Return to Viggo/Orlando by author, title, or rating. Promotional Appearance
Rating: PG ~~~~ "Maybe I hang around here a little more than I should. We both know I've got somewhere else to go. But I've got something to tell you that I never thought I would. But I believe you really ought to know. I love you. I honestly love you. You don't have to answer; I see it in your eyes. Maybe it was better left unsaid. But this is pure and simple and you should realize. It's coming from my heart and not my head. I love you. I honestly love you. I'm not trying to make you feel uncomfortable. I'm not trying to make you anything at all. But this feeling doesn't come along every day And I don't think we should blow it if we have the chance to say I love you. I honestly love you. If we both were born in another place and time This moment might be ending in a kiss. But there you are with yours and here I am with mine. So I guess we'll just be leaving it at this. I love you. I honestly love you." Orlando sang the last note of the saccharine Seventies hit and was pleasantly surprised when applause washed over him. He smiled and bowed to the audience even though he was shaking so hard that he could barely stand up. When David Letterman's people had contacted Orlando Bloom's people about the young actor appearing on David's weeklong series of live shows, Orlando had been apprehensive. He'd done theater of course, but it had been awhile. Why subject himself to Letterman's dry incisive interview on a live broadcast? Dave might get Orlando to say something indiscreet. And then Orlando had The Idea. It took him completely off guard and from a whimsical notion, The Idea quickly gained substance until it was a concrete moral imperative. He would do it, and at least he would know one way or the other, once and for all. Orlando had his people inform Letterman's people that the popular actor would appear if he could perform a song, and six weeks later, here he was grinning like a goon at Paul Shaeffer and walking over to shake Dave's hand. Orlando sat down; Dave fixed the young actor with his patented skeptical look and asked his first question. "So … Orlando Bloom, rock star, heehee! What's that uh, what's that all about there, uh Orlando?" "I just wanted to sing that song live," Orlando said a slight tremor in his creamy voice. "Does it have some special meaning for you? I know it does for me. Right, Paul?" Dave wagged his eyebrows at the bandleader. Paul Shaeffer played a few bars of "Let's Get Physical" while bobbing and weaving like a drunken Stevie Wonder. "Wheeee!" Dave said, throwing a pencil at Paul. "Now, uh, Orlando. You're a good-lookin' fella, right?" Dave leaned back in his chair and appraised Orlando from a short distance. "Yeah, you're above average in the looks department. I think Paul would agree." Shaeffer played the opening notes of "Boy from Ipanema". "Right you are, Dave. I bet I could score plenty if I looked like Orlando." "Well we're not talking about you now are we, Paul?" Letterman said. "This is still my show, isn't it? Is this the Paul Shaeffer Show, Orlando?" Orlando refused to play into the bullying banter and smiled at the audience, making eye contact here and there. Several women of discerning taste squeed and Letterman's attention was drawn to the crowd. "How about it?" Dave said. "You want to know why Orlando chose that song?" An affirmative roar made Dave do a comic double take and hide under his desk. He emerged slowly, peering over the top of the desk. The camera moved in to catch the host's antics and Orlando laughed along with the audience. "Wow!" Dave said, climbing back into his seat. "They're uh, they're animals tonight, Paul." Dave pulled his collar away from his neck as if he were anxious. "I don't think we should rile 'em up. They could stampede." The Paul Shaeffer Orchestra played a soft version of "Happy Trails" as Dave continued to speak to the audience through Orlando. "Tell 'em to calm down," Dave stage whispered. Orlando giggled as Dave turned to smile nervously at the crowd, showing the gap between his front teeth. "Heh," Dave said. "Hi folks. I'm just telling Orlando how much I admire him. We all love Orlando, don't we?" This time the roar went on for so long Dave had to call for quiet. "Okay," Letterman said, genuinely impressed for once. "Ladies and one out of seven gentlemen, welcome to the Orlando Bloom Show with the Paul Shaeffer Orchestra." Paul's band swung adroitly