FIC: Behold! Us Wayward Monsters - Act I (Part One)
Title: Behold! Us Wayward Monsters - Act I (Part One)
Masterlist: I ( One, Two) | II ( One, Two) | III ( One, Two) | IV ( One, Two)
ACT I
Driving to Montréal had never really been in Zach’s plans. Not that much of his life was planned-in this business, it was all about serendipity and faking it, after all-but there were things that could be unanticipated. Like rocketing to the moon in a cardboard box and discovering the damn thing was really made out of cheese.
Being called by the Cirque was like piercing the moon with a toothpick and taking a bite, that’s all.
“You think they’ll look at us, realize they made a huge mistake, and tell us to go home?”
Zach looked over at his brother, whose long legs were bouncing together like a jackhammer in concrete. Joey was already a goofy looking dude, with the gelled spikes of his mohawk brushing the wallpaper as he sat squished in a reception chair. But nothing was quite as awkward as the man’s anxiety-ridden and-truth be told-crippling social ineptness.
Zach had this covered. “Nah. If they do, we’ll break in like ninjas and leave a horse head in Guy Laliberté’s bed.”
He bit his lip at his brother’s predicted reaction, legs going still as Joey narrowed his eyes.
“You wouldn’t.”
And Joey was right, but it’s not like Joey knew about that time Zach left a hundred leeches on his ex-boyfriend’s bed, so.
“Well, we won’t have to worry about it, so you’ll never know,” Zach said confidently, although he felt anything but.
He was nervous, all right. This was a really big opportunity for them. All Zach could think about was the many years he had spent in subways and street corners, trying to juggle and sing and harass people for a buck.
But by age 25 that had grown really old. It was not romantic in the slightest, constantly worrying about Joey and the roof over their heads. Their mother, too, was not doing so well. It was a long list of problems that went through Zach’s mind every night. Their bills, their collectors, their dependents.
The only consolation was Zach’s love of performing. For a moment in time, when Zach wasn’t working at McDonald’s or at a gas station or trying to fit into retail, he could truly express himself.
Zach eyed his brother up and down, the wonderful and caring photographer hidden in a punk rock body, and he knew that Joey felt similar. Except his tattoos were easier to cover up, so Joey was a receptionist sometimes, or a waiter.
“Zachary Quinto, Joseph Quinto,” a deep voice said to their left, and they both jerked their heads.
The man wore a gray t-shirt and black jeans, the friendly smile not seemingly contrived-not that Zach gave a shit either way. A job was a job. But the man led them into a spacious room and motioned to a few chairs, not even bothering to close the door.
“Have a seat, gentlemen.”
The office was anything but typical-but the organization itself was anything but typical. For one, in any other job, the manager would be wearing a suit in a white office or cubicle, likely bored with the process. The plastic chairs would hurt Zach’s ass, the tie around his neck about to choke him to death. It’d already be like prison, except Zach would get a short reprieve afterwards.
Instead this guy had a sexy French accent, sitting on the opposite side of his glass table-top desk, the chairs able to swivel. And Zach spread his legs in cut-offs and flip-flops, looking around at the various Cirque posters on the wall.
Joey, of course, had chastised him for the flip-flops. And maybe he had a point, as Joey’s jeans and white t-shirt looked in way better shape than Zach’s red-striped tank top.
“It is good to finally meet you. I am a fan of Carnival Diablo, and I heard you both were in their production for a time.”
The best year of their lives, for sure.
“It was a lot of fun.” Zach had gotten laid more during that year than in any other. The knife-throwing in Victorian garb had been an unexpected sex magnet-not that he had complained.
“I am Kurt, your advisor.” He handed them each gray folders, which Joey took eagerly while Zach balanced his on a knee. “You will find your itinerary for the week inside.”
Kurt looked easy-going enough, but Zach inwardly cringed at itinerary. However, Joey got off on that sort of thing, and of course he was already rifling through the contents.
“We get a free DVD? Cool,” Joey said excitedly, God bless him.
“We like our performers to be well-versed in the Cirque.” At that, Kurt finally turned to Zach and eyed him carefully. “We are not here to impose limits or hold hands, merely to expand your horizons.”
And the Cirque could certainly do just that. While Zach and Joey had been in several different troupes, the Cirque could open the door to other shows, other venues-maybe even something permanent in Vegas.
That would be nice. Permanence. Although Zach wouldn’t lie-he loved the vagabond lifestyle for the one aspect of being free, untied to anywhere or anyone.
Kurt smiled at both of them. “Welcome to the Cirque.”
Zach finally looked at the itinerary, pulling out his copy of Quidam. According to their schedule they would get settled in at their apartments, then head on over to the medical facilities for a physical, then eat a communal dinner in the cafeteria.
It was like fucking band camp, or something.
“We’re so happy to be here,” Joey gushed, and Zach lifted his gaze to see his fidgeting brother. “I’ve seen stuff on Bravo and I just love it. It’s really an honor.”
“We are only as good as our performers, so we are happy to have your talent.”
Zach knew this was the time to pipe up, and so he straightened himself to say, “I’m honored, as well. Nobody understands street performers quite like you guys.”
And it was true. In every other circus the clown wore garish makeup and made children cry from creepiness. But Zach had always been more interested in the performance art of it-illusion, commentary on the human condition, story-telling. In every Cirque show he’d seen, it was if the organization understood that completely, knew the high art of being a clown.
But there was that sticking point-organization. It made Zach’s skin crawl.
“I can show you to your apartments-?”
Zach put out a hand. “I think we saw that building on our way in. Right across the street?” The one that looked like IKEA furniture-not that Zach would say that out loud.
“Yes.” Kurt’s smile was incredibly bright and wide, and Zach wondered how bilingual he truly was. Did people think in French and then translate, or was it the other way around? “Here is your identification to get in. Again, welcome to the Cirque. I look forward to working with you.”
“Likewise.” And Zach meant it. He gave a little wave as he pushed Joey out the door, trying to keep his brother’s squeaking and gushing to a minimum.
But Joey actually kept quiet as they made their way down the colorful hall, and even as they traversed several flights of steps. It wasn’t until they crossed the street to their IKEA building that he spoke up, hugging the gray folder to his chest.
“They really wanted us,” he said in hushed tones, still in awe of their circumstances. “I can’t believe it.”
Zach had to show the security guard their badges, then made Joey find the number to their suite. When they entered their small studio apartment-not the grandest of spaces, but the nicest they’ve ever been in, for sure-Zach wouldn’t let on that he could hardly believe their luck, either.
)O(
After the physicals, Joey actually spent their free time unpacking their duffel bags and shoving shit into drawers; which was just as well, since Zach would’ve lived out of a bag the next six months. As Joey was organizing the bathroom, lining up toothbrushes and combs, he chatted away excitedly.
“We need to tour the building. It looks so massive from the outside. I guess that makes sense, considering they have gyms and performances spaces and costumers and executives-“
Zach closed his eyes, trying for a moment of shut-eye. Maybe it was longer than he thought, for he awoke suddenly with a poke to his thigh.
“Dinner’s on right now. We should go get something to eat.” Joey peered down at Zach with a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll catch you up on more annoying prattle on the way there.”
Zach winced. “Sorry. Just tired. You know I didn’t sleep well on the drive here.”
“Yeah, I know.” Joey offered a hand. “Bed early-no drinking.”
Zach opened his mouth at Joey’s chastising finger, but closed it without a word. They knew each other too well, after all. On their way here, Zach had counted the bars and nightclubs within walking distance.
But Zach felt weary as he closed the suite door behind him, bright green and orange behind a glass door-a bit too peppy for his tastes. The whole dormitory was like some modern architectural show piece, something fancy for an ad agency-not that Zach had ever been in one, but it fit his imaginings. There was a bright and open atrium in the center, going up several floors to a glass ceiling. It was surrounded by white railings, and Zach and Joey followed them down to the ground floor
The cafeteria had signs and arrows pointing towards it-actually, every part of the building had a sign with multi-lingual maps on the walls. Forget an ad agency, it was like a college for weird and directionless people.
But the cafeteria was cozy. Carpeted and trying to avoid stark whiteness, it had long tables of wood and red plush ropes for the food lines. Perhaps… like a Ponderosa Steakhouse. Except the food seemed better-which made sense for athletes, really. Zach looked over at his brother’s tray, noticing all the vegan options, Joey’s preferred diet.
“Zach, Zaaaach.” Joey pointed at red cubes of Jell-O. “Look!”
Yeah, Zach loved that shit. The last time he had cubed Jell-O was when they weren’t dirt-poor-which would’ve been a few years ago with that café job. Zach had dished out lattes and snark like a pro.
But here they didn’t have to pay. They were both able to load up their trays-maybe a bit too heavy, but who was going to stop them?-and turned around towards the filling tables of performers and athletes.
There were plenty of empty tables. Joey almost steered them towards one before Zach took the lead and sat them at the end of a large, boisterous group.
Joey ducked his head and whispered, “Zach?”
But he paid no mind, tearing apart a dinner roll with his fingers. “Trust me, Joey. You wanna make friends, don’t you?”
And Joey was shit at it-had always been shit at it. Joey’s friends were usually Zach’s friends, despite Joey being an awesome dude. Just a little quiet and too self-conscious. But thankfully Zach compensated enough for the both of them.
“Hey!” said someone from the far end of the table. He had a square, tanned face, and a strange mixture of accent to boot. “Come on over, we don’t bite.”
“Hard,” said a dark-skinned woman beside him with a smirk, and Zach smiled at the over-used joke. Sometimes you needed them for an icebreaker.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Zach said as he slid over his tray, sitting next to another ridiculously tanned dude. Was everyone stupidly attractive here, or what?
Joey looked at him pleadingly across the table. Sometimes Zach would just drop Joey into a group to make his own conversations, sink or swim, but tonight would not be one of those nights.
“I’m Zach Quinto, and this is my brother Joe. We’re up here from Arizona.”
All eyes were on him, and the man next to the woman grinned.
“I’m Karl Urban, up from Los Angeles-though I haven’t been there for a while.” He pointed at people around the table. “Next to me is the lovely Zoe Saldana.”
She gave a cute shrug of her shoulder and smiled at Joey. “Nice to meet you.”
“That asshole over there is John Cho.”
The dark-haired Asian gave a one-finger salute to Karl. “Hey, guys.”
“Next to your bro over there is Anton Yelchin, our high-flyer from New York.”
The curly-haired kid, perhaps no older than his teens, gave them a closed-mouth smile and said, “Hi,” and sounded nothing like his name.
“Next to you, Zach, is Eric Bana. Obviously the eye candy of the show.”
