makeyourownluck (makeyourownluck) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-10-27 18:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | charlie pace, hugo reyes |
Who: Charlie and Hurley
When: Beginning of Oct, Not too long after the incident with Roland and Verity.
Where: A bar
What: Getting a drink, swapping stories
Rating/Warning: PG, for mention of hard times
Status: Closed.
It wasn’t exactly typical for the fan to be sought out by a member of the fandom, but Charlie had been the one to ask Hurley if he wanted to hang sometime. Roland, even though he was still living the man’s house, was very nearly to dead to him. Even if being the “other man” wasn’t technically his fault, or Verity’s… or Charlie’s… Ugh, the whole thing was just messed up.
Really, either one of them could have been the other man. It sucked.
He needed some new people. And judging by what he knew about Hurley from his dreams, he seemed like a good place to start.
Hurley was absolutely buzzing with excitement. Ever since Merrill had told him that the Charlie Pace was here, right here, in the OC, he was beside himself like any fan. He’d even brought the recently purchased first album of Drive Shaft in case he could get Charlie to sign it. He’d even brought extra sharpies in different colors (black and metallic silver). He nervously stood by the bar, trying to look cool. But he was so big, and well, big, that it was hard to look too cool when people were pushing past you trying to order drinks. Still, Hurley held his own, and sipped at his coke and rum. It was a safe bet, he wasn’t much of a drinker.
Charlie wasn’t a big drinker either, but right now, he needed something a little stronger than soda alone. He was stressed and over-tired; he hadn’t been sleeping much or very well at Roland’s. When he did pass out, he had nightmares about Verity and Roland in the next room, doing… things. Things he didn’t want to hear in the middle of the night, so it was hard to relax.
He entered the bar in what was subdued dress for him, just a t-shirt and jeans. No chains or bracelets, no black nail polish. He looked a lot more like an Average Joe than a one-time rockstar.
Hurley was busy humming along to the song they had currently going on over the speakers, and occasionally stealing glances at the television displaying Sports Center. He didn’t watch sports much so it more or less was just something to look at as he passed the time waiting for Charlie.
And he almost missed the guy, as he approached the bar. He was a lot shorter in person than Hurley had expected, and nearly unrecognizable to him without his rockstar getup.
“Oh hey! Hey dude! Uh, I mean, Charlie. Pace. Can I call you Charlie? Or uh...Um...I’m Hurley.” And after spectacularly fumbling over his words Hurley stuck out a hand slightly sweaty from nerves.
There was a hitch in Charlie’s step as he caught sight of Hurley, who looked exactly as he had in his dreams. Still, his emotional reaction was somewhat a mixed bag. It was a little like seeing a ghost out of the corner of your eye. Startling. Eerie. Exciting.
What had been revealed to him was a little disjointed. Charlie was pretty sure he’d seen the beginning and the end of the story--he had died, after all. He knew Hurley had been a good friend to him, there, possibly the best he’d ever had in either world. But the middle of the story of missing. He didn’t know what had gotten them to that point.
He also didn’t know what Hurley himself had dreamed about yet, if anything.
“Hey! Hurley!” Charlie heard himself begin to speak before he realized he was talking. He sounded jovial. He sounded like he was greeting an old friend. “What happening, mate?”
Needless to say Hurley was a little starstruck and then baffled at the former rock star's cordiality. He wasn't sure what to expect; maybe some swagger, a cool glance and equally as dispassionate greeting. "Uhm, not much? Just um, havin' a rum and coke and lookin' at sports I don't watch." His words trailed and voice dropped into that lower tone Hurley was inclined to do at the end of sentences when he became self aware of how awkward he was sounding.
"So...you just get off of a gig or something?" Hurley had no idea what Charlie's status was anymore, he figured he was playing small halls and biding his time for a big comeback with his brother and the rest of the band.
Charlie took a moment to signal the bartender for a drink. Whatever half-decent ale was on tap would do. He sighed and shook his head. “Ehh… no. I was literally doing absolutely nothing before I headed over.”
