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The Student	By : Faline Category: Individual Celebrities > Orlando Bloom Views: 4010 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Orlando Bloom. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 3 - Dinner and a Nap . . . yada yada yada

The Crow’s Nest was located right on the Waitemata Harbor, on the Princess Warf. This was apparently a very nice part of town because the New York- style shops and the LA coffeehouses were everywhere. This struck me as slightly funny since I had come to New Zealand to get away from all the commercial crap that America was becoming. That, and the huge waves that were ripe for the catching off the southern island.

It wasn’t a very large place, just a bar and about twenty tables circled around a stage that could be used for live band performances. There wasn’t any in-house entertainment going on at the moment, and I could tell why Vigg loved this place.

It was quiet and not overly populated. There was an abundance of abstract art hanging on the bamboo walls, which clashed with each other, but not in a bad way. The tables were all of natural bamboo and the laps were actual gas lamps that had been improved so they didn’t smell quite so bad as their 18th century English counter parts. The headwaiter met us at the door, and greeted both Vigg and Orlie by name, asking about the job and their health as he lead us to our table. Ian was already there.

Now, Ian was an interesting subject. He was a phenomenal actor on stage as well as on film and I’d had the opportunity of seeing one of his latest Broadway smashes when I visited my best friend Kat at her apartment in NYC. Funny, but I couldn’t recall the name of it now if my camera’s life depended on it, and that is saying a lot. Kat had loved him as well, but her opinion changed drastically when she had found out that he was playing the villain “Magneto” in the forthcoming movie, “X-Men”. She despises everything about the subject, and I am one of the biggest X-men freaks ever. So, it was a true blessing to walk up to the man who would be Magneto and shake his hand.

He had extremely large hands, which was not a big deal, but their immense size alone was enough to make me look up to this man as I had looked up to no other before him. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you Mr. McKellen. I’m a huge fan, but I’m sure you hear that everyday.” I tried to give him my most winning smile, but it almost came out as a grimace as I tried not to giggle maniacally. He was larger than life in person.

Chuckling, he cupped his other hand down on my poor drowning fingers and gave my cheek a quick kiss. “Please, call me Ian. I’m delighted to meet you . . . “

With a blush, I realized that I hadn’t even told him my name. “Um . . . Laura. My name is Laura.”

“Well Laura, it is a pleasure and an honor. Viggo has told us much about you and was looking forward to meeting you in person and to see if you meet his description.”

Giving my uncle an accusatory glare, I took the seat Orlie offered me, and sat next to Vigg and Orlie, with my back to the bar and the stage. “Have you been spreading rumors about me?” I turned to Ian. “You have to tell me what’s he said about me so that I can defend myself.”

Everyone at the table laughed with me, but it was Orlando who answered, “He just told us how proud he is of you. He’s especially impressed in your photographer’s skills which he claims runs in the family.”

I blushed and looked down. Vigg was the artist in the family, I was the mere writer. Yet, my uncle encouraged my love of the camera and I couldn’t blame him. Some of my stuff was good. Some of it, but not all of it.

Before I had a chance to explain, the server cby aby and took our drink orders and left menus. I was content with sitting here, among these three actors and sip my spiked tea. This was great. They bantered a while about the latest challenges with shooting and with some unknown difficulty that Liv (Tyler), who was playing the elf princess Arwen, was having with a riding scene. From their elaborate description of the horse-work and speed I couldn’t blame her. Viggo kept quiet most of the time, every now and then putting in a poetic word about sword fighting.

The food was phenomenal. It was local cuisine and I chose a trout dinner from the Southern Island as my meal. I’m a big fish lover and this was some of the best fish I’d ever had.

I noticed that drinks kept coming. Mainly, it was Orlando who was drinking. And smoking like a chimney too. After politely asking if I the smoke would bother me, which I sweetly replied that it was no problem, he lit up and had kept up a chain of English cigarettes. His drinking and smoking didn’t seem to be botng eng either Viggo or Ian, so I assumed that it was a natural habit for him.

Around 10 PM, the bar life really kicked into gear and a horde of people appeared seemingly out of no where. Viggo was getting cramped, I could tell, and he stood shortly after getting shoved in the back for the third or fourth time and excused himself for a bathroom break. This seemed just like the opportunity Ian was waiting for, because he started asking me all about life.

