Just as getting Myra Atmey to return his romantic feelings was a hopeless task, getting Vivian Fleet to break up with her cheating husband is an idea doomed to failure.
"Oh, Percy." Vivian sighs. "He's a great father to our kids. And he's rich, you understand that, right? You understand what
filthy stinking rich means? He's just a cheating son of a bitch, that's all."
And now she is too.
Tiberius experiments with a tofu recipe while Mittens repairs the broken dishwasher.
Desdemona Pesce, with her passion for fantasy and science fiction, is the company's makeup artist. She's also the seamstress in charge of making sure costumes look exactly as the concept art dictates.
"The fish always hide when I walk in," Percival complains.
"Stop being a diva and sit down," Desdemona growls.
"Ah? Did you have to read that book too?
Dealing With Divas? Andromeda was handing it out the other day and trying to force us all to read it."
"Andromeda may be our boss," Desdemona scoffs, "but she's going senile."
"I thought you were happy she's pushing this high fantasy movie."
Desdemona frowns. "I am. I just. I. Um. Sorry. I know she's your aunt or something."
"Second cousin once removed," Percival corrects.
"Ugh.
Everyone here is interrelated except for me. The La Mers, the McDermotts... they own this studio."
"Not literally. Literally, Vera Goldbeard owns it."
"I met her once. Strange lady. Obsessed with cooling fans."
"Thank you," he says quietly. "For fixing my shirt."
"Whatever. Just get out there and don't mess it up again."
"Sometimes... you seem awfully angry, when I'm around, Desdemona."
"Must be your imagination." She glowers, menacing. "So what's with you and Vivian?"
"Nothing serious, I'm sad to say."
"So it's true? You'd do a married woman, but you never even notice me."
His expression betrays absolutely nothing. "You know how Vivian is." Percival doesn't need to elaborate; in the time since he's been intimate with Vivian, he's noticed he's not the only man at the studio Vivian stalks.
"So you're sayin' it's
her fault."
"No..."
"So you're sayin'," she leans in closer to him, narrowing her eyes, "you didn't know I was interested."
He meets her eyes cautiously. She's uncomfortably close. He can feel her minty breath hitting his face.
That's when Desdemona grabs him and presses their mouths together.
He drapes his arms around her; it seemed like the thing to do.
They slip away from the studio, because she wants to. Desdemona brings Percival to her house, and straight to her bedroom, which is dark and sparse and depressing.
He mumbles something to the effect of honestly, truly being in love with Myra Atmey and half in love with Vivian Fleet, but Desdemona pulls him on top of her anyway, and the sex is intense and strange. She's into some things he doesn't really want to think about very hard, but he's good at following instructions.
The awards begin pouring in.
Percival Archer may be famous, but he doesn't feel any different.
Though when he goes out around town, he's not as ignored as before. People stops him and say "hey, nice work man." Or "I love the scene where you X Y Z."
This is nothing like the mobs of zealous fans Myra complains she's seen in other cities. And he's grateful for that.
Although one day, at the grocery store, Percival again runs into someone interested in just a bit more.
Tanya Rome, Percy's childhood friend who became more of a bully in high scjool, is a kids' soccer coach now and lives in this adorably dated garage apartment. "I'm sorry I was always ditching you and making fun of you behind your back," she pants, between kisses. "Let me make it up to you."
"Ugh," she says suddenly, "my house is such a mess. If I'd known I'd run into a film star today..."
"I like it."
"No way. The wallpaper, the stereo, the curtains..."
"It feels homey. Cozy, you know?"
Tanya blushes. "Yes, it does."
Tanya doesn't even wait for them to make it to a bedroom before tearing their clothes off.
At first Tiberius thought Percival was living the epic dream of all men, but after a while something about it gets on his nerves. "You're out with a different girl every night," he comments, incredulous.
Percy picks at his waffles with the chop sticks. "So?"
"Seriously,
Tanya?"
Percival smiles insincerely. "That was last week," he jokes. "Practically ancient history."
"Seriously.
Tanya. And what's wrong with my waffles?"
"Nothing. They're very good, Ti."
"Then they are you letting them get cold?"
