[FIC] Ever After (Chapter 3/11)
Nov. 16th, 2012 09:49 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
ocelotkitty.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
wl_fanfictionTitle: Ever After
Main Pairing: Jeff/Greg, with background Chip/Wayne and Colin/Ryan
Rating: R for language
Total Word Count: 17,890
Chapter Word Count: 1,527
Summary: Jeff’s a directionally challenged actor who can’t seem to catch a break. Chip promises that Jeff’s new GPS will be the solution to all of his problems, but why does it seem to cause more problems than it solves? Will Chip turn out to be right in the end? (Spoiler alert: of course he will. This is, after all, a fairy tale.)
Special Thanks: to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sungreen70 for patiently (lol) championing this story from its humble beginnings in 2009, subtly (lol) suggesting I finish it while recovering at home from surgery, and going above and beyond as a beta reader despite all the other demands — including Hurricane Sandy and a presidential election! — on her time. You are amazing! ♥
“What do you mean, you cancelled my appointments today?” Jeff rolled over, now fully awake after having been woken by his cell phone.
“You’ve strained my relationship with the casting directors in this town to the breaking point, Jeff,” came his agent’s strident voice through the tiny speaker. “I can’t take those kinds of chances. I need to focus on my other clients. The ones who show up when and where they’re supposed to.”
I can’t believe this is happening, Jeff thought. “So the audition for Facebook: The Musical, the production meeting for the Whose Line movie... gone?”
“I need someone I can count on,” his agent said. “And right now, that someone isn’t you.”
The word gone echoed in Jeff’s head as his agent clicked off. So this is how it ends, Jeff thought. Not with a bang, but with my Mexican hat dance ringtone. He sighed and tossed his iPhone onto the bed. His first impulse was to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over his head until the day was over. But his bedroom, in daylight, reminded him of the afternoon not so long ago that he and Wayne had come back here in the middle of the day and not left until the following evening. He squelched that thought before it could take flight. He debated calling Chip, but he didn’t think he could handle Chip’s relentless cheeriness right now. How was he going to pass the day, not to mention all the days after that?
He glanced around the room, his gaze falling on the GPS on his nightstand, now fully charged. I know, Jeff thought impulsively, I’ll give this thing a test drive. A rehearsal, of sorts. He padded down the hall to where he’d dropped his laptop bag the previous night. He pulled out his MacBook and took it back to his bedroom, where he Googled the addresses of all the obscure places he’d accidentally discovered while getting lost. Carefully he programmed them into the GPS. Stepping out of his boxers, Jeff took a quick shower and returned to his bedroom to get dressed. The GPS peeped several times in rapid succession, startling him. What’s that all about? Jeff wondered. Mentally he made a note to check the instruction manual for information on the GPS’s alarm settings.
* * *
Jeff cruised eastbound on the 210 freeway, an early evening breeze carrying the scent of jacaranda blossoms through the open windows of his Mini Cooper. He felt like he was on vacation. His agent’s cancellation of the day’s appointments had given him a reprieve he hadn’t even known he needed — a chance to hang out, to forget about adopting the right persona so he could please the right person. Today he could just please himself.
He’d started his day in Marina del Rey, with a walk along the coast. Whenever he came here with Wayne or Chip, they’d make him jog — or worse, rollerblade — along the beach. But Jeff preferred to walk further inland along the Speedway, so he could see the tiny alphabetized streets go by — all nautical-themed, from Anchorage to Yawl. Afterward he’d stopped to pick up a box lunch at a Senegalese restaurant in Hermosa Beach, which he’d eaten on the beach next to the pier. Next he’d driven down to Torrance to visit a tiny boutique that specialized in erotic origami, and then he’d headed north to Pasadena to drop in on a research scientist friend who worked at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. Now he was driving down to Alhambra to have dinner at the best Dutch-Cambodian fusion restaurant in southern California. “Make that the only Dutch-Cambodian fusion restaurant in southern California,” Jeff said aloud, and then laughed. He couldn’t believe what a good mood he was in.
“In point five miles, turn left,” came Greg’s voice from the GPS as Jeff neared his turnoff.
“Turn left.”
Jeff obeyed, turning onto South Orange Grove Boulevard and slowing down as he spotted Margriet’s Khmer Cuisine up ahead.
