Tag Archives: family

Generation 4 – Chapter 5

Electra and Ricky had rented a house in Sunset Valley where they had been staying for just a few months. After the success of the bands first album, Electra had thought that everything was falling into place, but – on the advice of her record label – the band had decided to go in a completely different direction for the next album, a huge failure. The album sales had been dismal, and Electra had fled Bridgeport and the masses of photographers who had all revelled in her downfall. Luckily she had Ricky, the only thing that was keeping her sane. She wanted her music to take off so badly, and everything had started out so well. The house they were staying in was completely protected by walls, with a thick oak door to keep the photographers and paparazzi at bay. It hadn’t had the same success with keeping away Olive, Electra’s mother. After her break up with Ryan, Electra and Ricky had flew into a shotgun wedding. Ricky hailed from ancient English family, the France-Lynches, who held a lordship, although Ricky never actually used the title. Olive, in her jealousy at her daughters new title of Lady Electra, had turned around on her promises of a new leaf and divorced her husband, The Governor of Bridgeport, and replaced him with Prince Andrew Von Derringer, allowing her to get one up on her daughter by making her a Princess. Electra could not have cared less.

“You better get ready.” Electra chided as she slipped on her maroon turtleneck and turned to her husband. “Your mom and grandma are downstairs waiting.”

“Ugh, exactly why I should stay naked and you should join me in bed.” Ricky smiled seductively at her. He loved his family, but he would rather be with her.

“Get dressed, I hardly even know them and you know your mother doesn’t like me.” Ricky’s mother, Illiana, was a ferocious English/French socialite who was beautiful in a harsh way and had mixed feelings about Electra.

“I’ll be down in ten minutes.” He kissed her long and deep as Electra laughed, trying to disentangle herself so she could get downstairs. There was a family gathering of sorts going on; two days ago Ricky’s mother, Lady Illiana, had flown over in her private plane from the France-Lynch estate in the English countryside, stopping in Paris to pick up Ricky’s grandmother Lady Olenna. They were both dying to meet Electra, but had been a little wary when they first arrived. They knew of her career in music – and were disappointed with it – but her long famous ancestry and blue blood made for a compromise. Marrying into the Belgravia family was better than Ricky marrying some common girl, they thought, but both would have preferred a nice, homely girl who would stay at home tending to the estate while giving lots of little France-Lynch heirs. The women of the France-Lynch family, however, tended not to be as mild or timid as the girls they usually hoped for, and every generation was more abrasive, cunning, and socially minded than the last.

“Well at least she’s pretty, but what else would you expect from Ricky, he always went for the beauties.” Electra heard Olenna saying as she walked through the utility room into the kitchen.

“It is fortunate that this rock career has stalled, though they should get out of this house and move into the estate back in England.” Illiana said in her clipped English accent, heavily laced with a French one.

“Sorry about the wait.” Electra embraced Illiana lightly and kissed Olenna – who never rose from her seat unless it was to dote on her grandson – on the cheek.

“I am sorry to keep you waiting also.” Olive’s thoroughbred American accent rang through the kitchen as she stepped in from the pool area. Having seen Electra through the window, she decided now was a perfect time to make her entrance – anything to upstage her daughter. She had flown in from Monte Carlo yesterday, staying at the Waldorf Astoria in New York before hopping on her husbands private plane and making the short flight to Sunset Valley. She detested the little town, having grown up in a place so small she only liked the big cities of Bridgeport, New York, Paris, London etc. There were few connections in Sunset Valley worth reaching out to to network with, apart from perhaps the Landgraabs, though that family – as powerful as they thought they were – were just big fish in a little pond compared to Olive’s Bridgeport connections. They had however, reached out to her, and Mrs. Landgraab, who was the eighth wife of the ancient and ailing Aaron Landgraab, had promised to throw a gala for her that very night – anything for Princess Olivia Von Derringer.

“Have you met my husband, The Prince?” Olive asked, pointing to her husband through the glass doors, who walked in just a few moments later.

