In Review of Life

It’s been a month since we’ve picked up filming the sequels to the first “Pirates of the Carribean”. When I first signed on to do the sequels, I wasn’t sure if it would be worthwhile- we all know the curses about sequels, but now that I’m back inside my dread locks and trinkets I never felt better. Jack Sparrow really has grown on me. He’s the kind of character who makes me want to go back in time and live like him- crazy and dangerously. Let’s see… right now we’re waiting around between shots. They’re looking to catch a lovely panoramic shot of the whole ship, just as the sun goes down. The breeze has picked up a bit, and I wish I had a blanket. I stifle a yawn as a makeup assistant comes to reapply the eyeliner, for third time that day.

“Hey?” She asks gently, probably nervous of disturbing me.

“Yes, Mary,” She blushes, surprised I know her name. I like surprising people with tricks like that.

“You haven’t seen Mr. Bloom, have you? I need to fix his hair but no one can find him,” She eyes stare intently at mine while she works on me. She finishes with the liner and pulls a powder and brush from her fanny pack.

“No, actually I haven’t seen much of Orlando,” I murmur, almost laughing at the ticklish feeling of the brush across my cheeks.

“Well, thanks,” She finishes and wanders off. I watch the DP and the cameramen struggle to decide on the perfect angle. Mary has actually stumbled on to an interesting question. Orlando has been acting funny since he came back from his premiere of “Kingdom of Heaven”. Of course I knew he’d be moping- I read the reviews myself, but I didn’t realize anything serious was the matter.
But she was right- I hadn’t seen Orli around in ages. We’d rehearse together, but he wouldn’t talk to me. We didn’t go out drinking anymore, or hit the waves. We used to sail around the island and discuss Hollywood and acting. I knew he’d had a crush on me, but all that seemed to dissipate earlier. Besides, I don’t think that was the matter. It was probably personal, but I didn’t know anything about his personal life, not in the last year at least. We’d not had enough time to really talk.
I hear my name called and I head back down to the Pearl. Orlando finally makes his appearance, and Mary can barely finish fussing with his hair for them to get the shot. We don’t have any lines, we just stare off into the sunset, like the brave adventurers our characters are. I turn to look at him, and realize he’s not as brave as he once was. Nor healthy.
I make it my plan to make sure and take him out tonight.

It’s to be expected that he disappeared immediately after the last take. I try to hurry through undressing, but the costumes have to be taken care of. Keira’s lounging in Orli’s trailer, chatting with the last costumer, when I get there.

“Looking for Orli?” she asks. She has an amazingly soft accent.

“Yeah,”

“He’s just left,” Keira purses her lips, her trademark, and watches me go. She’s curious as to why I left without a word, but hopefully she’s not put out. I don’t want her to think I’m too much of a star for her.

We’ve all been given homes on the beach, but I can’t remember if I’ve been to Orli’s yet. We’re all on the same block, so it shouldn’t be that difficult. I reach my car and struggle with the door.

“Johnny?” I whirl around and see Keira.

“Hey!”

“You were gonna give me a lift, remember?” she’s hesitant. Fuck, no wonder she looked worried earlier.

“Yeah sorry. Uh, sorry I left you hangin’ back there,” I smile and open the door for her from the inside. Her face lightens up as she crawls in, dumping her metallic purse on the floor of the jeep. I turn the ignition on and back out.

“Can I…?” She’s holding a pack of cigs. I nod and turn my eyes back to the road.

“So, what’s up with Orli?” She asks, blowing smoke out the window. Young women always look weird when they smoke, I think, like toddlers playing dress up with their mom’s clothes.

“Nothing,” I tell her vaguely, “Just gotta ask him something,”

“Oh,” Our conversation tapers off and I flip on the radio. A reggae tune bumps out through the speakers and soon we’re grooving with it. I laugh and she smokes. We bob our heads in time with the beat and let the day’s stress evaporate.

“Here it is,” She says. She clamors out, throwing her cig on the pavement. Suddenly I wish I had one too.

