Part 50
So, this is the end, my friends. Thanks so much to everyone who's been along for the ride these last eight months.
1. bed
"What time is it?"
"I have no idea."
"C'mon, look and see. I know you still have your watch on."
Viggo smiles, his lips spreading under Orlando's palm. "Yes," he says. "But your hand is on my face."
"Well," Orlando says. "Alright, then." He removes his hand, reaching down to grope around for Viggo's wrist, eventually dragging Viggo's own arm up so their clasped hands are hovering over Viggo's face. "What time is it now?" he says cheerfully.
Viggo opens his eyes. The glare of the sun off the face of his watch makes spots in front of his eyes. "You know, I'm not sure," he says. "I think my watch might still be on Korean time."
Orlando snorts, and since he's released Viggo's arm in favor of appropriating most of Viggo's pillow and burying his nose in Viggo's neck, the noise registers as a vibration against Viggo's collarbone. "How late are we?" Orlando says.
"Ten past twelve."
Orlando snorts again. "Par for the course, right?"
In the last two days, they have been late for the press conference (Viggo having maintained to the end that the definition of "late" can include "actually not showing up at all"), the shuttle to the airport, the flight to Wellington and several smaller obligations of lesser importance, including a sound check that Orlando swears Dom set up as a prank. Viggo thinks that you never really show up late for something if you were doing what you wanted to be doing right up until the moment you get there, but he understands the need for compromise and thinks they should probably get up and meet the rest of the band for brunch.
Viggo sits up. "What time is your flight?" he says.
Orlando nearly props himself up on his elbows but then flops down on the mattress again. "Um, like, seven, I think?" He tugs at the sheets that are pooled around Viggo's waist. "Also," he says, "can you please tell me where I got the brilliant idea to agree to fly straight to the shoot? I'm going to show up with two bags of dirty laundry and none of my lines memorized; I'm sure everyone will be thrilled to see me." He tugs at the sheet one last time and Viggo slides back down.
"About that--" Viggo starts.
"Hmm?"
"I thought, well, I thought I'd ask Ian about his house in Cayman."
Orlando curls up on his side facing Viggo and raises one eyebrow. "You know," he says, "they don't make me sleep in a gutter or anything."
Viggo frowns. "No? You don't bunk on the boat for method?" He wondered about that after he saw the first pirate movie; he had a hard time imagining Orlando sitting around in Mexico for six months eating hard tack.
"I'm pretty sure I'll have accommodations. I might have room for, you know, a personal assistant or something," Orlando says, easing one hand under the blanket.
"Yes," Viggo says, pressing up into it, "but will you pay union wages?"
2. elevator
Viggo and Orlando are staggering down the hallway like they're in a three-legged race, Orlando with one hand gripping Viggo's shoulder, hopping on one foot while he tries to slip on his other shoe.
"Yes, dear, I know, but I'm about to get on the elevator, so--yes, I'll fax you later. Kiss, kiss!" Daisy spins around and brightens when he see them. "Oh, hello, darlings, I knew I could count on the two of you to be even later than me."
"How's Mitzi?" Orlando asks Daisy, then turns to Viggo and says, "Hey, hold still," so Viggo makes like a scarecrow while Orlando ties his shoe with his foot balanced on Viggo's kneecap.
Part of Viggo's scarecrow stance involves staring straight ahead, but he can see Daisy watching them out of the corner of his eye. After making the sort of knowing smile that Viggo's seeing a lot of lately, Daisy claps his hands together and says, "I'm becoming a brand!"
"A what?" Viggo asks.
"Well, not overnight, of course, but that's the eventual goal. Mitzi and I are starting a production company. She's already booking endorsement deals. It's going to be a whole Daisy lifestyle eventually, you know? Line of house wares, all the works. Like Martha Stewart, only without the nasty trip to prison. What do you think?"
The idea of a personal marketing identity makes Viggo feel vaguely queasy, but it's hard to ignore that Daisy's eyes are practically twinkling at the idea, so Viggo kneads his hands together and says, "It sounds great."
"What about the show?" Orlando asks, hooking a finger around one of Viggo's belt loops.