“Oh yes, we’re old friends.” Illiana smiled sweetly and both began gossiping, laughing together with as no genuine feeling beneath the surface. Olive was actually happy with her daughters marriage, she could hardly have made a better one herself, but in Illiana she recognized a rival. Illiana never had any desire to move into the American social scene, but in England she was at the top of the ladder. Illiana also came from a much older and even better bred family than the Belgravia’s, and Olive’s husband, despite his title, had little money of his own. Olive paid for everything with her billions – that was their deal – he got immeasurable wealth, and she got to become a Princess. The House of Von Derringer was an ancient German Princely House, which had slowly dwindled away its fortunes over the years through excessive amounts of extravagance. When Andrew came into the title on the death of his father all that was left of the family fortune was a crumbling estate in the middle of the German countryside, and debts totaling over 40 million euros. Olive had settled his debts with a quick cheque (she’d probably make that back in interest within a year anyway) and supplied him with a generous allowance. She had loved Charles, her ex-husband, but her daughter couldn’t be higher than her. Electra may not ever use her title, but everyone knew she had one, and Olive wanted a better one.

“So lovely to meet you child.” Prince Andrew said with a smile as he clasped Electra’s hand and gave it a long, lingering kiss. He was a handsome man in an impeccable suit Olive had paid for, but Electra felt he had a kind of doctor-who-does-creepy-experiments look to him, and had to stifle her laughter.

“Great to meet you too.” Electra gave him her best smile. She wanted the relationship with her mama to work; for a while it had, when Olive had been with Charles, but Electra’s shotgun wedding and ascension to a Lady – a title which she usually laughed at or ignored all together – had torn them apart once more.

“And here is my beautiful grandson.” Lady Olenna smiled warmly as Ricky entered the room, looking gorgeous as usual in a cherry red polo shirt and brown pants. “Richard darling come give your grandmother a kiss.” Olenna got up with surprising virility and speed, her 86-years seeming nowhere in sight. A thin wisp of a woman, Olenna had been a ferocious socialite to rival Olive in her youth, on the English-French scene. Marriage into the France-Lynches had shot her to the top, and although she had mellowed in her age – she no longer had to fight for her spot at the top now, she still insisted on wearing diamonds at all times and never left the house without £2000 in cash ‘in case of emergencies’. She usually used it to tip off various waiters, drivers, and doormen, so that she heard the best gossip  before anyone else knew it.

“Grandmama.” Ricky nodded to each person in the room cordially before embracing his grandmother. He loved his mother and grandmother as much as anybody loved their family, but he could smell the lies and deceit from a mile off. He didn’t blame them for coming to check out Electra, he loved checking her out every single day, but he wished Electra’s mother had never came with this foreign Prince on her arm. He knew of the Von Derringer family, and he and most everyone else knew they held the title only in courtesy, it didn’t actually mean anything – they had no duties, and before Andrew married Olive, no money or social standing either. Ricky had been raised on his families huge estate, spending most of his time with the grooms who tended the stables or the groundsmen who tended the many many acres of land around the house. As such he knew how to get along with both the aristocracy and the working class, and most everyone who met him liked him because of his looks – which he was totally unaware of – and his friendly, charming demeanor.

“She’s quite a beauty, isn’t she?” Olenna smiled, nodding to Electra who was still talking to a wildly smiling Andrew. Ricky smiled softly at his grandmothers remark, he knew how much she loved him and was desperate for her to love Electra, who, despite her blue blood, was very different to the hoards of desperate Parisian socialites who had been chasing Ricky for years as he passed through Deauville for polo, and Paris to visit Olenna. He had many other women chasing him in Palm Beach, London, Argentina and across the world, usually coming onto him after a grueling polo match when he was looking for the company of a woman. He had dated many girls, and even had a fiancee once, but had never met anyone like Electra.

“There’s a battle of social dominance happening across the room. Who can manage to be the frostiest bitch while keeping the biggest smile.” Olenna laughed, nodding to Olive and Illiana, who were sat having an awkward conversation, both unused to being near someone on an equal social standing. While Olive’s many friends were both rich and powerful, she was the richest and most powerful of them all, and it was the same with Illiana. Society was a hierarchy, and both of the women were the top of the pyramid in their own particular arena, unused to coming across someone from another distinct group. Olive was the head of American society, while Illiana was the head of English-French society, the two groups mingled with each other, of course, but unless one was to move to a different venue, you were very much a part of a distinct group.

“So, do you like Electra? I know you haven’t had much of a chance to get to know her, but you don’t hate her?” He looked across at his wife, and thought how beautiful she was. She was out of place in the room, in her leggings and boots, but she still looked the best by far – he thought.