“Hey!” I call, just before she disappears behind her gate, “Which one’s Orli’s?”

“Two houses down. See you tomorrow!” I watch her head float over the fence, illuminated by twinkling Christmas lights. The Caribbean has a wonderful warm aura of light over it at night. I feel like I should say something more- I’ve always been awkward giving girls rides home. She is fucking gorgeous and any man could be intimidated by her.

I make it to Orli’s door. Loud music is blaring. I can’t distinguish the denomination of music, but it hurts my ears.

“Hey!” A tall, well built surfer blonde answers the door. He sports a flashy tank top and ripped kahki shorts. I recognize him from the camera crew

“Come on in,” Boy… this is awkward.

“Where’s Orli?” I ask and speak of the devil shows up. He’s got on jeans and a purposefully paint splattered Jimi Hendrix tee. He’s untangling an assortment of chunky necklaces when he notices me. He runs a hand through his hair nervously.

“Oh, hi,” I stammer. I really didn’t have a plan for this, and he’s got company too. Said company wraps an arm around me and pulls me in, saying something I can’t make out over the music. I catch his eyes as he gazes at Orli, and I recognize him immediately for what he is. Orli grabs a remote off a swank coffee table and switches off the music.

“How are you?” He asks politely. He continues to pick through his jewelry.

“Good. You?” I ask back, quite aware of the space between us and the sweating arm of the guy on my neck.

“Wow, didn’t know you guys hung out, wow! Great scenes today, by the way,” The guy sounds impressed, but I wonder if he really is.

“Oh, Johnny, this is Derek from camera crew, Derek, Johnny,” Orlando says uncomfortably. I get the distinct feeling that I wasn’t supposed to see them together.

“Orli babe and I were just getting ready to head out for a club. Wanna come with?” Derek asks, releasing me to fondle Orlando.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea…” Orli makes an excuse for me, looking between me and Derek nervously. Derek puts on a terrible pouty face and stares mournfully at Orli. What is up with jerk?

“Actually, I’m up for a party,” I joke, laughing off the tension in the air. Derek, oblivious, laughs too.

“We’ll have a good time, babe. Wait here, be back in a sec,” He slaps Orli playfully on the butt before scrambling off up the stairs.

“So…”Orli mutters nervously, pacing around his pad. All our houses are cozy and modern, but his is especially nice. He’s got a lovely wooden floor that he cannot help but stare at right now.

“I haven’t seen you around,” I begin, and sit myself down on the post-modern black sofa.

“Been busy,”

“I bet,” I agree doubtfully, but press on, “Think I look good enough to pick up chicks?”

He smiles briefly and sits on the edge of a loveseat.

“So really, what’s up? Are you feeling better after Kingdom?” I ask, and he immediately shifts in his seat uncomfortably.
Derek, the blundering idiot, makes his entrance just then, wearing a pink wife-beater and jeans. He’s gelled his hair so much you can see it’s sick sheen whenever he turns his head, which he does excessively, like a proud horse tossing its’ mane. Orli plasters his face with a smile, which is also too excessive to be genuine, and goes to him. They kiss, Derek pats his butt as he would appraise a filly and I get up as well. My own jeans and black long sleeved shirt don’t look bad. I rewrap my bandana around my head as Orli shuts off the lights and we leave.
I watch the twinkling Christmas lights fade into the distance as we head into downtown.

“So…” Derek drawls, looking in the rear-view mirror at me. Orli stares out the window, his knee pressed up against the dashboard.

“Where does everyone want to go?” Derek asks generally, moving a hand to cup Orli’s other knee. He doesn’t respond like a lover should.

“Let’s go to wherever we were last night, hon,” Orli says lazily. The endearment sounds forced. Shit, how am I gonna get rid of this git and talk to Orli? If Orli even wants to talk that is, and already that seems to be a problem.

“So, Johnny, have you heard my lime tree story? Well, no of course not,” Derek inquires politely. “Orli babe, tell him how funny it is,” Inwardly I groan.

“It’s funny,” He tells me humorlessly.

