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Disclaimer: I don't own Orlando Bloom or any living person depicted in the story. They deserve my utmost respect.

Summary: Orlando meets his match. The only problem is that she is a single mother and thinks him a brat. Author's

Note: Hmmm, this idea came unbidden to me. I was bitten by the Orlific-bug.

----------------- CHAPTER 1 ----------------

LONDON - ENGLAND

"I dare you, Elfboy!!! You cannot beat me!!!!", said Elijah Wood's excited voice on the phone.

Orlando frowned, wondering how they had come as far as making bets about the subject. Okay, while filming in New Zealand, Orli had been the resident Casanova. But picking up girls on a bet?

"You are daring ME, little hobbit?" answered Orlando in a bored voice;

"You know you are losing this in advance, don't you? And I might be really mean when I claim my winnings from this one."

Elijah was grinning; it was as if Orlando could see his friend's face over the phone. "Orli, this is L.A. This is MY turf. You can't beat me here. And the place is supposed to be really cool but it has a lousy reputation, heavy scene, and man, I bet YOU can't pick up a girl there."

"We will see, Lij. We will see. Meet me at the airport? Okay, bye mate!"

Orlando smirked. Okay, he had called Elijah to announce his arrival in L.A. on the next day and was looking forward to stay with his friend. Lij had rented his first apartment on his own. His agent, Fiona, was about to have a fit, especially because this time she was not flying over with him. It wasn't as if he needed a babysitter anyway, but since he had become famous over night after "Fellowship," his agent had been breathing down his neck, to keep him out of trouble. Media trouble, that is.

Leave it to the British tabloids to exploit every little thing they could about their national "celebrities." As if being British entitled them to own every little damn minute of your life. He was looking forward to crashing at Elijah's new place, having a couple of lazy, peaceful, idle days before starting to look for a place of his own. Staying with Lij might have its drawbacks, but at least Lij's apartment wasn't another faceless hotel room. Next call, Fiona.

"How is my favorite stepmother today?," he asked.

"Orli, why do I put up with you? Can you explain that to me?," said his agent.

"Because I am your favorite client, I love you and you love me?" he joked.

"Must be that or I must be out of my mind. When is your flight? Where are you staying? You know the New Line people aren't expecting you so soon ... and you should be careful about any media scandals ...," said Fiona.

"I won't do anything foolish until you arrive in L.A., love, I promise. And I won't go to the studio either. I will only look for a flat, Fiona, no worries. I will see you in a week, bye."

Sometimes Orlando thought that Fiona behaved too motherly towards him. She had been his agent for some time now, and watched over him and his career choices with hawk eyes. But he also knew how to convince her to do what he wanted, like the independent films. Fiona, tough as she was, had almost fallen off her desk as she read the script to "Deed Poll." He did the flick anyway. Orlando was quickly learning how to pick his battles. And the strategies to win them as well. And he could always charm her around. Charm was definitely one of his gifts in life.

LOS ANGELES

Forty-eight hours later

The Viper Room was unbearably full of Hollywood's worst brats. Standing at the bar, Elijah was absolutely excited to be in The Viper Room. Since he had moved out of his parent's house shortly after returning from New Zealand, he had been looking forward to doing some things he would have never dared to do before... like coming to this bar. And he dared because Orlando was with him.

Sean would have talked him out of the idea, but he could always count on Orli. He emptied his glass and walked to the dance floor, looking out for a girl. Orlando looked over the mass of expensively clad people. Gorgeous women and handsome men -- even though most of them hardly qualified as more than girls and boys -- were dancing and drinking in the dim light of the bar.

The fact that there were drugs being sold almost openly in some of the dark corners only added to the fascination and bad reputation of the place. Okay, it wasn't as if he had ever seen a place like "The Viper Room". But he was getting bored of the lifestyle and now he was just looking after Elijah before the kid did something stupid. He saw Lij dancing next to a group of girls and remembered that he had a bet to win, while his eyes scanned the crowd for a suitable female.

The music was so loud that nobody noticed the loud sound of police-sirens outside, and it was so packed that as somebody started screaming about the cops entering the place, everybody panicked and there was nowhere to run.

"Come here, Lij!" screamed Orlando, grabbing Elijah by the collar of his shirt, and dragging him into the women's bathroom. 'There must be a window,' he thought. And there sure was a window... with thick iron bars on the outside. While Elijah panicked, Orlando pulled him out of the bathroom into the stampeding crowd. They ran to the back of the club and had almost reached the emergency door when they were both tackled to the floor. Someone yelled into Orli's ear, "LAPD. Remain calm. This is a routine drug search."

Elijah turned his face towards Orlando's while both were still laying facedown on the floor.

