Slippery Slope 2/?
Aug. 12th, 2005 05:23 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliTitle: Slippery Slope
Author: Rocketbalm
Pairing: OB/VM
Chapter: 2/?
Rating: PG-13ish for language
Summary: Viggo is an artist living in the ski resort town of Whistler,
BC Canada. Orlando is a young star who is starting to realize he has
lost himself to the Hollywood lifestyle. Content: AU
Disclaimer: A work of my modestly twisted mind. Complete fiction… never
happened. Don’t know these people, all in my imagination.
Author’s Note: There is definitely something known as Altitude and is often referred to as Gay Ski & Snowboard Week in Whistler. For more info http://www.tourismwhistler.com/to_do/events/altitude.asp
// // denote thoughts
Chapter 2
After the initial astonishment wore off, Viggo began to study the contrast in what little he heard from Sean and the young man who sat next to him. Something didn’t mesh. Viggo was curious if whatever personal crisis Orlando was running from was affecting his demeanor or if his changed demeanor was the cause of the personal crisis. Either way this certainly wasn’t the sweet, funny, confident lad who loved life that Sean had described. In fact, come to think of it Viggo couldn’t remember the last time Sean had mentioned Orlando, a year at least, if not longer. He knew that they had become good friends, bonding in New Zealand during the shooting of Rings, Sean acting as mentor to the young actor and Orlando keeping Sean from falling too deep into a funk during his last divorce. Even when they both returned to the UK and went off on different shooting schedules they had kept in close contact through phone calls and visits whenever they were in the same place at the same time. Although Viggo had never met the youngster before he certainly knew of him. Especially after staying with Sean in London for a few months, he had overheard many one sided conversations that Sean had with Orlando, always filled with good natured ribbing never meant to hide the deep friendship and caring between the two men. Maybe he’d give Sean a call and let know about this most interesting coincidence.
With Viggo lost in thought, Orlando watched him closely as he handled the vehicle expertly on the slippery highway. Several minutes had passed since he had given Viggo his name and he had yet to get any response. Initially Orlando thought his puzzled look was because he couldn’t place the name but now he wasn’t so sure. While the Viggo mulled over the introduction, Orlando took the opportunity to study him covertly. There was something about the shaggy, sandy hair, the strong features and cleft chin below an almost crooked mouth that seemed to hover on the point of smiling that was familiar – not that they had met before – more of a comforting ease that radiated from him. Orlando let his eyes drift downward to the man’s hands that were softly gripping the steering wheel and were bathed in the eerily light of the dashboard and the occasional on-coming car. Growing up, Orlando’s Mum always said you could tell much about a person from their hands. When he was younger he would often find himself checking out the hands of new acquaintances to see what he could learn. It became almost a game to see how accurate he could be, a game he hadn’t played in a long time.
Even in the dim light of the car he could see that the hands that grasped the wheel were scarred and well used like those of a warrior but not quite. More like someone who worked hard and liked to get their hands dirty, or used their sense of touch to fully experience life. Their size and strength should have made them seem intimidating but somehow they weren’t – instead there was an underlying gentleness that he had felt when Viggo had gently enclosed his phone and hand in the warmth of his palm for a brief moment. Along the thumb and forefinger of his left hand there were scribbles of inked words that in their randomness had formed a patterned design not unlike a tattoo. It would be easy to imagine that the scribbles were reminders for a forgetful person, though Orlando felt rather than saw that they were more than that. Perhaps it was cheating to read raw creativity into the ink after seeing the beautiful border that had surrounded the hand printed “Mae Govennan” sign -- hell maybe Viggo hadn’t even made the sign – but Orlando sensed a passion for life that projected a creative streak a mile wide. Orlando almost smiled at how much he was enjoying this “game” and wondered when he last played it, it must have been years ago now.