He wasn’t bitter about the band or Liam anymore. He’d gotten that anger out of his system. Unfortunately, that probably wasn’t coming across very clear, thanks to Roland shagging Verity.
Hurley nodded and sipped at his drink. He watched as the bartender came over to take Charlie's order. The rock star seemed a little ruffled, like something was bothering him. Hurley wanted to ask, but didn't want to appear nosy. He kept sipping his drink, unsure of what to say.
"Wings?" A waitress came by with a plate full of buffalo wings.
"Right here, thanks." Hurley said, finally prying his lips away from the glass. She placed it between himself and Charlie at the bar. "Want some?" Hurley's face lit up at all the mouthwatering wings and the tangy scent of the tabasco sauce.
Charlie was not one to turn down food since his luck had run out. And now that it seemed to be running short all over again, he realized he was actually starving. “Definitely. Thanks,” he said, picking up one from the basket. He had plans to chip in for this outing, whenever the bill came, so he didn’t feel bad taking Hurley’s food.
“So, tell me more about this comic thing.”
Hurley dug into the wings like he hadn’t eaten in days. He loved chicken more than any other food in the world. He spoke between wings, dipping (but being careful not to double dip) them in the blue cheese sauce.
“Well, I won this reality show where a bunch of us geeks were living in a house and we did all kinds of challenges. You know, it’s like if Big Brother and Survivor had a kid and dressed ‘em up as Darth Vader.” He grinned at his own joke. “Then I did a bunch of appearances at conventions, you know, the comic ones? And did some late night shows, like David Letterman and Jimmy Kimmel and stuff. The best was that Late Late show with the Scottish dude, uh...Craig Ferguson? Dude’s crazy funny.” He stopped to finish his drink and then asked the bartender for water. “Now I’m just waiting for them to let me know when I start the internship at [comic company]. Dunno what I’m gonna do as an intern, hope it’s not too lame.”
Charlie grinned. “I love Craig Ferguson, man! Shit, I might have seen you on there and forgotten. Or fallen asleep… So do you draw? Or write or what? What do you want to do with the comics thing?”
Hurley wiped his fingers on the napkin before downing half of his water. “Well they don’t call it the “Late, Late Show with Craig Ferguson” for nothing, right? Can’t blame you for fallin’ asleep. He’s totally cool in person though, and that Secretariat costume is nuts. I don’t know how those guys don’t trip over each other.”
Hurley shook his head when Charlie asked about any skills he might have. “Nah, man. I’m just a geek that loves comics. I can’t draw to save my life...stick figure’s are about as far as I can get. And writing? Nah, dude. I dunno what I want to do with it. I just kinda did the show on a stupid dare. I didn’t think I’d actually win.” Hurley knew his skill set was small; he’d worked at minimum wage jobs all his life, and the most he’d gotten was to be a manager at a Toys R Us down in Miami.
“So what about you, man? What have you been up to?” Hurley’s amiable attitude had overridden his starstruck reaction and he was starting to relax a little. He waved down a waitress to order more food; the wings were small and weren’t going to cut it. “Can I get an order of Ultimate Fries. Oh and um, a beer.”
The waitress looked at him expectantly. “Um, which sir?” She finally said when it appeared Hurley wasn’t understanding the pause.
“Oh uh…” he glanced around to find where the taps were. He chose the first one he could read from where he was sitting. “Newcastle.”
Charlie sighed, but it sounded a little like a grumble. His gaze had turned inward, their light flickering. With his free hand, he scratched the back of his neck. “What have I been up to…?” he repeated. “Well, I teach. Er, I teach guitar, cos no one wants to take piano lessons from a one-hit rockstar. I’m on-call as an opener at a listening room venue by Irvine. Other than that… not a whole lot of music going on. I work in a restaurant to keep up my rent.”
For a few seconds, Charlie seriously considered divulging everything that had happened with Verity and Roland.