into Nerf Herder's "Don't Hate Me Because I'm Beautiful". "All kidding aside, heeheehee," Dave said, looking at Orlando over the top of his glasses. "Why did you want to sing instead of uh promoting your um new film?" Orlando turned to the audience. "Would everyone please go see Pirates of the Caribbean?" he requested politely. Another wave of sound like surf crashing against cliffs rolled over the stage. "I think you've got a hit on your hands," Dave said dryly. "So why the song?" "A girl I know chose it to tell this guy she had a crush on that she … well, had a crush on him, so I thought it would be perfect." "And that guy was you right?" Dave said, picking up his mug. "No," Orlando said in surprise. "The girl's a friend of my sister's. I remembered the story and thought it would be a good way to tell someone … Oh God, now you've made me say it!" Dave grinned like a jack o' lantern. "Is Orlando Bloom in love?" Shaeffer's band played "Are You Gonna Go My Way" by Lenny Kravitz. "I thought I could get away with this," Orlando said sheepishly. "Should've known better, but yes, I'm in … There's someone special that I'd like to know better." The audience went wild until Orlando held up a hand. Considerately, his fans quieted. "I can't tell you anything," he said. "It wouldn't be fair until I cleared it with them, but this person is very, very special to me. I sang the song because I didn't want to say the L word until I can see them face to face, or at least speak to them directly." "Aw, that's really romantic," Paul Shaeffer as he played the beginning of Eric Clapton's "Wonderful Tonight". "I hope so," Orlando said. "I sent the person a message asking for a phone call to let me know one way or the other, so now I guess I wait." "Well," Dave took a sip from his mug. "Thanks for choosing my little show to sort out your love life. I feel like Chuck Woolery, heeeee." "I guess my singing was worse than I thought," Orlando joked lamely. The cell phone in Orlando's pocket began to play the Eurythmics "Sweet Dreams". For a few long seconds Orlando sat like a deer in the headlights as the song played and the Letterman set went dead quiet. Then the Orchestra joined in, jarring Orlando from his trance. The young man pulled his phone from his pocket and flipped it open. "Yeah? Oh God! I can't believe you called! Yes! Yes, I meant it. Because I'm a coward and I could only face you with the buffer of a million or so people between us. Yeah. I figured I could always say it was a publicity stunt." Orlando glanced over at Dave, and then out at the audience. His gaze moved over and found the camera. "Can you see me now?" he asked. "You're watching me on your phone? Cool." Dave wisely moved back out of frame and held his tongue now matter how much he wanted to comment. A glance at Paul insured that the musicians would remain quiet as well as Orlando Bloom fell giddily in love, live and in color. "So did you like the song or not?" Orlando asked. "You did? You do? Don't play with me. You can see me standing up, yeah? I'm about to walk off this set and straight to the nearest airport with a flight to … you are? Oh. Well, I'll stay here then. No, not right here, silly bugger. I'll wait for you at the… Woops! Almost said the name. Just a sec." Orlando put the slim red phone to his chest and looked first at Dave and then out at the audience. "The answer is yes," he announced. "We're going to meet and see what happens." The clapping swelled, riddled with woo-hoos from well-wishers and a few ribald suggestions. "Thanks," Orlando beamed. "Really, thanks. I appreciate it, but I'd like to talk to … my friend some more." The applause pattered out like a light rain as Orlando put the phone to his ear again. "Hello? Yeah, I was just … Oh yeah, that's right, you can see me." Orlando giggled. "I feel slightly drunk," he said. "I can't believe this is happening. Yes, you've always told me to be strong and reach for what I want but … Yes, it did work. Don't be so smug. Why? Because I have a long memory and if we … get together, which I hope with all my heart, I'll take my sweet revenge later. Yes I am that sort of person. Don't pretend you're surprised; you know me well enough. And don't play the innocent; it doesn't suit you." Orlando rolled his eyes at the camera, then softened it by blowing a kiss and half the audience swooned in the aisles. Dave saw Jessica Simpson in the wings standing hopefully on tiptoe, buoyed by the air in her