"Oh, we'll probably scale back, do holiday specials or something. The show was always just a way to get the name out there. The way I see it, more fingers in the pie, less time in the make-up chair, right? Besides, helps make time for," he wiggles his eyebrows, "other follies." Daisy makes a little shrug. "Doris Day After Tomorrow Productions has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
The elevator dings.
3. table
If Viggo went in for Judeo-Christian allegory, he'd call this their Last Supper, except it's a day late and a meal short.
Showing up with Daisy on their heels lessens the heckling somewhat, and when Viggo sees that the only seats left are the head of the table and two places set on either side, he throws his hands up, says, "No way, no cheap shots before breakfast," and nudges Orlando toward the patriarchal chair. If it turns out that the seating chart is in any way foretelling, that's fine, Viggo's more than happy to let Orlando run the show for the next double dozen years, though he imagines he's biased.
Viggo looks around the table, everyone nursing mimosas, passing fruit bowls, wiping syrup off the corners of each other's mouths, and swapping silverware. There is so much he wants to tell them, but he can't find the words and he can't stop time. He tells himself again, you're never going to show up late if you were doing exactly what you wanted to be doing right up until the minute you get where you're going, but that doesn't change the fact that everybody gets to their where sooner or later.
There's a stack of paper napkins on the table within Viggo's reach, and he starts jotting down messages without thinking, because putting something down in writing has always been the best way to buy a little extra distance.
At the opposite end of the table, there's Liv, eating grapefruit sections with one hand and bouncing the baby on her knee with the other. And, well, speaking of Judeo-Christian iconography, but Viggo would rather think of her teaching everyone how to tie cherry stems with their tongues than as an image on a prayer card. It's something he hopes she knows, and so he writes it down.
"No, you have to promise me," Liv is saying, "swear on your mother's grave, Elijah, that you will come baby-sit. The only thing that puts him to sleep anymore is that thing that you did with salsa techno! I'll be a woman on a ledge. It won't be pretty. There may even be tabloid photos."
"Well, like, as long as I'm in New York," Elijah says around a mouthful of home fries. "I'm definitely going straight there, I've got all those gigs, and I'm staying with Hannah, but I don't have a clue what those two," he jerks his head at Dom and Billy across the table, "have planned."
Dom ducks his head up from his plate at the mention of his own name. "Oi, Lij, try'n keep up, would you? I already said, Bills and I are staying with the lovely marrieds in the city so we can be closer to your obnoxiously precocious self."
"What," Elijah shoots back, "my sister's couch is too good for you?"
Viggo watches the three of them -- Billy eating Dom's bacon, Dom protesting too much, Elijah grinning -- and wants to believe that he'll figure out their secret; how to be able to keep his faults close and the most complicated parts of his life closer. He blinks and realizes that Billy is watching him watch, so he shrugs and looks past what's about a minute away from turning into a full-fledged food fight with croissants for weapons and sees Sala and Lawrence going to work on Bean, trying to recruit him for the league. Bean's keeping a Bloody Mary firmly in place between himself and the rest of the table, but appears mostly in good humor.
"Oh, no, we can absolutely teach you to play, right out in the parking lot, even," Sala is saying to Bean.
"It's just like football, except not for nancies," Lawrence supplies helpfully.
Bean catches Viggo's eye and calls out to him, "Wasn't it you who said that there wasn't anyone who couldn't stand to break a few bones?" Viggo gives him a thumbs up and adds to Bean's note: i owe you one.
And there's Daisy, and there's Karl and Cate, and Ian and Bernard and Sean, whose plate is probably getting cold because he's moving around the table, determined to get every last minute captured on the handheld, right up until the very end. Viggo packs a message in a bottle for each of them, too.
He's not saving Orlando for last on purpose, but Viggo looks up and there he is, eyebrows raised and one hand darting out under the table to squeeze Viggo's knee, and Viggo's got the pen between his lips and no idea what to say.
"You--" he starts.
"What?" Orlando says, cocking his head.
"I--I'm not sure," Viggo says. "I'm not sure what I was going to say, actually."
Orlando's hand is warm on Viggo's kneecap. "It's okay," he says. "You can tell me later."