“Of course I like her, I would never dislike my grandsons wife, but darling, your mother and I worry over this rock thing she does – what about children?” Ricky had to stifle a laugh, he and Electra had discussed children – both wanted them – but he couldn’t exactly say to his grandmother they had spent the last few weeks doing little else than having sex and taking long baths together; she could be with child right now, the amount of times they had consummated their marriage, it would be surprising if she wasn’t!

“Her careers stalled, you know that, I’m going to help her get it back on track eventually, but she wants to wait until next year, after she’s toured with me on the polo season.”

“Oh, well that’s wonderful!” Olenna beamed at her grandson. She had heard Electra could play polo, but no doubt she was far away from her grandsons nine-goal handicap. Polo was a huge part of the France-Lynch family, they had played for generations, Ricky and his forefathers could all swing a polo stick before they could talk properly, and were riding by five years old. Olenna was relieved to hear Electra would be taking part in her grandsons life, and that children were being discussed. Her opinion of the little blonde bombshell was boosted immediately, and at least she didn’t have to worry about Electra being a gold digger – the Belgravia’s were one of the richest families in the world, though they did not have quite the prestige of the ancient France-Lynches, nor could Olive’s innumerable jewel collection match the five separate vaults full of diamonds, emeralds, and rubies that Olenna enjoyed in her Paris townhouse.

Across the room from Ricky, Olive and Illiana sat in a frosty silence, punctuated occasionally be some vapid remark about clothes, houses, or wealth in general. The two women were not getting along well, and Olive was glad of the distraction when Olenna’s laugh punctuated the room and she began to ease herself into a comfortable chair as Electra went over to Ricky and kissed him.

“Such a beautiful couple! We should get a picture!” Andrew shouted, a huge smile on his face. He had no idea about much of anything, and went along with whatever Olive said. The only thing he was good at was spending money – and he spent even faster than his forefathers. Sliding off the chair with a cool smile down at Illiana, Olive wrapped her arm through her husbands,

“Don’t be so gauche darling, we don’t take pictures, people just take them of us.”

“You are a sweet couple, I agree with this charming Prince.” Olenna smiled a vacant smile at Andrew and Olive, thinking what a  beauty Electra was. She had heard rumors about her parentage, a bitter old tart in a tacky turquoise dress and plastic earrings had told Olenna that Olive had a brief affair with some blonde hunk years back in Miami – but fled the city soon after and never spoke to any of them again. The boy had turned up dead in mysterious circumstances just a few weeks after Olive had married her first husband Maxwell, and many whispered that Olive had some part to play in it. If it was true that she was with this blonde it could explain Electra’s parentage, though Olenna had little to worry about if the man wasn’t alive – no nasty scenes could be caused.

As Olenna waved a perfectly manicured hand adorned with a huge ruby at Andrew, Electra embraced Ricky, basking in his scent and finding herself wishing that they were back upstairs in bed – alone.

“This is so boring, I’m sorry about this.” Ricky said, running his fingers through her silky blonde hair.

“It’s my fault as much as yours, with my insufferable mother.” She replied a little too loudly, gaining a giggle from Olenna who was listening to their conversation discreetly as she chatted idly with the prince. “Olive said she’s taking your mom with her to that gala thing later, so we can be alone if your grandmother goes too.” She gazed up into his eyes, dying to have him all to herself and not have all the family around them.

“We could slip upstairs right now, continue with that baby making.” He smiled as he kissed her; she felt her knees go weak.

“Electra!” Olive’s screech threw her from the moment, grudgingly she looked up at her mother, her heels tapping on the floor as she walked towards the dining room, turning round and beckoning for Electra to follow.

“I’ll see you in a bit.” She kissed him again, following her mother into the dining room. Olive stood stock still, her face implacable as she looked at her daughter.

“Princess.” Electra curtsied  mockingly, gaining a look of scorn from her mother.

“What on earth am I doing here Electra? You leave me in the corner trapped in an awkward conversation, then mock me so loud that people actually laughed! I came to show I am a caring mother, and this is what I get in return?” The truth of why Olive had came was actually to meet the France-Lynch women and to check out Ricky – she was fooling no one.

“Oh mama, what is  it with you? Just leave it okay. You better go get ready for the gala being thrown in your honor.”