Trying to remember, Orlando studied his own hands still clutching his phone in his lap. They were quite large really, for his slender frame, with long, almost elegant fingers. He brought his hand closer to his face is if looking at them for the first time. The nails that had once been blunt and ragged, with more than a little clay or dirt beneath them seemed foreign all of a sudden. They had been squared off, corners rounded and buffed, manicured and perfectly clean – too clean. Orlando rubbed his thumb along his middle and ring fingers of his right hand where his bow string had once roughened them with calluses that he had considered badges of honour from the long Lord of the Rings shoot. Now they were smooth and soft -- too soft. Still looking at his hands he tried to ignored the slight tremor in the digits, knowing that it was past the time he would usually take another pill. He fought down the slight edge of panic that hit him when he realized his pills were in a bag, somewhere behind him in the car, and resisted the almost overwhelming urge to unbuckle his seatbelt and scramble into the back until he found his carry-on with the bottle that held the little white and orange pills that he never left the house without. Orlando suddenly felt his skin itch as if it was too tight, tailored to fit someone else entirely. He shivered and shook off the feeling as he watched the flakes outside drift downward endlessly, covering any perceived imperfections in the landscape with a new skin of white.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
…Roads and weather on the tens… If you don’t need to be out on the roads tonight the RCMP are recommending that you stay off the Sea to Sky highway between Squamish and Whistler… Anyone on the roads please be sure you have good winter tires and have appropriate emergency equipment with you…
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
“Looks like we’ll be stopping in Squamish until the roads improve. You hungry, Orlando?” Viggo tested the name out loud for the first time and enjoyed how the syllables rolled off his tongue, he glanced at his passenger, noting that he had blanched noticeably. Obviously he found the steep mountain roads intimidating and the weather wasn’t helping ease his nerves. Part of Viggo wanted to comfort the young man; after all he had driven this highway in much worse conditions with a vehicle that was far less equipped than this one. On the other hand, his standoffishness didn’t really invite comforting.
“Uh, yeah sure. Um… I’m a vegetarian though so pasta usually works best for me. Will that be a problem, um… out here? I can always just eat a salad somewhere, uh… whatever is easy. I can usually make do, you know. Truthfully I’m not that hungry, though I really should eat something and quite honestly a drink might help as well. Um, that is, for me at least, not that I’m encouraging you to drink and drive or imply that you would risk our lives or your job. I’m just saying it might, well, um calm my nerves a bit.” Orlando eyes widened as he realized that he had been babbling again to a virtual stranger. He glanced over and saw a small smile play across Viggo’s lips and a twinkle in his eye.
“That’s okay Orlando, I know what you meant. The highway can be rough on first timers on a sunny day let alone in the middle of a snow storm.” Viggo glanced at the phone still in Orlando’s lap. “A friend of mine is a chef at a restaurant in town that specializes in organic fare. They always have a couple of vegetarian dishes on the menu; though in this weather I don’t know if they’ll still be open. If I could borrow your phone I’ll call ahead and see if we’re in luck.”
Orland looked at him incredulously. “Don’t all drivers have their own phones?”
“Well, I don’t like people being able to track me down at all hours of the day, interrupting my train of thought or inspiration. A friend of mine finally insisted that I get one last year, though more often than not I forget to charge it or I leave it in the last jacket I wore. Today, I figure it’s in my squash bag underneath one very sweaty shirt and two sweatier socks and quite possibly nestled between a shoe and half a sandwich I forgot to eat on the way home from my game last night.” Viggo flashed a crooked grin.
Orlando couldn’t decide whether this guy was taking the piss or if he was just a nut. Either way he certainly wasn’t treating Orlando with the usual ass-kissing respect that he got from people hired to do for him. Not that Orlando wanted the special treatment, it was just, well, what he’d become used to; what he expected. This man certainly wasn’t in awe of his celebrity or obsequious in anyway, he, um, treated Orlando as an equal. Not that Orlando felt that he was any better than anyone else it was just that most people were either fawning sycophants, agreeing with everything he said or domineering handlers telling him what was best. He couldn’t remember the last person that didn’t want something of him or from him. Okay besides Sean and the hobbits, but he hadn’t seen them in a while that they almost didn’t count. Fuck, when did he become so disconnected from the real world? Then remembering that Viggo asked for his phone he turned to ask, “What’s the number?”
Viggo glanced over and realized that Orlando meant to dial for him, probably not wanting him to be distracted from the snowy road. Shrugging sheepishly he answered, “Don’t know. You’ll have to dial 411 for directory inquiries as ask to be connected to Rooks Restaurant in Squamish.”