“So, Laura, Viggo told me that you’re here to study at the University.”

I nodded, sipping on my screwdriver, which had been the spiked tea’s upgrade. “Yup. I’m going to be a professional writer, eventually.” Ian nodded and smiled encouragingly. “Well, it’ll be my third year of university, but I decided that I wanted to study abroad a while ago and this was the perfect opportunity to do just that!”

“Now, you’re going to be staying at Viggo’s Auckland apartment the whole time?”

“His Auckland apartment?” I answered Ian’s question with another question.

“He has more than one apartment my dear. Most of us do.”

“Except for me!” piped up Orlie. Ian practically ignored him. “Yes, except for Orlando. Viggo only visits this one when we’re doing sound stage work. He doesn’t really like it here though. All of his painting and photography equipment is down in Wellington, which is where the rest of us usually stay when we’re on location.”

I nodded. I was a little curious when I hadn’t seen any paint or film lying around that afternoon. On one film, Viggo had just turned his whole apartment into his studio. But, it wouldn’t be practical for him to have two sets of everything for each apartment. This was so confusing.

I turned to Orlando, who was making a sculpture with the left over rice from his dinner. “You only have one apartment?”

He looked up and grinned at me. He was acting strangly. “Yup! Only one, in Wellington! Great place to surf!” He was oddly enthusiastic but this made for and interesting conversation. I asked, “You surf?” and he happily replied yes and told me all the great places that he had caught waves at. I had him beat though with my two-week sojourn to Hawaii for the specific purpose of surfing.

He was impressed. Grinning, he said, “When you have some free time, and I have some free time, which is never, I’ll take you down to the south island and we’ll surf?” He grinned again and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to-

“Oh, excuse me for a second children. I need to take this call.” Ian stood and held out his cell phone apologetically. I hadn’t even heard the thing ringing. He walked to a quieter spot by the entrance and it dawned on me that we were alone at the table.

“So you surf, and you’re a photographer? Any chance that you bungee jump?”

I shook my head emphatically. “I’m petrified of heights and strange whooshing sensation and falling quickly from heights and snakes. I hate snakes.” He sniggered at me and I slapped him on the arm. “Hey, just call me a hobbit and leave me alone.”

He cocked his head to one side. “A hobbit? I don’t think we can compare you to a hobbit dear. For one thing, they are not tall and beautiful looking. Nor do they surf. Although,” he flicked a finger at a piece of my hair. “You do have the trademark curly hair. Who knows? Maybe your mother was an elf.” He grinned devilishly and I couldn’t find the voice to say anything. His gaze flickered to my feet, which were bare in my strappy sandals. “Well, you certainly don’t have big hairy feet so I guess you’re not a hobbit.” My gaze followed his and I checked out his footwear just for shits and giggles. He shifted and I caught a glimpse of yellow sock under his animal skin loafers. He was wearing yellow socks.

I was about to point it out when I completely forgot what I was going to say decidecided to get back into the comparison subject. “You’re not getting my drift. Hobbits are timid and don’t like adventures, except for the Baggines, and that can’t be helped. They had to go on adventures. But usually, they’re quiet reserved folk who live in holes and have gardens.”

“You live hol hole?”

“No, and I don’t have pointy ears either so back off!”

Orl’s h’s head fell back and he started to laugh, for no reason. “Hey, you okay man?” I asked, placing a hand on his arm in worry.

He rolled his head to the right and looked at me. “Yeah-no. Mayb-no. I don’t know.” This, of course, was incredibly confusing for me, since I was buzzing on the alcohol. I could tell that he was pretty sloshed though.