“Okay, I’ll tell it. So, I’m twelve years old and me and my dad live in North Caroline, yeah?” Derek checks to see if I’m paying attention. I smile and nod politely. Orli is looking at the prostitutes outside, absolutely disinterested in the story.

“Now all my life our family has grown a lime tree. Gosh, it was the nicest fruit tree you ever did see..." It cannot be soon enough until we reach the club. I blank out for ten minutes, joining Orli in appraising the prostitutes. Not bad, not bad at all.

“So, how we ended up sneaking the lime tree into Florida was…” he continues, on and on. I only see his mouth move, and Orli’s disengaged face changing color under the passing neon signs.

“We had to go around but eventually we got the tree in,” Derek finishes triumphantly. I stare at him blankly… he must be joking if that’s supposed to make me laugh.

“Didja like it?” I nod vigorously.

“I need a smoke,” Orli announces dully.

So do I.

Ah ha, the club. A bright yellow and green sign announces it’s position on the strip of other clubs. There’s a line round the block, but we get in easy. We’re famous after all. Funny how much I hate being a celebrity and yet I use it to achieve many ends. I’ll have to ponder the philosophical meaning of that later.
We’re engulfed in smoke and musk. Bodies rock on the dance floor and bodies pack around tables and the bar. A techno reggae music blasts out and gives me goose-bumps. I forgot how exciting all this is. I lose track of Orli and Derek in the glitter doused crowd. Orange and yellow beams of electronic light float over us. I spot them at the bar. Neither seem interested in hanging out with me, so I mingle with the crowd. I keep an eye on them and watch as they head for the back room.
What the hell does Orli see in that? He’s an absolute leech, I knew it when I saw him. He either wants the money or the glory, but he sure as hell doesn’t want Orli. A girl dressed in a slinky pink halter top circles her arms around me and grinds. Either she’s too drunk to see who I am or she doesn’t care. She’s not scared. I move against her. Her hair is wild and free. Her ass rubs against my crotch and I can’t help but feel stiff. Shit, it’s been a long time since I felt the inside of a cunt. She turns and dazzles me with a smile. God women are magnificent. I never can quite understand what they do that makes them so sexy. I give her a kiss and push away before I get out of control. We have to focus on Orli, and his dick of a boyfriend.
Okay, okay, I tell myself as I find a seat at the bar, he hasn’t done anything really shitty, I just got a bad feeling about him. I hail a few shots of tequila and wait for Orli to emerge from the backroom.

I don’t have to wait long- second shot, when he comes out alone. Odd. If possible he looks more upset than when he went in. I wave at him and he come to me.

“Sorry we ditched you,” he says, obviously embarrassed, before throwing back two consecutive shots. Shit, since when has he become this accomplished of a drinker.

“It’s just that… well, he needed me,” he explains, ordering another round. I borrow a cig from him and light up, leaving the alcohol alone for now. Besides, Orli’s doin’ fine without me. I watch him conquer four more shots before Derek shows up again. He hugs Orli and gives him a lick on the cheek.

“Aww… little baby getting smashed? Don’t worry, Derek’s gonna find us some nice white power to get little Orli even more fucked up,” Derek says in a sing-song baby voice. I look between them incredulously. Orli smiles back faintly as Derek backs off into the crowd again. As soon as he’s gone, I grab Orli by the shoulders and turn him towards me.

“You’re doing blow now?” I ask earnestly. He nods.

“How often you party?” I demand. He shrugs me off and takes down two more shots.

“You little fucker,” I growl.