"Fuck, Orli, we are screwed."

***

MATTO GROSSO - Amazonas region

The mamboretá, or coral snake, was slowly approaching its victim. Just one fast bite and the small bird would be gone, as the deadly poison would quickly strike down the little prey.

Verena felt sorry for the bird, but then, this was the way of nature. Fight for survival; eat or be eaten. Or, in her case, survival meant laying down on the ground of the Amazonic jungle for almost two hours, with her cameras positioned to catch every possible angle of the mamboretá's feeding act.

Since she had given up her work as a freelance war correspondent and photojournalist, she was now under contract for GEO-Magazine, writing and taking pictures about animals, science, and travel. There was almost no danger involved in her present line of work, except, of course, if the poisonous snake decided she looked like a good snack.

Her eye was on the lens, waiting. Sometime in the next several seconds, she would have some excellent pictures of every angle of the snake's attack. The exact second the mamboretá shot forward, she pressed the trigger and 5 cameras shot at once, their almost imperceptible clicking sound distracting the snake, which caught the bird in its fangs and slid away as fast as lightening.

As soon as it was safe, Verena stood up, shaking her left leg, which had fallen asleep. She was carefully gathering the cameras when a slight vibration from her belt caught her attention.

"Devereaux," she said into the tiny GPS cell phone. A small voice on the other end of the phone said, "Mamma? I... well, they said at the school that they wouldn't let me in if you don't come to talk to the teacher. I told them you are busy in the Amazonas, but I think they don't know where the Amazonas is, and when I tried to explain to the teacher, she said I was being rude and she brought me to the principal and to the psychologist and..."

All had been said in one long breath, without pausing. Verena smiled, imagining little Zoë talking very seriously into the phone, trying to make a point about her visit to the principal's office. Not the first one, which was amazing for a 5-year-old in Kindergarten.

"Okay Chip, take a breath and tell me first, what did you do to upset the teacher? And second, when am I supposed to have this conversation with her?"

There was a long silence on the other side of the line.

"It was a private matter, Mamma. I don't want to talk about it. And they expect you as soon as possible."

Now Verena sighed heavily. This wasn't good. And again she noticed that the child spoke in a way no child her age should be speaking. Blame it on an absent single mother and living around only adults. Yes, Verena accepted all the blame.

"Chip, we will have this conversation soon, as soon as I find a way out of here. I hope to be there tomorrow evening.... Be a good girl! May I talk to Rita, please?"

She heard the same heavy sigh she had let out seconds before on the other end of the connection.

"Okay Mamma, I will get Rita. Don't be upset, okay?"

"No problem Chip, we will work this out. Love you lots; you know that, don't you?"

"I love you too, Mamma. See ya!!"

As Zoë's nanny picked up the phone, Verena felt again the pang of guilt. It hurt her that she couldn't always be there for her daughter.

"Hey Rita, I heard about the school problem. Please make an appointment for me with the teacher for the day after tomorrow, would you? Okay, Rita, see you tomorrow evening!"

After hanging up, Verena called her hotel in Corumbá, trying to remember the time for the next flight out of the god-forsaken little town. She hated flying in those meat-transport planes. She hated flying, period. But she had to get out of the jungle and back to LA fast. Really fast. Zoë needed her.

***

LOS ANGELES

Orlando sat in the living room of Elijah's flat while Lij was having a heart to heart talk with his mother in his bedroom.

It had been awful. Even though both had come through the drug test and the police interrogation unscathed and with no problems, the minute they left the Viper Room, there had been dozens of reporters and photographers. Orlando had imagined the front pages of the tabloids next morning ... but the paparazzi press surpassed even his most vile expectations.

Elijah had called his mother as they reached the apartment, to prepare her for the newspapers. Orli had called immediately home, just to reassure his mother he was fine and that she should not worry if she saw the papers.

When he tried to reach Fiona, he had no luck. Her cell phone was off, and at her office her secretary gave him even worse news.

"Hey Orli! Making the headlines again, aren't we? Fiona isn't here, dear, she should be flying over the Pacific as we speak ... she had a call from the Daily with all the nice details of your night in town..."

"Is she angry?" Orlando dared to ask. The secretary laughed out loud.

"She isn't angry, darling, she is furious!!! She already got a call from New Line ... You are in big trouble."

After hanging up, Orlando was worried. He walked over to where his jacket lay and retrieved a pack of cigarettes, remembering, just in time, that Lij's mother wasn't too fond of smokers. He put the cigarettes back in his pocket, walked over to the window and started chewing his thumbnail. A furious Fiona was a bad thing, a very bad thing.

"Think positive, Orli," he said to himself. "Just hope for the best and expect the worst."