Orlando shook his head and concentrated on making the connection before silently handing over the phone and listening to the one-sided conversation.
“Hey Lola, its Vig, how are you?”
“Snow slowing you down at all?”
“That’s great. Jamie manning the kitchen tonight?”
“Yup I’m about 20 minutes down the road”
“Perfect, I’ll see you then.”
Without taking his eyes off the road he handed the phone back to Orlando who promptly started dialing again. From the look of frustration on his face, Viggo guessed that he got voicemail.
“Fuck guys why the hell aren’t you answering. I need to talk to you now. Call me back.”
After a quiet moment Viggo asked “Everything all right?”
“Fine.”
“You know, I don’t know you from a hole in the ground but I’m pretty sure you’re anything but fine.”
“And like I’d start telling you all of my problems. Not that I have problems, just a lot of, um, I don’t know, stuff going on. I just want to get to my friends and off this fucking highway.”
“Well that I can do for you, but it’s going to take a while. Nothing I can do about the weather so you can make this whole experience as pleasant or unpleasant as you want. Either way you’re stuck with me ‘til Whistler.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence, neither one wanting to act as peacemaker, yet both wanting to call for a truce. When they finally pulled into the small, dimly lit parking lot, Orlando was actually surprised at how cozy this little place looked with it’s warmth shining through the windows as the snow kept silently falling. Viggo stopped the car, hopped out and was halfway to the door before he realized that Orlando wasn’t with him.
//I don’t care what crisis this kid is going through, if he thinks I’m opening his door for him he can sit in there and starve//
Viggo was about to turn away when he saw that Orlando wasn’t sitting there waiting for him, he was rummaging around the bags in the back seat.
//I better go help him or he’s likely to release the emergency brake and go careening into traffic.//
In three strides he was back at the vehicle and opening the back door. “Need some help?” Watching the kid trying to maneuver one bag out from underneath another while knocking his head on the overhead lights and turning them off.
“Uh, no, I think I’ve got.”
“Yeah right.” He chuckled. “Which bag are you looking for; maybe I can help you find it. After all I was the one who loaded them in here by myself.”
Orland let the top bag go nearly crushing his right arm in the process. “I’m trying to find my carry-on, I need something out of it and I can’t find it. You don’t think you left it at the airport do you. I mean it’s really important. We’ll have to go back.”
“Now hang on a minute there sport. First I didn’t leave anything at the airport, although if it was that important to you, you might have wanted to take a more active role in ensuring it got packed into the car. Secondly, there are still three bags in the back so why don’t you untangle yourself from that seatbelt before you hang yourself and come around back to see if it’s there.”
Orlando stared at him opened mouthed. No one had talked to him like that since, well since he forgot Sam’s birthday last year and his mum expressed her disappointment in him. Now this perfect stranger was putting him in his place and fuck if he wasn’t right. Shit, how did he get so messed up? This thing with Kate hardly counted since no one but the media and thousands of fangirls cared – somehow he just felt that things were spinning out of control. Orlando jumped as the door shut with a soft thud. Realizing he was now gaping at a closed door, Orlando quietly disentangled himself and got out of the vehicle and went round the back to where Viggo had opened the door.
“Okay, which one is it?” Viggo asked softly, noticing that the leather coat, while it looked fabulous was hardly enough to keep the young man warm and from the way Orlando was rubbing his arms and shuffling from one foot to the other he needed to get him inside sooner than later.
With a look of pure joy, Orlando reached in and pulled out the bottom most bag. “This is it. Thanks and I’m um sorry, yeah.”
“Yeah.” Viggo said quietly as he waited for Orlando to search his bag for whatever it was he needed so badly. “Find it yet? You’re liable to freeze your ass off if you stay out here much longer.” Viggo glanced at the shivering young man searching his bag frantically and was suddenly enraptured by the way the snow was settling into the chocolate curls poking out from under the black knit cap. He found himself wanting to reach out and ruffle them, sending the flakes in all directions along with the curls. Catching himself staring Viggo quickly stamped the snow from his boots which surprising Orlando and almost causing him to slide in the slippery parking lot. “You okay?” Viggo asked as he steadied him with a firm hand.
