Category Archives: Generation 3: Olive

Bridgeport Social Diary: Olive Belgravia

EXCLUSIVE: AN IN-DEPTH PROFILE OF THE WOMAN WHO SITS ON THE THRONE OF HIGH SOCIETY AND THE LEGACY OF THE GREAT FAMILY SHE DESCENDS FROM

Olive Belgravia-Elphinstone-Van Aston-Peredin Bauer. A four times married billionaire heiress, fashion muse, arts patron, and avid collector of jewels and antiques, it is a name that conjures up images of the high life, of riches and fame, and of many marital troubles. Sitting down with Olive Belgravia is an experience in itself. The queen of high society, who now goes by the name of her current husband, Charles Peredin-Bauer, smiles warmly as she settles down in the seat opposite us at The Samovar, the legendary Bridgeport restaurant. Heads turn to listen as she skips lunch (“I’ll eat when I’m dead!”), opting instead for a simple glass of champagne, crossing her stocking encased legs before adjusting the flawless Chanel suit and taking a deep breath.

“I’m ready.” She breathes with excitement in her voice.

And excited she should be – we have a lot to discuss. Notorious for her tight lipped stance on her personal life, she has always employed the air of the less available you are, the more exclusive you become. Now we will discuss all.

Born into the wealthy and prominent Belgravia family, Olive grew up in the lap of luxury, while she didn’t quite lead the lifestyle she does now (her family had a sprawling suburban home in the Redcliffe hills) it was an extremely comfortable life. Four siblings (Tommy, Kitty, Oliver, and Cora) kept her days filled, but, unlike her siblings, she never saw a clear cut future for herself, leaving her with feelings of inadequacy at her seeming lack of ambition; little did anyone know she would go on to become one of the richest Belgravia’s of them all.

For all our new readers or those less versed on the Belgravia family we feel obliged to give a little background to which you can place Olive into. Her grandmother is Lily Belgravia, the legendary actress who you have, no doubt, seen in at least a dozen movies. A three time Oscar winner who successfully broke into the business world with her line of fragrances and handbags, she created an impressive fortune for herself, most of which she bequeathed to her three daughters.

Perhaps even more impressive than the great Lily, but far less well known, is her husband, Chace Belgravia. Creating a fortune numbering in the tens of billions with Belgravia Industries International, he declined to leave his mammoth fortune to his daughters – they hardly needed it with the money they received from their mother – instead setting up ‘The Belgravia Trust’ a stack of money so large it has been surrounded in mystery and rumour for the hundred-or-so years that it has sat in the bank; some say the fortune is 20 billion, some say 100 billion dollars sits there, however much it is one thing is sure – it is always growing, the trustees who protect it number among the brightest business minds of the age, and continual investments keep the dollars flowing in. Protected and administered by a board of twelve trustees, every member of the family will receive a large chunk of money on their thirty fifth birthdays – the idea being that by that time they should have established themselves in a legitimate career, and the money will only exist to help them better said career. It just so happens Olive has received her own portion of the trust just last year – turning 36 a few weeks ago – but she declined to comment on the amount, tilting her head shyly and calling it ‘personal’.

Despite the trouble that can come with wealth, the family lived a happy life, after the birth of Arielle (Olive’s mother) the couple went on to have twins Oriana and Alexandra, before Lily had a hysterectomy, telling the press at the time she had no desire to ever have more children. A wild streak existed for Arielle when she inherited $30 million on her 18th birthday, proceeding to by the biggest apartment in Bridgeport, the famed Belgravia Triplex at Breach House (a property which she still owns, although she does not live there) and a constant streak of clubbing. Marriage to French painter Leonardo tamed Arielle, and (to the chagrin of the world press) she proceeded to fade quietly from the limelight into a suburban life in Redcliffe. Divorce followed the couple after the birth of their first child Tommy, and her second marriage (which she is still in after many, many years) to musician and world-renowned maestro Noah Belgravia followed, going on to have four more children. Child number three for this couple was non other than Olive. With her aunt Oriana a famous rocker married to the musician of the century (both known for their wild drug antics as well as their music), and the famed fiction writer Alexandra Belgravia-King as her other aunt she was sure to lead an interesting life from the get go.

“I recall my aunt Oriana visiting the house a few times, my mother later told me it was to ask for money,” Olive explains as we mention her aunt, “but she always seemed quite fun to me, always letting us play on her guitars and such, though that dreadful Jasper had the most frightening vacant eyes, and would light up his cigarettes in the house… to my mothers fury!” She recalls with a laugh.

Growing up Olive felt in the shadow of her siblings, all of whom had very clear career goals. Tommy dreamt of superstar athleticism, a goal which he soon achieved and now, along with his husband Austin, is a star of the Recliffe tigers. Kitty had journalistic aims, and also achieved them – she is now editor in chief of DIALOGUE, a prominent New York magazine. Oliver – who probably needs no explanation – spent his days painting, and now has art hanging in every prominent gallery and every household wealthy enough to afford his exquisite work. Cora, her youngest sibling, had dreams of musical stardom, and aided by her aunt Oriana she soon achieved that goal, and now enjoys a relatively successful career in the indie music scene. Meanwhile Olive would flick aimlessly through fashion magazines and gossip continuously with her friends via the internet and phone – both talents which would come in useful later in life,  when she started to be critiqued by the fashion world for everything she wore, and when one bitchy word from her could send a would-be socialite straight to the bottom. Leaving home at 16 Olive headed for Miami with friends, where she began partying and drinking.

“It’s a time in my life I do not like to think about. I was so irresponsible, it’s embarrassing to look back on. And why on earth did I choose Miami? It’s the epitome of tacky.”

While she may look back on Miami as ‘tacky’ now, back then Olive Belgravia was a well known party girl and budding socialite on the Miami scene, a city which she would soon change for the much more desirable land of Europe.

After a brief relationship at the tender age of 17 which she ‘does not wish to discuss’ which produced her only daughter Electra, Olive met Maxwell Elphinstone.

“I was in a bar one night and there he was. The attraction was instant, and while he was many years older than me I never thought the relationship was odd, we were just right for each other at that time.”

After a lavish wedding which included a moment of panic for the bride when she ran from the ceremony after the vows had taken place in Westchester, NY, Olive boarded the private Elphinstone jet and headed for a new life in Europe.

While the Elphinstone family maintains a large estate in Westchester, they are originally from Europe, and own many estates in the French Riviera. It seems unlikely that Olive could meet such a man in a bar – but meet him she did, and a very lucky meeting it was, for the Elphinstone name would help Olive forge a path through the bounds of European socialites to the top of the ladder.

While the Belgravia name is known across America, in Europe at that time they were just whispers of Lily’s name from the few who had shipped her films over and could speak English to watch them; the Elphinstones were much more prominent. At the time of Olive’s marriage to Maxwell they were headed by Elizabeth Elphinstone, the famously pearl-draped and pink-clad matriarch of the family, who has donated millions of euros to charity over her years, and who has friendships with Windsors and Rothschilds.

“Me and Elizabeth never really saw eye to eye, to be frank she didn’t like me, and I didn’t like her.”

The animosity between the two may have added to the eventual split between the couple, but, after the birth of Sebastian, Olive says the two fell into an uneasy truce.

“Maxwell had no heir at the time of our marriage, he was getting on, and Elizabeth was desperate for a little boy to continue the family. I’d have never got so much in the divorce if little Sebastian had been a little Sarah.” She laughs dryly as she explains the archaic attitude of the Elphinstones.

Olive continued her ascent up the social ladder with all seeming well, with her and Maxwell even being dubbed ‘the happiest couple in France’ at one point; but unbeknownst to everyone the marriage was suffering extreme difficulties.

“We had simply fallen out of love – I don’t know what it was, but we weren’t close to each other any more.”

Rumours have abounded about the marriage for years, with multiple women coming forward claiming to have slept with Maxwell at the time of his marriage to Olive, although they have all faded away after alleged meetings with Elphinstone family lawyers. The influence of Elizabeth is all over them. Divorce soon followed, and although no official amount has been disclosed, it is rumoured Olive received around $80 million in the settlement, as well as $400 thousand yearly alimony, although she refuses to comment. Returning to America with her two children and four nannies, Olive bought a sprawling penthouse with views over Redcliffe and set about lamenting her position as the queen of American high society.

“It wasn’t a conscious decision, [to get to the top of society] those were just the circles I moved in, parents from Electra and Sebastian’s school were prominent, and we soon became friends. I began my charity work, and suddenly I was ‘the’ socialite. Rather amusing really.”

While it may not have been an active decision it was definitely a swift move. At the tender age of 25 Olive had done the impossible – pushed past the rows of grey haired doyennes who guard society like the crown jewels and usurped them – placing herself in their position.

A few years back in Redcliffe and Olive had built an impressive reputation for herself. She donated generously to charity (to date she has gifted over $400 million), she gave dinner parties for the rich and famous, and had begun building her impressive collection of jewels, antiques, and artwork. An interest in everything the high life had to offer such as the ballet, theater, art openings and constant travel, led her to husband number two – Dimitri Stanislopolous III.

Like Maxwell Elphinstone before him, Dimitri came from a prominent European family – the Stanislopolous name is eponymous with shipping, often mentioned in the same sentence as Onassis and Niarchos. A billionaire from his involvement in his families shipping company, Dimitri was a well known aging party boy who was just beginning to settle down and take care of his investments.

“We met on Princess Charlotte’s yacht, I was enjoying some champagne and gazing at the view, and suddenly this handsome man was by my side. He swept me off my feet.”

A whirlwind romance followed, a prominent American socialite and an infamous Greek shipping heir seen together – it was tabloid gold. Splashed across the front page of every magazine from here to Australia as they toured the world at various parties in London, New York, Bridgeport, Paris, Athens, Rome, and Sydney, the couple were soon hounded by the press, everyone wondering if they would marry.

Dimitri shocked everyone by doing just that; fending off marriage for years, the world watched with baited breath as the big day came, and hundreds of photographers crowded the gates of Redcliffe Botanical Garden when the couple married on the 18th of June.

“It was a wonderful wedding, definitely my best.” Olive comments as she flicks through a few photographs she has brought with her, “he was an amazing man.”