A silence follows. Percival is about to comment on Tiberius's career in food service when Tiberius continues, "I guess just one special girl would be enough for me. I wouldn't need ten who barely know me."
Something clicks. Percy talks without thinking: "You need to get over this Iris thing, and move on."
Tiberius clenches his teeth.
Could it be true?!! He's not over Iris? Hence the lack of dating other girls, and the discomfort at seeing his best friend sleeping with half the young women in town? Is it jealousy, or concern? Or both, or neither?
Tiberius decides to confront Iris, who probably wouldn't have let him in the house if her husband were home.
"I was a child," she admits, with some regret. "I shouldn't have stopped speaking with you. And I'm so glad you're okay. I know you've been staying with Percival and Mittens."
"I help them pay the bills," Tiberius defends his honor first. "And... you weren't a child. I was a fool."
"I miss you sometimes," she says wistfully. "Do you want some coffee?"
He shakes his head no.
So she continues, "I'm married now."
"When did this happen?!"
"Does it matter?"
"I should go," he says, pained.
"Yes, you should," she agrees sadly.
This was so close to not happening.
Every fiber of Tiberius's being says it's completely wrong, but his ex-girlfriend's kiss, something that once made him feel powerful and on top of the world, compels him to stay.
Iris loves her husband.
So she shouldn't have let Tiberius guide her upstairs, to the bed she's only supposed to share with her husband...
She knows she shouldn't be staring into those dark brown eyes and giggling like a schoolgirl.
And she shouldn't be grabbing his rear.
Or admiring his tattoo.
Or wanting so badly to taste his adult body, to compare it to the teenage one of their past.
Tiberius never knew she was this impulsive.
He never knew
he was this impulsive.
Their passion spent, Iris begs Tiberius to leave and not tell anyone what happened.
He considers leaving town altogether. He goes so far as to dress warmly, pack a single bag and and storm outside into the backyard, where he can gaze out at the ocean beyond the cliffs behind the ice sculpture garden and pretend he sees happier shores on the horizon.
Tiberius is not sure what holds him here tonight. Laziness, perhaps.
He's tired. Maybe he'll think about this again tomorrow.
Leave me alone, Momma Cat.
With Percival asleep and his not-boyfriend pacing around the garden like a madman, Vivian feels free to roam the house.
What
is that? Photographic evidence of a ghost?
Percy really is a dork, she thinks.
Her presence has not gone unnoticed by Mittens, however.
Mittens waited for morning to confront Vivian, but now that they're both awake, Mittens gets straight to the cutting questions about Vivian's relationship with her son.
"It's none of your business," Vivian snaps. Something about Mittens's tired stare frightens the actress. Mittens is, after all, the mad scientist who created the unmelting ice around this house. "Maybe you should ask your son."
"I know you're married," Mittens says. "And I want
you to know I don't approve of what you're doing."
"Percy seems to approve just fine."
Percival, a trained actor, manages to keep an unreadable expression on his face when his mother calls him over to the sofa to criticize his actions. Inside, he wants to curl up and die.
"I just don't understand why you would do something like this," she says finally, her eyes betraying shame and pain, and puzzlement and exasperation. "Do you love Vivian?"
"I care about her a lot," Percy admits sadly. "I wish she felt the same way... about me, or about herself. Her husband doesn't seem to care about her feelings."
"How could you fall for a sob story like that? Of course she's going to paint herself as a victim and play for sympathy."
"It's not serious. It's never going to be serious. Sometimes the sex just feels like her way of saying hello."
Mittens slumps back in her seat, silent.
"I'm just as uncomfortable and embarrassed as you are right now, Mom. I'm sorry if I've disappointed you."
They haven't gotten a chance to really sit down and chat for a while, so Percy tries to ask his mother how she's been.
"I know I haven't been home much..." he apologizes.
"I'm fine," Mittens insists, vaguely offended if he thinks she wouldn't be. "I've kept to my work and my hobbies. And your friend Tiberius is good company."
Percy frowns. "Oh?"
Mittens chuckles. "He keeps to himself. Doesn't bother me. Sort of like a cat, just there."
"Shh!" Mittens whispers. "He's coming downstairs."
"My mom's more or less pissed," Percival laments.