Eric blushed and ducked his head, apparently too modest for the compliment. Zach loved and loathed those too-sweet types.
“Nice to meet you,” Zach said softly when Eric didn’t, as Eric was too busy being an adorably-embarrassed kitten.
“And at the far end is Grandpa Moses.”
“Fuck you.”
Karl shrugged nonchalantly, as obviously an old game was playing out. “Sorry, my bad-Bruce Greenwood. He’s been here since the dawn of time or something.”
“You’re not much younger than me, you know.” Bruce gave a finger wag. “You’ve been in a few Cirque shows yourself.”
“Veterans?” Zach asked. Partially to be genuinely interested, but also to see if there was any experience he could gleam from the two.
Karl rolled his eyes. “Don’t get Bruce started. It’ll involve walking barefoot in the snow uphill or something.”
“With beavers as snowshoes,” Zoe added helpfully.
“Hey, I’ve known Guy since the Ste-Croix days.” Bruce took a bite of a burger. “Been following him around ever since.”
Zach assumed that was a long time ago, as the other name rang no bells. “Yeah? So what’s Guy like?”
“An asshole,” Bruce said matter-of-factly. “But he’ll do it in French, so you can just ignore it.”
Zoe leaned towards Zach with a patient look. “He means that he’s a business man. Gets stuff done.”
“He runs a tight ship, so don’t think you can slack.” Bruce sipped from a bottle. “What was your guy’s last show?”
There was a part of Zach that wanted to tell the old man to fuck off, but it had all been useful advice. “After Carnival Diablo we did Burning Man for a few years. Kind of wandered between the tourist shit near the Grand Canyon and Taos in the down-time.” He pointed over at Joey. “Joe’s a part-time photographer. He got a show in one of the Taos galleries.”
Zoe and Eric appropriately oohed, bless them. Joey turned an interesting shade of red at the ears.
“What’s your focus?” Eric asked in dulcet tones and his own weird accent. Even from profile he was too handsome, and Zach hoped he wasn’t staring too much.
“Um, well,” Joey stammered, unused to being the focus of attention. “I like portraits.”
“What sorts of people?” Zoe followed up, and Zach wondered if Joey would die from the sudden spotlight.
“Nature.” Joey gave a sheepish grin. “I like to show that nature has a human face, you know? Like squirrels grooming each other, or a dog basking in the sun.”
Zach inwardly smiled, warmed at his brother’s enthusiasm for his subject. Animals were near and dear to his heart. Not that Zach didn’t like dogs and cats and things, but cows were tasty. Joey, on the other hand, saw that the cow sent to slaughter had a backstory of families and trials and tribulations and cried over PETA photos.
“That’s… nice,” Zoe said with a kind smile. “Do you have any of your art with you?”
“Oh yeah,” Joey said, with hands in motion as he talked. “I have a whole portfolio in my room.” He glanced at Zach. “With some help, I was thinking of putting my stuff online.”
Zach had been urging it for ages. Granted, domain names and space cost money, but in this case it would be money well-spent. But Joey had a hard time wrapping his mind around the Internet, instead focusing on galleries and little art fairs to show his work.
Zach turned to Zoe. “He also does landscapes, but with the same deal. They’re really very cool.”
It wasn’t a lie. Joey had a talent for bringing out the personality of any subject, even if it was a fallen tree in a lush and healthy forest. That scene had been titled “Funeral”, the gray and blanched bark in contrast with vibrant greens.
Zoe gave a thoughtful pout. “I’d love to see it.”
At that, Joey was off to a roll, and Zach was glad. While Joey sometimes beat himself up for sounding stupid, Zach wished he could only hear himself. Granted, it was dorky, but Zoe and Eric’s attentions weren’t false. People of passion were always captivating.
Zach tuned it out though, watching people around the table. It was his turn to be quiet, since Joey was dominating the nearby conversation, and Karl and Bruce were a bit too far away. John was listening to the latter, then got up suddenly to dump his empty tray.
It was following this motion that Zach noticed the rest of the cafeteria. People were in clusters, although it didn’t seem like only acrobats or dancers solely hung out together. Not that Zach could probably tell-everyone seemed fit and muscular at the Cirque, and Zach resolved to start hitting the gym tomorrow. But with everyone stupidly fit, maybe it was that people hung out together by show, or by years of working together-who knew?
Except… Zach took a last hurried bite of his food and got up with his tray, a target suddenly in sight.
“Be right back,” he said to no one in particular and didn’t care if it registered. He was going to go to the farthest trash can to harass the sole occupant of a long wooden table, a blond dude who was reading a book with dinner, for fuck’s sake.
As Zach neared him, he noticed the dark-framed glasses sliding down the most average of noses, stuck in a copy of The Hobbit. Which was obnoxious and literately-nerdy, and frankly had to be stopped.
“Hello,” Zach said as he dumped his tray with a loud bang, hopefully to rouse the reader. “Good book?”
The blond gave him a quick side-eye-blue eyes, nice. “Yep.”
And that was it. Yep. Zach could feel the tingle in his arms and legs with the promise of being able to embarrass and pester this shy, nerdy dude. Zach could barely contain his excitement.
He was a heat-sinking missile for these types. As much as Joey begged him not to, it felt like his mission in life to prod and poke the quiet ones, like a Shy-Person Whisperer. Really, Joey should be thanking him, as Zach now had a new project besides his brother to bother and torment.
But Nerdy Dude was not being helpful in the slightest, already going back to his book. What, didn’t everyone already read The Hobbit by sixth grade? Maybe Zach could use his Gollum voice.
“I’m Zach Quinto,” he said normally, because the Shy Whisperer bridge would not be built on being a fucking weirdo. He’d save that once Nerdy Dude met Joey-and maybe Joey’s Magic the Gathering card collection, because there needed to be a sliding scale for these things.
But it took a while for a reply. Not that Zach expected anything different. He was able to count the number of panels on the ceiling before Nerdy Dude gave him an annoyed glance.
“Chris Pine,” Nerdy Dude said, still holding up his book in defense.
“Nice to meet you, Chris.” And Zach thought, for icing on the cake, he would extend his hand for a cordial handshake. Which was met begrudgingly.
Chris tried a tight smile. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“See you around,” Zach said in departure as a promise of further torments-and maybe, if he was lucky, for the handsome blue-eyed Chris Pine to notice his ass.
Zach sat back at his table, a heated fight about Star Wars characters brewing-which Joey had all sorts of facts and tidbits to argue with, of course-and ignored the other end of the cafeteria for the rest of the night.
)O(
Zach would not ignore Chris Pine for long, however. There were too many tantalizing options to start an irritating plan of attack. One was the fact that Chris’ suite was on the same floor as theirs, across the other side of the atrium. Another was that Chris liked to take his morning coffee and newspaper while sitting near the white railings, glancing down occasionally at the ground floor. Which was intriguing in itself, as the paper didn’t seem to be in English, and the hallways barely left him room and privacy to sit.
But Zach chose a more limited arena first, one which Chris couldn’t escape by either book or exit.
“Over here is the main rehearsal area and gymnasium,” said Kurt from yesterday, followed by two other interpreters in what sounded like French and Chinese. “You will be meeting the main choreographer in here, and also performing rough drafts of the production.”
“So,” Zach whispered as he moseyed up to Chris, catching him unaware. “Where are you from?”
Chris gave him a surprised turn of the head, then looked back at Kurt as they were all led into the hall. Zach started to form a new question when Chris answered, “Los Angeles.”
Good. “Born and raised there?”
Chris gave him another annoyed look, but Zach barreled on. “Lived out there for a while. With Joe, my brother.” Zach pointed Joey out, although Chris likely wasn’t looking. “Did a few odds and ends out there, some busking on the boulevard.” Zach watched Chris’ profile, the blue eyes in rapt attention of the orientation.
“…And here is one of three weight rooms.” Kurt waved his arms at the huge expanse of gray-carpeted space. “You can use this whenever you like, it is always open.”
“So, what brought you to the Cirque?” Zach asked in a side-murmur, his arms crossed as he pretended to pay attention.
Kurt was showing them various perks of the workout gym-sauna, hot tub, personal lockers-when Chris sighed and whispered back, “I’m a gymnast.”
Zach could believe it. Without the book or railings to block his view, Zach could see the well-defined muscles of Chris’ arms through the white t-shirt. He had the built of a gymnast-although top-heavy, mostly.
“And before you ask,” Chris whispered hurriedly, “Yes, I’ve done it all my life, and no, I’ve never been to the Olympics.”
Zach looked at Chris squarely, trying to gauge the attitude of what was said. Perhaps it was bitterness he detected, or more annoyance when Chris was trying to pay attention to the orientation.
Which was lame, really. Karl and Zoe were chatting with each other, and other people had formed groups-even Joey and some dark-haired chick were whispering back and forth, which caused Zach to narrow his eyes-so honestly, Chris was the only one to actually be following the rules.
And that made things more delicious. Chris Pine was not only a quiet and shy nerd, but also by-the-book. Oh, Christ.
“Never cared for the Olympics, myself,” Zach muttered under his breath as they followed Kurt back into the hallway. “I mean, ogling, yes. Gorgeous bodies all around.”
At that Chris finally gave him a When did you grow a third head? look, but Zach didn’t stop there.
“I guess I was never into sports-“ Zach gestured to his own lean frame, “surprise, surprise. Was always more interested in the arts, obviously.”
Chris blinked as if he couldn’t believe that Zach was still talking to him. And yet, he didn’t move away or stand apart when they were shoulder-to-shoulder.
Zach clasped his hands behind his back as the group formed a single line through the costuming department. Kurt showed them the wonders of sequins and spandex and who their makeup people were, as men and women were at sewing machines repairing pieces of cloth. It looked sort of like a factory, in that there were so many people doing many things at once.
“I’m actually from Pittsburgh, by the way,” Zach continued, flicking a glance at the high ceiling of fluorescent lights. “Joey too, of course. We started doing theater at school when we were young, especially after our dad died. It was like they were giving us permission to act out, and it sort of became a nice outlet.”
“Do you always give your life story to strangers?” Chris whispered, but it sounded more curious than scandalized.
Zach pretended to be wounded. “Why, we’re not strangers. I mean, I know your name and you know mine.”
Chris turned his head and pondered that a moment. It was a soft look, like he was savoring the thought in his mouth.
“I got into gymnastics through school, too,” Chris responded. And while that was that, Zach was smiling, anyway.
They were all squeezing into a series of elevators. As Zach leaned against the wall of one, he was pleasantly surprised when Chris followed to stand next to him, although in silence.
)O(
“There will be no hand-holding, no babysitting,” the bald, stocky choreographer said in a thick accent. “You’re all here because you are among the best in your fields. The Cirque is demanding of people like you, and it’s your choice whether to rise to the challenge.”