While Olive and Dimitri tore their way through the world on The Sky King, a jet which she would receive in the impending divorce settlement, Olive’s two children began to dabble in all of lifes pursuits.

Both enrolled at St. Rudolphs, the notoriously expensive school in Redcliffe, the two children – who are very close, they share an apartment in the city now – began changing from their navy blue school uniforms, slipping out of white tights and beige pants and into black leather and daringly short skirts.

“Of course I had trouble with the children – I wouldn’t have needed the botox if they’d been angels.”

Angels they were not. Electra was frequently pictured leaving different clubs highly intoxicated, always with a new man on her side. All of her activities remained unknown to Olive, who was fighting her second divorce.

“It was all so fast, I think Dimitri and I rushed into it. The thrill of the travel, the luxury, the parties, it all shrouded my vision. He was a serial workaholic, always on the phone to some company or another, always planning a takeover. Once the dust had settled and the initial attraction of his charm had wore off it was obvious we weren’t made for each other.”

The world waited for the divorce to be finalized, all desperate for details of Olive’s second divorce settlement. Again, with that tight lipped scrutiny about money that so many of the wealthy employ, Olive refused to comment. Speculation is all over the place about the amount she received; the aforementioned Gulfstream 650 jet will have set Dimitri back around $50 million, and Olive also received a yacht – appropriately named The Golden – which has been cited as costing somewhere between $200 and $250 million, as well as a sprawling estate on the Greek coast with a cool $30.4 million price tag, an Athens penthouse, two heavily customized and bulletproof Maybach 62 limousines worth around $1.2 million, a six story townhouse on the Upper East Side in New York, and a reported lump sum settlement of $1.2 billion, with additional alimony payments. The lack of a pre-nup made Dimitri rethink his next marriage, and his second wife reportedly signed an iron clad document.

“Oh goodness, the money thing again? It’s all anyone ever asks me – ‘how much?!’ they all shout, it’s so tedious. I’m not going to talk about how much I received, it’s private.”

With nothing coming from Olive we’re all free to speculate, but we do know it was definitely a hefty sum. With the help of Dimitri’s money Olive continued her extensive charity work, appearing at benefits and galas across the globe, often as the guest of honour. Scrutiny over her increased, with the world wanting to know what she wore, how thin she was, how much money she had, who she was dating, where she was going.

“I would be stalked day and night by the press, it was ridiculous. I never spoke to any of them, they would criticise my weight and my wealth. It didn’t bother me, one can never be too rich or too thin.”

With the money from her divorce settlements Olive purchased a sprawling ranch, Belgrave Ranch, where she started breeding horses, and used it as a weekend getaway. She also became more interested in art, purchasing master after master, solidifying her position in the art world forever when she famously purchased the stolen Vermeer painting The Concert back from the thieves in an amazing exchange, before donating the piece back to the Isabella Stewart Gardener museum in Boston from which it was stolen. With two divorces under her belt the socialite now had a new man in her sights – wealthy New York financier Marcus Van Aston.

“Marcus and I met the opening night of the opera, and while he wasn’t as charming as Dimitri he was definitely something, and definitely thought of me as a catch. That was the problem – I was just a trophy wife.”

Romance quickly caught up Olive once more, and before long another marriage was taking place. During this time other members of the Belgravia family, who had remained distant, began to come into their own across the world. After the death of the matriarch of the family, Lily Belgravia, a few years ago, the family were under the spotlight more than ever. Oriana and Jasper’s children Freddy and Maria found their careers soaring as everyone was interested in what they did. Marquis and Andrew Belgravia-King, the children of Alexandra and Jeremy, were the only ones who stayed away from the spotlight; both doctors, people could only speculate on what they were like, although that is changing recently as Marquis’ son Isiah is often seen at the Buenos Aries clubs with a number of different girls on his arm.

On the 1st of July Olive and Marcus were married at the Almudena Cathedral in Madrid. It was a lavish wedding with members of the European jet set converging on Madrid for the ceremony.

The couple took off on Olive’s yacht The Golden from her divorce settlement to Dimitri, and set about on a world tour. During this time Olive’s children, who had now left school – both without any grades – moved in together in a tiny apartment in Brdigeport.

“It pains me to talk about it now, but I had Electra and Sebastian cut out of my will. I didn’t want to see my daughter with someone so beneath her – I told her if she would not leave that boy then I would not be supporting her financially. Of course my mother found a way around it.”

Olive will not elaborate further on the subject, but property records show Electra Belgravia purchased a modest $1.2 million loft in downtown Bridgeport, with money presumably from her grandmother. With property prices dropping across the globe Olive took this chance to purchase several luxury properties, adding yet more desirable real estate to her portfolio.

“I had so much furniture, I had six warehouses downtown just full of my antiques and my art, they were so expensive to keep – people kept trying to steal them. So I bought some more houses to fill up.”

The six warehouses are in fact, famous in themselves. While Olive will not go into detail about what was kept there, it is said at least three Rembrandts, five Monets, a few Gainsboroughs and even another Vermeer which she purchased from the MET were stored there, all under twenty four hour security at a cost of $45 thousand a month. As well as the impressive art stored in the temperature controlled warehouses there were also a number of priceless antiques, which included a red lacquered desk commissioned by Louis XV for his study at Versailles, which has been said to be the most important piece of French furniture ever to touch North American soil.

“Oh I had a lot of antiques, there was a Savonnerie carpet, which had been installed at the Fifth Avenue apartment, and we were having lunch one day and someone – I can’t remember who – dropped a cigarette on it. Peter Wilson [then head of Sotheby’s] was alarmed and said, ‘That’s a $2 million carpet!’ I had it brought to the Met the next day.”

The galleries devoted to French decorative arts – named for Olive Belgravia – were begun in during her marriage to Dimitri and continually honed during the following years. As well as her extensive work for the art world, and her continuing entry into the world of horse racing and polo, Olive also donated generously to charity, although, as a friend recalls, “Mrs. Peredin-Bauer does not have anything to do with unpleasant things,” says an observer, “aids, for instance, or cancer.” (One source, though, says that Peredin-Bauer gives anonymously to many causes – especially medical research and libraries.)

During this time Olive also became highly prominent in the fashion world. Always seen at Fashion Week in New York, London, Paris, and Milan, she began to garner the atention of prominent designers, and cultivated friendships with Karl Lagerfeld, Anna Wintour, and Phillip Treacy. Her thin frame, which has been scrutinised over the years for not offering a healthy body image to young women, allowed her to fit effortlessly into the sample sizes of the designer wares she is often seen in.

“I don’t see the fuss about my frame – I work hard to stay thin, I’ve been existing on red bull and nutrition shakes all week, and I in no way encourage young girls to do the same, this is just what I want.”

While her weight may have came under scrutiny over the years, it definitely acted as a catalyst for her growing wardrobe. It is estimated that her couture wardrobe comprises 2,500 garments in total, as well as 450 pairs of shoes, 70 hats, and 200 handbags. Real estate blogs reported her addiction to haute coture led her to the conversion of two bedrooms adjacent to her master suite simply for room to store all her clothes.

While she may be renowned in the worlds of art, fashion, and high society, the great unwashed masses who were not lucky enough to be invited to any number of the parties she attended could still only watch with envy as Olive jetted around the world, never granting interviews, never sitting down for photoshoots that focused on her, although she often did pieces for Architectural Digest and House & Garden. The press was then free to scrutinize the socialite and her stiff-lipped group of friends, who say she is ‘friendly, funny, and vivacious’, yet many beyond her inner sphere view her as cold and even ‘excluding.’ (‘Cozy’ is a word that will never be associated with her,’ says an art-world expert wryly.)

“It’s ridiculous the things people come out with about me. They call me a bitch, they call me cold and stiff, yet those people have never taken the chance to know me. While I may not be like the smiling hoards of feeble celebrities that people seem so enamored with, I am a loyal friend, and the cold demeanor is just an intense desire for privacy, and perhaps even a certain shyness.”

Whatever Olive says to the contrary, shyness does not seem to be one of her attributes. As we sit together during lunch no less than seven people approach the table to greet her, all engaged in the same polite conversation, with a lot of smiles and laughs, before Olive gently moves them on – it’s an art honed by years of practice. Olive and Marcus continued their never ending round of socializing over the next few years; summers spent in Palm Beach at her impressive Mar-A-Lago estate which she purchased from Donald Trump (“a close friend”) for an eye popping $56 million; winters spent in the Seychelles; christmas in St. Barts (where she was recently a guest at Roman Abramovich’s famous New Years party) and St. Tropez; and a never ending round of jet setting in between.

“The plane was a godsend. It allowed me to bring anything I wanted home with me, I could keep plants,  art, and antiques on it and not have to endure the horror of worrying about them being shuttled across the globe on some dowdy commercial airliner with workers who would not understand that their cargo was worth more than the plane itself.”

While her position at the top of society had been lamented for years, and continued to solidify with her endless rounds of parties (dinner parties for the Churchill’s were hosted in Palm Beach, cocktail parties in honour of Barons and Earls at her Mayfair townhouse, and continued sightings of her in the front row of every fashion show from New York to Milan) her love life was, again, suffering problems.

“I had begun to suspect Marcus’ infidelity a few years after our marriage. He couldn’t handle my difficult children, it pushed him over the edge. He took up with someone, and we grew further apart.”

The woman of whom Olive speaks was none other than her long time friend Niya St. Alderton, whom she met at a party in China before her marriage to Dimtri. As was hashed out in the gossip columns, Niya had taken up with Marcus after the death of her ailing husband (pharmaceuticals billionaire Alan St. Alderton), eventually driving Marcus to divorce Olive.

“It was a hard time. I hadn’t wanted to divorce Marcus, I had hoped we could work it out, that if I just left it long enough his affair would sizzle out, but it did not happen that way at all.”

In fact, in his hurry for a divorce from Olive, he sidestepped the pre nuptual agreement they had both signed to protect their considerable wealth and settled the divorce with an undisclosed sum, which has been speculated to be around $500 million.