“You have reached your destination,” Greg announced, a few buildings early. Jeff smiled inwardly. He always does that, Jeff thought fondly. I mean it. It always does that.
Jeff pulled into the tiny parking lot and parked, switching off the GPS and locking it in the glove compartment. On his way into the restaurant, he felt a pang of regret that he was alone. Usually he enjoyed spending time on his own, but the last time he’d eaten at Margriet’s was with Wayne. The last time he’d been in a relationship was with Wayne....
“Hoi, Mr. Davis, hoe gaat het?”
Jeff was startled from his reverie. “Margriet,” he said to the smiling woman behind the podium. “I’m good, and you?”
She inclined her head to indicate so-so. Pulling a menu from the stack on the podium, she guided Jeff to his usual table.
“No need for the menu,” Jeff said. “I already know what I want. I’ll have the bok l’hong—”
“Met rookworst?”
“With rookworst,” Jeff confirmed. “And a bowl of ngam nguv to start.”
Margriet nodded her approval. “And will your friend be soon joining you?”
“No,” Jeff said. “Greg— I mean, Wayne isn’t— he’s not—” What was going on? Why had he blurted out the name of his GPS, for God’s sake?
Margriet gave him a look of deep understanding. “We all need the time to ourselves now and then,” she said philosophically, but Jeff’s earlier good mood was already dampened.
When his food arrived he ate quickly, prompting another visit from Margriet. “Not good tonight?” she said.
Jeff smiled weakly. “Het voedsel proefte zeer goed,” he said.
Margriet beamed. “You keep that up, I’ll find for you a nice Dutch boy,” she said, winking as she dropped the folded check on the table.
The sun had set by the time Jeff left the restaurant. He slid behind the wheel of his Mini Cooper and unlocked the glove compartment, then took out the GPS and clipped it to its holder on the windshield. He switched it on, then programmed it to take him home.
But the GPS didn’t respond. Jeff idled near the parking lot exit, but he received absolutely no guidance as to whether he should turn left or right. Frowning, he leaned in for a closer look, and in doing so, his foot came off the brake. Jeff heard the frantic honking a split second before he realized what it was. His head snapped up. The blur of a silver Audi flew by, narrowly missing Jeff’s front bumper. Jeff hit the brakes.
“Shit!”
Jeff’s mouth dropped open.
The exclamation had not come from him.
* * *
“What are you trying to do, kill us both?”
Jeff could only stare. Nervously, he wet his lips. “You can talk? I mean, talk back?”
The voice that answered was indisputably Greg’s. “I’d feel better if you’d park this thing somewhere. You’re blocking the exit.”
“You’re not answering my question,” Jeff said. But he did as Greg told him, and pulled back into his parking space.
Jeff killed the engine, then sat back and crossed his arms. “So.”
“So it’s a right turn out of the parking lot.”
Jeff sprang forward. “Now you tell me!”
“Hey, it’s cloudy! I couldn’t get enough satellites!”
“Mr. Davis?” Jeff became aware of a tentative tapping sound. He lowered the window. “Mr. Davis, you are okay?” It was Margriet.
Jeff pretended to fumble with the radio controls. “Sure,” he said. “Sure. I was just... listening to talk radio.”
Margriet’s eyebrows knitted together. “You mean you were talking to talk radio.”
Jeff’s laugh was too loud and forced. “Yes. You know how when you don’t agree with the debate, when it makes you angry and you want to jump in....”
“But your radio, it is not even on.”
Jeff closed his eyes briefly. He felt as if he’d been having this conversation for weeks. “I’m fine, Margriet,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “Everything’s fine. I’ll see you next time I come in, okay?” He turned the key in the ignition.
Margriet backed away from the car, giving Jeff an uncertain wave before disappearing into the restaurant.
Jeff rested his forehead against the steering wheel. “Great. Just great. I’ll never be able to come here again, thanks to you. And how ironic is that, considering it was you who got me here in the first place.”
An awkward silence followed Jeff’s words. He looked up at the GPS automatically, realizing that he’d spoken as if expecting it to respond. But its speaker remained silent, and the screen appeared as it always did, an icon representing Jeff’s car superimposed over a map of his current location.
Jeff cast a final glance around the parking lot before putting the Mini Cooper into gear and heading out. Cruising up South Orange Grove Boulevard, he said, “That was just... satellite interference, right? I mean, you can’t really talk, can you?” Jeff snorted. “What am I saying. Of course you can’t talk.”