It was one of those aggressive pep talks that Zach was never fond of. He’d heard it too many times before in other acts and in school-too much authority for his tastes. And yet there was something within him that wanted to bare his teeth and bite back, prove to this incredibly-short leotard dude that him and Joey were worth something; worth throwing back that pointed finger and making the choreographer shove it up his ass.
But Zach looked over at Joey, who of course was terrified. His brother was not only overly sensitive, but also a people-pleaser to a fault. Zach had thought more than once that Ma had given Joey all the sympathy genes, while Zach was bone dry with apathy.
“Now, I’m going to evaluate all of you.” The choreographer-Louis, of course-looked over at Zach and Joey. “You guys, too.”
Zach stood up right away, wanting to march to the head of the line. He wasn’t scared of this. Out of all the things in the world, the one thing he was confident about was his abilities on stage-he could act and dance with the best of them, if need be.
But instead of a contest, Louis had them line against the far wall and run towards him several times. This varied with different things-in one Zach had to act like a snake and slither across the floor, and in another he had to be a charging and dangerous tiger. They all looked pretty ridiculous, honestly, especially John who was revealed to be a singer and actor for the show, not a high-flying acrobat.
And through it all, Zach couldn’t gauge Louis’ reactions. His face was stoic as if he were looking at a field of daisies, not a few dozen performers acting like rubber balls-the latter of which left him doing too many forward rolls and bumping into Joey, but it was all good fun. Joey’s face was red and laughing, while even Chris on the other side of the line had bumped into Eric, and they were giggling too.
“Now, at the Cirque, the reason we demand so much is because we know you’re capable.” Louis counted off the points on his hand. “We demand creativity, artistry, ingenuity, passion, and drive-not only because it makes our shows better, but also because that’s what the audience expects from us. They not only come for the acrobatics-they come for the experience that only the Cirque offers.”
Zach had watched some of the shows with Joey, and he supposed the Cirque was unique in creating a world. It wasn’t just artistry or acrobats, but an entirely new language and method of storytelling that drove the Cirque to be what it was.
“We’ve created a basic concept for the show, with a basic story. But what will make it amazing is the talent. Your guys’ ability to interpret and perform that story, to make it into something new-that’s what people are paying to see.”
Zach raised a brow. He had sort of assumed he would be given lines like an actor, but this was way more exciting.
“The show will be based on la chasse-galerie-to our foreigners, it’s a story about a flying canoe. Very popular here. It’s about a group of French voyagers who get drunk on New Year’s Eve and make a pact with the devil.” Louis grinned at Zach. “Not new territory for you, is it, boys?”
Zach held up his hands in a you got me, and the group laughed.
“These hunters, far from their sweethearts, decide they want to visit them on New Year’s Eve. It is very far away, though, and they all have to work in the morning. So they make a pact with the devil to get there in time and come back.”
“Totally the first thing I’d do,” Zach piped up, and everyone laughed, even Louis.
“Ah, yes-the Quinto story over here. Anyway, the catch is, they can fly in their canoe- but they must not touch any church steeples on the way there. They must steer perfectly and not hit anything, or the devil gets to claim their souls.” Louis shrugged. “Naturally, they party and get drunk and lose their souls.”
Zach nodded along-sounded like they had a good life, anyhow.
“There are many variations of this story, but they all have a few things in common, and they are all things that strike at the heart of the Cirque. History, imagination-“ Louis grinned at all of them, “and most importantly, magic.”
Or insanity. But however a person viewed it, this story had all the usual Cirque elements that Zach was aware of: A journey, weird supernatural beings, and a sense of folly and the ridiculous. Granted, the stories usually ended happily, but the rest of the tale fit the bill.
“Now, the Quinto brothers will be our voyagers-it’ll be up to you whether they go to hell or not. Better start bribing, boys.” There was laughter as Louis pointed to the back. “Over there is John Cho, the principal singer of the show. We’re still trying to find another vocalist to accompany him, but he can be your devil.” Louis then pointed to everyone else. “You guys, however, are the glue. You may not be actors or the central characters, but all of you are just as important. Even more so, because it is your guys’ acts that Quinto-Squared and Cho will bounce off from-it’s you they will be reacting to. They need you.”
Zach looked around and saw everyone else doing the same, with all the athletes sizing each other up. While Zach was convinced he could put on a one-hour show, he didn’t exactly want to do things alone. It was always more fun with other people in tow.
Louis gave them all a soft smile-maybe a wicked smile. “We move fast here at the Cirque. So, hmm-“ Louis looked at his watch, “I’ll give you guys a lunch break, so you can think things through. But when we come back, we’ll start discussing your ideas for your parts of the show. Oh-and introduce you to your equipment, of course.”
As Louis clapped his hands together in finality, there was a slight rumble of apprehension from the abrupt change of pace. Joey joined them, but Zach could only grin.
“See you guys in an hour!” Louis said cheerfully and waved, then walked out of the gym.
Sadistic bastard. An hour was sixty minutes… now turned fifty-nine. No sweat there, Louis.
Zach looked over at Joey, who had predictably started to turn pale.
“Joey, we’ve got this.” Zach gave him his widest, most-assured grin. “We’re fucking rock stars, remember?”
Joey apparently didn’t, as he looked at Zach with wide eyes. Which would be adorable if they weren’t facing a deadline.
To bring Joey out of himself, Zach grabbed him by the shoulders and moved him towards the cafeteria, where many of the other performers had gathered to pretend to eat lunch. The whole group wound up sitting at the same wooden table, with Karl and Bruce in the middle to start conversation.
“Now kids, don’t panic,” Bruce started, standing up to gain control of the group. “All that Louis wants is ideas. They don’t need to be perfection. They just need to be genuine and show that your brain is churning.”
“Nobody can come up with the perfect act in a day, much less an hour,” Karl concurred. “You’ll get some direction, too.”
Zach knew it was all meant to be reassuring, but instead people started to bend heads towards each other, tentatively whispering their ideas. All except Chris at the far end of the table, picking at his broccoli with intense concentration.
Zach could see the groups forming already. Which made sense-not everyone could have a solo act. Zoe chatted with Eric and a few younger girls, exchanging ideas. Karl and Bruce listened to her intently, then asked Anton for his input.
Nobody seemed to include Chris. It almost made Zach stand up with his tray, but then John sat down next to them.
“They haven’t even handed me my music yet,” John started in complaint, then popped a chip in his mouth. “All I know is that it’s some sort of dreamy and ambient shit.”
Zach nodded absently at that-then an idea seized him and his focus.
“Hey, you know… this is an adaptation, right?” Zach saw John nod. “We can do whatever we want. So you don’t really have to be the devil. If your music is ‘dreamy’, then why can’t you be like a sandman instead?”
John lit up at the idea. “Sure, why not?”
“Joey and I could still be the voyagers, drunk off our asses in the flying canoe.” Zach winced-he hoped the canoe wouldn’t really fly. He wasn’t a fan of wires and heights. “If you’re a sandman, then you could send us visions. And since we’re drunk, we won’t be able to tell whether they’re real or not.” Zach gave a smile to Joey. “We have the stupefied, bumbling idiot thing down pat, don’t we, Joe?”
Joey huffed a laugh, but the raise of his brows showed he wanted to be serious. “It’s got to have heart, though. We can be funny and bumbling, but we need to have transformation. You know, of the characters. All the Cirque shows have that.”
It was a good point. Zach rested his chin on his water bottle, hands clenched around it as he thought out loud. “So what would drive two handsome men, such as ourselves, to get drunk alone on New Year’s Eve? I mean, assuming they don’t add any female actresses, it’d just be us.”
“Have you ever been married?” John asked, and Joey giggled from his tone alone. “That’s probably why you’re off getting drunk.”
Zach snapped a finger at them. “Dissatisfaction. You know, we’re doing the same old thing with our lives-hunting shit, whatever it is-day in and day out. We might have been married for ages and have kids, and we’re bored now. So we go off to the woods to get drunk and have a good time. But it’s during this changing point of the year, the New Year, when people can start anew.”
John nodded, following along. “As the sandman, maybe I’ll get you guys to reconsider your boring-ass lives.”
Someone cleared their throat next to Zach, and all three of them turned towards the rest of the table-which, strangely, was watching them.
Bruce smiled. “I like it. Our acts will show the two bored and discontent voyagers the craziness of life.”
Zoe clapped her hands in glee. “Oh my god, we could be like sirens. Luring the voyagers to something exciting, to leave their old lives behind.”
Joey perked up next to Zach. “Whenever they get the other singer, maybe they could be trying to get the voyagers to go home.” Joey tilted his head towards John. “So he could be the devil on one shoulder, while the other person is the angel.”
John snorted. “What, I’m not angelic enough for you?”
Everyone laughed, but there was a hum of agreement around the table. Zach smiled at Joey for the fantastic idea-and also with a tad bit of pride for speaking up, too.
As everyone bent back to their partners to discuss further ideas, Zach’s eyes somehow found the blue ones at the end of the table. Zach wasn’t sure what to make of it until Chris gave him a shy smile, one that seemed to approve of Joey’s idea, too.
“I wonder when I’ll get my music.” John clucked his tongue. “Well, until then, can I hang with you guys? See what you come up with.”
Zach barely tore his eyes away to nod, idly thinking about what Chris would have up his sleeve.
)O(
Reconvening after lunch proved not to be as daunting as Joey feared. Zach could’ve told him as much, but Joey wore nerves like a third limb. It caused Zach to take mercy as he explained the group’s idea to Louis-which Louis seemed to begrudgingly approve-without making Joey explain his part.
After touring all the various apparatuses-there was a trampoline that Zach struggled not to jump on with glee-Louis let them all have time to breathe. Which meant giving them a few hours to disperse and come up with the beginnings of their individual acts.
Sadistic bastard, indeed.
“See you around,” Joey said as he waved to a petite chick with a familiar short bob-and if Zach remembered correctly, was the dark-haired woman Joey had been talking to at orientation.
Zach gave Joey a questioning look, and Joey answered with a shrug.
“Hey, Zach,” a soft voice said behind them, which made Zach turn around.
Surprisingly it was Chris, who held a water bottle nervously with both hands.
“Good luck with coming up with stuff,” Chris said as Zach gaped at him. “You guys had really great ideas. See you around?”
As Chris gave a small wave and walked away, it was Joey’s turn to give Zach a stern look. Too bad Zach didn’t have an explanation, either.
“Okay fellas, I’ll sit over here,” John announced from a stack of rolled up mats serving as a makeshift perch. “I want to get an idea of what you both have in mind.”