“I know it’s awful, but money was the only way I could get back at him. If I stopped the divorce going ahead, he would be forced to pay more in his desire to remarry. It was the only way I could get revenge.”

While Olive’s fortune (and her number of ex husbands) grew, her children began dabbling in the music world. As members of the Belgravia family, pictures often appeared of Electra and Sebastian performing gig after gig in Recliffe, and eventually Bridgeport. The music never really took off, and a rumoured recent split in the band has left the fans wondering if ‘Revolutionis’ will return.

“I met Charles at a Belgravia Industires board meeting. He is a member, as well as I [of the board] and we had engaged in a mild flirtation for years, but it came to fruition once my divorce from Marcus was finalised.”

Charles Peredin-Bauer. You will most likely know him as the recently elected governor of the Bridgeport district, but before his prominent political position Charles engaged in a multitude of businesses. Building up a publishing company from nothing, Charles had made his first million by the time he was 22. Twenty years later that million would have multiplied into over 7 billion dollars, giving him enough cash to fund his ascent into politics. Divorced from two supermodels on his way to the top, Olive was his third wife, and he her fourth husband.

“I really feel Charles is the one.” Olive gushes as we begin discussing her current husband, “he understands me completely. Unlike my other husbands we just seem to click very well, I can’t put my finger on it. There’s just something about him.”

Recent years have seemed to turn Olive’s fortunes around for the better. With the relationship with her children on the up after many years of animosity (she was spotted boarding her daughter onto The Sky King just a few weeks ago, exchanging tender smiles with her in the pictures) and a relationship which she assures us is ‘the one’ the woman seems to have finally gotten everything together. We all hope it will last.

*      *      *

I hope you enjoyed this, I’m having a few problems with my game so I decided to write a little something to keep you guys interested.

Remember that this is an interview, and as such Olive would never discuss the darker aspects of her life (rape at the hands of Riley, using Maxwell for his money etc.)

What do you guys reckon to Olive’s life? 🙂

Marissa x

Olive’s Bridgeport Apartment

Let me know what you think! 🙂

Foyer 

Living Room

Kitchen

Dining Room

Bedroom

Bathroom

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Generation 3 – Chapter 14

Electra looked up at the ranch with a nervous shudder as she emerged from the limousine her mother had hired for her to drive from the Redcliffe penthouse to Belgrave Ranch. She usually felt waves of happiness when she saw her favourite home, but the summons she had received from Olive made her nervous, clearly she had something to gripe about.

“Anyone home?” Electra shouted as she walked into the main hall.

Looking around the double story room she felt a smile forming on her face as she remembered when she first brought Ryan here, and Olive’s look of horror at seeing such an uncouth boy. Hearing voices in the direction of the kitchen she set off to find her mother, still quailing inside as she thought about what she was going to say.

“Yes Matthew – well transfer 300 million to the secondary account and I’ll have my accountant have a little play around on the stock market. Okay,” She ushered Electra into the breakfast room with a hand gesture as she finished off her call, “thank you. You too, goodnight.”

“There you are.” Olive said as she hung up. Electra stood her ground, looking at her mother as if she hadn’t been sneaking around playing gigs when she was supposed to be at school; as if she hadn’t dyed her hair orange; as if everything was as it always was. “What on earth have you done to your hair?” She came over and twirled a strand of Electra’s hair between her fingers with a sour expression.

“It’s my hair, I can do what I want with it.” Electra slapped her hand away and moved back a few steps. As much as she hated to admit it she was scared of her mother, she had seen what she could be like in a bad mood.

“I saw something very interesting in the paper today.” She paused for effect as Electra continued to stare at her, neither one was willing to drop their eyes first. “It was the most interesting thing. You and a ragtag group of boys, playing a concert.” She spat the words out as if they were poison.

“So what?”

“So what? The ‘so what’ is that you will never see those boys again. We’re going to London to get away, we can stay for a month or two, and by the time you come home this will have all blown over; while we’re there we can go to Nicky Clarke and get that awful orange out of your hair.”

“What?! I don’t think so. You never understand me, why can’t we just talk about it?! I want to be a singer okay, why is that so bad?!” Electra screamed, losing her temper, Olive’s cool demeanor had caught her off guard, she wanted her to scream and shout, it was as if she didn’t even care about her.

“Because that’s not what people like us do. You marry well, you have a few homes, you have children to continue the legacy, and you give generously to charity. You don’t go wild and join a rock band.” Electra was furious, her mother wanted to have the same life as her – but she didn’t want that. Pinching the bridge of her nose in a gesture horribly alike to her mother Electra gave a loud sigh.

“You really don’t understand me at all do you mama?” For a second she felt like a child again, then she snapped. She didn’t want to be here anymore, she realised that however much she loved her mother she couldn’t stand being in her company.

“No I really don’t. Now go and pack, or we can just buy you things in London, god knows you need them.” She looked up and down at Electra’s all black outfit with her favourite cowboy boots and sighed. “What did I do to deserve a daughter like you?” She mumbled to herself.

“I’ll leave then!” Electra screamed, “if I’m such a bad daughter I’ll just go! You’ll never have to see me again!”

“And where would you go? To your little boyfriends, Ryan, isn’t it?” Electra was shocked that she knew about Ryan, as far as Electra knew Olive thought that Ryan was Winthorpe IIII, one of Sebastian’s friends. “Yes, I know all about him, I hired someone to tell me everything I need to know. Apparently he lives in a one bedroom apartment on the wrong side of town. You’re staying right where you are.”

“I am not! I’ll find somewhere to live, anywhere would be better than with you!”

“Be quiet! You don’t know what it’s like out there, you think you’re so different, joining a band and dying your hair orange, you couldn’t begin to imagine what living in poverty is like, how would you survive? I don’t think you could hold down a job.” Olive said, silencing Electra with her hand.

“And how would you know? You’ve lived in mansions since you were born and never worked a day in your life!” Electra screamed back at her, getting angrier by the second that Olive was hardly raising her voice.

“I’ve done more than you know.” Olive replied, looking down as she remembered the years where she lived in the tiny cottage with the newborn Electra after her escape from Miami and Riley; hardly able to pay the bills whilst working in a bar making pennies. She didn’t hear a word Electra said as she felt the memories coming back to her, Riley on top of her, grabbing her, blacking out…

“Mama!” Electra shouted, realising her mother wasn’t listening to a word she was saying. She didn’t even care enough to listen when she was threatening to move out. With tears welling up in her eyes she turned on her heel and ran from the room, she couldn’t let Olive know she cared.

She ran straight through the house and up to her bedroom, as she slammed the heavy wooden door shut she slid to the ground, tears flowing from her eyes. It was a few minutes before she could think straight; picking herself up she headed into her bathroom and locked the door behind her. She had to get out of here. She dialed the one person she knew would care – Ryan.

“Ryan?!” She mumbled, sniffing and wiping away tears as she spoke, “I need you to come and get me from the ranch, I’m leaving but I’m trapped and I can’t drive because mother says that’s what drivers are for – I just need you to come,” She was cut of from her hysterics as Ryan told her he was on his way and to keep calm.

“Get here quick.” She sobbed as she sunk to the ground. Ryan wouldn’t be here for an hour or so, she had to get herself together. She couldn’t let him see her like this; she couldn’t let herself get like this over her mother. Wiping away the tears with the sleeve of her turtleneck she stood up and headed to the mirror, washing her face before applying fresh makeup. She wasn’t going to let Olive see her sweat.

Once she thought she looked ready she settled down on the sofa and waited, checking out of the window for any sign of Ryan’s truck every few minutes as she simultaneously thought what clothes she would need to take with her when she left.

As the minutes ticked by Electra began to panic. How would Ryan get in? If Olive had her way he’d never make it up the drive, it was a good job that the house didn’t have gates, if they were in the house in France he’d never get over the high walls or through the electric gates which were watched at all times by two heavy set french-men with rottweilers. Pulling out her phone she sent him a quick text telling him to just run up, the doors were usually left open – the house was too far from anywhere to be worried about robbers. When he arrived an hour later, out of breath from running through the house with Olive’s shrieks behind him, he locked the door behind him and joined Electra on the sofa, letting her nestle into him; she was safe.

As she finished telling him what had happened with her mother they heard a rap on the door and exasperated sounds as someone tried to open the locked door.

“Electra! Open this door right now!” It was Olive.

“Go away!” Electra screamed back, snuggling further into Ryan. “I have to get out of here, I can’t stay with her any longer.” She told him as they faced each other.

“Lets go then, we can make it work.” Ryan replied, sounding a lot more confident than he felt.

“I love you. Now we just have to get rid of my mother.” Electra gave Ryan a quick kiss and jumped up from the sofa, pacing the bathroom as she thought about what to do. There was a lock on her bedroom door, if she could get rid of Olive they could hole themselves up in there until she left.

“Open the door Electra, I’m not joking!” She heard from the other side as Olive paced up and down her daughters bedroom.

Taking a deep breath she went to the heavy oak door and turned the key, throwing it open with far too much dramatic effect.

“Get out!!” Electra screamed, running at her mother who backed off quickly, her cool exterior shattered for a moment as she was caught off-guard. “Just leave me alone!” Ryan stood in the bathroom doorway as Electra let rip, telling her mother everything that she hated about her; how she never paid her any attention; how she only cared what other people thought; how she had never gave any thought to what she was feeling.

“Electra, calm down!” Olive said, finally realising that her daughter was serious. “We can work this out, come to London and we can spend time together, the jet’s waiting for us.”

“Argh! Stop with your stupid jets and trips, I want to stay here with Ryan and Sebastian, with my friends, where I can play my music!” Olive visibly paled as she spoke about the music; she didn’t want her only daughter wasting her life playing in scum infested bars never getting anywhere.

“Electra please!” Olive threw up her hands in despair, genuinely scared that Electra may lash out and strike her.

“JUST GET OUT OF MY LIFE!” Electra screamed, her face contorting in anger. Looking at the eyes blazing with fury, the mouth twisted in an ugly expression of rage Olive was reminded of Riley, Electra’s father, and the night he had attacked her. She backed away from her daughter, who wasn’t herself anymore, it was Riley all over again and she had to escape.

