Lost Love (Viv vyle show)

And now some light humor with Viv and Jared and more drama with Tristan. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Do not own any Viv Vyle characters. Only 2 are mine.

Chapter 5: Football and Memories
“Go! Go! No! Damn referee! How dare they not call that?! That was a foul you moron! Do you need glasses?!” Jared sighed. He’d be glad when football was over with. He didn’t care if it didn’t come back for another season.
“Dear, you do understand that you’re yelling at a tele?”
Viv nodded. “Yes Jared but that’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
“The point is that no country loves this sport more than this one and I am simply giving it support.” She turned back to the game then, Jared sighing as he drank from a glass full of wine. “Go! No! Damn it! Call it! No! I should have all these damn referees on my show! So fucking incompetent!”
Jared sighed and sipped from his glass. He hoped there was still aspirin in the bathroom…
“Yes! Finally! Thank god!”
A ton of it.
“Viv, darling…” He figured he may as ease her into the bad news while she was in a good mood.
“What?”
“Well, Graham has come up with some unexpected issues and well he’s been evicted…”
“So? That’s not our problem.” She sighed as the game flipped to a commercial. She frowned and stuck her tongue out at Chris Connors, his smug mug on the tele.
“Actually darling it sort of is…See, I told him he could…”
“Oh Jared! You didn’t say he could stay here? Did you?” His guilty face answered her question. “Oh Jared!”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t want to say no.”
“Really? It’s a lot easier to say no than it is yes!”
Jared sighed.
Viv swore.
“He’d better not try to play plumber again or I’ll show him where those sweet corn forks can really go!”
It was just another day in the life of Viv Vyle.
---
Tristan had gone back to the theater, hiding amongst the set which was still out. “Oh Erik? Where could you be?” He smiled as he heard the all too familiar voice of his business partner Malcolm Blake. “Hm? Erik?” He felt as the chandelier he was in was lowered. “Why there you are.”
Tristan shook his head. “Don’t.” He stood and walked on the stage, shaking his head still. Malcolm looked at the younger man, concerned.
“Are you all right?”
“No. No I’m not.”
“Care to talk?” Tristan shook his head. “All right.” He paused for a second. “Ah. Madame Giry.” Tristan looked at him. “Am I right? She got you all mixed up again.”
“Again? She never let me the fuck go.” Malcolm nodded slowly. He was the only one that knew of Helena, the only one that knew of the child they had. Tristan walked around the set, his expert feet leading him around every trap and trick on the set.
“Well, if you want to talk.”
Tristan nodded and Malcolm walked away, leaving Tristan to his thoughts. He looked at the set, his mind wandering. After Helena and him had started seeing each other, he’d always had a seat reserved for her. She did come many times and no matter how many times he told her he never felt anything for the actress that played Christine she still liked to kid him about the kisses.
He smiled and walked around the set. Malcolm had been the one to dub her as Madame Giry. “The one he always wanted-truly-but could never touch” as Malcolm liked to say. Tristan missed playing the Phantom-he’d trained long and hard and for the role-and was more than thrilled to have been making his dream a reality.
He shook his head. But that was then, this was now. The door of “Erik and Antoinette Giry” was forever closed.
Right?