"But I'm not even sure what I'm going to say later. I just--I feel like I should tell you something." Viggo feels foolish, and it feels good, for a change. He doesn't feel like he has to apologize, either.
Orlando grins. "When you think of it," he says. "I'll be around, right?"
"Right," Viggo says. "That's right." He puts the pen down and leans forward, his thumb swiping across Orlando's nose. "Hold still," he says. "There's some jam on your nose."
When everything is said and done, plates cleaned, coffee and tea cups empty, croissants picked out of various people's hair, Viggo stands up, and dunks the stack of napkins in his water glass, the ink spreading and clouding in the cup. He doesn't need to say his farewells in haiku form, not really, because this isn't goodbye. And if there's something he really wants to say, well, everyone will come around again.
Author Comment
pf4ever
pfber
Posts: 7025
(10/24/2006 2:28 pm)
Reply
new P+F album early 2007?!?!?!
hey you guys, i just talked to my friend who works at matador, and my friend says that the new P+F album is on the schedule for THE FIRST QUARTER OF 2007.
joejoejoeisme
pfber
Posts: 8002
(10/24/2006 2:49 pm)
Reply
RE: new P+F album early 2007?!?!?!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is great news! Also, it makes sense, with Viggo's post to the website saying that they went back into the studio in July, to expect an album sometime in January or February, right? It's not just that I want a new album SO BADLY that i'm delusional?
sandinista rocker
pfber
Posts: 8899
(10/24/2006 3:00pm)
Reply
RE: new P+F album early 2007?!?!?!
thank god! what do you guys think this means for tour? will they start touring as soon as the album is released or wait for the summer?
*starts calculating how much room is left on credit card*
one man carnival
pfber
Posts: 4072
(10/24/2006 3:11 pm)
Reply
RE: new P+F album early 2007?!?!?!
oh my god, i cannot wait! i know it's only been less than two years since the last album, but it feels like forever. still, i'm happy if it means that they're getting to take their time and enjoy themselves with the recording.
apple pie
pfber
Posts: 5083
(10/24/2006 3:15 pm)
Reply
RE: new P+F album early 2007?!?!?!
Also, don't forget the Spin article where Elijah said his latest gig was Islandic punk music -- sounds like a P+F project in the works to me!
4. curb
And so then everyone's standing outside the hotel, waiting for the cars to the airport.
Viggo's got a cigarette caught in the corner of his mouth, but he can't find his matchbook. Orlando says, "Hey, are you looking for--" and pulls Viggo's matchbook, his cell phone and three shoelaces out of his pocket.
"How did you get those?"
Orlando shrugs. "No idea. Hey, did you know you have sixteen unplayed messages?"
Viggo shakes his head. "Why don't you listen to them," he says, "tell me if there's anything important." He's happy to have the matches back but a little disappointed about the cell phone. He's always trying to misplace it accidentally on purpose, but it never seems to take.
Viggo smokes, and watches Karl fighting to say an awkwardly stoic goodbye to Milo. Orlando elbows Viggo and says, phone still pressed to his ear, "This one's from Miranda." He raises his eyebrows pointedly and says, "If this," he gestures between the two of them, "is going to work, you have to get that annulled, you hear me? I'm not fucking joking."
Viggo's about to point out that it's unlikely he'll be in the Czech Republic any time soon, but then Dom clears his throat with a theatrical flourish and says, "So. I've an idea." He's standing right at the edge of the curb, his back to the road, rocking back on his heels. Any further and he's going to fall into the gutter, but so far he's holding his balance. "What I think we should do," Dom says, "is in about six months or so, we'll all happen to be in one place and we'll start a band."
There's a palpable moment where no one says anything, but then Daisy and Liv both start giggling and Billy kisses Dom on the temple and says, "You're a bloody lunatic," and Orlando's leaning into Viggo's side, shaking with laughter and Bean and Bernard raise their cigarettes in a mock salute and Viggo feels like it's all moving like a tape on fast-forward, except when the tape runs out, it's just going to loop around again.
"Nothing fancy, of course," Dom continues. He's barely keeping a straight face, but his eyes are gleaming. "Just a small, critically acclaimed, fan beloved gig. Make a couple albums, go on a few tours, see what happens, you know?"
