Disclaimer: I don't own Orlando Bloom or any living person depicted in the story. They deserve my utmost respect.
---------------- CHAPTER FIVE-------------
Orlando sipped a bit more of his orange juice. Verena was sitting across of him; both shared a small table in the corner of a small café. He sat against the wall; she had piled up the shopping bags between them and was speaking softly into her cell phone. And smiling. When Verena smiled, which wasn't often around him, her whole face lit up and her eyes sparkled. Lij was right. The woman was hot.
"Listen Spence, we will be here about another half hour. Come on by. We could drive from here home and work on your pics there. Okay, hurry hun, bye!" she put the phone back to her waist and turned to Orlando. "Sorry about the interruption. We were talking about …?"
'How to get you into a friendlier frame of mind towards me,' he thought, but he told her, "Shakespeare and Baz Luhrmann."
Verena tried to remember. Okay, yes. She was trying to get Orlando comfy enough to find out what he was up to. He had been much too compliant during the shopping spree. And he was pleasant to be around. 'Even if you are mistrusting him,' she told herself.
Orlando watched a young man approach their table, walking up to Verena's back and making signs to Orlando not to give his presence away. Orlando looked back at his glass and observed from the corner of his eye, as the man covered Verena's eyes with his hands.
"Guess, gorgeous," he said concealing his voice.
"If you aren't Spencer Harris, my ex-assistant and future photographer extraordinaire, I'll kick you to a sorry pulp!" she said, grinning from ear to ear.
"Well, with that lovely introduction, I surely have to reveal myself," the man said and leaned into Verena to give her a peck on the cheek. She caressed his cheek, and pulled a couple of bags from the seat next to her to make space for him.
The man stretched out his hand to greet Orlando.
"As the lady here said, I am Spencer Harris, V's assistant and personal slave," he said, grinning at Orlando. He was taller than Orlando and Verena, broad-shouldered, muscled, blond with gray-green eyes and a great tan. The typical California surfer-type.
Orlando shook his hand and grinned back. "Orlando Bloom, V's prisoner and charge," he said cheekily.
Spencer laughed out loud, "Yeah, I know, I saw you at the office. May I say, to your consolation, that I sympathize with you and that we are actually being envied by those less fortunate men who don't know her up close and personal?"
Verena pouted and said playfully, "Spence, you hurt my feelings. You know I would be absolutely helpless and lost without you. And you are jeopardizing your birthday present!"
"V, you should know by now that I truly love you and that I am a happy slave," said Spence smiling at Verena.
Verena patted his hand. "Have something to drink, Spence, and entertain Orlando. I want to get something for Zoë. I'll be right back." She stood up and left.
"She is grand, isn't she?" Spence asked Orlando.
Orlando saw then the look in Spencer's eyes and saw real admiration for the woman who had left the table.
"How long have you been working together? You really are her assistant? What do you do?" he asked Spence.
"You don't know anything about her, right? I figured she would keep you at distance. That's her style in the beginning. I bet you think she is worse than the wicked Witch of the East," Spence laughed out loud again as he saw the look in Orlando's face, and it was answer enough. "Go, babe, go!"
Orlando was getting pretty upset. Stupid bloke, if he didn't want to talk about V, then so be it, but he wasn't going to take the laughing about him any longer.
"Listen mate, if you would tell me the joke, I might laugh with you ... " he started.
"Sorry, Orlando, but I have a good laugh about the situation, because I was in the same spot a couple of years ago. Well, I am no movie star, but she was also pretty hard on me at the beginning. I hated her guts about a whole six weeks, until our first assignment. From then on, I would walk over burning coal for her, believe me, " said Spence.
"So, you've worked together for a long time?" asked Orlando again. Despite his discomforting laughter at things Orlando didn't consider funny, there was something about Spence that Orlando liked. And he did want to get some more information about Verena.
"Hmm, let me see ... 8 years this fall, yep, the lady and I have come a long way together. I started being her assistant as soon as I left University. She was my photography teacher at UCLA. In her line of work, she needed a male assistant at that time. But I think later she could have made it with a girl if she found somebody like herself, " said the blonde.
"Was she really a war correspondent?" asked Orlando.
