hackthis_archive | RPS - The Incredibly True Adventures of Four Stars, Two Actors In Love, and One Gay Landmark

Sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder what hell will be like. And then I think, no, God is laughing too hard to let Satan get all the good crack-fic.

Inspired by The Most Famous Hetero Life-Partners Ever ™ buying themselves a landmark gay establishment, I present George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Jake Gyllenhaal and Jared Leto in...*

RPF/RPS
Dedicated to

ethrosdemon and all you crazy people
Disclaimer: If I have to actually remind you that this is all 100% false, except for whatever's true, we have problems.

The Incredibly True Adventures of Four Stars, Two Actors In Love, and One Gay Landmark (Prologue)

There's a common misconception in Hollywood that George Clooney can't commit, or that he's a commitment phobic, or that he's some man whore, who is too busy sleeping with every pretty under-30 in town to stop for two seconds.

This is all totally untrue.

In the first place, most of George's ex-girlfriends are between 30 and 35. More importantly, however, the tabloids –- or the hemorrhoids as George likes to call them –- are ignoring one of George's biggest commitments ever –- his commitment to Brad Pitt.

George is totally devoted to Brad, in that hetero-life partner way that has them making millions of dollars off of drinking and traveling together and calling their home videos "movies". They're also building themselves casinos so that George doesn't have to keep bringing his own Pratesi sheets to Vegas because the Wynn hotel still isn't getting it right.

Well, George is building a casino, Brad is having himself a mid-life crisis.

Of course, George has heard the whispers that he and Brad are an item, and he and Brad are using Angelina to broker their surrogate children, but that's just crazy talk. George doesn't want to have kids with Brad –- even Jen didn't want to have kids with Brad.

George is far too busy trying to rearrange the world the way he wants it to be a good dad. He has Max, oinking and squealing around the house anyway, why would he want a kid? He tells Brad this when he calls from Canada where he and Angie are playing house, and Brad's getting paid to play cowboy.

"I want to buy a gay club," George mentions in between Brad's commentary on Canada's trees. It's very early in the morning when Brad calls; George isn't at his most coherent.

"That's nice, sweetheart."

"I hate it when you call me sweetheart, you sound like my mom."

"I know -- why do you think I do it? Speaking of your mom, I heard you were cheating on me and using your mom's house as a fucking train station for your Man Trade. George, that's just lazy -- making your man trade go all the way to Kentucky."

There's a pause after this, not because George is offended by Brad's allegations, but because he's laughing too hard to do anything else but wheeze and think he's going to choke on his own tongue. "This from the man who's using Angelina Jolie as a surrogate mother for his children."

"I wouldn't need Angie if you'd agree to adopt with me."

"Can it, I'm not the fatherhood type."

"You're the buying a gay bar type."

"And you're the redecorating a gay bar type. You're in." George doesn't ask Brad if he's in as much as he tells Brad that this is what they're going to do, because that's how their relationship works. They don't consult, they tell, and then if one can't do it, or won't do it, the other one bitches and blackmails until the other folds.

It works really well for them.

"I'm always in -- Toothy Tile, sweetheart." Brad's making these smacking sounds down the line, which George assumes is his Nicorette gum. Brad's been trying to quit smoking for the last million years; George just tells him when he's ready he'll get over it. Like Jen.

"How many times have I told you I am not Toothy Tile?"

"Riiight."

"Remind me of this the next time there's a Blind Item about you and your latest piece on the side."

"Who cares about my Rainbow Tribe when you're using your mom's house as Grand Central. Is it true that Jake Gyllenhaal is your new piece?"

"Don't I wish." George sighs and wonders whether or not he's going to get out of bed today. His agent once did the calculations and deduced that from a $20 million dollar pay day, and after his manager gets his 15%, and the agency gets their 10%, and the lawyer gets his share, and the publicist gets her 5%, and the tax man gets his 33%, well, George makes about $50 every time he uses the john.

In short, George doesn't have to do shit –- he just likes to. George likes a lot of things, like talking to Brad, because Brad doesn't need George for anything. Brad's a star in his own right, and he has his own money, and his own issues.

