on Daddy instead, right on his sixpack, totally officially transforming him into awesome BFFF (Best Friend Father Forever <3<3<3<3<3) . . . . . . it’d be good to have him on the yacht to look after their baby if the nanny was busy with the others’, Ree didn’t want to be worrying about changing diapers, not while she was gangbangin with Eminem and Skylar Grey——& Sasha Grey too, like that video Rikki showed her!!!!! Reeyonna sat there in the Central Library auditorium & tripped on getting fucked by Drake/Dre & Fiddy, and that freak Yelawolf too, DP’n til dawn. She thought it’d be weird getting fucked by Lil Wayne, probably a taste you had to cultivate, she thought he was so sweet but he was a ugly-looking nigga, like a devil, she wondered if he had bodystank, but if she tried which she sometimes did when she was up in the trees getting fucked by Rikki she could make herself come thinking of that youngmoney cashmoney cock . . . she told herself (still in her little reverie) that if her b.f./father-and-husband-to-be hooked up with Rihanna she’d be hella tight with that ;D——in her fantasia she put a few others on the boat—Jennifer Lawrence & Emily Watson & Robert Pattinson and Kristen, at the OBGYN she read a Vanity Fair saying they earned 25 million each for the last two Twilights which made them by far the poorest on the HMS Bed, Bath and Beyoncé!!!!! (in Ree’s dreams she and Rikki always had around 100 mill + another 35 coming in a year from where she knew not, the music business/movies + merchandizing/concerts/spatial appearances.) Now Nicki was on the yacht too, right? And Ye & Kim Kardash . . . . . Rikki could Nickifuck and Kristenfuck too, Ree told herself it was only fair, she’d fuck Kristen too, Kristen Stewart was hot, she didn’t usually go that way but now & again she’d fool around with her BFFs who were all shall we say slightly broadminded, she’d fuck Kimmy K & Skylar Grey & Nicki & Jenny L———broadsminded broads on the mind Heh heh heh

  M M M Money on my mind

  M M M Money on My Mind

  M M M Money on my Mind

  Fuck bitches

  Get money

  Fuck bitches

  GET MONEY

  <3<3<3<3<3<3

  . . .

  Reeyonna’s mom (Jacquie) was a photographer who became famous taking nude pre-pubescent pics of her daughter. It was a cyclical thing but back in the day there happened to be a whole crowd of arty photog moms who got their kicks from family nudies. Jacquie (that’s what Ree called her, never Mom) always had legal problems when she showed at galleries which was kind of the point because it was good for sales. She had affairs with whatever 1st-Amendment lawyers represented her, just to give em a little more incentive heh heh. Jacquie loved when her work got banned, she came alive & glowed like she was preg (Ree wondered when she was going to start to glow, and worried if the glow started too soon it might be a giveaway). Once when they almost charged Jacquie with kidporn, the gallery got so much press it totally sold out of pics & Jacquie had to go print more. The whole mom putting you in nature au snatchurel at age 8 with your Lord of the Flies hair & no tits/nohair’d slit was a total creepathon. Which definitely got creepier as Ree grew older & more self-conscious of her body.

  ———now she was 16, way over the hill for the mom to cash in anymore. Plus Jacquie was really struggling, hadn’t had a show in 5 years, didn’t know what direction to take her Art. Definitely couldn’t do the nudie thing again.

  Reeyonna thought: it’s my time to shine.

  She was slowly coming into her own and the world was starting to take notice, to pay attention in funny little ways.

  Dear Reeyonna,

  We missed you so much, we’ve created an exclusive Proactiv® package—just for you . . .

  . . .

  The mom was always dragging her to events, like chambermusic performed in galleries, or artwalks&openings, art this’s & art that’s. The events of course being all about Jacquie promoting herself, or trying to anyway. Kind of sad. Her big brother Jerry (½brother from the mom’s first marriage) joked about Jacquie lugging Ree along as pussybait. That was true; part of Jacquie’s master plan. She called the mom Pimp My Ride to her face. Ree laughed when she saw the Keeping Up With the Kardashians where Kim gets a psoriasis outbreak before filming a commercial & their mom panicks and Kourtney tells their mom not to pretend to be worried about Kim’s health when what she’s really worried about is that the bad skin shit might ruin “the moneymaker, that big fat ass.” I love Kourtney!