"Huh?" Tiberius twitches, afraid it's something he's done or not done.
"You know. The Vivian thing."
"Oh." He thinks about Iris, and her guilt. And Vivian, and her total lack of guilt. Right here, right now, Tiberius decides he hates Vivian. "Pfft. Vivian Fleet doesn't care about her marriage, so why should anyone else?"
"Maybe I'm a terrible person," Percival sighs.
"What?
You? Please."
Like Vivian, Desdemona becomes a semi-regular thing.
Percy cradles her head in his palm, brushes back her outrageous bangs and tells her she has
captivating eyes, but even though he's being completely sincere, she'll never believe him.
And then there's this time he meets Saffron, of all people, outside the science building where he was listening to his mother give a public lecture on her research.
"You've done so well for yourself," Saffron says wistfully. "You're living my dream."
Saffron never made it in the entertainment industry. After much failure and joblessness, one of her relatives forced her to take a job as his lab assistant.
Secretly hoping to turn her off, Percival gives Saffron his best, saddest, most feminine,
I am too distracted expression.
But somehow he knows it's not going to work, and this chance encounter is only going one place...
Percy is starting to think his bed should enter a witness protection program.
Conveniently placed vase!
The random fling with Saffron was probably his most
normal intimate moment with a woman, Percy reflects some days later, as Desdemona tells him to take off the damn ear things. The painful tape she applied herself, this morning, since the scene today required well-groomed hair.
And the costume. She wants him to take off the pirate costume. But first, the ear things, because she can't stand to see those pointy ears covered up. They're the only thing that makes him attractive to her.
"Seriously?" he sighs. "Can't we have normal ear sex just once?"
"They only look normal from about three angles," she argues, glaring at him.
A contract between the Barnacle Bay studio and a foreign pictures association sends Percival Archer and Ada Myra Atmey to Champs Les Sims. For Percy, it is his first time out of Sim Nation, and for Myra it is coming home.
Myra's parents owned a property in the countryside here, where Myra spent many happy childhood summers.
Myra's parents have passed away, leaving their scattered properties in both France and Barnacle Bay to their only daughter. Myra is primarily interested in
this property, and the filming nearby is an excuse to finally clean the place out and make it a permanent residence. She's invited Percy to stay with her for the duration of the filming, of course, and she brought some of her La Mer relations to help renovate the house.
Abbie La Mer, a bright film student just out of school, is totally freaking out about the dust and spiders.
Abbie's field is editing. Determined to make her family proud, she's barely off the train before she's picking apart some recent footage on her expensive, top-notch graphics laptop.
Myra takes Percy on a tour of the grounds.
"It is lovely, no?"
"Uhm," Percy thinks hard about this. "Oui?"
"Hahaha! You had best mean that."
"This is my home," Myra tells him. "I feel a love and connection to this place and its people."
He blushes. "You need your hands to tell me this... I see..."
"I would love it if you could stay for more than the short time you will stay," she says. "But you won't. You have family by the ocean... and even your clothes tell me you would never leave it permanently."
"My... clothes?"
"You wonder why I never return your gestures. Initially, it was because I saw you as a boy. Increasingly, it is because we're of different worlds. I'm not returning to live in Barnacle Bay; that place is pure business to me now. And I wound never do anything to lead you on or break your heart."
He frowns. "I am so obvious?"
"Mmhm. I would not say this to just anyone. Many men would say
'ah, what? But I was never interested in you! Silly woman! You assume things!' But you, Archer, you are honest and inoffensive. To a fault. I adore you."
"I think I've offended some people in my time," he says, thinking of Desdemona. "And what I've done with Vivian doesn't feel honest."
"Why not? Have you misled her?"
"No..."
"And her husband knows exactly what she's doing."
"I had guessed."
_______________________________________________________________________
Etc.: Paprika Archer set a record... and it looks like Percival Archer is going to break it.
Generation goals are underway. I'm looking for more tattoos that might fit Tiberius, and both boys are working on the perfectionist thing. For Tiberius, the skill is cooking. For Percy, the perfected skill will be charisma. So when he's not in bed with a woman, he's telling jokes to her, because of that one challenge to tell 100 jokes. I think he's up to 30-something.