Turning on her heel she fled from the room, jumping into the waiting limousine which had been meant for her and Electra. An hour later she was on her way to London.

*      *      *

“I’m so glad you’re here, I’ve missed you.” Sebastian told his girlfriend Liberty as they embraced in front of the ranch. He hadn’t seen her for almost a week as she had been away with her parents, then had to attend her cousins wedding on the day she got back. She had drove through the night to reach the ranch and was looking ridiculously overdressed as she hadn’t had time to change since the wedding.

“Lets go inside.” Liberty said, shivering a little in the autumn breeze.

Sebastian was glad his mother had left for London the night before, he didn’t want to deal with her questioning who Liberty was; although dressed like this she could pass for a Redcliffe socialite any day. Standing in front of the blazing fire to ward off the draft they held each other and caught up on everything that had happened in the past week; they had never not spoke for so long. Sebastian found himself thanking god (even though he didn’t believe in him) that he had persuaded Electra to take him out that night; the night he met Liberty.

“Wanna dance?” She asked, turning on the stereo and beginning to groove around him as he laughed at her spontaneity. These were the moments he loved, just dancing, talking, laughing.

“We should go out.” Sebastian said as he danced to The Rolling Stones. “I think you might be a little overdressed though.” He continued, laughing.

“I’m not going out in this dress, lets just stay in.” Liberty replied, switching to Björk and coming closer to Sebastian.

“I’m sure my sister can lend you something…” He trailed off, not really interested in going out anymore, wanting to spend the day with her all alone.

“I’m not even sure if she’s here.” He said, trying to think if he had seen her last night or this morning. He had arrived at the house just after Olive had left for London, passing her in his car as her limousine flew past him. Electra’s door had been locked when he arrived but she usually locked in when she wasn’t here, he could have sworn she said she was coming to talk to Olive though.

“What are you thinking about?” Liberty asked, noticing the expression on his face.

“Just wondering about my sister. Come upstairs? She’ll give you some clothes while we’re there, I suppose you don’t want to chill around the house in this?” He said, fingering the chiffon material of part of the dress before holding her hands.

The two of them headed upstairs, walking along the wood paneled hallway to Electra’s bedroom. The door was still locked, but he could hear voices inside.

“Hey, sis? Open up!” He shouted, thumping the door with his fist. He heard her shout back and a few seconds later the door was thrown open for him to find Electra staring at them and Ryan in the background furiously packing suitcases.

“What’re you doing?” Sebastian asked as he stepped into the room.

“We’re leaving.” Ryan replied, throwing some of Electra’s jerseys into a suitcase which was full to bursting and zipping it up.

“What do you mean? Where’re you going?” Sebastian asked, confused. He thought they might have been going on a trip, not leaving home forever.

“I’m leaving Sebastian. Me and Ryan are gonna find a place. I’ve had enough of mom.”

“You can’t! I mean I know she’s not the best mother -” Electra gave a snort of laughter as he spoke, “-but she’s still our mama, you can’t just go…” He said, looking down at the floor nervously, he was worried for Electra.

“Me and Ryan were thinking-” Electra gave Ryan a look, who nodded back, “-that you could come with us? I know you love mother and everything but think how fun it would be, you should come too Liberty.” She added, giving Liberty, who had stepped out of her dress totally un-self consciously and was putting on some clothes Electra had given her, a smile. The two girls weren’t best friends but they were getting closer.

“I – I can’t, what about school and um -” Sebastian trailed off as he thought about it. What really was keeping him at home? They were almost 18, maybe it was time to fly the nest.

“Come on, we can all get jobs and with four of us pooling cash we could get a really cool apartment nearby, I don’t think we’re going back to Redcliffe. Too close to mom.” Electra was getting really into the idea now, grabbing Sebastian by the shoulders and  throwing her hands around animatedly as she tried to convince him

“Well I guess… yeah… yeah! I mean I can’t speak for Liberty -” He threw her a smile, “- I hope she’ll come though.” He said in an undertone, thinking that if Liberty wasn’t willing to come he probably wouldn’t come either. Now that he was on board he was all for it and ran to his bedroom where Liberty helped him gather a few things into a suitcase and carried his favourite signed football down to his car for him, which they were taking because it had four seats, Ryan would pick his truck up later. They were soon joined by Electra, who looked around as if Olive would spring out from behind the shrubbery and catch them, and Ryan, who struggled to carry all of Electra’s many many bags and trunks. The four of them looked at each other nervously before turning for another look at the house, a place which had given them all so much joy.

The four of them got into the car in silence; they were leaving this life behind, and none of them knew what was going to happen next.

*      *      *

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Belgrave Ranch

After getting a few requests for the ranch house which was featured in the last chapter I decided to get  few pictures of it up for you guys to see. Hope you like it. 🙂

Generation 3 – Chapter 13

Electra threw her cigarette out of the open window of Ryan’s pick up truck and turned to him as they drove through the winding country streets. She still didn’t really believe he was here with her, as her boyfriend. They had never officially labelled themselves as ‘dating’ but everyone knew they were, the two of them were inseparable.

“How much longer?” He asked as he shoved a different CD into the portable car radio and lit up a cigarette of his own.

“Not far,” Electra replied, “hey – look, just follow that limo.” She settled back into the seat and took a deep breath, she knew it would be her mother in the car ahead. At least she wouldn’t have to direct Ryan anymore…

She could see the house ahead, the summer home of her family. Thankfully she knew enough about her mother to know that she would never dare make a scene in front of a guest, however low on the social scale that guest was.

This is your weekend house?” Ryan asked in shock as they emerged from the truck at the bottom of the drive and began walking up to the house. He had expected something a lot smaller, he knew Electra’s family had money, but not this kind of money.

“My mom has to go over the top, I told her we didn’t need something so big but she only wants the best. It’s really nice though.” Electra replied, snatching the still lit cigarette out of Ryan’s hand and throwing it away so her mother didn’t see.

Electra was glad she had brought Ryan here, it would be better to spend time away from the city so they could really get to know each other, and she loved this house much more than the penthouse. The city was an amazing part of her life which she loved, but the country was where her heart lay. Riding on her horses, playing with the dogs, taking long walks in the woods behind her house, sitting by the fire with a book and a cup of hot chocolate, she loved it. Walking into the double story entrance of the ranch-style house Electra kept her eyes peeled for Olive while Ryan looked around in wonder at the size of the place.

“So you’re spending the weekend here then?” Electra jumped in shock as she heard the clipped tones of her mother. Olive stood staring at the two of them, her face giving nothing away.

Decked out in her full country attire Olive stared at the two teenagers in front of her. She had never seen Ryan before, but she could sense he was bad news by the way he looked at her, by the arrogance in his face.

“Yep, I didn’t expect to see you or I would have told you.” Electra said lightly. “William!” She shouted with joy as the family dog came running towards her, picking up a brush from a side table she began to groom him as Olive continued to look at them with scorn.

“Well I’m going shooting with the Duke.” Olive informed them grandly as she opened a hidden panel on the wall and pulled out her gun. “I’ll probably be spending the night there, but Marcia is around somewhere.” Marcia was the live-in for the ranch house, and had quite a cushy job living in the huge house as if it was her own, only having to cook and clean for her employers an odd weekend here and there, it was a summer house but the real summer was usually spent in France or Italy at one of Olive’s other properties there.

“Cya.” Electra didn’t look up as Olive left, but she could hear her saying hello to the group that had just rolled up outside the house in their mud coated landrovers, with dogs barking all around as they prepared for a day of pheasant shooting. Grabbing Ryan’s hand Electra took him on a quick tour of the ranch before they settled in a small reading room in front of the fire.

“Your mom seems nice…” Ryan lied, feeling awkward and out of place.

“Shut up, she’s a witch!” Electra laughed, leaning back in the comfortable chair. Now that she was here she wasn’t sure what to do with herself, she had envisioned them having non stop fun, but the conversation had became stilted, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the light footsteps of the dog, William, as he roamed around in the adjacent kitchen. Finding nothing to do with herself Electra began to sing to herself idly, as she always did. Ryan was taken aback as he listened to her singing PJ Harvey’s ‘The Last Living Rose’.

“You didn’t tell me you could sing!” He said as soon as she was finished. “You’re really good you know.”

“I’m just being dumb.” Electra replied, blushing. She had never thought much to her singing, she had been in the choir in school but was mainly a classic shower singer.

“I’m serious, you could really get somewhere with that voice, you just need to learn to use it better.” Having been singing with his band for two years Ryan considered himself pretty well versed on the music industry, and although his band ‘The Wild Ones’ hadn’t got a recording contract yet there was one company interested. “Can you play anything?” He asked, genuinely interested now, getting excited as ideas began to form in his head.

“I can do a bit on guitar I guess.” She replied shyly, flattered that he thought she was a good singer.

“Jesus, why didn’t you tell me?! This is perfect. Come on!” He grabbed her hand, yanking her off the sofa, running through to the main room of the house which Electra had showed him briefly. He had noticed the guitar and the piano and was determined to get her singing. Sitting down at the grand piano he got used to it for a few minutes while Electra plugged the guitar in, protesting that she was no good the entire time.

“OK, I guess I’m ready. I’m really no good though – this is embarrassing!” Electra protested, getting redder by the second.

“Just try it, ok?” The piano was heaven under his fingers, he had never played something so beautiful, but it was clearly never used.

Her voice was quiet at first as she tried to get into the swing of the music. It was one of The Wild Ones songs that she had heard the first night she had seen them. After seeing a half a dozen shows she knew all the words, and the two of them easily fell into a new rendition of the song. Ryan was in awe, the boys music was loud and raunchy, with the deep, throbbing voices of Ryan and Kris mixed with the booming drums of Rasta. Electra brought a much needed tenderness to the music without being overtly feminine. It was perfect. As she sung the last line of the song she broke out in a huge smile, she had surprised even herself with her ability.