Joey looked nervous, but Zach shrugged. He didn’t really mind an audience, as he didn’t really mind people seeing him think off the top of his head. Maybe if he cared about what other people thought of him, it’d be different. But unlike Joey, who was always self-conscious of saying the wrong thing, Zach didn’t give a fuck how others saw him.
And anyway, part of being a clown was interacting with the audience. John being around made that easier.
Zach dragged Joey off the metaphorical stage, then set a new skin on himself. This was the fun part of acting-the part of making the audience believe whatever he wanted. Truth be told, pretending to be a drunk asshole wasn’t that much of a stretch.
He turned and stumbled onto the stage, ignoring John just a few feet from him. Zach tipped up a pretend bottle in his hand, pointing at the ceiling as if there were fireworks.
“Whoa!” It was a nondescript sound. Cirque language was basically gibberish, which was basically being drunk, anyhow.
Joey followed his lead, stumbling after him with his own pretend bottle. They hung off each other, laughing like fools and pointing at the imaginary night sky, then fell flat on their bottoms.
Joey made a real oof as Zach surprised him with that bit of physical comedy-Zach’s favorite kind, really. Joey should’ve beaten him to the punch and kicked him in the shin.
“Oh!” Zach said, holding up his bottle and miming to flip it over, showing it was empty as hell. Joey responded with a sad face and flipped over his own. As they did this, Zach noticed out of the corner of his eye that John moved behind them.
Good. The sooner they formed a rapport with John, the better. Zach made a motion to steal Joey’s empty bottle away, when Zach felt the predictable tap on his shoulder.
“Nngh?” He jerked behind him, and John moved out of sight. Then he heard Joey beside him make a similar noise.
Ah, the sandman was a trickster. Good, that was good.
Zach stumbled to his feet, pretending to be a hunter that was slightly spooked and looking around. Joey joined him, and in the process of backing up and looking around, they of course backed into each other.
“A-a-ah!” Joey drew out as both of them pretended to be scared out of their wits-including an old parlor trick, which was Zach jumping into Joey’s arms.
Wide-eyed and huffing and clutching Joey’s neck like a little girl, Zach heard the welcome rumble of laughter around him. He didn’t focus on who it was, meeting Joey’s eyes before Joey threw up his arms in surprise, dropping Zach’s ass to the ground.
More laughter, more Zach rubbing his head in pretend confusion. But when Joey didn’t give him any cues-Joey, in fact, was looking off to the side at their audience-Zach snapped out of it, registering that in fact the whole troupe had come to watch them, Louis included.
Louis actually chuckled. “Very good. Polish that up. Think you can have a full act in the next few days?’
Zach was dubious, but he didn’t hesitate to say, “Of course.”
“Good.” Louis turned to all the performers. “This Friday, Guy Laliberté wants to see what you’re all capable of. Bring your A-game.”
Zach watched as everyone disbanded in a rush, obviously cognizant of the short deadline nipping at their heels. He glanced at everyone in turn until he caught Chris’ retreating form moving to the corner of the gymnasium. At some point Chris had changed into blue gym shorts and a gray t-shirt, showing off toned and muscled skin. More importantly, Chris looked like he didn’t register anyone else in the world, his eyes honing in on a long, black rope hanging from the ceiling.
As Zach watched Chris hoisting himself up-graceful even in that jerking motion-Zach didn’t realize he hadn’t breathed until John tapped him on the shoulder.
“Go again?” John asked, looking a tad nervous. “Three days, man. How many bit scenes do we need?”
Zach shook himself from his stupor, watching as John counted the groups formed in the gym.
“Four. Four different acts, it looks like. So one after each, and then a beginning and an end…”
Joey paled again as he contemplated the scope of it, sharing a look of horror with John. But Zach was still unpeturbed, now watching as Chris twisted the rope around his legs and let himself tumble from a great height.
“No sweat,” Zach said, tearing his gaze away. “Night and day, you guys. We’ll get it done.”
It would just have to get done, Zach wanted to add. But by then Joey was walking off and chatting with John, and there was no need to make things worse.
)O(
The next two days were a blur of routine. It was nice, actually, to be so entrenched in work. It certainly beat the previous week of ringing up cigarettes at the gas station, where Zach contemplated whether the boredom was worth blowing his brains out.
But at the Cirque it was eat, work, sleep. Very natural, in a way. Zach went to bed the last two nights and slept like a stone, content in dreaming.
Joey and John took up his world, and they even sat together during meals. Zach figured the other groups were doing the same, as they saw no one else they recognized in the cafeteria. Hopefully they were all eating-Zach caught glimpses of them in the gym, although the three of them had moved to a small conference room.
Slightly disappointing, really. But better for Zach’s concentration.
“That’s not too bad,” John said with hands on his waist, out of breath. They were rehearsing a middle scene, a comedic moment where the voyagers tried to play the same tapping-shoulder trick on the sandman. It didn’t work out quite that way, but John still wound up running around.
Zach nodded in agreement. They had six scenes, at least. Some were mediocre and needed retooling, but not bad for a few days short notice. Saturday Night Live had the same sort of deadlines, right? Zach wondered how they managed it.
“Let’s pick it up in the morning,” Joey offered, bent over with hands pressed to his knees. “My brain is fried. We can rehearse tomorrow before the head honcho gets here.”
Zach nodded again, his brain fried, too. His ass was also throbbing, as Joey had dropped him too many times that day.
“Agreed.” John straightened himself and cracked his back. “What is it, anyway-11:30? We can meet back at 7.”
Zach wanted to protest. But if Guy was coming in the afternoon-or even late morning-it would give them marginally enough time to go over each act. “Sure.”
“See ya later,” John said with an exhausted wave before heading out the door. The slit of hallway that appeared after his exit seemed brighter, fresher-the conference room suddenly stuffy and yellowed with lighting.
Zach had to leave. Now.
“Come on,” he said softly to Joey, who was already beating him to the door. And the hallway wasn’t even fresh, but at least free. No doors or walls to contain them, especially once they left the Cirque and made their way to their apartments, savoring the night air.
The city was beautiful with lights. Despite all the places Zach had been, Montréal still had something for him to see. Every place had its own way of lighting up from within, its own personality and way of life. As Zach pulled open the door to the IKEA building he glanced behind him, wondering if he’d ever make it into the city. Maybe he’d sleep through it at this rate, and that sounded like a shame.
“Catch you later,” Joey said quickly before taking off.
Zach opened his mouth to ask where the fuck he was going-Joey just didn’t do things on his own, like, ever-when he noticed that one of the white railings was occupied.
So they didn’t have any patios or decks, but that didn’t seem to matter to Chris, who was making do with a folded chair. The same one where Chris had read the paper that morning, and now seemed to be using it as a space to write. A large spiral notebook was balanced on his knee, nothing fancy-was he drawing, maybe? Zach couldn’t tell, as he was also preoccupied with the glasses sliding down Chris’ nose, caught on the bridge as Chris looked down to scribble on his hand, testing the ink.
He looked rather studious. Maybe he was planning his act… if that was possible in words.
“Hey,” Zach said quietly, against his will. But it would’ve been creepy to just lean on the railing and ogle Chris as he wrote in that notebook.
Chris jerked his head up, hand still poised over the lined page. The pen marks showed a messy cursive, and Zach couldn’t help but crane his head to make out the words.
“Hey, um-“ Chris flipped over the cover and slid his pen into the spiral ledge. “How are you?”
Zach huffed in exhaustion. “I feel like I could sleep a million years. You? How’s the act coming together?”
Chris also huffed in exhaustion, a strand of blond hair blowing away from his forehead. “Same. But it came together… somehow.”
Zach nodded in understanding, then fought off a yawn. He wanted to say something more-that it all happened by the grace of some benevolent deity, or whatever-but instead sat on the floor next to Chris. He just needed to sit, really, no matter what surface. When was the last time they had done that in the conference room?
Zach plopped down in a heap, accidentally bumping Chris’ knee with his arm in the process. As he rubbed his forehead, he turned to Chris to ask, “What time are you getting up tomorrow? Do we know when they’ll get here?”
A yawn bled through without Zach’s consent as Chris twisted away from him.
“No idea.” Chris’ eyes looked him over, like Zach was a drunk that reeked of stale beer. “I’m getting up near six, though.”
“God. Six?” Zach pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think I wore a Starbucks apron the last time that happened to me.”
“But it beats the apron, doesn’t it?”
Zach looked at him-really looked at him. Chris was wearing an expression that Zach couldn’t decipher, but perhaps it was amusement mixed with disdain.
He didn’t really need that shit. “I’m sure you athletes are used to it.”
Chris shrugged. “Yeah, I guess we are. Same with people who have normal jobs.”
Zach rolled his eyes. “What? You giving me a hard time?” He almost laughed at it, but instead leaned further away from Chris. “Yeah, you’ve pegged me. Just some old circus clown, over here. Don’t mind me as I do that abnormal acting shit for a living.”
Chris started an irritated laugh of his own, putting his hand up. “Whatever, man. Just saying.”
“What? That I shouldn’t bitch about the hour because I’m not wearing that green apron?”
Chris pinned him with the same amused look, but it was accompanied by a slight smile. Holier than thou?
“Have you ever worn a green apron for a living?” Zach returned the scrutiny. “Or-what? Been in college this entire time, living off scholarships?”
Chris’ slight smile turned hard, which was fantastic. Sometimes a weeknight needed to be punctuated with a good old-fashioned snippy fight.
But instead Chris looked down at his notebook, bent and worn with use. “Sorry. I’m just grateful I’m even here, that’s all.”
“And you don’t think I am?” Zach ratcheted up his voice, not meeting much with Chris’ diffusion. “I was working at a 7-Eleven last week, by the way. Trust me when I say I prefer this way better.”
But Chris only shook his head, gathering his things as he stood up. Which was not how this was supposed to go, and Zach’s bones creaked as he jumped to join him.
“What? No really-what?” Zach spread his hands out around him. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
Not that he really cared, but for some reason this sneaky guilt-nugget from Chris actually bugged him.
As Chris reached his glass door he turned to look at Zach, expression calm. It made Zach realize he perhaps sounded histrionic, if not definitely out of line.
“Look-sorry. I didn’t mean to make you defensive. Just…” and Chris glanced away from him. At what, Zach didn’t know, as he was struck on how tired Chris sounded. “This was my last shot.”
The honesty in the confession made Zach swallow, his eyes following Chris as he stepped through the glass door of his suite.
“Goodnight, Zach.”
Chris didn’t even wait for him-didn’t make sure he left. And thank goodness, as Zach stared at that door for a long time, zoning out the bright orange and green.
But the world felt dark, and Zach wondered what it was like to fall off the cliff for your dreams.
