Page 2 of Vita Mia

“Try it,” Ryder shrugged.

Harris punched the roof of the car. Ryder didn’t flinch. He had enough of Harris’ threats. He was the one in charge. He had all the power. Harris kept glancing to Ryder and then to the road. Ryder played it cool.

“You can’t take a camera inside. You do know that? These people don’t fuck around. Do you understand? This is not a game. You can’t record anything,” Harris said.

Ryder shrugged again. The word ‘can’t’ wasn’t in his vocabulary.

“What do you care? You said once I’m inside we’re done. You’re off the hook.”

“I’m serious. This party isn’t what you think. It’s private for a reason. They catch you with a camera and—,“

“What? What will they do? Put me in jail? So what. If I get into this party I have the biggest story on secret societies ever told! I prove Beyonce and Jay-Z are part of it all. I’m exposing everything.”

“You’re a kid. A stupid kid,” Harris scoffed. “There is no fucking Illuminati or secret societies. There’s just money and greed with the people that control it all.”

“Yea, yea, yea, I’m a stupid kid. A stupid kid that has a video of you fucking an underage girl in a restaurant bathroom who you fed coke to all night.”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Harris shouted and nearly swerved off the road. To this Ryder did react. He tensed all over and his fists clenched. Part of him wanted the bitch-boi to pull the car over. He’d show him who was the real man. He glanced over to Harris to see the man’s face contort with rage. “She told me she was nineteen,” Harris whined. “I had no idea she was fifteen. These models, they look older, they are...”

“Underage. Most models are underage. And to be honest man I don’t give a shit that you’re some pervert—“

“—I’m not a pervert—“

“I’ve done my research. I know all about this place. This is where it goes down.”

Harris frowned. “What research? This party isn’t public.”

“YouTube. A vlogger called the ThirdEyeRaven said once a year all the elite head to private destinations to meet with the Illuminati and sell their soul to the devil. And you fit the profile.”

“Me? The fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re a hot actor on the rise in just a year. You fucking sucked in that movie, man. But look at you. I know you had to get help from somewhere, so I hacked into your email and found out about the party. The rest was easy.”

“You are so fucking, clueless kid.”

“I’m not a fucking kid man. I’m 22. And like I said I don’t give a fuck about you and that little girl. I’ll give you the tapes. What I care about is this party. Once a year you rich motherfuckers get together for a private party on this island. Once a year some really dark shit goes down. You party, you fuck, you do things that control the industry—this is the Illuminati. Jay-Z is part of it, isn’t he! When I break this story, I’ll be bigger than PewdiePie on YouTube. Fuck YouTube, I’ll be infamous.”

“Like I said. You’re an idiot. You’ll see. There is no Illuminati here. But you’re right. It’s some dark shit,” Harris chuckled.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say the great Jason Harris was scared?” Ryder asked.

“The world is a fucked-up place kid, and everyone has to pay a price to live in it whether they know it or not. You want in? You want to see what the rich do for fun? Fuck it. I’ll open the gates. But if you’re caught it won’t be jail, motherfucker. If you’re caught it’s a bullet between the eyes, and no one will fucking care that you were too stupid to know your place.” Harris made the gesture of his finger with a gun with his free hand and put it to Ryder’s head.

Ryder slapped it away and glared at him. Now he was pissed. And Harris saw it on his face.

“Here’s the rules. I don’t fucking know you and I won’t do a fucking thing to protect you once we are inside,” Harris said.

“Those are the rules?”

“That’s it,” Harris smiled.

Ryder frowned. He glanced out of his window at the tall trees covered in moss as the sports car turned onto a road that ran closer to the ocean. A private stretch of a road that hauntingly beckoned to a time of horse and carriage days. They traveled toward a plantation home on the island that looked to be over two centuries old. It was a three-story, white structure with tall columns to the front and windows aglow with partiers. They’d flown in on Jason Harris’s private jet from New York and the actor barely said a word to him. He was a fucking chatterbox now.

What did the Illuminati do out on this island?Was two years of research finally going to uncover the secret that rappers and industry people claim was nothing but a myth? Was he finally going to see who runs the world?

The real people in charge.

Ryder reached into his bag and removed a pair of glasses. He slid them on as if doing nothing out of the ordinary. Harris didn’t seem to notice. His watch was the remote control. He rubbed the surface and a tiny image popped up to reveal he was recording. It also had a built-in microphone attachment as well.

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