"Trust me," Dom says. "I think this is going to work."
1. bed
"What time is it?"
"I have no idea."
"C'mon, look and see. I know you still have your watch on."
Viggo smiles, his lips spreading under Orlando's palm. "Yes," he says. "But your hand is on my face."
"Well," Orlando says. "Alright, then." He removes his hand, reaching down to grope around for Viggo's wrist, eventually dragging Viggo's own arm up so their clasped hands are hovering over Viggo's face. "What time is it now?" he says cheerfully.
Viggo opens his eyes. The glare of the sun off the face of his watch makes spots in front of his eyes. "You know, I'm not sure," he says. "I think my watch might still be on Korean time."
Orlando snorts, and since he's released Viggo's arm in favor of appropriating most of Viggo's pillow and burying his nose in Viggo's neck, the noise registers as a vibration against Viggo's collarbone. "How late are we?" Orlando says.
"Ten past twelve."
Orlando snorts again. "Par for the course, right?"
In the last two days, they have been late for the press conference (Viggo having maintained to the end that the definition of "late" can include "actually not showing up at all"), the shuttle to the airport, the flight to Wellington and several smaller obligations of lesser importance, including a sound check that Orlando swears Dom set up as a prank. Viggo thinks that you never really show up late for something if you were doing what you wanted to be doing right up until the moment you get there, but he understands the need for compromise and thinks they should probably get up and meet the rest of the band for brunch.
Viggo sits up. "What time is your flight?" he says.
Orlando nearly props himself up on his elbows but then flops down on the mattress again. "Um, like, seven, I think?" He tugs at the sheets that are pooled around Viggo's waist. "Also," he says, "can you please tell me where I got the brilliant idea to agree to fly straight to the shoot? I'm going to show up with two bags of dirty laundry and none of my lines memorized; I'm sure everyone will be thrilled to see me." He tugs at the sheet one last time and Viggo slides back down.
"About that--" Viggo starts.
"Hmm?"
"I thought, well, I thought I'd ask Ian about his house in Cayman."
Orlando curls up on his side facing Viggo and raises one eyebrow. "You know," he says, "they don't make me sleep in a gutter or anything."
Viggo frowns. "No? You don't bunk on the boat for method?" He wondered about that after he saw the first pirate movie; he had a hard time imagining Orlando sitting around in Mexico for six months eating hard tack.
"I'm pretty sure I'll have accommodations. I might have room for, you know, a personal assistant or something," Orlando says, easing one hand under the blanket.
"Yes," Viggo says, pressing up into it, "but will you pay union wages?"
2. elevator
Viggo and Orlando are staggering down the hallway like they're in a three-legged race, Orlando with one hand gripping Viggo's shoulder, hopping on one foot while he tries to slip on his other shoe.
"Yes, dear, I know, but I'm about to get on the elevator, so--yes, I'll fax you later. Kiss, kiss!" Daisy spins around and brightens when he see them. "Oh, hello, darlings, I knew I could count on the two of you to be even later than me."
"How's Mitzi?" Orlando asks Daisy, then turns to Viggo and says, "Hey, hold still," so Viggo makes like a scarecrow while Orlando ties his shoe with his foot balanced on Viggo's kneecap.
Part of Viggo's scarecrow stance involves staring straight ahead, but he can see Daisy watching them out of the corner of his eye. After making the sort of knowing smile that Viggo's seeing a lot of lately, Daisy claps his hands together and says, "I'm becoming a brand!"
"A what?" Viggo asks.
"Well, not overnight, of course, but that's the eventual goal. Mitzi and I are starting a production company. She's already booking endorsement deals. It's going to be a whole Daisy lifestyle eventually, you know? Line of house wares, all the works. Like Martha Stewart, only without the nasty trip to prison. What do you think?"
The idea of a personal marketing identity makes Viggo feel vaguely queasy, but it's hard to ignore that Daisy's eyes are practically twinkling at the idea, so Viggo kneads his hands together and says, "It sounds great."
"What about the show?" Orlando asks, hooking a finger around one of Viggo's belt loops.