"Are you kidding? She was one of the very best, buddy. She'd still be among the best. We went into unpleasant scenes often enough. But I am glad she dropped that. V is far to sensitive, and seeing all the suffering and death was getting to her. Even though she is one hundred percent a pro." Spence sipped absentmindedly at the beer a waitress had brought him. "On other hand I am sure she misses the field work, the travel and being outdoors. She feels trapped, I think."
"But why did she quit her work, Spence?" Orlando knew the answer before Spencer said it.
"Zoë happened, dude. She left it all for Zoë".
Orlando drank a bit more of his orange juice, saying nothing. Somehow, and even if he still thought she was a witch with a temper, he understood and found that he admired her for giving up the work and the life she loved for Zoë.
"Do you know who Zoë's father is?" he asked Spencer.
"Yes, but I am not the one to disclose that information to you, Orlando," the blonde answered. He tried to change the subject, "I've heard somewhere that you enjoy riding the waves. Would you care to go down to the beach sometime, dude? I might a bit rusty, but I know one or two spots where the waves are awesome."
"Sure, Spence, as long as my babysitter allows it ... " started Orlando.
"Your babysitter doesn't chain you down to your bed, Orlando," came the reply from behind them, as Verena appeared with a bag from Barnes and Noble. "She only wishes she could trust you not to get yourself into trouble."
"C'mon V, if he went out with me, what could happen ...?" asked Spence.
"Spence, don't remind me about your chemical reactions to tequila and Latino-girls. Drop the subject. Can we go now?" she said, with a grin on her face; her eyes, locked on Spence, were hard.
"Yes ma'am, going home," said Spence and stood up, picked up a couple of bags and turned to Orlando, winking.
Orlando grinned at him and also stood up, carrying other bags. Both stood there, waiting for Verena to pay the bill.
"Thank you guys, and here I thought there still were gentlemen around ... " she said, paying.
Orlando and Spence looked at each other and gave Verena exactly the same cheeky grin.
************************************
They arrived at Verena's house and Rita prepared a light lunch. They ate it together, companionably, and after lunch V and Spence went to the study, to work on some pictures. Spence was preparing his presentation portfolio. Verena was sponsoring his introduction as photographer for GEO-Magazine.
Orli brought the shopping bags up to his apartment. He sat down on the coach, and suddenly felt that he missed the company of those working downstairs. He looked at his watch. It was close to two. Zoë!!
Zoë was supposed to be getting out of school soon, and V was working with Spencer. Maybe she would let him pick the girl up from school. Slowly and steadily he would get the freedom he wanted. And he thought he might have an ally in Spencer.
He ran the stairs down and stopped in front of the doors to the study. V and Spence were going through the pictures spread on the desk and comparing contact sheets.
"V, it's time to pick up Zoë. Would you mind if I brought her home?" Orlando asked.
Verena was so engrossed in her work with Spencer that she hadn't seen or heard Orlando come in. So she was startled, and as she looked up, it took her a minute to realize what he was talking about. Damn it, Zoë!! She had forgotten about the time. She looked from Orlando to Spence and back. Her assistant smiled at her with a crooked eyebrow, while Orlando seemed to be expecting her to refuse.
V sighed. She felt like she was failing Zoë again. But she knew Zoë would love to have Orlando pick her up from school. She nodded to Orlando. "Would you get her please? Thank you Orlando. I am very thankful for your help. You know where the car keys are, right?"
Orlando's face lit up. The day was getting better by the hour. Verena seemed to have opened up to him. Maybe someday really soon, he would find a way to get back to his old life. Maybe a bit restricted, but on his terms.
Verena heard the jeep leave the driveway and tried to concentrate on Spence's explanations about the pictures they were going through. She couldn't.
It was a fairly strange day. Since the last night watching soccer with Orlando until they fell asleep, it was as if everything had come together to complicate her life.
And the worse part were her conflicting feelings towards Orlando. She still felt the pang of jealousy about Zoë's preference for having him drive her to school in the morning. And then, she had actually enjoyed going shopping with him: he was witty and charming and entertaining ... when he wanted to be. And since she had been rude to him in the morning and hadn't given him any reason to change his rebellious and distant attitude towards her, she figured Orlando was up to something. She still didn't know what it was.
"Earth to V?" Spencer asked. He had noticed she didn't have her mind set on the pictures or the portfolio. Which surprised him, for Verena Devereaux was a woman absolutely devoted to her work. Unless, of course, there was something important occupying her thoughts.