“Bravo!” The two of them spun around in shock as they heard the clapping and cheering, and were greeted by Sebastian. “That was really great. Hi, I’m Sebastian.” He said, extending a hand to Ryan, who he had seen play at a show he went to with Liberty, but never met. Sebastian was quite shocked by Ryan’s bright blonde mohawk and his beard, he thought he looked frightfully old and much too rough for his sister, but he was determined to give him a chance. Ryan was less shocked than Sebastian, but still cast his critical eye over his girlfriends brother in his Adidas gym clothes, his black hair coming down over his forehead a little since he had started to grow it, and his muscular arms and sculpted chest on show through the clinging shirt.

“You really liked it?” Electra asked, her tough exterior vanishing for a second, hoping he wasn’t being sarcastic.

“Of course I did, you two are brilliant together. You had better get to work.” A big grin spread across his face as Ryan and Electra looked at each other, both thinking the same thing.

Olive never did come back from shooting at the Dukes. She left a message on the machine saying she had gone to the Klosters with Marcus for a few weeks of skiing and didn’t contact them again all summer apart from telling Marcia to FedEx her mink coat and white fox stole over, PETA wouldn’t be asking her to pose any time soon. Ryan, Electra, and Sebastian became a team, working together on the music. Sebastian would sit on the floor with the lyrics of the songs Ryan and Electra had been working on and read them out, correcting here and there, trying to make them better as Electra strummed away on the guitar, her confidence growing by the day, and Ryan used his magic fingers on the piano. Even William would join in, laying at their feet, and inspiring the song ‘Golden Mane’ which was all about him, written by Electra.

When Sebastian, who seemed to be more vested in their practice than they were themselves, took Olive’s dark green Aston Martin, which she had never drove in her life as she preferred the limousine, for the hours drive back to Redcliffe to see Liberty once or twice a week the two of them would curl up on the sofa in front of the fire, usually with William at their feet, getting to know each other more and more. Electra opened up about the resentment she felt towards her mother for showing no interest in her and her sadness about not knowing who her father was, a mystery which infuriated her and which Sebastian didn’t understand as he usually spent a few weeks here and there in France with his father, Maxwell, and his formidable grandmother, Alice, who had once almost came to blows with Olive. Ryan told her of his about his own mother, who had once been a stunning (albeit little known) stage actress, who had now fell into depression and alcoholism and his father, an Army veteran who now lived in California with a new wife and seven beautiful blonde haired blue eyed children who took up all of his time, leaving none for Ryan. Their own tragedy brought them closer together emotionally, they had no problems on the physical side; having hijacked Olive’s master bedroom they took full advantage of it, spending every night together.

Every day they would work on their music, occasionally taking a break to go and visit the horses in the stables out the back of the house, or to take William for a walk. Electra’s favourite times were the ones spent down by the pond at the back of the house with Ryan on the hot summer days, she never wanted summer to end in case the bubble of happiness that surrounded them popped. After weeks of practice, when Ryan finally began to think Electra was ready, he gently started persuading her into doing a show. She had already met the bandmates, who had came over for a long weekend of partying earlier in the summer, leaving masses of overflowing ashtrays, empty beer bottles and discarded clothes for Marcia to clean up. They were more than willing to give Electra a go with the band, although Kris was more against it than Rasta, thinking that a girl would mess up the vibe of the band. Ryan would bring the idea up as they walked through the gardens with William, gently persuading her into it, trying to make her suggest it rather than have him ask outright and scare her off.

He felt he was making progress, but summer was coming to a close soon, it would be back to the hustle and bustle of the city, back to school, back to the crummy bars playing for disinterested crowds. He was certain that if Electra was with them they could generate a lot more interest, and, crucially, be a better band. Coming into the great room one afternoon he was enchanted by the sight of Electra, wearing  a yellow polo shirt with a white collar, and beige jodhpurs tucked into shiny black boots; just back from a riding lesson at the local equestrian center. Her blonde hair was shining in the light, her face devoid of makeup apart from some glossy pink on her lips, the yellow top clinging to her slender body. He thought she looked fragile, beautiful, and ridiculously preppy.

“Hey beautiful.” He said as he joined her on the sofa, smiling as she slid easily into his arms. “What you up too?” He admired her smooth, creamy skin as she spoke, completely blemish free without the help of makeup, the pink lips, the long blonde hair. Everything about her turned him on.

“Just thinking. Listen, I’ve got an idea, you don’t need to say yes or whatever, just hear me out.” Ryan felt like a lightbulb had gone off in his head as she outlined her idea for a collaboration of her and The Wild Ones, his plan had actually worked! He knew that if he’d pushed her into it she would have backed off, it was a blessing that she’d finally brought it up.

“It sounds amazing, I’m totally up for it.” He said as Electra smiled up at him. She found it funny that he didn’t realise she knew what he had been doing all summer, telling her how great she was, how people would love to see her, etc. It made her like him all the more that he hadn’t pushed her.

“You know what Electra?” Ryan looked into her eyes as he spoke, he had known how he felt for a long time, but the only person he had ever said the same words to were his mother, and that was completely different.

“What?” She replied, flicking hair off her face and looking back into his eyes.

“I love you. I really do – I mean, sorry for just saying it but -” Electra cut him off as he began to ramble, one of his nervous tendencies.

“You do?” She asked, beaming up at him. She felt ridiculously happy.

“Course I do. I love you!” Ryan floundered for a second as Electra didn’t say anything back. He hadn’t presumed she would, he just wanted her to know how he felt. He was stumped, what was he supposed to say next?! You can’t really talk about the weather after dropping the L word. For lack of anything to do he began to kiss her, his favourite activity after music.

They made out for a few minutes, and as their lips parted Electra whispered the words Ryan had wanted to hear; the words she had been wanting to say for weeks.

“I love you too.”

They could hardly contain themselves any longer, the longing between them had amplified by a thousand after those words. Ryan’s shirt was about to come over his head when they heard the crunch of wheels on gravel and drew apart in shock. Looking out of the window Electra saw a sleek black limousine and turned to Ryan in horror.

“It’s my mom!” Electra screamed, fixing her hair with her compact and smoothing down her shirt which he been hitched up beneath her breasts as Ryan had caressed her stomach. “You’re not supposed to be here, shit!”

At that moment Olive entered the house, swanning into the great room looking ludicrously glamorous and very unsuitably dressed for a ranch house in a belted Burberry trench with a mink stole thrown over her shoulders, red soled Louboutin’s tapping on the wooden floor.

“Marcia! My bags are in the car, can you get them for me?!” She shouted before turning and looking over at Electra and Ryan, now drawn apart as if they were sat talking. “And who is this?!” She asked in shock, quickly jumping to the conclusion that Electra was having a liaison with this boy, who she thought looked very rough trade.

“Mom – this is -” Electra never had to finish the sentence for at that moment Sebastian, who had been listening at the top of the stairs, came running into the great room.

“This is my friend.” He waved over at Ryan with what he hoped was a vague gesture. “How are you?! How was skiing? We’ve missed you so much! You must be so tired, you should get a bath and rest.” If he had any desire to Sebastian could have made an excellent actor.

“Oh, thank you darling.” Olive gushed, happy to see her favourite child. “But really, you shouldn’t have guests without telling me.” She said, not really meaning it as she didn’t mind Sebastian having guests, casting a critical eye up and down Ryan, completely forgetting that she had met him at the beginning of summer. He wasn’t important enough to store in her memory.

“This is Winthorpe Faberge IIII, one of my friends from school.” He said, trying not to laugh as he pointed towards Ryan. Olive instantly relaxed, she guessed he must have just been going through a difficult stage, and prayed to god she never had that with Sebastian, putting Ryan out of her mind.

“I’m going to take your advice and have a nice bath, I hope Marcia has my room ready, you have to keep the help on their toes at all times.” Olive said, looking around for her trusty maid.

“Oh mom, I’m so sorry -” Sebastian began as Electra and Ryan widened their eyes and stared at him, hoping he got the hint that they had been using her room and if she went in she would find it covered with overflowing ashtrays, whiskey bottles, old clothes, and music sheets, all coated with a fine layer of Williams golden fur. “- but I’ve been staying in there, I hope you don’t mind. I’ll get Marcia to clean it right away, why don’t you use my bath?” It was lucky that Marcia had just cleaned Sebastian’s room this morning to the point where it looked more like a showroom than a bedroom.

“Okay that’s fine. I might just read for a while.” Electra narrowed her eyes, shooting signals of ‘get her out!’ to Sebastian.

“Mom, I wanna catch up, come on.” He grabbed her hand and guided her away from the great room, looking over his shoulder and finding Electra and Ryan smiling at him in thanks. They would never have gotten away with it without him.

Sebastian guided his mother into the breakfast room, where he sat down with her and they caught up. He thought his mother was a ridiculous social climber who cared more about money than emotions and who prided herself on always being perfect, but he still loved her.

*     *      *

Three weeks later Electra, Ryan, Kris, Rasta and Sebastian stood in the backroom of a Redcliffe bar. They were about to play their first show and Electra had never been so nervous in her life. Sebastian had been the real mastermind behind it, going out and sparking interest in the band with some glossy publicity shots taken by their uncle Oliver who owned a very successful gallery in Redcliffe. They had received this booking as soon as he’d showed them the picture, with the three boys stood in the background, staring at the camera with unsmiling faces, while Electra stood in front, blonde hair glossier than ever, but taken far away from her preppy look with an all black outfit and some dark makeup. They looked amazing, and they knew it.

Electra, pretending to be checking out her makeup, stood in front of the mirror, her stomach doing somersaults. She didn’t know if this was going to work – if they would gel as well live as they did in their practice sessions, and her look wasn’t exactly calming her nerves either. Sebastian had insisted that she, as front-woman of the band, had to stand out, and had persuaded her to dye part of her hair a shocking orange, and had watched approvingly as she applied far too much black eye shadow and mascara, as well as dark blush to her usually fresh cheeks. Opting to go without a t shirt underneath she had slipped on a tiny black waistcoat and skin tight black jeans, as well as her favourite cowboy boots and the strawberry necklace made up of rubies and emeralds, with a diamond chain, which Olive’s ex-husband Dimitri had given her for her birthday. She thought she looked a mess, but Sebastian had done them well so far, and he had said she could begin to tone it down as they got more attention, they just needed a fan base.

“You ok sis?” He asked, turning away from Kris for a second and looking over at Electra.