“You should have made this a dinner then perhaps it wouldn’t be so awkward, and would it kill you to put on a skirt every once in a while? Even that ancient Lady Olenna looked more respectable than you did.”

Electra replied with a dramatized yawn, she could hardly understand this conversation at all.

“What’s the point of this mom?” Electra knew everything her mother did had some sort of motive behind it, but this time it seemed like she was just bitching for no reason.

“You listen to me Electra, you will go back in here, bring us all together as a good hostess should, serve some hors d’oeuvres or some champagne, and -” Electra cut her off with a huge grunt.

“I don’t think so mom, I’m not a society hostess and this isn’t some kinda  networking party, your meeting your god damn family – don’t you get it? These people are family now. Me and Ricky are married and if you wanna get to know his family then great, but don’t come here just to snoop.”

Electra threw a a long look at her mother before turning on her heel, storming into the kitchen, grabbing Ricky by the collar, and dragging him up to the bedroom.

*            *            *

“Your mother’s not going to be happy with you.” Ricky said a few minutes later as he nuzzled into Electra’s neck.

“Who cares. We don’t have a good relationship yano.” Electra kissed him back, stripping off his shirt as she did. The two of them rolled into bed, all talk of their families forgotten.

“C’mere you.” Ricky couldn’t keep his hands off her – the newlywed stage definitely didn’t seem to be ending any time soon. High season was coming up, which meant Palm Beach for the polo, followed by Westchester, Deauville, and Argentina. He’d have Electra on the road with him – although ‘the road’ was hardly the right description, as it was more a slew of fabulous hotels and mansions of friends – and he wouldn’t be leaving her side for a second with all those handsome, lecherous polo boys swanning around shirtless in their breeches. Electra would definitely be the apple of every eye.

For the next hour all thoughts of scheming mothers, dismal album sales, and feuding relatives trapped together downstairs were forgotten as they reveled in each others bodies. Electra couldn’t believe how her life had changed – before she had a great startup career, but was trapped with Ryan’s problems. Now she had no real career to speak of since the failure of the band, but the man in her life and the endless hours they spent with each other almost made up for it.

Afterwards, they laid in each others arms, dreading the moment when they had to go downstairs. Olenna had popped her grey hair through the door a few minutes ago, completely unfazed by the her naked grandson or her grand-daughter in law – she had seen quite a few things in her time – and told them that they were all headed to the gala in a few minutes.

Electra and Ricky descended to the hallway having thrown on their clothes – all Electra could think of was how fake her mother was. She sensed a similar level of deception from Illiana, although she felt she didn’t know the woman well enough to judge her. She did however like Olenna, and Andrew was nice in a dumb, money-grabbing kind of way. It was surreal to her that those two women were now her family. She had always imagined herself to be married one day, but not to someone like Ricky. Maybe when she was younger, at prep school, she would have seen herself with an English Lord, but as she had grown up she had found most of the Trust Fund Babies were vapid and boring, with a penchant for bitching and doing nothing all day. She had thought maybe she would marry another musician, like Ryan, but she was completely grateful that Ryan had left her life and she had found Ricky. He was so unlike anyone she had met, and was as bored with the whole ‘elite’ thing as she was. She was determined that when she had kids, they would be completely unlike Olive.

“Darlings! Are you sure you do not wish to come with us? It should prove to be a most interesting night.” Illiana asked, looking over Electra with a knowing eye.

“We’re sure mama.” Ricky kissed his grandmother on the cheek and whispered a few words in her ear, before doing the same to his mother. He gave Andrew a firm handshake and stopped for a few minutes to talk to Olive as Electra said goodbye to Olenna.

“We will miss you sweetie, we don’t know each other well it is true, but you seem a sweet girl, and you obviously adore my grandson as much as he adores you. ” Her twinkling eyes gazed into Electra’s knowingly, “and from that scene upstairs, I don’t think I’ll have to wait long for grandchildren.”

Electra let out a scream of laughter, giving Olenna a rather tight hug, marveling at the body Olenna had for her age.

“I’ll be very good to him, I promise.”

“You be sure you are, or you’ll have me to deal with.” It was said in jest, but Electra had a sense that the old woman would be as good as her word if it ever came to it. The four of them rushed out into the night, piling into the waiting limousine headed for the Landgraab mansion. The last sight was of Olenna, her diamonds glittering in the moonlight streaming through the open window, lighting a cigarette and blowing a kiss to Ricky and Electra before the limousine faded from view.