“Why are you always asking me that? I’m fine, you just startled me.” He reached back into the black carry-on and continued his search until he could feel the little plastic container he was looking for. “Got it.” Stuffing the pills into his pocket and throwing the bag back in with the rest.
Inside, Orlando would have really enjoyed the ambiance of the little restaurant if he wasn’t so stressed. He marveled at he ease in which Viggo spoke to everyone making them feel important and interesting. He took the time to introduce Orlando to Lola and her daughter Siobhan who was their waitress. Neither one seemed to blink an eye at who he was or commented in anyway. As soon as they were seated Orlando popped the lid on the container and shook out two of the little lifesavers. He needed two; the long flight, being chased by paparazzi and then this nightmare highway – definitely needed two. Grabbing his water glass he downed them with a gulp and noticed Viggo looking at him quizzically.
“Um, there for my back. I broke it a few years back and these help me cope. With the pain I mean, not in general. They help take the edge off.” Not knowing why he was suddenly explaining himself. For some reason Viggo just had to look at him and he felt like opening his mouth. Fuck he needed to get a grip.
“You broke your back?” Not remembering Sean ever mentioning that tidbit. “When? How?” He asked with curiosity.
”Um must be going on 5 years now. I fell a few stories trying to climb onto a roof garden. Almost didn’t walk again – it was a close thing.” Orlando fidgeted with the silverware waiting for the relief to wash over him, knowing it would be a while yet. He scanned the room for the waitress wanting a beer now more than anything.
“Wow, five years huh. That’s a long time to be taking pills.” Viggo’s pale blue-green eyes seemed to pin him to his chair and Orlando felt his anger rising.
“No offense mate, but really what’s it to you. I need them. I take them. I feel better. What’s your problem?”
Viggo held up his hands in a peacemaking gesture “Nothing, no problem. I just find it interesting that as a vegetarian concerned about what goes into your body, you would choose to pump it full of prescription drugs.”
“Listen I don’t *choose* to do anything. I need them to function so just back off all right?”
Viggo stared intently at the young man for a moment biting his tongue to keep from saying what he truly wanted to say. Instead carefully lowered his gaze to his menu and carefully perused the offerings. For the second time in less than an hour he found himself wanting to make peace with the young man, but really not knowing what to say.
Part way through his meal Viggo excused himself and rose to speak with his friend who was the chef. The two of them stood a little ways off sharing a laugh while Orland continued to eat the most amazing eggplant parmesan pizza chased with a wonderful locally brewed ‘English’ Stout. The feeling of relief began to wash over him as he sat and enjoyed the last of his meal. As he leaned back in his chair enjoying the effect he overheard the two men talking
“So you gonna be bringing all your dates here now?”
“Not a date, Jamie; one of Mike and Brian’s emergency, can you help a friend *favours*.”
The chef snorted “*Favour*! Brian sucked you in again didn’t he?”
“Yeah well you know, it’s Brian’s favourite week of the year, better than Christmas and birthdays all wrapped together in a rainbow coloured bow. He had the whole Altitude gathering at the restaurant to get ready for tonight and Mike needed someone to pick up a rogue client. He begged. I caved. As usual. The best part is the kid thinks I’m really a chauffeur.”
“That’s you man, world renown artist – slash -- chauffeur to the stars. Is he here for the big Snowball tonight?”
“I would doubt that very much. I believe that Mr. Orlando Bloom over there, is very heterosexual and quite probably doesn’t know that he’s walking into the circus that is “gay ski week” in Whistler. But then again I’m only his chauffeur, so what do I know.”
Not a driver? Gay Ski Week? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Orlando felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment. What a complete screw up. No wonder Viggo wasn’t in awe of his celebrity – he was nothing but a *favour* for his publicist. A publicist Orlando had made scramble when he up and booked a flight to Vancouver on his own. He only wanted to be with his friends to get away from the backlash of his break-up with Kate and the media spotlight that followed. He wanted to surround himself with people he knew he could trust. He wanted to go somewhere where he could let loose and be himself again. Somehow he managed to cock this up too. The media was just going to have a field day with this one – yesterday he publicly breaks up with his *girlfriend* of two years and then the next day shows up in the middle of Gay Ski Week at a resort in Canada. Orlando put his head in his hands and tried really hard not to cry.