Boy, does Brad have his own issues. "You know, I heard he was working on an article with The Advocate. Wouldn't it be great press if he were the face of the new Boom Boom Room?"

Yeah, Brad doesn't need –- "Wait, back it up there, Trigger, what did you just say?"

"Trigger, that's cute, did you think of that on your own, or it is 'cause of the Jesse James thing?"

"Seriously, what did you just say?"

"I said Jake Gyllenhaal is coming out to The Advocate and ---"

"No, the thing about the Boom Boom Room, how did you know that was the name of the club?"

"That's the name of what club –- wait, you're serious about this gay club thing? You want us to buy a club called the Boom Boom Room? Cute, George, nice joke."

"It's not a joke!"

"Yeah, whatever." There's this long pause down the line while George looks at his alarm clock and tries to remember where he left his cell phone. He needs to call his agent.

Brad's chewing his gum really loudly, and it's giving George a headache. "Okay, wait, back up. You really want to buy a gay club?"

"Didn't we cover this already? You said you were in."

"No, you said I was in."

"That's the same thing!"

"George, do I detect a hint of emotion in your voice?"

George snickers, because Brad is amusing in his own twisted, "Everyone humor the crazy artist" type way. He's totally going to have to get out of bed now. His back isn't hurting as much since he had the surgery, but damn, getting old sucks.

"You're not old, sweetheart," Brad says good-naturedly. "You're just mature."

George grunts as he gets out of bed and stumbles over to his dresser. He needs to find his cell phone, and his wallet, and he needs to remember to call Matt back so they can go over the press for Syriana. "Tell that to my back."

"I'd tell it to your dick, but I haven't seen it in a while."

It's too early in the morning for George to laugh this hard, and he rolls his eyes at his reflection as he picks up his Blackberry and starts scrolling through his e-mails. Matt, Krista, Steven, Bernie, Bernie -– he's told Bernie about sending porn to his Blackberry, the pictures are always too grainy –- the other Steven, Richard, Lisa –

He deletes the message from Lisa perfunctorily, because he doesn't need her drama today.

"So, seriously, you want to buy a gay bar called the Boom Boom Room, and do what with it?" Brad's making conversation, which means he's at least considering the idea.

If Brad doesn't like an idea, he usually pretends it doesn't exist, so he must at least be interested. "I want to turn it into a Bed and Breakfast."

There's a dead silence down the phone and for a minute, George thinks Brad's hung up on him. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Brad... Brad... BRAD!"

"Are you fucking shitting me?" Brad answers eventually.

"No."

Brad's back to smacking on his gum again. "Huh."

George smiles at his reflection. He looks like shit. He's getting old. He's got wrinkles and lines, and thank god, his hair grew back after he had to shave it for Syriana. Being old and wrinkly and bald would've just been too much. "You'd still love me if I were bald," he says randomly.

Brad snickers. "Having one of those days, are we?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you should call your agent and tell him you want to blow up the entire entertainment industry by buying a gay bar with me and turning it into a gay-friendly B&B."

It's George's turn to snicker now. "Hey, I could do that."

"Or, hey, you could do that."

"So," George's brain is finally starting to catch up with him. "If we buy this gay club and turn it into a gay B&B, won't we need some sort of gay ambassador or something?"

"What kind of crap are you talking now?"

"I'm just thinking, two heterosexual men are tearing down a gay establishment. My publicist would have a coronary."

"Forget your publicist, you'd have to get through Ari first. He'd probably slash your tires and cut your phone lines." George laughs. Ari Gold isn't the most respected agent in town, but he's truly one of the most feared. And one of the best.

"So, you think Ari might have a problem with this?" he asks curiously.

"Uh, you think?"

George can hear Brad's sniggering. "So, Einstein, you have to way to fix this?"

"Way to make with the symbolism, Man Whore."

"Cute, Bradley."

"Okay, seriously, you want to attract clients, you need a good product. You need something they want -- Jake Gyllenhaal's gay, right?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Whatever he is –- he'd make a really good face for the company wouldn't he?"

"And what am I, chopped liver?"

"No, you're George Clooney."

"You're saying I'm too old. The home-wrecker is saying I'm too old. That's just rich."

"Not yet, but we will be."