I haul him up. He stumbles as he tries to find his legs. I hurry him out of the club before Derek comes back. The cool Caribbean air hits us as soon as we make our exit. The smoke and sweat dissipate behind us, and I support Orli as we struggle along the sidewalk. We round the corner and immediately he pukes on a wall. He bangs his head and it’s all I can do to keep him from falling over into his own puke. Shit, how did he end up like this? He never used to drink until he puked. And he never used to do blow either, I add sardonically.
I help him up as soon as he’s finished. His body won’t stop shaking. I grit my teeth and carry us on down the block. His head bobs and comes to rest on my shoulder. I pet his hair comfortingly as I try and figure out what to do. Haven’t got a car, no cab in sight and no way we can walk back. A hotel, I decide.
I’m sure that the particular hotel I pick has seen many drunks before. The proprietor looks at us gloomily, convinced we’re poor drunks, until I slap a Visa Card on the desk. Amazing what money brings you, huh? The man’s face lightens immediately and he shows us down a bleak hallway and into a room furnished with shag carpeting and a heart shaped bed. Great, we get charged for the honeymoon suite in a crappy hotel in the red light district. I nod grudgingly and he leaves.
First thing, I haul Orli into the bathroom and set him next to the toilet. Good thing too, because in another minute he pukes again. I turn on the taps to the bath tub, a relatively clean thing, and begin to undress him. Shit, what if he’s already snorted a bit?

“Orli, hey, what’s up buddy?” I try and get him to open his eyes. He does and blinks up at me blearily. He mutters something incomprehensible.

“We’re gonna get all that puke off you, here, lift your hips,” I gently pull off his boxers and throw them in the pile with the rest of the clothes. I bite my lip as I notice a trail of red cum slide down his thigh.

That asshole, how dare he?! I will kill him.

A big whoosh of air races through my nose and into my lungs. I pick Orlando up all set him in the tub. Franticly I begin to wash him, cleaning out his mouth and rubbing his chest down with the cheap hotel soap. I curl my hands around his neck to clean them and suddenly I can’t let go. Fucking hell! What happened to him? I sob as I hold onto his neck, caressing the cool flesh. Why hadn’t I seen this? Orli cracks open an eye and gazes at me with all the intensity he can muster. Shakily I wipe my tears away onto the back of my hand, and I continue cleaning him.
He complies when I ask him to get on his fours. I stare at his ass, not wanting to find out the full damage. I let out a long breath and spread him gently. His pucker drools a little cum, but for all intents and purposes, the bleeding has stopped. There wasn’t much to begin with, but he was taken hard. Another horrible thought crosses my mind- what if Derek was positive? They obviously hadn’t used a condom. I wipe him clean and finish the rest of him and all the while Orli hasn’t said one word, even though he’s awake. I know he’s too embarrassed.

“Orli, I think you ought to…” If he needs medical attention he needs it now.

“Johnny… it’s okay. I wanted it like this,” Shit. I bite back more tears and help him up. We can’t look each other in the eye.
I hand him a towel and turn away as he cleans himself. I’m embarrassed for him.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” I ask pleadingly. He stops toweling himself and peers intently at the floor.

“I’m… I’m upset,” he replies, and sits on the bed, the towel wrapped at his waist. I notice how gingerly he sits.

“Why?” I ask bluntly.

“I… fucked it up, big time,” he answers softly. He lays back and fumbles for the pack of cigarettes I ditched on the way in.
If I were him I’d be bawling my eyes out, or curling up and wishing for the world to swallow me whole. And yet he’s looking for a cig. I stare numbly as he lights up.

“What did you fuck up? Your film?” I query, blinking back more tears.

“No,” he sighs sadly, “I… he left me,” Orli turns his face towards mine. For the first time I notice how sad and weary his chocolate eyes are.

“Colin left me, and it’s my fault,” he finishes. He tries to stare back at me, but he’s too ashamed. He turns back to the fag and all I can do is crawl on the bed next to him. What do I say?
Nothing is probably best. I curl an arm around him gently, pulling him close. He doesn’t want to, in fact he turns away, but I spoon against his back. I hold him for a few minutes before I hear soft cries. I tenderly pluck the cigarette from his limp fingers and extinguish it. He tries to muffles his cries, but I pull him back into my chest and pull the covers over us. This is all I can do right now- I don’t have time to think of anything to say, fuck, there’s nothing right to say. I just rub his back and watch over him as he drifts off to sleep.
I have a lot of phone calls to make tomorrow- I’ve obviously missed a lot.