Masterlist | Act I (Part Two)
Masterlist: I ( One, Two) | II ( One, Two) | III ( One, Two) | IV ( One, Two)
ACT I
Driving to Montréal had never really been in Zach’s plans. Not that much of his life was planned-in this business, it was all about serendipity and faking it, after all-but there were things that could be unanticipated. Like rocketing to the moon in a cardboard box and discovering the damn thing was really made out of cheese.
Being called by the Cirque was like piercing the moon with a toothpick and taking a bite, that’s all.
“You think they’ll look at us, realize they made a huge mistake, and tell us to go home?”
Zach looked over at his brother, whose long legs were bouncing together like a jackhammer in concrete. Joey was already a goofy looking dude, with the gelled spikes of his mohawk brushing the wallpaper as he sat squished in a reception chair. But nothing was quite as awkward as the man’s anxiety-ridden and-truth be told-crippling social ineptness.
Zach had this covered. “Nah. If they do, we’ll break in like ninjas and leave a horse head in Guy Laliberté’s bed.”
He bit his lip at his brother’s predicted reaction, legs going still as Joey narrowed his eyes.
“You wouldn’t.”
And Joey was right, but it’s not like Joey knew about that time Zach left a hundred leeches on his ex-boyfriend’s bed, so.
“Well, we won’t have to worry about it, so you’ll never know,” Zach said confidently, although he felt anything but.
He was nervous, all right. This was a really big opportunity for them. All Zach could think about was the many years he had spent in subways and street corners, trying to juggle and sing and harass people for a buck.
But by age 25 that had grown really old. It was not romantic in the slightest, constantly worrying about Joey and the roof over their heads. Their mother, too, was not doing so well. It was a long list of problems that went through Zach’s mind every night. Their bills, their collectors, their dependents.
The only consolation was Zach’s love of performing. For a moment in time, when Zach wasn’t working at McDonald’s or at a gas station or trying to fit into retail, he could truly express himself.
Zach eyed his brother up and down, the wonderful and caring photographer hidden in a punk rock body, and he knew that Joey felt similar. Except his tattoos were easier to cover up, so Joey was a receptionist sometimes, or a waiter.
“Zachary Quinto, Joseph Quinto,” a deep voice said to their left, and they both jerked their heads.
The man wore a gray t-shirt and black jeans, the friendly smile not seemingly contrived-not that Zach gave a shit either way. A job was a job. But the man led them into a spacious room and motioned to a few chairs, not even bothering to close the door.
“Have a seat, gentlemen.”
The office was anything but typical-but the organization itself was anything but typical. For one, in any other job, the manager would be wearing a suit in a white office or cubicle, likely bored with the process. The plastic chairs would hurt Zach’s ass, the tie around his neck about to choke him to death. It’d already be like prison, except Zach would get a short reprieve afterwards.
Instead this guy had a sexy French accent, sitting on the opposite side of his glass table-top desk, the chairs able to swivel. And Zach spread his legs in cut-offs and flip-flops, looking around at the various Cirque posters on the wall.
Joey, of course, had chastised him for the flip-flops. And maybe he had a point, as Joey’s jeans and white t-shirt looked in way better shape than Zach’s red-striped tank top.
“It is good to finally meet you. I am a fan of Carnival Diablo, and I heard you both were in their production for a time.”
The best year of their lives, for sure.
“It was a lot of fun.” Zach had gotten laid more during that year than in any other. The knife-throwing in Victorian garb had been an unexpected sex magnet-not that he had complained.
“I am Kurt, your advisor.” He handed them each gray folders, which Joey took eagerly while Zach balanced his on a knee. “You will find your itinerary for the week inside.”
Kurt looked easy-going enough, but Zach inwardly cringed at itinerary. However, Joey got off on that sort of thing, and of course he was already rifling through the contents.
“We get a free DVD? Cool,” Joey said excitedly, God bless him.
“We like our performers to be well-versed in the Cirque.” At that, Kurt finally turned to Zach and eyed him carefully. “We are not here to impose limits or hold hands, merely to expand your horizons.”
And the Cirque could certainly do just that. While Zach and Joey had been in several different troupes, the Cirque could open the door to other shows, other venues-maybe even something permanent in Vegas.
That would be nice. Permanence. Although Zach wouldn’t lie-he loved the vagabond lifestyle for the one aspect of being free, untied to anywhere or anyone.
Kurt smiled at both of them. “Welcome to the Cirque.”
Zach finally looked at the itinerary, pulling out his copy of Quidam. According to their schedule they would get settled in at their apartments, then head on over to the medical facilities for a physical, then eat a communal dinner in the cafeteria.
It was like fucking band camp, or something.
“We’re so happy to be here,” Joey gushed, and Zach lifted his gaze to see his fidgeting brother. “I’ve seen stuff on Bravo and I just love it. It’s really an honor.”
“We are only as good as our performers, so we are happy to have your talent.”
Zach knew this was the time to pipe up, and so he straightened himself to say, “I’m honored, as well. Nobody understands street performers quite like you guys.”
And it was true. In every other circus the clown wore garish makeup and made children cry from creepiness. But Zach had always been more interested in the performance art of it-illusion, commentary on the human condition, story-telling. In every Cirque show he’d seen, it was if the organization understood that completely, knew the high art of being a clown.
But there was that sticking point-organization. It made Zach’s skin crawl.
“I can show you to your apartments-?”
Zach put out a hand. “I think we saw that building on our way in. Right across the street?” The one that looked like IKEA furniture-not that Zach would say that out loud.
“Yes.” Kurt’s smile was incredibly bright and wide, and Zach wondered how bilingual he truly was. Did people think in French and then translate, or was it the other way around? “Here is your identification to get in. Again, welcome to the Cirque. I look forward to working with you.”
“Likewise.” And Zach meant it. He gave a little wave as he pushed Joey out the door, trying to keep his brother’s squeaking and gushing to a minimum.
But Joey actually kept quiet as they made their way down the colorful hall, and even as they traversed several flights of steps. It wasn’t until they crossed the street to their IKEA building that he spoke up, hugging the gray folder to his chest.
“They really wanted us,” he said in hushed tones, still in awe of their circumstances. “I can’t believe it.”
Zach had to show the security guard their badges, then made Joey find the number to their suite. When they entered their small studio apartment-not the grandest of spaces, but the nicest they’ve ever been in, for sure-Zach wouldn’t let on that he could hardly believe their luck, either.
)O(
After the physicals, Joey actually spent their free time unpacking their duffel bags and shoving shit into drawers; which was just as well, since Zach would’ve lived out of a bag the next six months. As Joey was organizing the bathroom, lining up toothbrushes and combs, he chatted away excitedly.
“We need to tour the building. It looks so massive from the outside. I guess that makes sense, considering they have gyms and performances spaces and costumers and executives-“
Zach closed his eyes, trying for a moment of shut-eye. Maybe it was longer than he thought, for he awoke suddenly with a poke to his thigh.
“Dinner’s on right now. We should go get something to eat.” Joey peered down at Zach with a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll catch you up on more annoying prattle on the way there.”
Zach winced. “Sorry. Just tired. You know I didn’t sleep well on the drive here.”
“Yeah, I know.” Joey offered a hand. “Bed early-no drinking.”
Zach opened his mouth at Joey’s chastising finger, but closed it without a word. They knew each other too well, after all. On their way here, Zach had counted the bars and nightclubs within walking distance.
But Zach felt weary as he closed the suite door behind him, bright green and orange behind a glass door-a bit too peppy for his tastes. The whole dormitory was like some modern architectural show piece, something fancy for an ad agency-not that Zach had ever been in one, but it fit his imaginings. There was a bright and open atrium in the center, going up several floors to a glass ceiling. It was surrounded by white railings, and Zach and Joey followed them down to the ground floor
The cafeteria had signs and arrows pointing towards it-actually, every part of the building had a sign with multi-lingual maps on the walls. Forget an ad agency, it was like a college for weird and directionless people.
But the cafeteria was cozy. Carpeted and trying to avoid stark whiteness, it had long tables of wood and red plush ropes for the food lines. Perhaps… like a Ponderosa Steakhouse. Except the food seemed better-which made sense for athletes, really. Zach looked over at his brother’s tray, noticing all the vegan options, Joey’s preferred diet.
“Zach, Zaaaach.” Joey pointed at red cubes of Jell-O. “Look!”
Yeah, Zach loved that shit. The last time he had cubed Jell-O was when they weren’t dirt-poor-which would’ve been a few years ago with that café job. Zach had dished out lattes and snark like a pro.
But here they didn’t have to pay. They were both able to load up their trays-maybe a bit too heavy, but who was going to stop them?-and turned around towards the filling tables of performers and athletes.
There were plenty of empty tables. Joey almost steered them towards one before Zach took the lead and sat them at the end of a large, boisterous group.
Joey ducked his head and whispered, “Zach?”
But he paid no mind, tearing apart a dinner roll with his fingers. “Trust me, Joey. You wanna make friends, don’t you?”
And Joey was shit at it-had always been shit at it. Joey’s friends were usually Zach’s friends, despite Joey being an awesome dude. Just a little quiet and too self-conscious. But thankfully Zach compensated enough for the both of them.
“Hey!” said someone from the far end of the table. He had a square, tanned face, and a strange mixture of accent to boot. “Come on over, we don’t bite.”
“Hard,” said a dark-skinned woman beside him with a smirk, and Zach smiled at the over-used joke. Sometimes you needed them for an icebreaker.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Zach said as he slid over his tray, sitting next to another ridiculously tanned dude. Was everyone stupidly attractive here, or what?
Joey looked at him pleadingly across the table. Sometimes Zach would just drop Joey into a group to make his own conversations, sink or swim, but tonight would not be one of those nights.
“I’m Zach Quinto, and this is my brother Joe. We’re up here from Arizona.”
All eyes were on him, and the man next to the woman grinned.
“I’m Karl Urban, up from Los Angeles-though I haven’t been there for a while.” He pointed at people around the table. “Next to me is the lovely Zoe Saldana.”
She gave a cute shrug of her shoulder and smiled at Joey. “Nice to meet you.”
“That asshole over there is John Cho.”
The dark-haired Asian gave a one-finger salute to Karl. “Hey, guys.”
“Next to your bro over there is Anton Yelchin, our high-flyer from New York.”
The curly-haired kid, perhaps no older than his teens, gave them a closed-mouth smile and said, “Hi,” and sounded nothing like his name.
“Next to you, Zach, is Eric Bana. Obviously the eye candy of the show.”
Eric blushed and ducked his head, apparently too modest for the compliment. Zach loved and loathed those too-sweet types.