Brad may be many things, but he's not stupid.

"So you'd rather hire the gay cowboy Marine instead of me?" George says.

Brad doesn't even answer.

"You're right," George says. "I'll call Ari."

"You do that."

*

Ari Gold is the kind of agent that tends to make people think of lawyers as good people. He's slick and slippery and very flashy. He talks fast, moves faster, and George would have nothing to do with Ari if he weren't so good at his job, but Ari lives for his clients, and as a client, George can't ask for more.

"George, baby, how's the Million Dollar Man? Talk to me, what's the good word? You looking for a new movie? I've got a wonder-kid in Indonesia who can get you a Golden Globe. I've got superheroes up the wazoo. I've got strippers who can blow ping-pong balls with their pussies, whatever you want, I can make it happen."

George rolls his eyes as he opens the door of the refrigerator. Now that he's mobile, he's starting to get motivated. He's got to take a shower, and eat, and go over to Laguna Beach and look at the property. He needs to talk to the owners. He needs to talk to Rande about landscapers and contractors. George needs to make things happen, and that's where Ari comes in. "I'm buying a gay club," he says just to shut Ari up.

There's a whole three seconds of silence, and George smirks to himself as he pulls out the grapefruit juice.

"Okay, a gay club, are we talking Broken Hearts Club or that Brokeback bitch, cause, Ang Lee's going to be real expensive in about three weeks."

"It's not a movie, Ari," George says, pawing through the drying board for his favorite mug. Ever since his doctor told him to cut back on the coffee, George's taken to drinking juice out of his coffee mug. He's trying a little transference -- it's not working so well. "I'm buying a gay club in Laguna Beach."

"Okay, okay, so, you're doing what? Gay burlesque? Another Forty Deuce in the O.C.?"

"No, it's a club, I'm going to make it into a Bed and Breakfast."

"You're going to what?! George, what the fuck? You're killing me here."

"Ari, shut up and listen to me."

"Okay my lips-–"

"Ari!"

"Right."

"Here's the deal: Brad and I are buying a gay club in Laguna Beach—"

"Shit, wait, you and Brad Pitt?"

"ARI!"

"Shutting up, seriously."

"Brad and I are buying a gay club; we're going to turn it into a gay-friendly B&B. We want a gay ambassador, someone to be the face of the business and make us look good to the community."

There's a long pause, and George grimaces as he takes a swallow of grapefruit juice. Maybe he'll try tea. This stuff is just nasty. Maybe he can spike it with coffee grounds.

"Okay, you want Richard Simmons or Tom Cruise?" Ari rolls with the punches; George gives him credit. "I can out half of the Hollywood Hills -- what do you want? Black, white, Latino, girl, boy, both, transsexual, name it."

"I don't know, surprise me."

"Two words -- Jake Gyllenhaal."

"Yeah, Brad and I were thinking –"

"Wait, I've got two more words -- Jared Leto."

George's juice goes down the wrong way for a minute. "He's gay?" he sputters trying to handle the phone and his mug.

"George, baby, where've you been? Jake and Jared are the hot ticket right now."

"Wait, you mean they're together?"

"Like Nicole Richie and her coke dealer."

"Wow." George doesn't even realise he's said this out loud, but Ari's still talking, because Ari's always talking.

"Don't worry about it, I can get you both -- half-price."

"Half-price?" George thinks this might be the best idea he's had all year, if everything is going to go this well. Of course, he and Brad'll have to meet Jake and Jared, and if they don't work out maybe he and Brad'll play a couple rounds with the press and act like they're together.

Ari just laughs. "Yeah, I know Jared's dealer."

George shakes his head. He's in league with the devil now -- there's no way he can loose. "All right, Ari, do your thing."

"You've got Gold, baby," Ari says. "Leave it me."

---On to part 1---

Notes: For those who may not know, George Clooney owns a pet pig named Max. Yes, really. Max will obviously be mentioned in this story again.

Also, Ari Gold, is the agent portrayed by Jeremy Piven on HBO's smash hit, Entourage. If you don't have Gold, well, you're just missing out, and if you think I can't mix fiction with RPS, dude, why are you reading this anyway?

**This would totally make the best movie poster ever!

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