TBC
Author: Rocketbalm
Pairing: OB/VM
Chapter: 2/?
Rating: PG-13ish for language
Summary: Viggo is an artist living in the ski resort town of Whistler,
BC Canada. Orlando is a young star who is starting to realize he has
lost himself to the Hollywood lifestyle. Content: AU
Disclaimer: A work of my modestly twisted mind. Complete fiction… never
happened. Don’t know these people, all in my imagination.
Author’s Note: There is definitely something known as Altitude and is often referred to as Gay Ski & Snowboard Week in Whistler. For more info http://www.tourismwhistler.com/to_do/events/altitude.asp
// // denote thoughts
Chapter 2
After the initial astonishment wore off, Viggo began to study the contrast in what little he heard from Sean and the young man who sat next to him. Something didn’t mesh. Viggo was curious if whatever personal crisis Orlando was running from was affecting his demeanor or if his changed demeanor was the cause of the personal crisis. Either way this certainly wasn’t the sweet, funny, confident lad who loved life that Sean had described. In fact, come to think of it Viggo couldn’t remember the last time Sean had mentioned Orlando, a year at least, if not longer. He knew that they had become good friends, bonding in New Zealand during the shooting of Rings, Sean acting as mentor to the young actor and Orlando keeping Sean from falling too deep into a funk during his last divorce. Even when they both returned to the UK and went off on different shooting schedules they had kept in close contact through phone calls and visits whenever they were in the same place at the same time. Although Viggo had never met the youngster before he certainly knew of him. Especially after staying with Sean in London for a few months, he had overheard many one sided conversations that Sean had with Orlando, always filled with good natured ribbing never meant to hide the deep friendship and caring between the two men. Maybe he’d give Sean a call and let know about this most interesting coincidence.
With Viggo lost in thought, Orlando watched him closely as he handled the vehicle expertly on the slippery highway. Several minutes had passed since he had given Viggo his name and he had yet to get any response. Initially Orlando thought his puzzled look was because he couldn’t place the name but now he wasn’t so sure. While the Viggo mulled over the introduction, Orlando took the opportunity to study him covertly. There was something about the shaggy, sandy hair, the strong features and cleft chin below an almost crooked mouth that seemed to hover on the point of smiling that was familiar – not that they had met before – more of a comforting ease that radiated from him. Orlando let his eyes drift downward to the man’s hands that were softly gripping the steering wheel and were bathed in the eerily light of the dashboard and the occasional on-coming car. Growing up, Orlando’s Mum always said you could tell much about a person from their hands. When he was younger he would often find himself checking out the hands of new acquaintances to see what he could learn. It became almost a game to see how accurate he could be, a game he hadn’t played in a long time.
Even in the dim light of the car he could see that the hands that grasped the wheel were scarred and well used like those of a warrior but not quite. More like someone who worked hard and liked to get their hands dirty, or used their sense of touch to fully experience life. Their size and strength should have made them seem intimidating but somehow they weren’t – instead there was an underlying gentleness that he had felt when Viggo had gently enclosed his phone and hand in the warmth of his palm for a brief moment. Along the thumb and forefinger of his left hand there were scribbles of inked words that in their randomness had formed a patterned design not unlike a tattoo. It would be easy to imagine that the scribbles were reminders for a forgetful person, though Orlando felt rather than saw that they were more than that. Perhaps it was cheating to read raw creativity into the ink after seeing the beautiful border that had surrounded the hand printed “Mae Govennan” sign -- hell maybe Viggo hadn’t even made the sign – but Orlando sensed a passion for life that projected a creative streak a mile wide. Orlando almost smiled at how much he was enjoying this “game” and wondered when he last played it, it must have been years ago now.