“Take the next exit,” Greg said, and for a moment Jeff thought he detected a note of hostility in his voice.
But he decided it was just his imagination.
Main Pairing: Jeff/Greg, with background Chip/Wayne and Colin/Ryan
Rating: R for language
Total Word Count: 17,890
Chapter Word Count: 1,527
Summary: Jeff’s a directionally challenged actor who can’t seem to catch a break. Chip promises that Jeff’s new GPS will be the solution to all of his problems, but why does it seem to cause more problems than it solves? Will Chip turn out to be right in the end? (Spoiler alert: of course he will. This is, after all, a fairy tale.)
Special Thanks: to
sungreen70 for patiently (lol) championing this story from its humble beginnings in 2009, subtly (lol) suggesting I finish it while recovering at home from surgery, and going above and beyond as a beta reader despite all the other demands — including Hurricane Sandy and a presidential election! — on her time. You are amazing! ♥“What do you mean, you cancelled my appointments today?” Jeff rolled over, now fully awake after having been woken by his cell phone.
“You’ve strained my relationship with the casting directors in this town to the breaking point, Jeff,” came his agent’s strident voice through the tiny speaker. “I can’t take those kinds of chances. I need to focus on my other clients. The ones who show up when and where they’re supposed to.”
I can’t believe this is happening, Jeff thought. “So the audition for Facebook: The Musical, the production meeting for the Whose Line movie... gone?”
“I need someone I can count on,” his agent said. “And right now, that someone isn’t you.”
The word gone echoed in Jeff’s head as his agent clicked off. So this is how it ends, Jeff thought. Not with a bang, but with my Mexican hat dance ringtone. He sighed and tossed his iPhone onto the bed. His first impulse was to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over his head until the day was over. But his bedroom, in daylight, reminded him of the afternoon not so long ago that he and Wayne had come back here in the middle of the day and not left until the following evening. He squelched that thought before it could take flight. He debated calling Chip, but he didn’t think he could handle Chip’s relentless cheeriness right now. How was he going to pass the day, not to mention all the days after that?
He glanced around the room, his gaze falling on the GPS on his nightstand, now fully charged. I know, Jeff thought impulsively, I’ll give this thing a test drive. A rehearsal, of sorts. He padded down the hall to where he’d dropped his laptop bag the previous night. He pulled out his MacBook and took it back to his bedroom, where he Googled the addresses of all the obscure places he’d accidentally discovered while getting lost. Carefully he programmed them into the GPS. Stepping out of his boxers, Jeff took a quick shower and returned to his bedroom to get dressed. The GPS peeped several times in rapid succession, startling him. What’s that all about? Jeff wondered. Mentally he made a note to check the instruction manual for information on the GPS’s alarm settings.
Jeff cruised eastbound on the 210 freeway, an early evening breeze carrying the scent of jacaranda blossoms through the open windows of his Mini Cooper. He felt like he was on vacation. His agent’s cancellation of the day’s appointments had given him a reprieve he hadn’t even known he needed — a chance to hang out, to forget about adopting the right persona so he could please the right person. Today he could just please himself.
He’d started his day in Marina del Rey, with a walk along the coast. Whenever he came here with Wayne or Chip, they’d make him jog — or worse, rollerblade — along the beach. But Jeff preferred to walk further inland along the Speedway, so he could see the tiny alphabetized streets go by — all nautical-themed, from Anchorage to Yawl. Afterward he’d stopped to pick up a box lunch at a Senegalese restaurant in Hermosa Beach, which he’d eaten on the beach next to the pier. Next he’d driven down to Torrance to visit a tiny boutique that specialized in erotic origami, and then he’d headed north to Pasadena to drop in on a research scientist friend who worked at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. Now he was driving down to Alhambra to have dinner at the best Dutch-Cambodian fusion restaurant in southern California. “Make that the only Dutch-Cambodian fusion restaurant in southern California,” Jeff said aloud, and then laughed. He couldn’t believe what a good mood he was in.
“In point five miles, turn left,” came Greg’s voice from the GPS as Jeff neared his turnoff.
“Turn left.”
Jeff obeyed, turning onto South Orange Grove Boulevard and slowing down as he spotted Margriet’s Khmer Cuisine up ahead.
