Enter the Agent - PG13

By S.R. McKenzie

A therapist struggles to separate his unconventional practice with his rich and famous clientele, from his own meaningless life. He manipulates, contrives, and coerces his clients and the people around the client, for the good of the client.

His most recent client is a world famous musician, on a downward spiral of self-destruction. The therapist tries to help the famous musician fix damaged relationships, get his tabloid career back on track, conquer his addictions, and rebuild his fragile ego.

Results, at any cost

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.R. McKenzie
• Release date: Oct 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9780995172081

S.R. McKenzie

I am from Regina (Sask. Canada), but now live between Kelowna and Vancouver. I have more than a few children, and I am 36 years old.  I hate talking about myself, it's my least favorite subject. All I will say about myself is that in the poem by Frost "The Road Not Taken", I took neither path. I went right through the forest and created my own path, and have the scars to prove it.

Book preview

Enter the Agent – PG 13 version.

A therapist struggles to separate his unconventional practice with his rich and famous clientele, from his own meaningless life. He manipulates, contrives, and coerces his clients and the people around the client, for the good of the client.

His most recent client is a world famous musician, on a downward spiral of self-destruction. The therapist tries to help the famous musician fix damaged relationships, get his tabloid career back on track, conquer his addictions, and rebuild his fragile ego.

Results, at any cost

Enter the Entertainment Agent, the Famous Musician, the Huge Bodyguard, and the livid Event Director into the Musician’s dressing room, it’s pretty swanky in here! I am already sitting on the couch; I have been here for hours waiting, practicing my persona, rehearsing my role in my head, directing all the actors in my little play in advance of their great performance.

All my actors are now here, plus the Famous Musician. It’s a disgusting entourage of chaos bursting into the room, transparency of the filth of the entertainment industry...

Everyone is acting their part perfectly.

This dressing room is like a CEOs hotel room in a 3 star resort, it’s trying to be high class, but it doesn’t hide its trashiness. The music is still pounding from upstairs from the after show, it’s the Shows over Folks, now get the flip out music. But the crowd is still going crazy!

SCREAMING, MUSIC POUNDING, HOLY COW, HOW CAN ANYONE LIVE IS THIS F-ING MADNESS!

It’s like living is a rave filled with blow, booze, hoes, and, my least favorite, the rats and leaches of the entertainment business.

The huge black bodyguard, Jerome. Figures his name is Jerome, I didn’t think his name was going to be Nigel, Hugh, or Sebastian!

He looks like a coal black fridge with arms, and a huge gold chain, he’s a good kind man though, he just has a job to do, pay his bills, and look after this little puke.

The Entertainment Agent, shy creepy nerd, I almost threw this little puke through the wall earlier tonight. He got this agent job because he is somebody at the record company’s nephew, or someone’s little cousin. Whatever you little crapface, as long you follow the plan and he leaves before I pick him up and throw his scrawny butt out.

The livid Event Director, all these guys are the same, all coked out, looking like a sleazy insurance agent after a hard night a drinking and peddling poo.

He is red and hot with raging anger, if he doesn’t explode on cue, this whole thing falls apart, give me your anger your cheesy grease ball.

Ah, the Famous Musician, early 30s, shirt unbuttoned, pretending to be John Morrison or Rod Stewart, or drugged out heroin Jesus. All these guys want to be rock gods, and end up like a shadow of who can before, and NO ONE REMEMBERS THESE GUYS.

He is running dry and getting nervous, and is getting sicker by the minute from not getting his blow, which he is expecting any minute, but it is not coming.

This is the first day someone will end his self-destructive mindless crap.

He wants everyone out of his dressing room as soon as possible so he can get his stuff to get well. He is so out of it, I am not sure if he even notices me sitting all spread out on his couch.

I OWN THIS ROOM, AND HE IS MINE, HE JUST DOESN’T KNOW IT YET!

I always look at these guys with such pity, so much talent, so such much influence they could have, such love and fame they own, but they all waste it and they ALL die the same death, sad and lonely, broken and empty.

They are like drugged out shells of who they could be, or like snake skins shed and left to fall apart.

It’s time for the Event Director to EXPLODE at the Famous Musician. Even with the rehearsal we did an hour ago, I don’t think he needs to take my cue to start the scene, I directed this all in advance, and all the actors know their part so well.

I just sit here and glow with excitement and pride with being the smartest guy in the room!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Event director, slight English accent, directing his anger towards the Famous Musician. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT????? I GET BETTER SHOWS DURING THE WEEK, AND YOU ARE THE MAIN EVENT TONIGHT, AND YOU SUCKED!!! YOU ARE NEVER PLAYING HERE AGAIN, AND YOU CAN KISS YOUR CHEQUE....GOODBYE!!!

Then he slams the door on his way out, that was beautiful and perfect, cue the bodyguard to follow outside to watch the door. Then cue the Entertainment Agent.... cue the Agent.... ANY F-ING TIME NOW, and stop stalling, say it and GET THE HELL OUT YOU LITTLE BABY.