"Oh, we'll probably scale back, do holiday specials or something. The show was always just a way to get the name out there. The way I see it, more fingers in the pie, less time in the make-up chair, right? Besides, helps make time for," he wiggles his eyebrows, "other follies." Daisy makes a little shrug. "Doris Day After Tomorrow Productions has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
The elevator dings.
3. table
If Viggo went in for Judeo-Christian allegory, he'd call this their Last Supper, except it's a day late and a meal short.
Showing up with Daisy on their heels lessens the heckling somewhat, and when Viggo sees that the only seats left are the head of the table and two places set on either side, he throws his hands up, says, "No way, no cheap shots before breakfast," and nudges Orlando toward the patriarchal chair. If it turns out that the seating chart is in any way foretelling, that's fine, Viggo's more than happy to let Orlando run the show for the next double dozen years, though he imagines he's biased.
Viggo looks around the table, everyone nursing mimosas, passing fruit bowls, wiping syrup off the corners of each other's mouths, and swapping silverware. There is so much he wants to tell them, but he can't find the words and he can't stop time. He tells himself again, you're never going to show up late if you were doing exactly what you wanted to be doing right up until the minute you get where you're going, but that doesn't change the fact that everybody gets to their where sooner or later.
There's a stack of paper napkins on the table within Viggo's reach, and he starts jotting down messages without thinking, because putting something down in writing has always been the best way to buy a little extra distance.
At the opposite end of the table, there's Liv, eating grapefruit sections with one hand and bouncing the baby on her knee with the other. And, well, speaking of Judeo-Christian iconography, but Viggo would rather think of her teaching everyone how to tie cherry stems with their tongues than as an image on a prayer card. It's something he hopes she knows, and so he writes it down.
"No, you have to promise me," Liv is saying, "swear on your mother's grave, Elijah, that you will come baby-sit. The only thing that puts him to sleep anymore is that thing that you did with salsa techno! I'll be a woman on a ledge. It won't be pretty. There may even be tabloid photos."
"Well, like, as long as I'm in New York," Elijah says around a mouthful of home fries. "I'm definitely going straight there, I've got all those gigs, and I'm staying with Hannah, but I don't have a clue what those two," he jerks his head at Dom and Billy across the table, "have planned."
Dom ducks his head up from his plate at the mention of his own name. "Oi, Lij, try'n keep up, would you? I already said, Bills and I are staying with the lovely marrieds in the city so we can be closer to your obnoxiously precocious self."
"What," Elijah shoots back, "my sister's couch is too good for you?"
Viggo watches the three of them -- Billy eating Dom's bacon, Dom protesting too much, Elijah grinning -- and wants to believe that he'll figure out their secret; how to be able to keep his faults close and the most complicated parts of his life closer. He blinks and realizes that Billy is watching him watch, so he shrugs and looks past what's about a minute away from turning into a full-fledged food fight with croissants for weapons and sees Sala and Lawrence going to work on Bean, trying to recruit him for the league. Bean's keeping a Bloody Mary firmly in place between himself and the rest of the table, but appears mostly in good humor.
"Oh, no, we can absolutely teach you to play, right out in the parking lot, even," Sala is saying to Bean.
"It's just like football, except not for nancies," Lawrence supplies helpfully.
Bean catches Viggo's eye and calls out to him, "Wasn't it you who said that there wasn't anyone who couldn't stand to break a few bones?" Viggo gives him a thumbs up and adds to Bean's note: i owe you one.
And there's Daisy, and there's Karl and Cate, and Ian and Bernard and Sean, whose plate is probably getting cold because he's moving around the table, determined to get every last minute captured on the handheld, right up until the very end. Viggo packs a message in a bottle for each of them, too.
He's not saving Orlando for last on purpose, but Viggo looks up and there he is, eyebrows raised and one hand darting out under the table to squeeze Viggo's knee, and Viggo's got the pen between his lips and no idea what to say.
"You--" he starts.
"What?" Orlando says, cocking his head.
"I--I'm not sure," Viggo says. "I'm not sure what I was going to say, actually."
Orlando's hand is warm on Viggo's kneecap. "It's okay," he says. "You can tell me later."
"But I'm not even sure what I'm going to say later. I just--I feel like I should tell you something." Viggo feels foolish, and it feels good, for a change. He doesn't feel like he has to apologize, either.