Trying to remember, Orlando studied his own hands still clutching his phone in his lap. They were quite large really, for his slender frame, with long, almost elegant fingers. He brought his hand closer to his face is if looking at them for the first time. The nails that had once been blunt and ragged, with more than a little clay or dirt beneath them seemed foreign all of a sudden. They had been squared off, corners rounded and buffed, manicured and perfectly clean – too clean. Orlando rubbed his thumb along his middle and ring fingers of his right hand where his bow string had once roughened them with calluses that he had considered badges of honour from the long Lord of the Rings shoot. Now they were smooth and soft -- too soft. Still looking at his hands he tried to ignored the slight tremor in the digits, knowing that it was past the time he would usually take another pill. He fought down the slight edge of panic that hit him when he realized his pills were in a bag, somewhere behind him in the car, and resisted the almost overwhelming urge to unbuckle his seatbelt and scramble into the back until he found his carry-on with the bottle that held the little white and orange pills that he never left the house without. Orlando suddenly felt his skin itch as if it was too tight, tailored to fit someone else entirely. He shivered and shook off the feeling as he watched the flakes outside drift downward endlessly, covering any perceived imperfections in the landscape with a new skin of white.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
…Roads and weather on the tens… If you don’t need to be out on the roads tonight the RCMP are recommending that you stay off the Sea to Sky highway between Squamish and Whistler… Anyone on the roads please be sure you have good winter tires and have appropriate emergency equipment with you…
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
“Looks like we’ll be stopping in Squamish until the roads improve. You hungry, Orlando?” Viggo tested the name out loud for the first time and enjoyed how the syllables rolled off his tongue, he glanced at his passenger, noting that he had blanched noticeably. Obviously he found the steep mountain roads intimidating and the weather wasn’t helping ease his nerves. Part of Viggo wanted to comfort the young man; after all he had driven this highway in much worse conditions with a vehicle that was far less equipped than this one. On the other hand, his standoffishness didn’t really invite comforting.
“Uh, yeah sure. Um… I’m a vegetarian though so pasta usually works best for me. Will that be a problem, um… out here? I can always just eat a salad somewhere, uh… whatever is easy. I can usually make do, you know. Truthfully I’m not that hungry, though I really should eat something and quite honestly a drink might help as well. Um, that is, for me at least, not that I’m encouraging you to drink and drive or imply that you would risk our lives or your job. I’m just saying it might, well, um calm my nerves a bit.” Orlando eyes widened as he realized that he had been babbling again to a virtual stranger. He glanced over and saw a small smile play across Viggo’s lips and a twinkle in his eye.
“That’s okay Orlando, I know what you meant. The highway can be rough on first timers on a sunny day let alone in the middle of a snow storm.” Viggo glanced at the phone still in Orlando’s lap. “A friend of mine is a chef at a restaurant in town that specializes in organic fare. They always have a couple of vegetarian dishes on the menu; though in this weather I don’t know if they’ll still be open. If I could borrow your phone I’ll call ahead and see if we’re in luck.”
Orland looked at him incredulously. “Don’t all drivers have their own phones?”
“Well, I don’t like people being able to track me down at all hours of the day, interrupting my train of thought or inspiration. A friend of mine finally insisted that I get one last year, though more often than not I forget to charge it or I leave it in the last jacket I wore. Today, I figure it’s in my squash bag underneath one very sweaty shirt and two sweatier socks and quite possibly nestled between a shoe and half a sandwich I forgot to eat on the way home from my game last night.” Viggo flashed a crooked grin.
Orlando couldn’t decide whether this guy was taking the piss or if he was just a nut. Either way he certainly wasn’t treating Orlando with the usual ass-kissing respect that he got from people hired to do for him. Not that Orlando wanted the special treatment, it was just, well, what he’d become used to; what he expected. This man certainly wasn’t in awe of his celebrity or obsequious in anyway, he, um, treated Orlando as an equal. Not that Orlando felt that he was any better than anyone else it was just that most people were either fawning sycophants, agreeing with everything he said or domineering handlers telling him what was best. He couldn’t remember the last person that didn’t want something of him or from him. Okay besides Sean and the hobbits, but he hadn’t seen them in a while that they almost didn’t count. Fuck, when did he become so disconnected from the real world? Then remembering that Viggo asked for his phone he turned to ask, “What’s the number?”
Viggo glanced over and realized that Orlando meant to dial for him, probably not wanting him to be distracted from the snowy road. Shrugging sheepishly he answered, “Don’t know. You’ll have to dial 411 for directory inquiries as ask to be connected to Rooks Restaurant in Squamish.”
Orlando shook his head and concentrated on making the connection before silently handing over the phone and listening to the one-sided conversation.