"Teaching's cool. Merrill's a teacher." Hurley said. "And c'mon, dude, Drive Shaft was so not a one hit wonder. Nearly every track on your first album was awesome." He suddenly grinned conspiratorially and leaned in a little as if telling a super secret. "Don't tell anyone, but back in Miami, we used to put on your stuff when the store was dead. Usually around two or four, or Sundays. It was hilarious whenever a mom would walk in and look all confused. Sometimes we'd rock out with the Rock Band guitars in the back section." And he laughed at himself. The waitress came by with the second plate of food; french fries smothered in cheese, bacon pieces, and scallions. "Dude, dig in. These are awesome." It was the only reason he liked this bar, really. He remembered Charlie talking about rent. "Rent? You don't have like a mansion with ten cars and chicks in bikinis by a pool?" He'd heard of the drug scandal with Charlie's brother Liam, but Hurley had figured being the straight man Charlie wouldn't have squandered his cash.
Charlie didn’t know how to feel about them playing his album when the patrons wouldn’t be bothered, but he let it go. He knew Hurley meant it as a compliment. Besides, the fries more than made up for it.
But the real reason was that he knew he was about to burst Hurley’s bubble. The guy seemed pretty attached to the idea that Charlie was enjoying his fame and fortune, really leaving the high life. Unfortunately, it was a total fantasy. “Actually…” he began tentatively, “My brother stole all my money and skipped town... with whatever he didn’t spend on drugs. He’s got all the rights tied to his name. I don’t see any of that money anymore.”
Hurley stopped chowing down, holding mid-air a french fry covered in cheese. "Whoa, wait what?" He blinked stupidly for a moment as the information sank in.
Charlie lifted his glass, now half-empty, as if to say cheers. He sighed. “Yeah, well… those are the unfortunate reasons for my current circumstances. It sucks. But it’s almost water under the bridge. My world’s totally different now. Sometimes I wonder if it isn’t better.”
Eyebrows raised as he mused over Charlie’s newfound wisdom. Hurley contemplatively consumed the french fry. “If you say so, man.” He lifted his glass then, toasting the air and said around the fry, “To you, dude. For being so Zen about it.” They continued to chow down on the food, the bustle of the bar all around the psuedo-celebrities enjoying their anonymity. As they ate, Hurley more and more got a look of concentration on his features, as if he were trying to work something out.
It was better, no doubt about it. Not cleaning up after Liam’s literal shit and vomit was a big part of the improvement. Of course, everything with Verity was down the loo… But Charlie was had attained peace, now that he’d lost everything, and he knew he wasn’t the first “rock star” to feel that way.
He did notice the way Hurley kept knitting his brows, though. It was like there was something else on his mind, something maybe even on the tip of his tongue. “What? Everything okay?”
"Hm?" The look vanished, replaced by the twinkle in Hurley's generally happy eyes. "Yeah, man. Was just thinking of something cool to do after this.”
“Cool?” Charlie finished what was left of his beer. “You just moved here. What have you discovered?”
Hurley chuckled. “Haven’t discovered anything, except a comic book shop. I meant, I want to do something cool, or a little crazy. Just to blow off some steam, y’know?” He shrugged his large shoulders. “The show guys are annoying. I’ve been running around the country to all these cons, and then there’s the paperwork for the internship, and...stuff.” He didn’t want to mention the fact he’d discovered his mother had given Hurley’s father her cell phone number and he kept calling at all hours. He’d moved them away from that leech for a reason, but it was hard convincing his mother to let go.
Charlie shrugged, setting his glass down on the tabletop. “I know a few places. Let’s get.” He’d lived here a good deal longer than Hurley, and his old apartment had been by Irvine College. He knew some awesome spots for music, not to mention food, galleries, girls. He knew where to get good pot, if that’s what Hurley wanted. Charlie hadn’t touched the stuff in forever.
“Yeah? Sweet!” Hurley grinned, took another pull at his beer and paid for the meal. He was happy as could be as they headed towards the exit. He was gonna hang out with a rock star!