“Nice to meet you,” Zach said softly when Eric didn’t, as Eric was too busy being an adorably-embarrassed kitten.
“And at the far end is Grandpa Moses.”
“Fuck you.”
Karl shrugged nonchalantly, as obviously an old game was playing out. “Sorry, my bad-Bruce Greenwood. He’s been here since the dawn of time or something.”
“You’re not much younger than me, you know.” Bruce gave a finger wag. “You’ve been in a few Cirque shows yourself.”
“Veterans?” Zach asked. Partially to be genuinely interested, but also to see if there was any experience he could gleam from the two.
Karl rolled his eyes. “Don’t get Bruce started. It’ll involve walking barefoot in the snow uphill or something.”
“With beavers as snowshoes,” Zoe added helpfully.
“Hey, I’ve known Guy since the Ste-Croix days.” Bruce took a bite of a burger. “Been following him around ever since.”
Zach assumed that was a long time ago, as the other name rang no bells. “Yeah? So what’s Guy like?”
“An asshole,” Bruce said matter-of-factly. “But he’ll do it in French, so you can just ignore it.”
Zoe leaned towards Zach with a patient look. “He means that he’s a business man. Gets stuff done.”
“He runs a tight ship, so don’t think you can slack.” Bruce sipped from a bottle. “What was your guy’s last show?”
There was a part of Zach that wanted to tell the old man to fuck off, but it had all been useful advice. “After Carnival Diablo we did Burning Man for a few years. Kind of wandered between the tourist shit near the Grand Canyon and Taos in the down-time.” He pointed over at Joey. “Joe’s a part-time photographer. He got a show in one of the Taos galleries.”
Zoe and Eric appropriately oohed, bless them. Joey turned an interesting shade of red at the ears.
“What’s your focus?” Eric asked in dulcet tones and his own weird accent. Even from profile he was too handsome, and Zach hoped he wasn’t staring too much.
“Um, well,” Joey stammered, unused to being the focus of attention. “I like portraits.”
“What sorts of people?” Zoe followed up, and Zach wondered if Joey would die from the sudden spotlight.
“Nature.” Joey gave a sheepish grin. “I like to show that nature has a human face, you know? Like squirrels grooming each other, or a dog basking in the sun.”
Zach inwardly smiled, warmed at his brother’s enthusiasm for his subject. Animals were near and dear to his heart. Not that Zach didn’t like dogs and cats and things, but cows were tasty. Joey, on the other hand, saw that the cow sent to slaughter had a backstory of families and trials and tribulations and cried over PETA photos.
“That’s… nice,” Zoe said with a kind smile. “Do you have any of your art with you?”
“Oh yeah,” Joey said, with hands in motion as he talked. “I have a whole portfolio in my room.” He glanced at Zach. “With some help, I was thinking of putting my stuff online.”
Zach had been urging it for ages. Granted, domain names and space cost money, but in this case it would be money well-spent. But Joey had a hard time wrapping his mind around the Internet, instead focusing on galleries and little art fairs to show his work.
Zach turned to Zoe. “He also does landscapes, but with the same deal. They’re really very cool.”
It wasn’t a lie. Joey had a talent for bringing out the personality of any subject, even if it was a fallen tree in a lush and healthy forest. That scene had been titled “Funeral”, the gray and blanched bark in contrast with vibrant greens.
Zoe gave a thoughtful pout. “I’d love to see it.”
At that, Joey was off to a roll, and Zach was glad. While Joey sometimes beat himself up for sounding stupid, Zach wished he could only hear himself. Granted, it was dorky, but Zoe and Eric’s attentions weren’t false. People of passion were always captivating.
Zach tuned it out though, watching people around the table. It was his turn to be quiet, since Joey was dominating the nearby conversation, and Karl and Bruce were a bit too far away. John was listening to the latter, then got up suddenly to dump his empty tray.
It was following this motion that Zach noticed the rest of the cafeteria. People were in clusters, although it didn’t seem like only acrobats or dancers solely hung out together. Not that Zach could probably tell-everyone seemed fit and muscular at the Cirque, and Zach resolved to start hitting the gym tomorrow. But with everyone stupidly fit, maybe it was that people hung out together by show, or by years of working together-who knew?
Except… Zach took a last hurried bite of his food and got up with his tray, a target suddenly in sight.
“Be right back,” he said to no one in particular and didn’t care if it registered. He was going to go to the farthest trash can to harass the sole occupant of a long wooden table, a blond dude who was reading a book with dinner, for fuck’s sake.
As Zach neared him, he noticed the dark-framed glasses sliding down the most average of noses, stuck in a copy of The Hobbit. Which was obnoxious and literately-nerdy, and frankly had to be stopped.
“Hello,” Zach said as he dumped his tray with a loud bang, hopefully to rouse the reader. “Good book?”
The blond gave him a quick side-eye-blue eyes, nice. “Yep.”
And that was it. Yep. Zach could feel the tingle in his arms and legs with the promise of being able to embarrass and pester this shy, nerdy dude. Zach could barely contain his excitement.
He was a heat-sinking missile for these types. As much as Joey begged him not to, it felt like his mission in life to prod and poke the quiet ones, like a Shy-Person Whisperer. Really, Joey should be thanking him, as Zach now had a new project besides his brother to bother and torment.
But Nerdy Dude was not being helpful in the slightest, already going back to his book. What, didn’t everyone already read The Hobbit by sixth grade? Maybe Zach could use his Gollum voice.
“I’m Zach Quinto,” he said normally, because the Shy Whisperer bridge would not be built on being a fucking weirdo. He’d save that once Nerdy Dude met Joey-and maybe Joey’s Magic the Gathering card collection, because there needed to be a sliding scale for these things.
But it took a while for a reply. Not that Zach expected anything different. He was able to count the number of panels on the ceiling before Nerdy Dude gave him an annoyed glance.
“Chris Pine,” Nerdy Dude said, still holding up his book in defense.
“Nice to meet you, Chris.” And Zach thought, for icing on the cake, he would extend his hand for a cordial handshake. Which was met begrudgingly.
Chris tried a tight smile. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“See you around,” Zach said in departure as a promise of further torments-and maybe, if he was lucky, for the handsome blue-eyed Chris Pine to notice his ass.
Zach sat back at his table, a heated fight about Star Wars characters brewing-which Joey had all sorts of facts and tidbits to argue with, of course-and ignored the other end of the cafeteria for the rest of the night.
)O(
Zach would not ignore Chris Pine for long, however. There were too many tantalizing options to start an irritating plan of attack. One was the fact that Chris’ suite was on the same floor as theirs, across the other side of the atrium. Another was that Chris liked to take his morning coffee and newspaper while sitting near the white railings, glancing down occasionally at the ground floor. Which was intriguing in itself, as the paper didn’t seem to be in English, and the hallways barely left him room and privacy to sit.
But Zach chose a more limited arena first, one which Chris couldn’t escape by either book or exit.
“Over here is the main rehearsal area and gymnasium,” said Kurt from yesterday, followed by two other interpreters in what sounded like French and Chinese. “You will be meeting the main choreographer in here, and also performing rough drafts of the production.”
“So,” Zach whispered as he moseyed up to Chris, catching him unaware. “Where are you from?”
Chris gave him a surprised turn of the head, then looked back at Kurt as they were all led into the hall. Zach started to form a new question when Chris answered, “Los Angeles.”
Good. “Born and raised there?”
Chris gave him another annoyed look, but Zach barreled on. “Lived out there for a while. With Joe, my brother.” Zach pointed Joey out, although Chris likely wasn’t looking. “Did a few odds and ends out there, some busking on the boulevard.” Zach watched Chris’ profile, the blue eyes in rapt attention of the orientation.
“…And here is one of three weight rooms.” Kurt waved his arms at the huge expanse of gray-carpeted space. “You can use this whenever you like, it is always open.”
“So, what brought you to the Cirque?” Zach asked in a side-murmur, his arms crossed as he pretended to pay attention.
Kurt was showing them various perks of the workout gym-sauna, hot tub, personal lockers-when Chris sighed and whispered back, “I’m a gymnast.”
Zach could believe it. Without the book or railings to block his view, Zach could see the well-defined muscles of Chris’ arms through the white t-shirt. He had the built of a gymnast-although top-heavy, mostly.
“And before you ask,” Chris whispered hurriedly, “Yes, I’ve done it all my life, and no, I’ve never been to the Olympics.”
Zach looked at Chris squarely, trying to gauge the attitude of what was said. Perhaps it was bitterness he detected, or more annoyance when Chris was trying to pay attention to the orientation.
Which was lame, really. Karl and Zoe were chatting with each other, and other people had formed groups-even Joey and some dark-haired chick were whispering back and forth, which caused Zach to narrow his eyes-so honestly, Chris was the only one to actually be following the rules.
And that made things more delicious. Chris Pine was not only a quiet and shy nerd, but also by-the-book. Oh, Christ.
“Never cared for the Olympics, myself,” Zach muttered under his breath as they followed Kurt back into the hallway. “I mean, ogling, yes. Gorgeous bodies all around.”
At that Chris finally gave him a When did you grow a third head? look, but Zach didn’t stop there.
“I guess I was never into sports-“ Zach gestured to his own lean frame, “surprise, surprise. Was always more interested in the arts, obviously.”
Chris blinked as if he couldn’t believe that Zach was still talking to him. And yet, he didn’t move away or stand apart when they were shoulder-to-shoulder.
Zach clasped his hands behind his back as the group formed a single line through the costuming department. Kurt showed them the wonders of sequins and spandex and who their makeup people were, as men and women were at sewing machines repairing pieces of cloth. It looked sort of like a factory, in that there were so many people doing many things at once.
“I’m actually from Pittsburgh, by the way,” Zach continued, flicking a glance at the high ceiling of fluorescent lights. “Joey too, of course. We started doing theater at school when we were young, especially after our dad died. It was like they were giving us permission to act out, and it sort of became a nice outlet.”
“Do you always give your life story to strangers?” Chris whispered, but it sounded more curious than scandalized.
Zach pretended to be wounded. “Why, we’re not strangers. I mean, I know your name and you know mine.”
Chris turned his head and pondered that a moment. It was a soft look, like he was savoring the thought in his mouth.
“I got into gymnastics through school, too,” Chris responded. And while that was that, Zach was smiling, anyway.
They were all squeezing into a series of elevators. As Zach leaned against the wall of one, he was pleasantly surprised when Chris followed to stand next to him, although in silence.
)O(
“There will be no hand-holding, no babysitting,” the bald, stocky choreographer said in a thick accent. “You’re all here because you are among the best in your fields. The Cirque is demanding of people like you, and it’s your choice whether to rise to the challenge.”