“What do you say we work some more on making those heirs my grandmother wants so badly?” Ricky pulled her into his arms and began kissing her again, his hands caressing the back of her neck before sliding up her shirt. They would have at least a few hours before anyone was home, and the dining room table, unlike much of the rest of the house, was still untarnished by their lovemaking.

“Well, she did give us her blessing.”

*          *          *

I’m back! Everything in my life has been sorted out, and I had a free day in which I just really had the urge to play again. I know I’ve been gone for way too long, but I hope all my favourite bloggers are still around. God knows when I’ll get round to reading everyone’s blog, but I’ll sure attempt it, I’m missing all my favourite sims!

– Marissa x

Generation 4 – Chapter 4

Peeling herself off the closet floor the next morning Electra thought back on the events of last night and almost wept. As she roamed through the loft she noticed Ryan still hadn’t returned, the only people around were Ricky, Noah, Sebastian, and Liberty. Sammy had left with Marc, and no one had heard from them. Electra didn’t even bother to get dressed for the rest of the day, she just sat on the chest at the end of her bed until night fell.

Watching the lights of the skyscrapers bring Bridgeport to life she decided that she had to do something, Ryan had turned her into a nervous wreck over the past few weeks and it was time to get back to doing what she loved: partying. Rooting through the wardrobe she pulled off the breeches, boots, and polo shirt she had been wearing for the past two days and, after a quick shower, slipped into a clinging black turtleneck and vertically striped black and white trousers. Applying a fresh makeup in the bathroom mirror she decided that she looked pretty good under the circumstances.

As she strolled through Bridgeport’s hottest new nightclub – Black – she noted that it definitely lived up its name. The walls were black, the floors were black, and only a few lights made it possible for her to see anyone. Shadowy figures hung around metallic tables, finished with a black sheen, chatting to each other and smiling, she kind of wished she had took Ricky up on his offer to accompany her, but she was worried what Ryan and Marc might think if they heard about it, she didn’t want to upset anyone, but still felt guilty as she thought had probably upset Ricky by declining his offer.

Ordering a neat Whiskey, her favourite drink, she took in her surroundings a little more. The club was compromised of three rooms: the bar, the dancefloor, and the blue room. The bar and dance floor were self explanatory, and the blue room was, as the bartender told her, the room where people would slip off too for a necking session, or in the case of some of the steamier patrons, particularly the famous rock stars and actors who frequented the club and were, due to their celebrity status, above the law, for a quiet place to have sex.

At first she was miserable, hanging her head as groups of glamorous friends passed her on their way to dance, their perfect bodies shimmying past her in a display of tight leathers and shockingly risque body stockings which showed off alarmingly extended nipples and a lot of smooth, taut flesh. She felt lonely and conspicuous, a social outcast forced to drink alone, but then she remembered her teenage days in Recliffe. She had always gone out alone then, and had always had an amazing time; she had an ability to get along with anyone, occasionally coming out of a club with a new best friend or, as she often did in her old days, a hard bodied, long haired rocker who she took home. Since Ryan’s introduction to her life she had been lagging a little in her social activities, finding it perfectly easy to give up the parade of male flesh for the exclusivity of Ryan. Although she loved him, she regretted that it seemed to have slowed her down somewhat, and tonight she had no desire to slow down. Downing two shots of vodka she headed for the dancefloor, and threw herself into the pounding music.

She didn’t care if she looked a fool as she twirled around the dancefloor with a huge grin on her face, she was having the most fun she’d had in weeks, ever since the arrival of Maud really. Polo had been an amazing reminder of a life she had left behind for a while, but it was a very different sort of fun, with a very different set of people. This was more her real idea of a good time, all she needed to make it perfect was Ryan. Dancing was lightening her spirits, it was helping her to believe that everything really could be okay. Once Ryan calmed down she would sit down and work it out with him, give him all the time he needed, anything.

She had been in the club for almost three hours now, and just as she was about to leave she saw, through the gap in the crowd, Ryan. He was talking to Sammy and seemed to be having a great time. She didn’t blame him for being in a club, after all she was in one too, they were very similar – partying was a rid of ridding themselves of their fears. She thought that perhaps it was fate, what were the chances of running into each other, whilst not speaking, in one of Bridgeport’s hundreds of club? Now was the time for her to go and make things better with him – all he had to do was forgive her for being too pushy, she still felt incredibly guilty over it. She never even thought about Ryan’s fault in all of it – she had a knack of always blaming things on herself.