  But last month was cool because James Franco was the event—Central Library again—talking about a novel he wrote. Reeyonna didn’t understand how or why (anyone) James Franco would want to or could even write a novel, tho Kourtney, Kim & Khloé were writing one and asking their fans to name it. One of the perks of being the World’s Biggest Loser Artist and Has-Been was that sometimes Jacquie could hang with whoever-famous after whatever event, which was sometimes good and sometimes bad. So that was how they came to hang with James Franco (definitely good). At events, there was always that torture moment (sweet revenge for Reeyonna) at the end of each event when Jacquie slowly edged her way to the front of the room toward whoever-famous while letting Reeyonna hang back, she could tell Jacquie was shitting her thriftstore YSL slacks (Ree thought that her mother seriously needed a swag coach) over whether or not whoever-famous would recognize her—even if they once collected her back in the toast of the town nudie days. During those post-event deathmarches Jacquie always tried to be cool, pretending for her daughter she didn’t expect to be recognized, didn’t care if she wasn’t, when the truth was, if whoever-famouses were merely polite upon self-introduction, Jacquie died 1,000 deaths & the ride home would be skulky & sucky, her mother so preoccupied with her bullshit that Ree could swallow pills without really too much bothering to conceal. But sometimes the moment of torture could be avoided/mitigated by a little reconnoitering on Jacquie’s part, say, if she managed to contact the famous-whoever directly, before the Event, by personal email or cell. If that happened and the famous-whoever told her yes, do say hello, evincing a proper enthusiasm, one that seemed promising, well then they’d approach the famous-whoever at event’s end, Jacquie hovering between fear & confidence/hopefulness, & pathetically not let her daughter hang back, not just because the possibility of rejection had (for the most part) been averted, but the pussbait might just be the thing that tipped everything over in her favor . . . . . . of course she’d kept her little secret—that contact had been made—from Reeyonna—it was so pathetic!—fortunately, in the case of James Franco, the mother’s whorish maneuver had been welcomed—by his smile and some of the little things he said Ree could deduce that he knew Jacquie was coming, you could smell her coming anyway, smell her panic and toady whoriness, so pathetic to be an old hooker no one wanted to fuck on top of even still having a sliver of the need to impress your daughter with the amazing legend of who you used to be. So sick & disgusting! So World’s Biggest Loser!

  Evidently James Franco apparently (supposedly) owned or once-owned a few of Jacquie’s pics. It was embarrassing to be standing there with James Franco when he probably knew what her naked body looked like when she was 8 or 10 or 12, maybe he even refreshed himself with ipad images on his way to the event, maybe the image was warmscreening in his pocket right while he was talking to them. Or while Jacquie was talking to him, because James wasn’t really saying much. Maybe at home he had that famous pic of Reeyonna née Jerilynn standing in a swamp in Lafayette-St Martinville, the one that almost had her up on a porn charge, the one with her holding a toy gun next to her pee-hole while some anonymous 3-year-old tyke cupid-dick arc-pisses in the artily unfocussed b.g. Whenever Jacquie took particularly risqué pix she made sure to do them in silver
gelatin or platinum/palladium or some such other obsolete pricey process/technique to dignify&justify&signify her shit. So fucking pretentious sick. While the World’s Biggest Loser climbed up James Franco’s asshole, Reeyonna stuffed embarrassment by imagining herself sucking on his cock, then him lifting her by the armpits to do with her what he will. She pictured him going over his lines or writing a pome or the chapter of a novel while he fucked her up the ass, her other holes filled by Andrew Garfield & T Lautner, & Taylor Swift/Rooney Mara sucking on her tits too——————————————;D <3 lol

  . . .

  Tonight’s event’s whoever-famous was called Steve Martin, who she mos def did not want to fuck, suck or be sashagrey’d by. Jacquie said he was a famous comedian who played the banjo and used to work at Disneyland. Whatever! Oh: then she said he hosted SNL a lot, like maybe “I think he’s hosted the most after Alec Baldwin,” so Biggest Loser now ask me if I give a shit. But when her mom said Steve Martin sold a painting for 28 million dollars, one single painting by someone not Picasso who Reeyonna totally never heard of, that got her attention. For like 10 seconds. It made her think of the Hollywood’s Richest Teens article she read in People about Miranda Cosgrove’s multi-mill$$$$$ contract with Neutrogena/Justin Bieber’s fragrance selling $3 mill in 3 weeks/Taylor L splurging on a 300K Mercedes-Benz ALS AMG Roadster.

  Just before the event started, she excused herself to the bathroom to text & swallow 4 Percs and a 100 mills of adderall, washed down with a coke zero minican she always traveled with in her purse—the only way Ree was going to get through it. She went back to her seat and not-texted, letting her mind drift—————————— . . . . . . . . . . . . . .