Orlando grins. "When you think of it," he says. "I'll be around, right?"
"Right," Viggo says. "That's right." He puts the pen down and leans forward, his thumb swiping across Orlando's nose. "Hold still," he says. "There's some jam on your nose."
When everything is said and done, plates cleaned, coffee and tea cups empty, croissants picked out of various people's hair, Viggo stands up, and dunks the stack of napkins in his water glass, the ink spreading and clouding in the cup. He doesn't need to say his farewells in haiku form, not really, because this isn't goodbye. And if there's something he really wants to say, well, everyone will come around again.
Author Comment
pf4ever
pfber
Posts: 7025
(10/24/2006 2:28 pm)
Reply
new P+F album early 2007?!?!?!
hey you guys, i just talked to my friend who works at matador, and my friend says that the new P+F album is on the schedule for THE FIRST QUARTER OF 2007.
joejoejoeisme
pfber
Posts: 8002
(10/24/2006 2:49 pm)
Reply
RE: new P+F album early 2007?!?!?!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is great news! Also, it makes sense, with Viggo's post to the website saying that they went back into the studio in July, to expect an album sometime in January or February, right? It's not just that I want a new album SO BADLY that i'm delusional?
sandinista rocker
pfber
Posts: 8899
(10/24/2006 3:00pm)
Reply
RE: new P+F album early 2007?!?!?!
thank god! what do you guys think this means for tour? will they start touring as soon as the album is released or wait for the summer?
*starts calculating how much room is left on credit card*
one man carnival
pfber
Posts: 4072
(10/24/2006 3:11 pm)
Reply
RE: new P+F album early 2007?!?!?!
oh my god, i cannot wait! i know it's only been less than two years since the last album, but it feels like forever. still, i'm happy if it means that they're getting to take their time and enjoy themselves with the recording.
apple pie
pfber
Posts: 5083
(10/24/2006 3:15 pm)
Reply
RE: new P+F album early 2007?!?!?!
Also, don't forget the Spin article where Elijah said his latest gig was Islandic punk music -- sounds like a P+F project in the works to me!
4. curb
And so then everyone's standing outside the hotel, waiting for the cars to the airport.
Viggo's got a cigarette caught in the corner of his mouth, but he can't find his matchbook. Orlando says, "Hey, are you looking for--" and pulls Viggo's matchbook, his cell phone and three shoelaces out of his pocket.
"How did you get those?"
Orlando shrugs. "No idea. Hey, did you know you have sixteen unplayed messages?"
Viggo shakes his head. "Why don't you listen to them," he says, "tell me if there's anything important." He's happy to have the matches back but a little disappointed about the cell phone. He's always trying to misplace it accidentally on purpose, but it never seems to take.
Viggo smokes, and watches Karl fighting to say an awkwardly stoic goodbye to Milo. Orlando elbows Viggo and says, phone still pressed to his ear, "This one's from Miranda." He raises his eyebrows pointedly and says, "If this," he gestures between the two of them, "is going to work, you have to get that annulled, you hear me? I'm not fucking joking."
Viggo's about to point out that it's unlikely he'll be in the Czech Republic any time soon, but then Dom clears his throat with a theatrical flourish and says, "So. I've an idea." He's standing right at the edge of the curb, his back to the road, rocking back on his heels. Any further and he's going to fall into the gutter, but so far he's holding his balance. "What I think we should do," Dom says, "is in about six months or so, we'll all happen to be in one place and we'll start a band."
There's a palpable moment where no one says anything, but then Daisy and Liv both start giggling and Billy kisses Dom on the temple and says, "You're a bloody lunatic," and Orlando's leaning into Viggo's side, shaking with laughter and Bean and Bernard raise their cigarettes in a mock salute and Viggo feels like it's all moving like a tape on fast-forward, except when the tape runs out, it's just going to loop around again.
"Nothing fancy, of course," Dom continues. He's barely keeping a straight face, but his eyes are gleaming. "Just a small, critically acclaimed, fan beloved gig. Make a couple albums, go on a few tours, see what happens, you know?"
"Trust me," Dom says. "I think this is going to work."