“Orlando. Look at me.” I leaned left and set his head back up. No one had even noticed that he was consuming so much alcohol, I guess, but he was really gone. “Orlando.” His eyes scanned the room before finally lighting on my face, where they stayed semi-focused. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

He giggled again. “Everything. She doesn’t love me and I don’t love her and I wasted five years of my life.” His sentence came out jumbled and slurred, but I understood that he was talking about his ex-fiancée. “You know, she kinda looks like you.” My eyes left his face and searched for Vigg and Ian, but both were out of sight and I wasn’t about to leave Orlie by himself. I turned back to him and cupped his cheek. “Of course. Her hair was straight and blond.” He fingered a ringlet of my hair that had fallen out of the ponytail it had been forced into. “Not curly and brown like yours. I think I like yours Laura. It’s very soft.” He hiccup popped out of him mouth as a tear worked its way down his cheek. Smiling, he tucked the ringlet behind my ear before he reeled and his head fell back again.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence Orlando. Here, you need to keep your head up.” I tilted his head back to the natural angle and looked around for either of the older men. They were still MIA. “Listen to me. You don’t need to think about her or what happened between you two right now. You are wasted and I am not the person you should be telling your troubles to. You don’t know me.”

“I know that you like to surf.”

“Yes, I do like to surf.” His eyes left mine again and I slapped his cheek lightly. “You need to pay attention to me Orlie. Okay? Just focus here.” My own vision started to blur and I had to remember to smack myself for having three screwdrivers after the rum tea. This could turn into a really interesting situation if Viggo and Ian didn’t show up real soon.

“That shouldn’t be too hard. You’re really big right now. Your head is huge!” He patted the top of my head and I growled at him. Laughing, he let his hand drop and looked behind me. “HI VIGGO!” He practically shouted it at the top of his lungs. I sighed in relief but was stopped short when I heard Viggo ask what exactly I was doing. I didn’t want to look behind me. I could only imagine how we looked, with him drunk, and me leaning over him holding his head in both hands so he didn’t throw up on himself.

“Laura?”

Ian was back there too, so I risked a glance behind me. Viggo and Ian were both standing with their hands on their hips looking at me like I was trying to rape Orlie! I growled again, “He’s drunk for fuck’s sake!” Ian frowned and quickly knelt at Orlando side.

“Hey, Orlando. Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear captain!” Orlie mock saluted with his hand and managed to whack me up right across the temple in the process. There was a blinding pain for an instant, but it disappeared as everything went black, then back to normal again.

I suddenly realized that I was really, really, very tired and I drifted backwards on clouds of silver. I was on the floor before I knew it, and I decided that this was a great place for a nap, and alling asleep.

It was very bright the next morning. I know because some cruel force of evil (most likely named Viggo) had placed my head in the exact spot where the sun was the brightest at 8 AM. Groaning, I threw a hand over my head. I only had a little buzz last night and I only had a little hangover. Unfortunately, this was magnified by about three from the blow that I had gotten to the head.

I really had to pee, so cradling my aching skull, I rolled over and set my feet on the carpet. I tried to stand, but only managed to sit back down just as quickly. I realized that I was still a little drunk and was not too encouraged by this thought.

Someone was knocking at the door. I couldn’t answer them; my mouth was drier than a desert. The door cracked open though and I heard someone coarsely whisper my name. Glancing up, but not wanting to because of the sunlight reflecting off the evil white walls, I was only mildly surprised to see Orlando peering in. He looked as bad as I felt, if not worse. His eyes were blood shot and his hair was as messed up as a short mohawk could possibly get. He smiled a greeting and stumbled in, shutting the door behind him.

Practically crawling to my bed, he collapsed beside me, lying on his back with his feet dangling off the side. I had to giggle at the sight of this, but stopped when the pressure threatened to blow up my brain and take all my under-abused good sense with it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” I turned to look at Orlie, who was still lying on my bed, motionless.

“I’m sorry I hit you.” He had his hands over his face, and his words were muffled beneath his palms.

“It’s okay. You were drunk and I was drunk and we were both pretty drunk.”

He nodded miserably into his hands. “I just c bel believe I hit you. Believe me Laura when I say this,” his hands came down and he looked into my eyes as best as he could. “I don’t hit women.” He dissolved into sighing sob type breaths. I was powerless to do anything other than give him my assurances.

“You know, you didn’t know what you were doing. It is not your fault. You’re under a lot of pressure from your movie and from your break up. It’s completely understandable that you-” A snore broke my painful speech. He was sleeping! I groaned and rolled over, curled up on the other side of the bed. “Whatever.” The familiar phrase slipped past my lips as I drifted off to try and fix my horrible headache.
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The Student