“You have reached your destination,” Greg announced, a few buildings early. Jeff smiled inwardly. He always does that, Jeff thought fondly. I mean it. It always does that.
Jeff pulled into the tiny parking lot and parked, switching off the GPS and locking it in the glove compartment. On his way into the restaurant, he felt a pang of regret that he was alone. Usually he enjoyed spending time on his own, but the last time he’d eaten at Margriet’s was with Wayne. The last time he’d been in a relationship was with Wayne....
“Hoi, Mr. Davis, hoe gaat het?”
Jeff was startled from his reverie. “Margriet,” he said to the smiling woman behind the podium. “I’m good, and you?”
She inclined her head to indicate so-so. Pulling a menu from the stack on the podium, she guided Jeff to his usual table.
“No need for the menu,” Jeff said. “I already know what I want. I’ll have the bok l’hong—”
“Met rookworst?”
“With rookworst,” Jeff confirmed. “And a bowl of ngam nguv to start.”
Margriet nodded her approval. “And will your friend be soon joining you?”
“No,” Jeff said. “Greg— I mean, Wayne isn’t— he’s not—” What was going on? Why had he blurted out the name of his GPS, for God’s sake?
Margriet gave him a look of deep understanding. “We all need the time to ourselves now and then,” she said philosophically, but Jeff’s earlier good mood was already dampened.
When his food arrived he ate quickly, prompting another visit from Margriet. “Not good tonight?” she said.
Jeff smiled weakly. “Het voedsel proefte zeer goed,” he said.
Margriet beamed. “You keep that up, I’ll find for you a nice Dutch boy,” she said, winking as she dropped the folded check on the table.
The sun had set by the time Jeff left the restaurant. He slid behind the wheel of his Mini Cooper and unlocked the glove compartment, then took out the GPS and clipped it to its holder on the windshield. He switched it on, then programmed it to take him home.
But the GPS didn’t respond. Jeff idled near the parking lot exit, but he received absolutely no guidance as to whether he should turn left or right. Frowning, he leaned in for a closer look, and in doing so, his foot came off the brake. Jeff heard the frantic honking a split second before he realized what it was. His head snapped up. The blur of a silver Audi flew by, narrowly missing Jeff’s front bumper. Jeff hit the brakes.
“Shit!”
Jeff’s mouth dropped open.
The exclamation had not come from him.
“What are you trying to do, kill us both?”
Jeff could only stare. Nervously, he wet his lips. “You can talk? I mean, talk back?”
The voice that answered was indisputably Greg’s. “I’d feel better if you’d park this thing somewhere. You’re blocking the exit.”
“You’re not answering my question,” Jeff said. But he did as Greg told him, and pulled back into his parking space.
Jeff killed the engine, then sat back and crossed his arms. “So.”
“So it’s a right turn out of the parking lot.”
Jeff sprang forward. “Now you tell me!”
“Hey, it’s cloudy! I couldn’t get enough satellites!”
“Mr. Davis?” Jeff became aware of a tentative tapping sound. He lowered the window. “Mr. Davis, you are okay?” It was Margriet.
Jeff pretended to fumble with the radio controls. “Sure,” he said. “Sure. I was just... listening to talk radio.”
Margriet’s eyebrows knitted together. “You mean you were talking to talk radio.”
Jeff’s laugh was too loud and forced. “Yes. You know how when you don’t agree with the debate, when it makes you angry and you want to jump in....”
“But your radio, it is not even on.”
Jeff closed his eyes briefly. He felt as if he’d been having this conversation for weeks. “I’m fine, Margriet,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “Everything’s fine. I’ll see you next time I come in, okay?” He turned the key in the ignition.
Margriet backed away from the car, giving Jeff an uncertain wave before disappearing into the restaurant.
Jeff rested his forehead against the steering wheel. “Great. Just great. I’ll never be able to come here again, thanks to you. And how ironic is that, considering it was you who got me here in the first place.”
An awkward silence followed Jeff’s words. He looked up at the GPS automatically, realizing that he’d spoken as if expecting it to respond. But its speaker remained silent, and the screen appeared as it always did, an icon representing Jeff’s car superimposed over a map of his current location.