“Fine.” She lied, not trusting herself to speak in case she threw up. Sebastian knew she was nervous, why wouldn’t she be?!

“Listen,” he said, his voice dropping so the others didn’t overhear, “you’re gonna be great. You know these songs backwards, you’re amazing. You can do this.” Her face lifted as he spoke, instilling her with confidence.

“Thanks.” She turned to him and smiled before embracing him in a hug, she was glad he was here, she would never have been able to get on the stage without him.

“You better get out there!” He said, hugging her again. “Good luck, I know you’ll be great.”

As The Wild Ones walked onto the stage a cheer traveled through the room. People had seen The Wild Ones before, but now that they had this ravishing front woman with the wild hair and the perfect body they were much more interested. Electra thought she was going to faint, and was only steadied by Ryan slipping his fingers through hers for a second as he passed her on the way to his keyboard; a far cry from Belgrave Ranch’s grand piano, but it would do. The lights dimmed as they got themselves ready, she was about to run off the stage in terror when she found herself forgetting everything as the purple lights popped on, lighting up the band in a blaze of colour, Rasta’s drums, Kris’ guitar, and Ryan’s keyboard kicked in as the music started and she found herself swept along for the ride, hardly thinking about what she was doing, just playing as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

She began singing in time with Kris, whose doubts about Electra had faded away once he saw the huge crowd who were getting into the music like never before, bouncing around the room as they played their heavier songs, keeping in the spirit of the original Wild Ones. Gradually the songs began to meld into the new style, which, while still loud and booming, was given a softer edge by Electra’s exquisite voice, which sounded much better than when Ryan had first noticed she could sing all those months ago.

Apart from occasionally glancing down at the set list which showed the order of the songs they were playing Electra either kept her eyes on the crowd (which she could hardly see for the lights) for the entire performance, or tightly closed as she let the music overcome her, letting her voice soar freely during the slower songs. After what felt like only a few minutes the lights, which had been alternating between purple and red for the entire show, suddenly turned a bright white and she knew they were on the last song. This was her moment, it was ‘Golden Mane’, her song. It started off slow, with just the beat of Rasta’s drums being heard before they were joined by Ryan’s keyboard for  a few more notes before Electra began to sing, closing her eyes tight as the words poured out. The audience were mesmerised, swaying slowly to the music before she began playing the electric guitar around her neck and Kris joined in on his guitar, taking the song on a roller coaster of sounds, her magic voice joining it all together in perfect harmony. Kris and Ryan’s low voices offered the perfect backing vocals as the song picked up, sending the audience into ecstasy as they threw themselves around in time to the music.

Running off the stage to screams of approval, coated in sweat, the four of them hugged each other, slapping backs and beaming. Sebastian soon joined them, equally as euphoric. Electra looked back to the stage where she could see the crowd, still cheering and screaming for more. She knew this was her destiny.

Generation 3 – Chapter 12

Emerging from the elevator Electra took in the sight of her mother, home from a weekend trip to St. Barts with her new husband, talking with one of her ‘friends’ on the couch. They were so alike, her mother and her friends. They all wore only the finest designer clothes, were decked out in extravagant jewels, and all hated each other.

“Yes, I simply adore him.” Electra heard Olive say as she headed into the kitchen. She was talking about her new husband, Marcus Van Aston.

“Electra darling, how was your day?” She asked as Electra poked around in the fridge, shooting a quick ‘fine’ over her shoulder.

“Such a darling girl.” Olive’s friend, Nova Citroen, said with a tight smile. Nova could not have cared less about Olive’s daughter, all she could think about was how hungry she was, she hadn’t eaten in three days. She had to look good for her upcoming birthday. She would be 53, maybe it was time for a little more plastic surgery. Grabbing a juice from the fridge Electra padded across the room, still listening in on her mothers conversation.

“So how did you two meet?” Nova asked, another tight smile playing on her lips. She listened with a vacant expression on her face as Olive told her the same story she had told a journalist from the Redcliffe Post who came by the apartment for the exclusive scoop yesterday. Nova thought about her own husband, an 86 year old industrialist with a huge gut and a few strands of grey hair who had plundered the family money on hookers and gambling in Atlantic City. Maybe she should try and find a billionaire like Olive had; some women had all the luck. Still she nodded and smiled in all the right places, Olive was a good woman to count as her friend, she had all the right connections and with the money from all her divorce settlements was fast becoming the richest woman in the city.

Finishing her story the two women then began talking about the latest parties, and the problems of the social season. Electra had no desire to listen any longer. Throwing her juice in the bin she headed for her bedroom and stood by the window, looking out at the city before her. She loved her view.

She didn’t know what to do about tonight. She usually went out every night of the week, but with Olive back it may be more difficult, if her mother ever saw what she looked like when she went out she would throw a fit. But then there was a new band playing at her favorite bar and she really wanted to see them; she also couldn’t bare to stay under the same roof as her mother and step-father, a bad tempered man of Dutch and Spanish descent who she rarely saw. With a sigh she pulled herself away from the window and slid the glass door of her closet across. Not bothering to close the curtains she slipped out of her uniform and stepped into a tiny black leather dress, quickly rolled on her black patterned tights and finished her look off with a pair of snakeskin boots. After adding a large pair of cheap black hoops and a hugely expensive art-deco bracelet she had bought herself for Christmas she was ready.

Stepping into the hallway she peered down and looked for Olive, she couldn’t see anyone. She had heard Nova leave a few minutes earlier, and hoped Olive had gone upstairs to her own private area which contained her study and bedroom, as well as the two guest bedrooms which were never used. She turned and studied her face in the reflection of one of the pictures hanging on the wall, fluffing out her hair with practiced ease. She could feel someone behind her , and knew by the silence that it must be Marcus. Ugh!

“And where are you going?” He asked, leering at her. He made her feel sick, she couldn’t stand him.

“Out.” She replied sharply, spinning around and staring back at him boldly. He wasn’t her father, she wasn’t letting him tell her what to do.

“Dressed like that?” He raised his eyebrow as he spoke, looking her up and down. She felt like he was undressing her with his eyes and cringed, glad for once to see Olive, who strode across the room and stood next to her third husband as they stared at Electra.

“What on earth are you wearing?” Olive asked, looking at her daughters outlandish (for their world) outfit.

“Just out.” She repeated, staring at them both, willing them to get out of her way. “Not that you’d care.” She muttered under her breath as her mother pinched the bridge of her nose between her expensively manicured fingers. Olive could feel a headache coming on and she was not happy. She found herself wishing that Electra was still the little girl that she could see on the photo behind her, she had been so much easier to control then.

“You can go out as soon as you change into something more acceptable. You look like a cheap groupie.” Her mother turned up her nose and stepped forward, mother and daughter looked each other in the eye, neither of them backing down.

“Why should I?” Electra snapped, she wasn’t about to change just because her mother told her too, she was old for goodness sake.

“Do as your mother says!” Marcus chimed in, his deep and commanding voice making her flinch.

“You’re not my father, don’t tell me what to do!” She shouted.

“Do not speak to Marcus like that! He is your step father, and you will listen to us and go and change out of that ridiculous outfit, or keep it on and stay home!” Olive shouted back, trying to get through to her daughter; did she not realize no respectable boy would want to marry a girl who dressed like a cheap tramp?

“Oh please mother, as if you care. I’ve been going out like this for months but you’re never home to notice.” Electra rolled her eyes and looked at her mother with scorn.

“I can’t believe you actually left the house looking like that, what if someone we know sees you! Now go back to your room and stay there!” Olive was panicked, this was not part of her plan. Electra always looked so lovely in her school uniform and pretty pink party dresses, she was not meant to be in revealing black leather!

“What are you gonna do?! Chain me to the bed and put bars on my windows?! I’m not a little kid anymore mama, you can’t make me do anything.” With those words she fished her phone out of her bra (which elicited a look of horror from Olive and the craning of Marcus’ neck to get a peek) and dialed the number of a limousine service.

“Don’t you dare leave this house Electra.” Olive said warningly, looking to her husband for support, who merely shrugged. This was why he’d never had children, Olive had assured him they were no problem when they married, and how could he have passed up a prize like Olive Belgravia Elphinstone-Stanislopolous?

“Hi, I need a car from the Derrigio Building, going downtown. Thanks.” She hung up with a satisfied smile and, pushing past her mother and step father, got onto the elevator.

“Don’t wait up!” She called out, laughing to herself as the doors slammed shut.

*       *       *

Sebasian Belgravia was not in the best mood. His day at school had been lousy, although a star at athletics and the captain of both the swim and lacrosse teams he struggled with his academics just like his sister, letters often went home which said that both students had very bright prospects if they just applied themselves, the problem was neither of them cared enough to apply themselves. Today he had gotten a particularly bad tongue lashing from the new English master which had put him in low spirits, then he had been startled at a come on from one of his team mates on the lacrosse team, the very popular jock with the gorgeous girlfriend from a well respected and old-monied family of Senators. He had put his friend down lightly, who had broken into tears and made him more embarrassed than ever, he had nothing against gay people, in fact he found they were usually a lot more fun and much better informed than the rest of the civillised population, and his uncles Tommy and Austin were some of his favourite relatives, but he was going out with Liberty, and had no desire for dalliances with the same sex. Maybe if he wasn’t with Liberty he would have accepted the offer, he had never tried going with a man before and in his world you could afford to play the field. He laughed at the thought of it, a laugh which was quickly extinguished as he saw a girl running across the courtyard towards him.

Penelope Bradford-Moore was a carbon copy of her very American social climbing mother, Melissa Bradford, an oil heiress, with freckles inherited from her very English father, the well respected doctor Simon Moore. A social-climber-in-training she had been following Sebastian around for months trying to snag a date, her mother had informed her that the Belgravia family was the most prestigious in the city and expressed her wishes for her daughter to date the son. After all, Melissa had enrolled Penelope at the same school as Sebastian in order for her daughter to meet an acceptable boy to marry, and who was better than Sebastian Belgravia? His mother had just snagged herself another billionaire, which meant a huge inheritance could be Penelope’s if she played her cards right.