"Hmm? Oh, Spence, I am so sorry! What were you saying?" she turned to her assistant and friend.
"You can tell me what is bothering you, you know that V," he said.
"Spence, there is absolutely nothing bothering me. Just drop it, I was distracted and I am sorry. Let's get back to work," Verena said.
"Somehow your work assignment got to you, hmm?" said the blonde.
"Spencer, what are you implying?" Verena replied, wishing she wasn't so transparent to him.
"Come on V, it's me, remember? We've been together through too much and for too long. You would also immediately know if I was upset about something. And since there are only two things that have changed in your life lately, one of them must be bothering you. Leaving the field work was your choice and you don't look back and regret your choices. Taking care of Orlando and his public image was not your choice, but your escape route, and even though you'll fulfill this assignment because you're a pro, something about it is still grating on you. "
"I don't get your point Spencer," she said, knowing it was a futile attempt to lead Spencer off. She had taught him to never give up.
"V, don't even try. You are upset that you can't control Orlando ... you're also scared that he might be getting through your shell. Maybe he is," said Spencer.
"Spencer, do us both a favor and don't even think along those lines. The kid is a brat and I am his chaperone, nothing less, nothing more ... " started Verena.
"But he found a way to get to you, right? Hmmm ... let me guess: Zoë is all over him?" continued Spence.
"Okay Spencer. Yes, Zoë currently thinks the sun rises and sets in Mr. Bloom. And she shows her preference clearly. But I think he is good to her and I am thankful for that. I also think Mr. Bloom is a talented young actor with an attitude problem: he likes the wild side of fame. My job is to keep him off it until the release The Two Towers premiere. After that, New Line and Fiona will have to see what they do with the kid. Not my problem anymore," concluded Verena.
"And you are doing your job by keeping him secluded here and watching like a hawk over every minute of his life?" he asked.
"Any other way you can think of to avoid negative media exposure? I have the feeling the kid would run into trouble if I set him loose. I already see him pacing the place like a caged lion. He'd take off and find himself a couple of wild nights, including a couple of eager girls to warm his bed. I already can read the headlines, "Lord of the Rave: 'Rings' Heart-throb Shows His Wild Side." I am being paid to avoid that, Spencer," Verena explained to her assistant.
"Verena, I get the idea, no problem with that. But he is twenty-five years old, not five. He is not Macaulay Culkin. Talk to him and figure out some limits ... together. From what I read about him and from talking to the guy, I can tell he is not stupid. And this situation isn't making you happy either. You are locked up here and you need to get out. My instincts tell me Orlando is a fine guy, and you are making a tempest in a teapot. Give him a break, Verena, the jailer bitch role isn't your forte," Spencer said.
"For having talked to the guy about fifteen minutes, you are a freaking Confucious about him and me, aren't you, hun?" she said, clearly exasperated.
"Verena Devereaux, I love you too," replied Spencer with a cheeky grin. He leaned over and gave her a tight hug.
**************************
Orlando rummaged a bit through Verena's CDs in the Jeep, pulled one out that was labeled "80's," and put it in the car stereo.
He relaxed behind the steering wheel, driving slowly as he tried to remember the turn for Zoë's school.
Once he found his way, he reflected on the day so far. After two weeks under Verena's "tutelage" (yeah, sure; more like Verena's imprisonment), today had been a strange day.
It wasn't that she was less bitchy, but today he had seen her icy façade break, when Zoë had begged her to let Orlando should drive her to school. He knew the drives were highlights in Verena's day, as were all things that concerned Zoë.
He had thought at first that Verena's absolute devotion to Zoë was because Verena was a bitter divorcé who only found joy in her child and in tormenting him. Today's chat with Spencer showed Orlando's publicist in a different light.
Orlando tried to imagine having to give up the work he lived and breathed for, and he thought that it would probably break him. No wonder Verena was not happy. He had seen her for the first time opening up to another person, Spencer. And he had enjoyed watching and listening to the friendly banter. Verna had seemed at ease with her assistant and, for a moment, Orlando wished she would be that much at ease with him, too.
That made him think about Spencer. He said that they had worked for eight years together and that they had come a long way together. Maybe they had been involved at some point ...