It was one of those aggressive pep talks that Zach was never fond of. He’d heard it too many times before in other acts and in school-too much authority for his tastes. And yet there was something within him that wanted to bare his teeth and bite back, prove to this incredibly-short leotard dude that him and Joey were worth something; worth throwing back that pointed finger and making the choreographer shove it up his ass.
But Zach looked over at Joey, who of course was terrified. His brother was not only overly sensitive, but also a people-pleaser to a fault. Zach had thought more than once that Ma had given Joey all the sympathy genes, while Zach was bone dry with apathy.
“Now, I’m going to evaluate all of you.” The choreographer-Louis, of course-looked over at Zach and Joey. “You guys, too.”
Zach stood up right away, wanting to march to the head of the line. He wasn’t scared of this. Out of all the things in the world, the one thing he was confident about was his abilities on stage-he could act and dance with the best of them, if need be.
But instead of a contest, Louis had them line against the far wall and run towards him several times. This varied with different things-in one Zach had to act like a snake and slither across the floor, and in another he had to be a charging and dangerous tiger. They all looked pretty ridiculous, honestly, especially John who was revealed to be a singer and actor for the show, not a high-flying acrobat.
And through it all, Zach couldn’t gauge Louis’ reactions. His face was stoic as if he were looking at a field of daisies, not a few dozen performers acting like rubber balls-the latter of which left him doing too many forward rolls and bumping into Joey, but it was all good fun. Joey’s face was red and laughing, while even Chris on the other side of the line had bumped into Eric, and they were giggling too.
“Now, at the Cirque, the reason we demand so much is because we know you’re capable.” Louis counted off the points on his hand. “We demand creativity, artistry, ingenuity, passion, and drive-not only because it makes our shows better, but also because that’s what the audience expects from us. They not only come for the acrobatics-they come for the experience that only the Cirque offers.”
Zach had watched some of the shows with Joey, and he supposed the Cirque was unique in creating a world. It wasn’t just artistry or acrobats, but an entirely new language and method of storytelling that drove the Cirque to be what it was.
“We’ve created a basic concept for the show, with a basic story. But what will make it amazing is the talent. Your guys’ ability to interpret and perform that story, to make it into something new-that’s what people are paying to see.”
Zach raised a brow. He had sort of assumed he would be given lines like an actor, but this was way more exciting.
“The show will be based on la chasse-galerie-to our foreigners, it’s a story about a flying canoe. Very popular here. It’s about a group of French voyagers who get drunk on New Year’s Eve and make a pact with the devil.” Louis grinned at Zach. “Not new territory for you, is it, boys?”
Zach held up his hands in a you got me, and the group laughed.
“These hunters, far from their sweethearts, decide they want to visit them on New Year’s Eve. It is very far away, though, and they all have to work in the morning. So they make a pact with the devil to get there in time and come back.”
“Totally the first thing I’d do,” Zach piped up, and everyone laughed, even Louis.
“Ah, yes-the Quinto story over here. Anyway, the catch is, they can fly in their canoe- but they must not touch any church steeples on the way there. They must steer perfectly and not hit anything, or the devil gets to claim their souls.” Louis shrugged. “Naturally, they party and get drunk and lose their souls.”
Zach nodded along-sounded like they had a good life, anyhow.
“There are many variations of this story, but they all have a few things in common, and they are all things that strike at the heart of the Cirque. History, imagination-“ Louis grinned at all of them, “and most importantly, magic.”
Or insanity. But however a person viewed it, this story had all the usual Cirque elements that Zach was aware of: A journey, weird supernatural beings, and a sense of folly and the ridiculous. Granted, the stories usually ended happily, but the rest of the tale fit the bill.
“Now, the Quinto brothers will be our voyagers-it’ll be up to you whether they go to hell or not. Better start bribing, boys.” There was laughter as Louis pointed to the back. “Over there is John Cho, the principal singer of the show. We’re still trying to find another vocalist to accompany him, but he can be your devil.” Louis then pointed to everyone else. “You guys, however, are the glue. You may not be actors or the central characters, but all of you are just as important. Even more so, because it is your guys’ acts that Quinto-Squared and Cho will bounce off from-it’s you they will be reacting to. They need you.”
Zach looked around and saw everyone else doing the same, with all the athletes sizing each other up. While Zach was convinced he could put on a one-hour show, he didn’t exactly want to do things alone. It was always more fun with other people in tow.
Louis gave them all a soft smile-maybe a wicked smile. “We move fast here at the Cirque. So, hmm-“ Louis looked at his watch, “I’ll give you guys a lunch break, so you can think things through. But when we come back, we’ll start discussing your ideas for your parts of the show. Oh-and introduce you to your equipment, of course.”
As Louis clapped his hands together in finality, there was a slight rumble of apprehension from the abrupt change of pace. Joey joined them, but Zach could only grin.
“See you guys in an hour!” Louis said cheerfully and waved, then walked out of the gym.
Sadistic bastard. An hour was sixty minutes… now turned fifty-nine. No sweat there, Louis.
Zach looked over at Joey, who had predictably started to turn pale.
“Joey, we’ve got this.” Zach gave him his widest, most-assured grin. “We’re fucking rock stars, remember?”
Joey apparently didn’t, as he looked at Zach with wide eyes. Which would be adorable if they weren’t facing a deadline.
To bring Joey out of himself, Zach grabbed him by the shoulders and moved him towards the cafeteria, where many of the other performers had gathered to pretend to eat lunch. The whole group wound up sitting at the same wooden table, with Karl and Bruce in the middle to start conversation.
“Now kids, don’t panic,” Bruce started, standing up to gain control of the group. “All that Louis wants is ideas. They don’t need to be perfection. They just need to be genuine and show that your brain is churning.”
“Nobody can come up with the perfect act in a day, much less an hour,” Karl concurred. “You’ll get some direction, too.”
Zach knew it was all meant to be reassuring, but instead people started to bend heads towards each other, tentatively whispering their ideas. All except Chris at the far end of the table, picking at his broccoli with intense concentration.
Zach could see the groups forming already. Which made sense-not everyone could have a solo act. Zoe chatted with Eric and a few younger girls, exchanging ideas. Karl and Bruce listened to her intently, then asked Anton for his input.
Nobody seemed to include Chris. It almost made Zach stand up with his tray, but then John sat down next to them.
“They haven’t even handed me my music yet,” John started in complaint, then popped a chip in his mouth. “All I know is that it’s some sort of dreamy and ambient shit.”
Zach nodded absently at that-then an idea seized him and his focus.
“Hey, you know… this is an adaptation, right?” Zach saw John nod. “We can do whatever we want. So you don’t really have to be the devil. If your music is ‘dreamy’, then why can’t you be like a sandman instead?”
John lit up at the idea. “Sure, why not?”
“Joey and I could still be the voyagers, drunk off our asses in the flying canoe.” Zach winced-he hoped the canoe wouldn’t really fly. He wasn’t a fan of wires and heights. “If you’re a sandman, then you could send us visions. And since we’re drunk, we won’t be able to tell whether they’re real or not.” Zach gave a smile to Joey. “We have the stupefied, bumbling idiot thing down pat, don’t we, Joe?”
Joey huffed a laugh, but the raise of his brows showed he wanted to be serious. “It’s got to have heart, though. We can be funny and bumbling, but we need to have transformation. You know, of the characters. All the Cirque shows have that.”
It was a good point. Zach rested his chin on his water bottle, hands clenched around it as he thought out loud. “So what would drive two handsome men, such as ourselves, to get drunk alone on New Year’s Eve? I mean, assuming they don’t add any female actresses, it’d just be us.”
“Have you ever been married?” John asked, and Joey giggled from his tone alone. “That’s probably why you’re off getting drunk.”
Zach snapped a finger at them. “Dissatisfaction. You know, we’re doing the same old thing with our lives-hunting shit, whatever it is-day in and day out. We might have been married for ages and have kids, and we’re bored now. So we go off to the woods to get drunk and have a good time. But it’s during this changing point of the year, the New Year, when people can start anew.”
John nodded, following along. “As the sandman, maybe I’ll get you guys to reconsider your boring-ass lives.”
Someone cleared their throat next to Zach, and all three of them turned towards the rest of the table-which, strangely, was watching them.
Bruce smiled. “I like it. Our acts will show the two bored and discontent voyagers the craziness of life.”
Zoe clapped her hands in glee. “Oh my god, we could be like sirens. Luring the voyagers to something exciting, to leave their old lives behind.”
Joey perked up next to Zach. “Whenever they get the other singer, maybe they could be trying to get the voyagers to go home.” Joey tilted his head towards John. “So he could be the devil on one shoulder, while the other person is the angel.”
John snorted. “What, I’m not angelic enough for you?”
Everyone laughed, but there was a hum of agreement around the table. Zach smiled at Joey for the fantastic idea-and also with a tad bit of pride for speaking up, too.
As everyone bent back to their partners to discuss further ideas, Zach’s eyes somehow found the blue ones at the end of the table. Zach wasn’t sure what to make of it until Chris gave him a shy smile, one that seemed to approve of Joey’s idea, too.
“I wonder when I’ll get my music.” John clucked his tongue. “Well, until then, can I hang with you guys? See what you come up with.”
Zach barely tore his eyes away to nod, idly thinking about what Chris would have up his sleeve.
)O(
Reconvening after lunch proved not to be as daunting as Joey feared. Zach could’ve told him as much, but Joey wore nerves like a third limb. It caused Zach to take mercy as he explained the group’s idea to Louis-which Louis seemed to begrudgingly approve-without making Joey explain his part.
After touring all the various apparatuses-there was a trampoline that Zach struggled not to jump on with glee-Louis let them all have time to breathe. Which meant giving them a few hours to disperse and come up with the beginnings of their individual acts.
Sadistic bastard, indeed.
“See you around,” Joey said as he waved to a petite chick with a familiar short bob-and if Zach remembered correctly, was the dark-haired woman Joey had been talking to at orientation.
Zach gave Joey a questioning look, and Joey answered with a shrug.
“Hey, Zach,” a soft voice said behind them, which made Zach turn around.
Surprisingly it was Chris, who held a water bottle nervously with both hands.
“Good luck with coming up with stuff,” Chris said as Zach gaped at him. “You guys had really great ideas. See you around?”
As Chris gave a small wave and walked away, it was Joey’s turn to give Zach a stern look. Too bad Zach didn’t have an explanation, either.
“Okay fellas, I’ll sit over here,” John announced from a stack of rolled up mats serving as a makeshift perch. “I want to get an idea of what you both have in mind.”