Famous Musician, notices me on his couch, and he shoots a bit of anger towards me, BRING IT ON KID. Who the HELL Are you...Get the HELL OUT. Speakin in his London Proper tongue. Pointing at the door, expecting me to jump and run scared out the door, Kid I am not leaving till you are passed out, I promise.

Entertainment agent I wouldn’t worry about it Andre, you are a ROCK GOD, and you don’t need this little show...we will move on and do better next time!

Now get out. He doesn’t even look at me, he just spits his line out like a lazy little actor cashing a cheque, and expects the rest of the scene to flow, HOLY CRAP that was terrible!

He is just looking at his clipboard, like he is praying to be dismissed so he can cower in fear and shame alone outside of this scene and room.

I don’t blame him, it’s been his poor nature that has enabled this addict to spiral so far out of control. He is like a dog standing there waiting for his owner to throw the ball out the door, so he can chase it.

Musician, now less angry, but getting more annoyed at my presence, and getting sicker by the minute. OK, just get out, I need to relax, and I am expecting someone soon. And take this GUY WITH YOU!!

And the Agent bolts out the door like the dog he is chasing the bone.

Musician, a lot angrier, and almost ready to fight. Did you NOT hear me, GET THE HELL OUT, or my guy Jerome, WILL MESS YOU UP!!!!

I just sit there, not moving a muscle, slightly smiling, and very comfortable. Kid this is the millionth time I have done this, and I win every time.

Musician You think this is funny, chump? You won’t be laughing soon. He goes to the door and tries to open it, locked. Surprised, he pounds the door and demands for Jerome to get in here. Then Jerome messes up, oh man this is going to get me punched. Jerome opens the door and looks pretty frazzled, CRAP, not again Jerome.

I YELL. GET THE HELL OUT!!!! Jerome looks back and forth a few times, trying to decide between doing his duty, and the right thing, if he is smart he will just leave. Jerome messes up again, and says Ya boss? to his piece of crap Famous Musician boss.

That is when I get up and say I SAID GET THE HELL OUT MAN!!! And he bolts, and locks the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally some peace and quiet in this cluster of messy mayhem.

The Musician, as I sit back down. WHAT THE HELL....now reassessing the situation, but getting sicker by the second. WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?

I look at him with distain and pity. I have never been in prison very long, but I would imagine that IF I was there long enough, and I become a big man in the yard, and this fresh little butt stepped off the bus getting there for the first time... I’d just want to break him. That is how I feel now.

The Musician, caught off guard I am ‘that way’ man.

Me Neither am I, I was just making the comparison. How are you feeling kid?

Musician now sitting at the high bar stools and a little mellower, he thinks he is going to out cool me and passively dismiss me. Great, you want to get out now, I am expecting someone.

Me Ya, a trashy skank with blow, I think her name was skinny crack witch, many she has business cards with her saying Hoes and Blow Delivery Service. I already met her, and took your delivery of your stuff.

Musician again caught off guard, and a little sheepish Can I have it?

Me Kid, this is the end of your old life, starting in this crappy little room, after a crappy show, your life is not continuing the same anymore, starting right now.

He gets up and goes to the door again, pounding, screaming to get out, all on deaf ears.

He turns to me again, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL, what are you going to do to me??

Me Save you, but you have to choose to...You are not leaving this room until you decide to get help or kill yourself, ARE you Ready to decide you little puke?

Musician, now regaining his arrogance My life is prefect, now get out and give me my stuff, NOW! Again trying to scare me, this kid is going to take some work!

Me so its death then, ok, here is your stuff. And I hand him a small bag of white powder. Are you really going to trust a complete stranger handing you a mystery bag?

Musician I can tell the difference man. And he rips it out of my hand. He pours it on the bar, and takes out a playing card to line it up, the Ace of Spades, how fitting :) He takes his pinky finger, and takes a taste of the sweetness, pure gold baby, my girl delivered, he thinks.

Me Just be clear, because you won’t be in a minute, this might be the last time you do this, you might not wake up, and you will never see HER Again. He takes a taste of the sweetness to make sure it’s not a trick, PERFECT BLOW.

He casually pauses his lining up, and says Who might that be? sounding like he didn’t give a crap what I was going to say. Addicts are all the same, life is just the blur between highs, nothing else matters, it’s all grays, whites and blacks.

But when they are high, then they see the world as it was meant to be seen, with all the colors, shapes, textures and shades.

Me Jessie. He completely pauses, stunned, and actually looks up, and I see the white in his eyes, even though they are mostly reds now. Skin white as a ghost from the sickness, and from the feeling like someone just guessed his deepest, darkest secret.

He looks at me for a moment, doesn’t say a word, and then does a line of white junk. Not long now, better hurry, I rush towards him, I figure he will be out in a few seconds. The thing is that even though this is his blow, I added a little something special to make him more compliant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Every single time I have done this, they ALL choose Death over Help. I rush over and he passes out, I catch him, and ease him onto the floor. I call out to Jerome Jerome, NOW, GET THEM IN HERE!!

The door flies open with paramedics, three of them, all rushing to him. I stand up, hating but deserving what Jerome is going to do me.

I just stand there a few feet away from him, this is going to hurt,