A smile played on her lips as she pushed her way through the crowd, brushing against a series of unbelievably beautiful men and women; she felt fingers pinching her taut bottom a few times and smiled, she had missed the atmosphere of a club. All of a sudden the smile vanished from her face as she watched Sammy, still pretentiously wearing her sunglasses and clutching her permanent cigarette, wrap her chiffon-encased arms around Ryan, cigarette smoke churning with the smoke of the clubs machines, and then they were together, lips pressing insistently against one another, his hand crawling under her shirt to feel her breasts,  her hand snaking down Ryan’s skin tight jeans to his crotch, her shiny red talons squeezing a part of the jeans which had became much tighter.

“How could you?!” The scream rent the air as Electra crossed the club in one swift movement. Ryan and Sammy turned to her in shock.

“Slim! I thought you two were broken up, I swear it!” Sammy said truthfully, backing away from the two of them, her eyes wide with the horror of what she’d just done.

“It’s not what you think…” Ryan said sheepishly as Electra threw her hands up in anger.

“I’ve been wondering how to make things better with you, killing myself over pushing you away, and you’re here kissing Sammy! I think it’s exactly what it looks like!” Electra screamed, thankful that the anger was keeping the tears at bay. Just as she felt her lip trembling she turned and ran from the club, she would never give Ryan the satisfaction of seeing her cry over him. After pushing through crowds of bemused clubbers who laughed at her tear stained face she emerged onto the sidewalk, shielding her face from the photographers who always snapped pictures of the famous and glamorous patrons leaving.

“Electra Belgravia! Why the tears?!” One photographer shouted, recognising her from an article which detailed Olive, the new wife of Governor Charles Peredin-Bauer, and her family, with a huge spread on Electra.

“My boyfriend cheated on me! We’re over!” Electra screamed back at him, and winced as a flash went off in her face. “Leave me alone!” She shouted, running down the street as fast as she could. She would never forgive Ryan for this.

*      *      *

Electra turned into a shadow of her former self. After running all the way home she had collapsed onto the sofa in sobs and cried all night. Ricky, who had to skip the polo game which Sebastian and Nate were playing in that night because he had yelled at the umpire in an earlier game, stayed with her all night, stroking her hair as she told him what had happened. Afterwards it seemed she had no more tears left. She scrubbed off her makeup and changed into a baggy, unflattering sweater and curled up in the guest bedroom, she couldn’t stay in the bed in which she had shared so many amazing nights with Ryan.

Ricky and Sebastian were her saviors, although they couldn’t see it they were helping her by just being there, even if she didn’t respond to them whatsoever. They stayed in the room at all times, just talking either to her or each other about anything, it was what she needed to get through it. She didn’t sleep or eat, she just laid there, her open eyes unseeing. Sebastian had tired to track Ryan down, with the intention of smashing his fist into Ryan’s face, but he had vanished. Marc came by to see her, apologising for overreacting when he saw her in the closet with Ricky, admitting that he had blown it out of proportion. He sat on the floor next to her bed, head resting on his knees, trying to get her to speak, but no words had passed her lips for days. He was feeling guilty for his outburst, he knew Electra had felt awful over it and fretted whether it was contributing to her sadness now. The last thing he wanted was to see her sad, he loved her for christs sake.

Ricky and Sebastian tried to think of ways to get her to talk to them, they played music, told her of the polo games she could join in, offered to take her on a trip, but she merely shook her head and readjusted her position on the bed. She felt if she opened her mouth she would throw up, unable to comprehend how Ryan could have been kissing Sammy without even breaking up with her first. She blamed herself infinitely, thinking that if she hadn’t pushed him so hard over Maud and flaunted her wealth in his face by offering to pay for her rehab that he would have never stormed out and ended up with Sammy.

Ricky was perhaps the most conflicted of them all. Electra felt numb, Sebastian felt pure hatred, and Ricky battled with fury and delirious happiness. She was available, she was finally free from Ryan and ready for a new boyfriend, but she wasn’t. Being there for her every day but not being able to kiss her, hold her, make love to her as he wanted to, all things he knew would make her feel better, was awful for Ricky. But he sucked it up, he had to for Electra’s sake.