****

The very same morning on the other side of L.A., Verena Devereaux winced as she parked her Jeep in front of the exclusive Catholic school where her daughter Zoë attended kindergarten. The vehicle was reliable, which was why she had never considered trading it in, but it was also incredibly dirty at the moment. It was definitely out of place among the freshly waxed luxury vehicles driven by the other parents.

She looked again in the rear-view mirror, wishing that she had taken the time to comb and style her hair. Not that it would have made much a difference: her hair always seemed to have a mind of its own and escaped the confines of pins and barrettes in record time. At least she was wearing some decent clothes: a long black skirt, low-heeled shoes, a white shirt, and a black jacket with a colorful shawl over her shoulders.

As she walked to the school building she felt as shy as she had many years ago, when she herself had attended a Catholic school on the other side of the world.

Mother Augusta greeted her and showed her to a seat. "Welcome, Miss Devereaux. It is nice to see you are back from your travels," said the elderly nun with a smile, but Verena didn't miss the reproaching undertone. Leave it to the nuns to make single parents feel like slime without ever uttering an insulting word.

"A pleasure to see you, Reverend Mother."

"I have invited you here to speak about Zoë and her behavior at school. Never before in the eighty-seven years that the Montserrat School for Young Ladies has been in existence, have we had to invite the mother of a kindergarten pupil to discuss her child's conduct. And this is not the first time we've had to call you concerning Zoë."

"What is the problem, Reverend Mother? Zoë is a spirited but very intelligent child. I am sure she did not intend to show disrespect to her teacher or the school ..."

"Miss Devereaux, Zoë is a bright child, whose academic ability surpasses most of her fellow students. But she needs a normal life. She needs a family, a father, or at the very least, she needs her mother at home with her, not far away somewhere in the Congo or wherever ..."

Verena's green eyes slitted angrily.

"Reverend Mother, I understand your point, but I kindly ask you to avoid judging my lifestyle or my work. As to a family, Zoë has a family, and I didn't hear any protest from the school board regarding Zoë's lack of a father when I signed her up and gave a handsome contribution to the school's fund. I will do my best to improve the situation. May Zoë return to school tomorrow?"

The nun recognized she shouldn't pursue the subject further. "She may return, Miss Devereaux. But she will not be allowed to show similar behavior again."

Verena stood up and nodded to the nun, while she turned to leave. At the door she spoke again, "I don't want Zoë to be bothered with questions about her family again, Reverend Mother. It is not a matter that concerns her, but me and only me. Is that clear, Reverend Mother?"

The nun nodded in acquiescence. She could positively imagine the woman standing in the doorstep of her office in the middle of the jungle: in that moment, Verena's expression was almost been feral in its intensity.

As Verena got back to her car, she felt defeated. She leant into the steering wheel and fought the tears. Was it always going to be like this?. She had thought it would take longer for Zoë to show some ill effects of being a single mother's child. For Christ's sake, they lived in the 21st century!

But then, Verena had wanted to believe that it would be easier for them to live in America and continue leading her lifestyle as long as she could. Now it was over. No more planes, no more travels. She couldn't give Zoë a father, but she could be home for her. Or at least try.

She retrieved her cell phone from her purse and pushed one button of the automatic dial. She got George's voicemail, and her voice was firm as she left her message.

"George? It's me. I'm back. And I won't do the Thailand assignment. I have to stay in LA. We will have to find something, anything! See you, lovey, bye."

The cards were dealt. She hoped that Georgina, her agent and best friend, could find a solution for her.

Photographers in LA were like fish in the ocean. Even good ones numbered in the dozens. Verena shook her head: she had to think positive. Or hope for the best and expect the worst, like always.

***

Georgina Hammond looked again at her watch.

Fiona's plane was scheduled to land any minute now. Fiona had sounded absolutely livid on the phone. And George, as her friends knew her, could understand Fiona. New Line had also called Georgina on the Bloom and Wood matter. Fiona and Georgina had worked together for a long time coordinating the work of their clients between LA and London and all over the world. Neither Elijah Wood nor Orlando Bloom was a client of hers, but George had been the contact for the contract arrangements between Fiona and New Line, once Peter Jackson had decided he wanted the handsome young man for the movie.

So, now George was involved too, and she wouldn't let her longtime friend Fiona down. George wouldn't do that.

To make her life more complicated, her star-client, Verena Devereaux had finally flaked out, refused to complete her contract in Thailand, and was now insisting on staying in LA. And George had to find a way to help Verena.

She owed it to her goddaughter, Zoë, even if Verena was rubbing her last nerve. The announcement of the arrival of Fiona's flight brought George back to reality. It was time to start sorting the mess and invent emergency plan A.