“Hey Lola, its Vig, how are you?”
“Snow slowing you down at all?”
“That’s great. Jamie manning the kitchen tonight?”
“Yup I’m about 20 minutes down the road”
“Perfect, I’ll see you then.”
Without taking his eyes off the road he handed the phone back to Orlando who promptly started dialing again. From the look of frustration on his face, Viggo guessed that he got voicemail.
“Fuck guys why the hell aren’t you answering. I need to talk to you now. Call me back.”
After a quiet moment Viggo asked “Everything all right?”
“Fine.”
“You know, I don’t know you from a hole in the ground but I’m pretty sure you’re anything but fine.”
“And like I’d start telling you all of my problems. Not that I have problems, just a lot of, um, I don’t know, stuff going on. I just want to get to my friends and off this fucking highway.”
“Well that I can do for you, but it’s going to take a while. Nothing I can do about the weather so you can make this whole experience as pleasant or unpleasant as you want. Either way you’re stuck with me ‘til Whistler.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence, neither one wanting to act as peacemaker, yet both wanting to call for a truce. When they finally pulled into the small, dimly lit parking lot, Orlando was actually surprised at how cozy this little place looked with it’s warmth shining through the windows as the snow kept silently falling. Viggo stopped the car, hopped out and was halfway to the door before he realized that Orlando wasn’t with him.
//I don’t care what crisis this kid is going through, if he thinks I’m opening his door for him he can sit in there and starve//
Viggo was about to turn away when he saw that Orlando wasn’t sitting there waiting for him, he was rummaging around the bags in the back seat.
//I better go help him or he’s likely to release the emergency brake and go careening into traffic.//
In three strides he was back at the vehicle and opening the back door. “Need some help?” Watching the kid trying to maneuver one bag out from underneath another while knocking his head on the overhead lights and turning them off.
“Uh, no, I think I’ve got.”
“Yeah right.” He chuckled. “Which bag are you looking for; maybe I can help you find it. After all I was the one who loaded them in here by myself.”
Orland let the top bag go nearly crushing his right arm in the process. “I’m trying to find my carry-on, I need something out of it and I can’t find it. You don’t think you left it at the airport do you. I mean it’s really important. We’ll have to go back.”
“Now hang on a minute there sport. First I didn’t leave anything at the airport, although if it was that important to you, you might have wanted to take a more active role in ensuring it got packed into the car. Secondly, there are still three bags in the back so why don’t you untangle yourself from that seatbelt before you hang yourself and come around back to see if it’s there.”
Orlando stared at him opened mouthed. No one had talked to him like that since, well since he forgot Sam’s birthday last year and his mum expressed her disappointment in him. Now this perfect stranger was putting him in his place and fuck if he wasn’t right. Shit, how did he get so messed up? This thing with Kate hardly counted since no one but the media and thousands of fangirls cared – somehow he just felt that things were spinning out of control. Orlando jumped as the door shut with a soft thud. Realizing he was now gaping at a closed door, Orlando quietly disentangled himself and got out of the vehicle and went round the back to where Viggo had opened the door.
“Okay, which one is it?” Viggo asked softly, noticing that the leather coat, while it looked fabulous was hardly enough to keep the young man warm and from the way Orlando was rubbing his arms and shuffling from one foot to the other he needed to get him inside sooner than later.
With a look of pure joy, Orlando reached in and pulled out the bottom most bag. “This is it. Thanks and I’m um sorry, yeah.”
“Yeah.” Viggo said quietly as he waited for Orlando to search his bag for whatever it was he needed so badly. “Find it yet? You’re liable to freeze your ass off if you stay out here much longer.” Viggo glanced at the shivering young man searching his bag frantically and was suddenly enraptured by the way the snow was settling into the chocolate curls poking out from under the black knit cap. He found himself wanting to reach out and ruffle them, sending the flakes in all directions along with the curls. Catching himself staring Viggo quickly stamped the snow from his boots which surprising Orlando and almost causing him to slide in the slippery parking lot. “You okay?” Viggo asked as he steadied him with a firm hand.