Jeff cast a final glance around the parking lot before putting the Mini Cooper into gear and heading out. Cruising up South Orange Grove Boulevard, he said, “That was just... satellite interference, right? I mean, you can’t really talk, can you?” Jeff snorted. “What am I saying. Of course you can’t talk.”
“Take the next exit,” Greg said, and for a moment Jeff thought he detected a note of hostility in his voice.
But he decided it was just his imagination.
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no subject
Date: 2012-11-16 05:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-16 11:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-18 02:22 am (UTC)Jeff smiled inwardly. He always does that, Jeff thought fondly. I mean it. It always does that. Aww! I love how he's already becoming deeply attached to his GPS. And also the way he just randomly speaks Dutch. That just seems so Jeff-like, somehow.
I really love the way Jeff reacts to Greg the GPS suddenly talking to him and revealing himself to be this all-knowing, sentient being. He's startled, but then he just accepts it. It's like, it's SO bizarre that if he acknowledges HOW bizarre it is by freaking out, he would have to also acknowledge that he just may be losing his mind ;)
no subject
Date: 2012-11-18 02:51 am (UTC)I really love the way Jeff reacts to Greg the GPS suddenly talking to him and revealing himself to be this all-knowing, sentient being. He's startled, but then he just accepts it. It's like, it's SO bizarre that if he acknowledges HOW bizarre it is by freaking out, he would have to also acknowledge that he just may be losing his mind
It's awesome that you've picked up on that, because I tried to write this whole fic like I was tilting reality on a slight angle, you know? I wanted to make the landscape just slightly hyperbolic, and within that landscape I wanted fantastic things to be suddenly plausible and ordinary. It's not so much suspension of disbelief, more that I was trying to shift the reader's disbelief benchmark ever so slightly. Jeff doesn't question Greg's existence because in this universe, his existence is within the realm of possibility. I'll know I've done my job as a writer if the reader accepts Jeff's (non)reaction to Greg as equally plausible.
no subject
Date: 2012-11-18 03:04 am (UTC)There is a reason for it! I had totally forgotten about this until you gave Jeff that ringtone, but when I was in kindergarten, my class did the Mexican Hat Dance at an assembly, and I got picked to introduce it. We were practicing the dance and my show stopping number of an introduction one day and I wasn't speaking loudly enough, so my kindergarten teacher told me to "say it to the clock" - meaning the big clock on the back wall of the auditorium. Which totally had me thinking that the clock was this living entity that was listening to me and judging me! (Not unlike a certain GPS, actually.) Anyway, I remember pondering this for quite a while until I finally went to my mom and said "can clocks hear?" To which my mother replied "...." Yeah, I think that incident left it's mark on me.
Totally true story, BTW. I meant to tell you about it while beta-ing.
I'll know I've done my job as a writer if the reader accepts Jeff's (non)reaction to Greg as equally plausible.
You have. It's just amazing to me how readily I accept Greg being this actual person to Jeff, and how emotionally invested I get in the story! I know I said to you more than once that this story is both hilarious AND touching. The touching part would have never come through if you weren't this skilled at making the characters so real within the surreal existence they've found themselves in.
no subject
Date: 2012-11-18 03:21 am (UTC)LMAO! OMG, trust a little kid to bust out with something like that :-)
I know I said to you more than once that this story is both hilarious AND touching. The touching part would have never come through if you weren't this skilled at making the characters so real within the surreal existence they've found themselves in
Awww, thanks! *blushes* I adore books, movies, etc. with the same sort of sensibility -- I believe I mentioned the movie LA Story during The Great Beta-ing™, which is a great example (if not the greatest example) of multilayered reality tilting. And I'm just so thrilled that you're finding this touching as well as funny -- I prefer humour that is a means to an end, rather than simply its own punchline, so that's what I was striving for when writing this.
no subject
Date: 2012-12-02 08:37 am (UTC)Oh gosh Greg I love you! And Jeff is so lonely! C'mere, my boy. *hugs and pets him* shh, there there.
IGreg will love you, I'm sure. He's more than a GPS. I can feel it!no subject
Date: 2012-12-02 09:18 am (UTC)Well, there may just be such a thing in future chapters... *shifty eyes*
He's more than a GPS. I can feel it!
*whistles innocently*
no subject
Date: 2012-12-02 11:22 pm (UTC)*Flails* NO DON'T SAY THAT SDMFNSDLGKMNFDLG *runs to next chapters*