“Sebie-poo!!” Could be heard ringing out through the courtyard as she ran towards him, he cringed and wished he was somewhere else, but before he knew it she was in front of him.

“I’ve heard you have been a very naughty boy!” She said with a high pitched giggle which made him want to strangle her. He had a throbbing headache and couldn’t be bothered to deal with her. “A very silly rumour is going around and I want you to tell me if it’s true.”

“What is it?” He drawled, feigning disinterest to try and make her leave him alone when he was in fact very eager to hear what she had to say, he hoped she hadn’t found out about Brad, who had a very famously homophobic father who had once beaten his brother to a pulp after he kissed his rowing teammate for a dare. He didn’t see how anyone could know, he was sure they had been alone, but then again things always had a way of spreading.

“I heard you’re dating some commoner you met in a bar downtown!” She said with a gasp and a giggle, putting her hand over her mouth. “Can you imagine?! I don’t know who started it but it was Stephanie who told me, who heard it from Cindy who said she heard it from her cousin Andrea’s boyfriend Harry who saw you at a club with some commoner he had never seen on the social circle.” Looking at him intently he knew she was waiting for him to deny it, being seen with someone below what she considered her class was completely unacceptable.

“It’s true. What of it?” He said, looking at her with contempt. He knew she was stuck up, but such blatant snobbery made him angry.

“Oh Sebie-poo you are naughty!” Penelope bit her lip as she grinned up at him, clearly thinking the whole thing was terribly exciting and planning out how to make the story more interesting when she told her friends at her cocktail party later. “I suppose you’re having to make do with the lower classes seen as you’ve sampled every girl in school.” She paused for a moment, waiting for him to ask her out, “Although you know, I’m between dates right now, if you asked really nicely you could take me out.” She batted thin, wispy eyelashes at him.

“Wouldn’t want to cause you any hassle Penny.” Sebastian said, patting her on the shoulder and heading for the main gate. He would have felt bad if she wasn’t such an outrageous snob. Setting off for the park his spirits began to rise, he would be seeing Liberty soon, which always made him feel better. She was such a breath of fresh air, none of this phoney crap he had to deal with every day at school. Entering the park through the west gate he saw her in the distance, stood under one of the bright lights in the darkness of the park, idly he thought about what her body would be like without her clothes on.

“Hey babe.” He said, sliding up behind Liberty and planting a kiss on her lips.

“Hi Sebastian.” She said, smiling at him while simultaneously cringing at the sight of his uniform. She had been quite shocked when she found out he went to a private school, thinking them terribly elitist and upper class, but she didn’t want to lump Sebastian in that category, it wasn’t his fault his parents were rich. Although she hated that he went to a private school the name ‘Belgravia’ hadn’t shocked her too much, she hadn’t heard of them. They may have been famous uptown but downtown no one cared about the society queen and her slew of divorces. She vaguely remembered seeing a very old film with Lily Belgravia or something in it, but she never thought twice about that.

“Listen Liberty, there’s a party coming up at school and I want you to come.” Sebastian said, he hadn’t really given much thought about inviting Liberty to prom, but he was determined to get her to come now that he knew how much it would displease Penelope, and how pissed off his mother would be was another bonus.

“What kind of party?” Liberty said, tilting her head to one side, unsure of whether she wanted to go. Private school kids were usually so stuck up she didn’t know if she’d enjoy herself.

“Just prom.” He said nonchalantly, waiting for the explosion of happiness which he had seen happen to girls all over school when they were asked to prom.

“Maybe, I’ll have to see what I’m doing.” She said with a shrug, giving him a smile to know she wasn’t saying no. He was shocked, prom was meant to be one of the defining moments of a girls life, wasn’t it? “Sorry that I’m not more excited,” Liberty said as she took in his confused face, “it’s just I’ve already been to prom at my own school and it was totally lame.”

“Hey don’t apologise,” Sebastian said with a chuckle, “I’m glad you’re not into all that sort of thing.” He was liking Liberty more and more, but he had to make sure she came with him, it would cause an uproar which would send his mother into hysterics, a commoner at prom! Quelle horror! “Come on, lets go back to my place, my mothers gone to a benefit and my sisters gone to some bar. We’ll have the place all to ourselves.” They smiled at each other and held hands as they set off for Sebastian’s.

*        *        *

Electra hit the same trendy downtown bar she had taken Sebastian too ready to get totally and completely drunk. She had mixed feelings about the confrontation with Olive and Marcus; as much as she hated her mothers frightful snobbery she was her mother, and it was never nice to argue with your family.

“What can I get you?” The bored barmaid drawled, her eyes barely registering the girl in front of her as she looked for suitable men across the room, she was sick of being a barmaid and was on the lookout for a rich man to look after her. Electra pointed to a bottle of Jack Daniels and the barmaid set about pouring her a shot.

“Just give me the bottle and a glass.” Electra snapped. With a completely disinterested look she dumped the bottle down on the bar and gave her a far too large glass before getting back to mixing drinks distractedly as she tried to asses if the man in the cashmere overcoat had any real money.

Electra set out drinking with a vengeance. She would never have usually drank alone, most likely calling up one of her friends from school who thought it was terribly naughty sneaking to a downtown bar, or one of the guys who wanted to take her out or had enjoyed the pleasure of her company for a night, but she couldn’t be bothered with her usual crowd. She wanted something else. With a sigh she realised she was sounding like Sebastian, idly she wondered if he was still seeing that redhead he’d met at the bar a few weeks ago, she’d have to ask. An hour later she was well on her way to being drunk and she knew she had better slow down. From her position at the bar she smiled lazily at anyone who came her way, her eyes wide, a silly half smile on her lips. She must have looked like a lunatic.

“You goin’ to watch the band?” The barmaid drawled in her heavy Southern accent as three guys began setting up their instruments in the far corner of the room. Slowly Electra remembered that was the entire reason she’d wanted to come out in the first place, so she had better watch. Requesting a pint of water and downing it to try and relieve her from her almost-drunken state she got up and headed to the front of the crowd which had gathered in front of the boys. The lights of the bar dimmed and were replaced by the crude makeshift stage lights as a muscular boy with a badly dyed blonde mohawk began strumming away on his electric guitar. He was soon joined by a thin boy with deeply sunken cheeks who played the acoustic guitar with more talent than she’d heard in a while, and a black drummer with a mane of hair longer and more beautiful than any girls brought the band together, bashing his drums wildly as the two boys began to sing.

She found herself captivated. It wasn’t something that she could put her finger on, they were just so good; obviously they were very raw and needed a lot of work, but instinctively she knew they were going places. The blonde one wasn’t bad looking either, although she could’t help herself from laughing at the contrast of his thick black eyebrows and small beard under his lip with his white blonde hair. It wasn’t long before he caught her eye; she didn’t break the look, staring back with a smile playing on the corners of her lips.

The blonde boy in question, Ryan, had noticed Electra as soon as he walked in the bar ready for his show. He had a thing for leggy blondes, and this was the leggiest blondest girl he’d seen in a while. The only problem was she’d looked lonely, sat at the bar nursing a bottle of JD and feeling no pain as she took shot after shot. He had no desire to take advantage of her while she was sad, probably looking for some guy to make her boyfriend jealous. But the signals she was giving off were clear, she wanted him. Who was he to resist?

After they had finished their last song to muted applause and a few grumblings about their non-interaction with the crowd the group who had gathered to watch dispensed, most of them headed straight for the bar, while Electra went in the other direction, towards Ryan. His bandmates, Dylan, the master of the acoustic guitar with the emaciated face and thin body, had pushed straight off to the bar along with Rasta, the owner of the enviable hair, who was busy eyeing up a tall girl with white pixie hair and amazing legs on show in a skintight white catsuit.

“That was a great show.” Electra said as she went over to Ryan with a smile on her face.

“You think? Thanks.” Ryan smiled back at her, both of them not needing to say much to know they were interested in each other.

“Yeah, I loved that second song the most – really something. You guys are going places.” She informed him with all the skill of someone who knew exactly nothing about the music industry.

“You bet we are. We’re the best damn band around, you should come to some more of our shows, we do loads in the area.” He scratched idly at his head as he spoke, wondering if she’d be willing to come back to his seedy one room apartment on the wrong side of town.

“Cocky aren’t we?” Electra mocked, raising an eyebrow.

“Confident.” He replied, smiling at her and laughing at her ballsy remark. The band had a few fans, but none of them would dare call him cocky, they all sucked up to the guys. He liked this girl.

“You having a good night?” Ryan asked, stepping closer to her.

“I am now.” She replied, stepping closer herself and looking into his eyes. With her heeled boots on she about the same height as him. Unspoken words passed between them as they stood in the corner of the bar, which was quickly filling up as the troops of students on bar crawls from their Universities piled inside.

“What’s your name?” He shouted over the din, which had quickly gotten extremely loud.

“Electra.”

“Weird name.” He smiled.

“What’s yours?” She shouted back.

“Ryan.”

“Boring name.” She smiled. And as if it was the most natural thing in the world they fell into a passionate kiss, neither of them knowing who initiated it, and neither of them caring.

Generation 3 – Chapter 11

Walking through the apartment Electra let out a sigh of relief that her mother was nowhere in sight. She didn’t want to deal with Olive right now. Another letter from her headmistress was stowed in the inside pocket of her expensive private school blazer. She remembered a time, a few years ago, when her mother had bought her back into the school; it had since been followed with several more pay offs. The Belgravia-Stanislopolous wing of the library had been completed last year, the price of Electra’s continual failure on every single one of her tests. She didn’t want to think about it, as far as Electra was concerned school was an unnecessary burden, it wasn’t that she didn’t understand the value of education, just that she had no interest in it.

She admired the view of the city as she crossed her bedroom, the city was what she really loved. The summer they had spent in the south of France had been a drag, stuck in the country all day for six weeks had not been her idea of a good time. She loved the fact that the city on her doorstep was the elite, luxury world that so many yearned to be a part of, but just behind that was the down and dirty bars and clubs that she often frequented. You would never know that under the long shiny blonde curls, the impeccably cut and tailored school uniform, and the prerequisite good-girl white tights lay a girl who was always ready to party, and who was very much attracted to the rock and roll lifestyle of the lower city.