Orlando didn't feel comfortable thinking along those lines. They seemed so much at ease with each other; he remembered Spencer's hands on her face, the soft caress on her arm while she drove, her arm sliding easily around his waist as they walked towards the parking lot. And they did look good together.
Was Spencer was Zoë's father?
'No way,' Orlando told himself. 'No man in his right mind would leave a sweet girl like Zoë to grow up without a father.' And Spencer was close to Verena. They worked together and they could have made a life together if they chose to. It was unlikely that Spencer was the munchkin's father. But he definitely knew who it was and most probably had something going on with V.
What did it matter to Orlando anyway? He wasn't interested in Verena's love life or lack of it, for crying out loud! He didn't care about her, did he? Orlando only needed to know her enough to find a way to either charm her over or trick her into giving him the space he needed.
He parked the car in front of the school and got out of the jeep. He looked at his wristwatch and saw that he was a couple of minutes late. He walked with wide strides up the stairs and reached Zoë's classroom. At the door stood a nun, obviously a teacher, delivering the little girls personally to their parents.
He slowed down his pace, brought out his best nice boy smile and approached the nun.
"Good afternoon, Sister. I am her to pick up Zoë Devereaux," he said, hoping that the nun would let him take Zoë home.
The nun looked at him and was immediately caught by his angelic face and bright smile, like a deer in head lights.
"Good afternoon, sir. You must be Mr. Bloom. Miss Devereaux called to say that you would be picking up little Zoë. She did not say whether you were a relative, but, you know, our rules are very strict. So how are you related to our Zoë ?"
"Zoë's uncle, Sister," he said, hoping that would satisfy the nun. He couldn't say, 'I am Zoë's mother prisoner of sorts,' so he crossed his fingers behind his back and widened his smile further.
The nun smiled shyly back, and as the door opened, Zoë stormed out, leaping to Orlando and throwing her tiny arms around neck.
"Orli! You came for me! You are the best! I was thinking I should have told mama that I would love to have you pick me up also, but mama looked sad and I thought it was better that she picked me up but I am sooo happy that you came. Do you want to see my locker? And I can show you my plant, the one I grew out of a seed. It was so cool, Mama put the seed in a jar and I took care of it every day and then the plant grew and it is here. I can also show you my drawings, they are almost as good as the ones I do at home. Can Orli see my plant, Sister Immolata?" Zoë turned to the nun, still in Orlando's arms, after giving him a Kiss on the cheek.
"Zoë Devereaux, what did I tell you about blabbering like a waterfall? You should take a breath between sentences and behave like a young lady, not a monkey out of the jungle. Now, get down and you may show your classroom and your plant to Mr. Bloom. I am sorry Mr. Bloom, we try to educate the children, but Zoë is very impulsive," said Sister Immolata.
"I don't mind, Sister, I love my Zoë just the way she is. A little tornado. Excuse me please," he said, letting Zoë drag him into her classroom.
Fifteen minutes later, Orlando was securing Zoë in her seat in the jeep, listening to her happily chat about her day at school.
"We made beautiful pictures today. I was drawing and Sister Immolata said I had 'an artistic streak.' Is that good or bad? Then Ariane told me today that I wasn't good enough to play with her, because she has lots of money and I don't. But I told her that I have friends and she doesn't and that I don't care about money. It was the right thing to say, wasn't it, Orli?"
Orlando gave the child a kiss on the forehead, and told her softly. "Love, you are an artist and it is good that you are. And it was absolutely the right thing to say. You have friends and you are loved, munchkin. No money in the world can buy that."
Zoë looked at him with her huge brown eyes and said, "I love you Orli, and you are my best friend".
"Love you too, munchkin. I love you too," he said.
They drove home singing along to the CD Orlando had put on earlier. Orlando wondered how weird it sounded to hear a five year old singing Alphaville's "Forever young" out loud. Zoë knew all the lyrics to all the songs on the CD.
When they arrived home, Orlando freed Zoë from her safety seat, and the girl ran into the house. Orlando picked up her lunch-bag and followed Zoë inside. While Zoë ran immediately up to her room, Orlando turned to the kitchen to leave the bag there and tell V that they had arrived.
As he reached the study's entrance, he stopped cold.
Verena and Spencer stood in the middle of the room, hugging each other tightly.
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