head. Letterman made a throat cutting gesture and Simpson was yanked out of camera range by a burly stagehand. Oblivious to the activity around him, Orlando looked earnestly into the camera and spoke softly into the phone. "You're getting on the plane? Cool. They'll make you turn the phone off soon though. Was that the attendant? Shite! I'm just going to say it. I love you. At least, I think I love you, and if I think I love you, then I probably do because love is mostly how you think about a certain person, not just the things you do together … what? Shut up!" Orlando looked down and back up again, blushing furiously. "Well yes, rather," he said into the phone. "Some day. Oh yeah, I want to. We'll talk about it. As long as it takes." Orlando gave the camera a come hither look with a melting smile and the cameraman spontaneously combusted into a flaming fairy. "I can't wait to see you either," Orlando said. "What's happening? Are they taking your phone away? I love you. What? Not yet? Then why'd you say that? No it wasn't funny. And you don't have to trick me into saying it. Apology accepted. Oh, okay, get buckled in." Orlando clamped the phone between his ear and shoulder and slid his eyes toward Dave. Holding his arms out from his body, Orlando made the international tourist sign for airport. Paul and the guys softly played "Leavin' on a Jet Plane". "How long is the flight?" Orlando asked. "That long? I won't make it. I'll have an aneurysm. Do what? That would be the longest bath on record. Don't quote the Guinness Book at me; I was being facetious. Yes, I am going to go to the hotel and get ready. I'm going to order heaps of stuff from room service and then I'm going to wait until it's time to meet your plane. Then I'm going to go the airport and throw myself into your arms when you walk through the gate. You really don't mind? I love you." Orlando reached up and touched the scarf around his neck. "Do you see this?" he asked. "You left it behind on the bus and I've been wearing it ever since. It's seen me through a few lonely nights. What? That's disgusting. That's not what I meant at all. No, it isn't! Don't you dare hang up now. Well I don't care if the plane's ready to taxi. Tell them to wait a minute. Don't you … Shite! Filthy Human!" Orlando flipped his phone closed, and stared at it indignantly for a moment. Slowly, it dawned on him what he had said. Raising his eyes, he peered at the audience through his Will Turner ringlets as the hush drew out. Those in the crowd that knew their Lord of the Rings cast trivia savored the validation of a long held suspicion, and then the young actor smiled winsomely. "Like I said, I'd like to keep this a secret until we both agree to make it public, so I'd appreciate the cooperation of anyone that may have guessed who I'm meeting. You know who you are and I thank you. For this and so much more." Orlando stood up then. He thanked Dave and shook his hand. Courteously, he went over and thanked the band, kissing Paul Shaeffer's cheek. Then Orlando walked off the stage to the strains of "Heaven" by Bryan Adams. "Well Dave," Paul said, looking a little dazed. "That certainly was a surprise. Maybe we should play Love is in the Air." "I feel inspired," Letterman said. "As soon as the credits roll, your ass is mine, Paul." The laughter of the audience faded behind Orlando as he crossed the lobby in a glow of sweet anticipation. He didn't feel the floor beneath his feet as he floated to the glass doors on a cloud of waking dreams. Orlando got into the limousine provided by Worldwide Pants, Letterman's production company, and went to his luxurious hotel paid for by the network. In about five hours, give or take a few minutes, the one he'd loved in secret for over a year arrived. They spoke openly and frankly about their feelings and decided they cared deeply for one another and that they'd give it a chance to grow. Their affection became a deep and abiding love that eventually led to the ultimate physical expression of their feelings and to the two of them standing in front of a minister. They didn't make the relationship public for a long time, but there were those among the populace that knew their secret thanks to Orlando's slip on live television. However, they kept the secret faithfully and referred to it only in fiction. As I am doing even now. THE END If you enjoyed this story, please send FB to Bailey. 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