Peering over her shoulder as the winter sun set quickly behind her she was faced with her brother Sebastian, home late from school yet again.

“Where have you been?” Electra asked.

“Just getting rid of Tara, gee, she was a clinger.” He replied, referring to his latest (now ex) girlfriend.

Sebastian had been through many girls since he had finally plucked up the courage to ask Amber, his co conspirator in the rescue of Dog, out a few years back. He had stayed with her for three months, sharing a few kisses and many dates. Once puberty had hit him he changed in a big way. Dumping Amber (he gave her a diamond trinket from Tiffany as a parting gift) he proceeded to date anyone he chose. Girls fell at his feet, and he had no desire to turn them down. Although he had been out with most of the girls at his school he was becoming bored with the conservative, uptown females who were his usual dates. He wanted something different, and although his sister thought he knew nothing of her trips to the lower city he was infact very much aware of them, and planned on going with her. He needed to meet someone different. It was too fake for him uptown, just like his mother.

Flopping down on the bed Sebastian beckoned Electra, busy searching for imaginary blemishes in her perfect peaches-and-cream skin, to join him on the bed. Smiling at her reflection in the mirror she sat cross legged at his feet, wondering what he was going to ask.

“So, are you gonna take me downtown tonight?” He smiled at his sister as he spoke, wanting her to realise that he wasn’t about to tell Olive about her little trips.

“How did you know?” Electra asked, reciprocating the smile.

“I’m clever like that. So will you take me? I wanna meet a different girl, you know these girls from our school, they’re just not my scene anymore.” Electra suspected they ‘weren’t his scene anymore’ because he had gone out with so many of them.

“I dunno Sebastian, I’m not sure if this would be your scene either.” She was worried that her brother would be noticed at the bar, after all his out of school clothes usually consisted of a polo top and chinos, not exactly rock and roll. Although the bar she usually frequented didn’t seem at all Electra’s scene either the transformation she underwent before her outings was remarkable.

“C’mon sis, I’ll change, you can dress me in whatever. You probably have some guys clothes lying about right?” Another thing he knew that she thought she had kept secret – her boyfriends. Well, more male visitors than boyfriends, who she would sneak in under the cover of darkness; he rarely saw them, but if he took a peek out of his bedroom door (conveniently located directly opposite Electra’s) he could sometimes catch a glance of a shaggy haired rocker decked out in leathers or some other variation of the lower city music/art scene.

Electra continued to bite on her nails as she thought about Sebastians request, wondering if it would be a good idea for him to go down there.

“They can be pretty rough places you know…” She was cut off by her brothers angry interruption.

“I know how to handle myself sis, geez. I’m on the soccer team and the swim team, I’m not some kinda weakling who can’t put up a fight.” Electra knew Sebastian had never been in a fight in his life, the kids at their school just weren’t like that.

“C’mon Electra! I really wanna get out of this bubble, and we have to do it before mama gets back from Paris.” Growing up calling Olive ‘mama’ due to their French roots had stuck, the two were often mocked (in a friendly way of course) for it, and had been actively trying to call Olive ‘mother’ for the last few years.

“I dunno…” Electra bit her lip as she pushed her brother to the other side of the bed and lay down next to him, wondering if it would be the best idea. She certainly knew plenty of girls at the bar who’d love to try and get it on with her brother, but they had better keep their grubby little paws off of him. Most of the girls there were total tramps. He deserved someone worthy of him.

“Okay… lets do it.” Electra finally said after some consideration. She felt silly for taking so long to make up her mind, but she loved her brother, and never wanted to put him in a bad position. The bars she frequented were pretty rough, but if you knew how to handle yourself (which she thought she did) you’d be fine.

“Great! When shall we go?” He asked excitedly, jumping up from the bed and shredding his blazer, ready for whatever outfit Electra had for him.

“Tonight of course, why wait – life’s for living, right?”

*     *      *

Electra and Sebastian stood outside the run down barn which had been converted into the hottest new club on the downtown scene. The journey had taken them a while, leaving the twinkling lights of uptown behind to journey over the hill which separated the peasants from the kings.

“What do you think?” Electra asked.

“Looks like a dump.” Sebastian replied, kicking out at some old weeds by his feet and moving a little closer to his sister as three leather clad men walked past him. As they navigated their way through the sea of motorcycles to the doors he thought it might not have been such a good idea.

“Bev!” Electra shouted over the din, “can I get a drink over here? The usual. And get my brother here a triple vodka and lemonade.” Beverly, the barmaid and owner of the club, a former model and notorious party girl turned bar owner nodded her understanding and set out making the drinks. She knew fine well the little girl with the mass of blonde hair was underage, and the kid with her looked about 12, but what did she care? The girl always tipped well and never caused her any trouble.

“Here you go sweetie.” She slid Electra’s drink down the table and set about doing Sebastian’s as he surveyed the room. It wasn’t what he was expecting. He had thought he was going to the lowest of the low, but it was actually a decent place, clearly a more expensive establishment trying to retain the dive bar feel. Loud rock music belted from an state of the art stereo encased in a nickel and dime wooden case, and smoke filled the room from carefully placed fog machines. A few stragglers were jiving on the small dance floor, but most of the people were sitting around in the booths and socializing as best they could over the music.

“You sure you’re old enough for this kid?” Beverly asked in mock-seriousness as she passed Sebastian’s drink over.

“Um – of course I am.” Sebastian looked down uncomfortably, fiddling with the collar on the leather jacket his sister had given him, left behind by one of her visitors.

“Come on, lets dance.” Electra tried dragging Sebastian to the dance floor but he resisted, protesting that he wanted to stay back and check the place out first. She knew he was looking for a girl. Spotting a guy who had been chasing her for a while she elbowed her way through the crowds and set about dancing with him, always keeping one eye on her brother to make sure he was okay.

Now that he had managed to get his sister off his case Sebastian knew exactly what he wanted to do. He had spotted her as soon as he walked in, stood by the bar watching what was going on, just like he was doing. Downing the drink and slamming the empty glass down on the bar he walked over to her, just managing to keep his cool.

“Hey there. Can I buy you a drink? I’m Sebastian.” He gave her his killer smile as he spoke. This one would be easy.

“No.” She glanced at him for a second before turning away, radiating ‘back off!’.

He was taken aback. Girls usually fell at his feet.

“Hey listen, its just a drink, whats the hurt in that?” He knew he could get this girl if he just tried, from her outlandish outfit to her attitude she was so different from all the girls he knew. The girl didn’t feel up for anything, especially this loser with the lame lines. She had just been through a messy breakup with her boyfriend, a leather clad biker of 27 who had expected her to cook, clean, and wash his clothes, as well as servicing him in many sexual ways that she did not enjoy while promising to hook her up with a contact of his in the record business.

“Just leave me alone, yeah? I’m meeting someone.” Her unwillingness to even talked to him only made him more interested, this was new for Sebastian. Every girl at school knew who he was; son of the richest woman in town, newly divorced Olive Elphinstone-Stanislopolous; great-grandson of the legendary actress and world renowned movie star Lily Belgravia; he thought it was his looks and charm that got him the girls, and a few times that was true – but mainly those girls were interested in his family and his money. This girl didn’t have a clue who he was, nor did she care.

“Hey, c’mon, am I really that ugly?” He smiled at her, throwing his arms open in mock-exasperation. Self-deprecation always did the trick.

She couldn’t help but check him out after that remark, and was surprised to find that he was actually rather handsome. The guys with the lame come-ons were usually the ugly ones.

“I guess not.” A weak smiled escaped her lips and he knew she was warming to him.

“Come on, this may be my last day on earth, at least let me dance with a beautiful girl before I go.” She couldn’t help but smile, and he marveled at how her pouting, arrogant face changed, the smile lighting up her whole face.

“Well I guess I can’t deny a dying man his last wish.” She would never let on, but she was immensley flattered by his invitiation. The club was full of beautiful girls, and she was getting evils from a tall, skinny blonde decked in head to toe leather on the dancefloor who seemed very possessive of Sebastian, but she refused to let on that she was intimidated.

“What’s your name anyway?” Sebastian asked.

“Liberty.” She replied, “Liberty Valentine.” She had hated the name growing up, but now she kind of liked it, she thought it gave her an edge. The two smiled at each other, although the connection hadn’t been instant it was definitely there now.

“Nice to meet you Liberty.” He gave her a big smile as he spoke, just stopping himself from saying ‘you can be my valentine any day.’ another one of his corny lines which worked so well uptown; he knew he had to try harder with this girl.

The two hit the dancefloor like a storm. Liberty was a little put off by the evils she was getting from Electra; thinking it was one of Sebastian’s jealous ex girlfriends or something along those lines, not his fiercely protective sister. Although he wasn’t the best dancer Sebastian made the whole thing entertaining by turning it all into a joke, pulling classic old school moves for laughs, and darting around everywhere like a maniac.

Even though they had only known each other a few hours the two felt immediately connected. Sebastian didn’t know what it was about her, she was beautiful yes, but they had barely spoken. There was just something about her, something about the way she looked at him with those eyes as they stood at the bar getting drinks after a good hour of dancing. They mesmerised him.

He couldn’t help himself any longer. Just as the loud voice of Beverly rang through the bar pronouncing it was closing time and they all better clear out he leaned forward and kissed her. He just couldn’t help himself, she was just so tempting. Luckily for him she reciprocated; she had been wondering whether she should do the same thing all night, or if he would think she was too forward. They both let themselves drop out of reality for a moment as their lips collided, he thought it sounded dumb, but he could be in love with this girl.

*      *      *

Okay, so I finally have a new chapter! I’m going to try and read everyone elses blogs as soon possible, but it really is a daunting task – I’ve missed so much. 

I’m sorry this took so long and that its kind of lame, but I suppose its better than nothing, right? (hopeful)

Thank you guys for sticking by me, your words of support really helped me to get this chapter done, and I’m actually glad I did because I love the kids, and it’s gave me some ideas for the next generation, whoever that may be headed by. Who’s your favourite? Mine has to be Sebastian – but I do like Electra too, remember how she was raised guys!

Marissa x