“Why are you always asking me that? I’m fine, you just startled me.” He reached back into the black carry-on and continued his search until he could feel the little plastic container he was looking for. “Got it.” Stuffing the pills into his pocket and throwing the bag back in with the rest.
Inside, Orlando would have really enjoyed the ambiance of the little restaurant if he wasn’t so stressed. He marveled at he ease in which Viggo spoke to everyone making them feel important and interesting. He took the time to introduce Orlando to Lola and her daughter Siobhan who was their waitress. Neither one seemed to blink an eye at who he was or commented in anyway. As soon as they were seated Orlando popped the lid on the container and shook out two of the little lifesavers. He needed two; the long flight, being chased by paparazzi and then this nightmare highway – definitely needed two. Grabbing his water glass he downed them with a gulp and noticed Viggo looking at him quizzically.
“Um, there for my back. I broke it a few years back and these help me cope. With the pain I mean, not in general. They help take the edge off.” Not knowing why he was suddenly explaining himself. For some reason Viggo just had to look at him and he felt like opening his mouth. Fuck he needed to get a grip.
“You broke your back?” Not remembering Sean ever mentioning that tidbit. “When? How?” He asked with curiosity.
”Um must be going on 5 years now. I fell a few stories trying to climb onto a roof garden. Almost didn’t walk again – it was a close thing.” Orlando fidgeted with the silverware waiting for the relief to wash over him, knowing it would be a while yet. He scanned the room for the waitress wanting a beer now more than anything.
“Wow, five years huh. That’s a long time to be taking pills.” Viggo’s pale blue-green eyes seemed to pin him to his chair and Orlando felt his anger rising.
“No offense mate, but really what’s it to you. I need them. I take them. I feel better. What’s your problem?”
Viggo held up his hands in a peacemaking gesture “Nothing, no problem. I just find it interesting that as a vegetarian concerned about what goes into your body, you would choose to pump it full of prescription drugs.”
“Listen I don’t *choose* to do anything. I need them to function so just back off all right?”
Viggo stared intently at the young man for a moment biting his tongue to keep from saying what he truly wanted to say. Instead carefully lowered his gaze to his menu and carefully perused the offerings. For the second time in less than an hour he found himself wanting to make peace with the young man, but really not knowing what to say.
Part way through his meal Viggo excused himself and rose to speak with his friend who was the chef. The two of them stood a little ways off sharing a laugh while Orland continued to eat the most amazing eggplant parmesan pizza chased with a wonderful locally brewed ‘English’ Stout. The feeling of relief began to wash over him as he sat and enjoyed the last of his meal. As he leaned back in his chair enjoying the effect he overheard the two men talking
“So you gonna be bringing all your dates here now?”
“Not a date, Jamie; one of Mike and Brian’s emergency, can you help a friend *favours*.”
The chef snorted “*Favour*! Brian sucked you in again didn’t he?”
“Yeah well you know, it’s Brian’s favourite week of the year, better than Christmas and birthdays all wrapped together in a rainbow coloured bow. He had the whole Altitude gathering at the restaurant to get ready for tonight and Mike needed someone to pick up a rogue client. He begged. I caved. As usual. The best part is the kid thinks I’m really a chauffeur.”
“That’s you man, world renown artist – slash -- chauffeur to the stars. Is he here for the big Snowball tonight?”
“I would doubt that very much. I believe that Mr. Orlando Bloom over there, is very heterosexual and quite probably doesn’t know that he’s walking into the circus that is “gay ski week” in Whistler. But then again I’m only his chauffeur, so what do I know.”
Not a driver? Gay Ski Week? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Orlando felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment. What a complete screw up. No wonder Viggo wasn’t in awe of his celebrity – he was nothing but a *favour* for his publicist. A publicist Orlando had made scramble when he up and booked a flight to Vancouver on his own. He only wanted to be with his friends to get away from the backlash of his break-up with Kate and the media spotlight that followed. He wanted to surround himself with people he knew he could trust. He wanted to go somewhere where he could let loose and be himself again. Somehow he managed to cock this up too. The media was just going to have a field day with this one – yesterday he publicly breaks up with his *girlfriend* of two years and then the next day shows up in the middle of Gay Ski Week at a resort in Canada. Orlando put his head in his hands and tried really hard not to cry.
TBC
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