Joey looked nervous, but Zach shrugged. He didn’t really mind an audience, as he didn’t really mind people seeing him think off the top of his head. Maybe if he cared about what other people thought of him, it’d be different. But unlike Joey, who was always self-conscious of saying the wrong thing, Zach didn’t give a fuck how others saw him.
And anyway, part of being a clown was interacting with the audience. John being around made that easier.
Zach dragged Joey off the metaphorical stage, then set a new skin on himself. This was the fun part of acting-the part of making the audience believe whatever he wanted. Truth be told, pretending to be a drunk asshole wasn’t that much of a stretch.
He turned and stumbled onto the stage, ignoring John just a few feet from him. Zach tipped up a pretend bottle in his hand, pointing at the ceiling as if there were fireworks.
“Whoa!” It was a nondescript sound. Cirque language was basically gibberish, which was basically being drunk, anyhow.
Joey followed his lead, stumbling after him with his own pretend bottle. They hung off each other, laughing like fools and pointing at the imaginary night sky, then fell flat on their bottoms.
Joey made a real oof as Zach surprised him with that bit of physical comedy-Zach’s favorite kind, really. Joey should’ve beaten him to the punch and kicked him in the shin.
“Oh!” Zach said, holding up his bottle and miming to flip it over, showing it was empty as hell. Joey responded with a sad face and flipped over his own. As they did this, Zach noticed out of the corner of his eye that John moved behind them.
Good. The sooner they formed a rapport with John, the better. Zach made a motion to steal Joey’s empty bottle away, when Zach felt the predictable tap on his shoulder.
“Nngh?” He jerked behind him, and John moved out of sight. Then he heard Joey beside him make a similar noise.
Ah, the sandman was a trickster. Good, that was good.
Zach stumbled to his feet, pretending to be a hunter that was slightly spooked and looking around. Joey joined him, and in the process of backing up and looking around, they of course backed into each other.
“A-a-ah!” Joey drew out as both of them pretended to be scared out of their wits-including an old parlor trick, which was Zach jumping into Joey’s arms.
Wide-eyed and huffing and clutching Joey’s neck like a little girl, Zach heard the welcome rumble of laughter around him. He didn’t focus on who it was, meeting Joey’s eyes before Joey threw up his arms in surprise, dropping Zach’s ass to the ground.
More laughter, more Zach rubbing his head in pretend confusion. But when Joey didn’t give him any cues-Joey, in fact, was looking off to the side at their audience-Zach snapped out of it, registering that in fact the whole troupe had come to watch them, Louis included.
Louis actually chuckled. “Very good. Polish that up. Think you can have a full act in the next few days?’
Zach was dubious, but he didn’t hesitate to say, “Of course.”
“Good.” Louis turned to all the performers. “This Friday, Guy Laliberté wants to see what you’re all capable of. Bring your A-game.”
Zach watched as everyone disbanded in a rush, obviously cognizant of the short deadline nipping at their heels. He glanced at everyone in turn until he caught Chris’ retreating form moving to the corner of the gymnasium. At some point Chris had changed into blue gym shorts and a gray t-shirt, showing off toned and muscled skin. More importantly, Chris looked like he didn’t register anyone else in the world, his eyes honing in on a long, black rope hanging from the ceiling.
As Zach watched Chris hoisting himself up-graceful even in that jerking motion-Zach didn’t realize he hadn’t breathed until John tapped him on the shoulder.
“Go again?” John asked, looking a tad nervous. “Three days, man. How many bit scenes do we need?”
Zach shook himself from his stupor, watching as John counted the groups formed in the gym.
“Four. Four different acts, it looks like. So one after each, and then a beginning and an end…”
Joey paled again as he contemplated the scope of it, sharing a look of horror with John. But Zach was still unpeturbed, now watching as Chris twisted the rope around his legs and let himself tumble from a great height.
“No sweat,” Zach said, tearing his gaze away. “Night and day, you guys. We’ll get it done.”
It would just have to get done, Zach wanted to add. But by then Joey was walking off and chatting with John, and there was no need to make things worse.
)O(
The next two days were a blur of routine. It was nice, actually, to be so entrenched in work. It certainly beat the previous week of ringing up cigarettes at the gas station, where Zach contemplated whether the boredom was worth blowing his brains out.
But at the Cirque it was eat, work, sleep. Very natural, in a way. Zach went to bed the last two nights and slept like a stone, content in dreaming.
Joey and John took up his world, and they even sat together during meals. Zach figured the other groups were doing the same, as they saw no one else they recognized in the cafeteria. Hopefully they were all eating-Zach caught glimpses of them in the gym, although the three of them had moved to a small conference room.
Slightly disappointing, really. But better for Zach’s concentration.
“That’s not too bad,” John said with hands on his waist, out of breath. They were rehearsing a middle scene, a comedic moment where the voyagers tried to play the same tapping-shoulder trick on the sandman. It didn’t work out quite that way, but John still wound up running around.
Zach nodded in agreement. They had six scenes, at least. Some were mediocre and needed retooling, but not bad for a few days short notice. Saturday Night Live had the same sort of deadlines, right? Zach wondered how they managed it.
“Let’s pick it up in the morning,” Joey offered, bent over with hands pressed to his knees. “My brain is fried. We can rehearse tomorrow before the head honcho gets here.”
Zach nodded again, his brain fried, too. His ass was also throbbing, as Joey had dropped him too many times that day.
“Agreed.” John straightened himself and cracked his back. “What is it, anyway-11:30? We can meet back at 7.”
Zach wanted to protest. But if Guy was coming in the afternoon-or even late morning-it would give them marginally enough time to go over each act. “Sure.”
“See ya later,” John said with an exhausted wave before heading out the door. The slit of hallway that appeared after his exit seemed brighter, fresher-the conference room suddenly stuffy and yellowed with lighting.
Zach had to leave. Now.
“Come on,” he said softly to Joey, who was already beating him to the door. And the hallway wasn’t even fresh, but at least free. No doors or walls to contain them, especially once they left the Cirque and made their way to their apartments, savoring the night air.
The city was beautiful with lights. Despite all the places Zach had been, Montréal still had something for him to see. Every place had its own way of lighting up from within, its own personality and way of life. As Zach pulled open the door to the IKEA building he glanced behind him, wondering if he’d ever make it into the city. Maybe he’d sleep through it at this rate, and that sounded like a shame.
“Catch you later,” Joey said quickly before taking off.
Zach opened his mouth to ask where the fuck he was going-Joey just didn’t do things on his own, like, ever-when he noticed that one of the white railings was occupied.
So they didn’t have any patios or decks, but that didn’t seem to matter to Chris, who was making do with a folded chair. The same one where Chris had read the paper that morning, and now seemed to be using it as a space to write. A large spiral notebook was balanced on his knee, nothing fancy-was he drawing, maybe? Zach couldn’t tell, as he was also preoccupied with the glasses sliding down Chris’ nose, caught on the bridge as Chris looked down to scribble on his hand, testing the ink.
He looked rather studious. Maybe he was planning his act… if that was possible in words.
“Hey,” Zach said quietly, against his will. But it would’ve been creepy to just lean on the railing and ogle Chris as he wrote in that notebook.
Chris jerked his head up, hand still poised over the lined page. The pen marks showed a messy cursive, and Zach couldn’t help but crane his head to make out the words.
“Hey, um-“ Chris flipped over the cover and slid his pen into the spiral ledge. “How are you?”
Zach huffed in exhaustion. “I feel like I could sleep a million years. You? How’s the act coming together?”
Chris also huffed in exhaustion, a strand of blond hair blowing away from his forehead. “Same. But it came together… somehow.”
Zach nodded in understanding, then fought off a yawn. He wanted to say something more-that it all happened by the grace of some benevolent deity, or whatever-but instead sat on the floor next to Chris. He just needed to sit, really, no matter what surface. When was the last time they had done that in the conference room?
Zach plopped down in a heap, accidentally bumping Chris’ knee with his arm in the process. As he rubbed his forehead, he turned to Chris to ask, “What time are you getting up tomorrow? Do we know when they’ll get here?”
A yawn bled through without Zach’s consent as Chris twisted away from him.
“No idea.” Chris’ eyes looked him over, like Zach was a drunk that reeked of stale beer. “I’m getting up near six, though.”
“God. Six?” Zach pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think I wore a Starbucks apron the last time that happened to me.”
“But it beats the apron, doesn’t it?”
Zach looked at him-really looked at him. Chris was wearing an expression that Zach couldn’t decipher, but perhaps it was amusement mixed with disdain.
He didn’t really need that shit. “I’m sure you athletes are used to it.”
Chris shrugged. “Yeah, I guess we are. Same with people who have normal jobs.”
Zach rolled his eyes. “What? You giving me a hard time?” He almost laughed at it, but instead leaned further away from Chris. “Yeah, you’ve pegged me. Just some old circus clown, over here. Don’t mind me as I do that abnormal acting shit for a living.”
Chris started an irritated laugh of his own, putting his hand up. “Whatever, man. Just saying.”
“What? That I shouldn’t bitch about the hour because I’m not wearing that green apron?”
Chris pinned him with the same amused look, but it was accompanied by a slight smile. Holier than thou?
“Have you ever worn a green apron for a living?” Zach returned the scrutiny. “Or-what? Been in college this entire time, living off scholarships?”
Chris’ slight smile turned hard, which was fantastic. Sometimes a weeknight needed to be punctuated with a good old-fashioned snippy fight.
But instead Chris looked down at his notebook, bent and worn with use. “Sorry. I’m just grateful I’m even here, that’s all.”
“And you don’t think I am?” Zach ratcheted up his voice, not meeting much with Chris’ diffusion. “I was working at a 7-Eleven last week, by the way. Trust me when I say I prefer this way better.”
But Chris only shook his head, gathering his things as he stood up. Which was not how this was supposed to go, and Zach’s bones creaked as he jumped to join him.
“What? No really-what?” Zach spread his hands out around him. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
Not that he really cared, but for some reason this sneaky guilt-nugget from Chris actually bugged him.
As Chris reached his glass door he turned to look at Zach, expression calm. It made Zach realize he perhaps sounded histrionic, if not definitely out of line.
“Look-sorry. I didn’t mean to make you defensive. Just…” and Chris glanced away from him. At what, Zach didn’t know, as he was struck on how tired Chris sounded. “This was my last shot.”
The honesty in the confession made Zach swallow, his eyes following Chris as he stepped through the glass door of his suite.
“Goodnight, Zach.”
Chris didn’t even wait for him-didn’t make sure he left. And thank goodness, as Zach stared at that door for a long time, zoning out the bright orange and green.
But the world felt dark, and Zach wondered what it was like to fall off the cliff for your dreams.
Masterlist | Act I (Part Two)