“Look, nothing we do is working!” Ricky said to Sebastian in hushed tones after he had finished feeding Electra her daily meal of soup. It had been two weeks and she had hardly moved from the bed, and never spoken once.

“I know, I know, I dunno what to do though, maybe she’ll just pull through.” Sebastian grumbled, just as worried as Ricky but with just as little many ideas for how to make it better.

“You’re sure there’s nothing we can do?” Ricky implored with a glance back at the huddled figure of Electra.

“Well maybe one thing…” Sebastian said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He could think of one person who may be able to get through to her. She wasn’t her favourite person, but she was irreplaceable in Electra’s life.

Looking at the huddled figure of his sister he decided there was nothing else for it, and went off to make the call. Sixteen hours later, after instantly jumping on the jet after receiving the call from Sebastian and racing back to the city from Australia, Olive arrived at the apartment. Sebastian didn’t know if it was the worst move he could have made, or would be the best, but she was Electra’s mother, and sometime a girl just needs her mom.

Standing in the doorway of the bedroom, which was done in a chinese style, Olive toyed with her diamond and ruby ring nervously. She hadn’t seen her daughter since she had cut off her trust fund, but she had seen the awful picture of her in The Post, with mascara running down her cheeks as she screamed at the photographer. the headline had read ‘Heiress breaks down after break-up’.

“E-Electra…?” Olive’s voice cracked a little as she spoke, she had never seen her daughter like this. Olive was used to the wild, abrasive girl who would give as good as she got, not this creature in front of her, a mere shadow of her former self. Very slowly Electra took in her mother, her eyes showing emotion for the first time in in weeks, their dead gaze finally changing. Olive held out her perfectly manicured hand and eased Electra off the bed. The girl who stared back at Olive looked worse than a drug addict. Her eyes had huge black bags underneath, her skin drawn and pale, her hair lank and greasy from weeks of not washing it.

“Darling… I’m so sorry.” Olive said, gasping as Electra threw herself into her mothers arms. Those words meant more than any outsider would think, by the look n Olive’s eyes Electra had known exactly what her mother meant; she was sorry for lording it over Electra for all these years, sorry for not being there for her, and sorry for the situation she was now in. Electra clung fervently to her mother, breathing in the wafts of her scent and rejoicing in the comfort of her mothers embrace. They were hardly typically mothering things; she was wafting Chanel no.5 and Electra could feel ribs digging into her, but it was still her mother.

“I’m so sorry, I never wanted this to happen to you.” Olive said sadly, looking at her frail daughter. “I know what you’re going through… being cheated on is an awful experience, but you should know I’m here for you now.” Olive said, determined to actually be there. Two of Olive’s four husbands had cheated on her, one leaving her for a nineteen year old Icelandic supermodel and one leaving her to pursue his passion for prostitutes without Olive to hinder him, so she knew how Electra was feeling, although her daughters feelings may have been more poignant than Olive’s as Electra had felt real love for Ryan.

“Thank you.” Electra whispered, her voice croaky from being underused.

“You have to get away, it really does help. I go through so many houses because I can’t bare to stay in the same one after a divorce. Take the jet, I have a wonderful house where you can hold up with Sebastian to get over all of this.” Olive, determined not to boss around her daughter, had to add, “and whoever you want for that matter.”

Electra gave her a weak smile, the presence of her mother had jolted her from her depression. If Olive, basically Electra’s worst enemy, could come to her aid, then she should be able to pull it together.

“You don’t have to mom, really.” Electra said, not wanting to push her mother too far when they had only just started speaking once more. Olive threw her hands open in protest.

“Please! It’s the least I can do. I know I haven’t been the best mother, truly I know that, but I always wanted the best for you.” Olive thought back on the way he had raised her children with regret, although her motives had been, at their core, good, she now realised the way she had executed it was beyond awful. “With Charles… I think I may be beginning to experience love.” Olive said, a little shyly but truthfully, thinking warmly of her husband the governor, the first man who had truly made her smile and laugh.

“Oh mama, I love you!” Electra burst into tears, letting Olive guide her onto the bed. She laid Electra across the bed, her head resting in Olive’s lap, and let her cry, stroking her hair as she listened to everything that had happened. The tears ruined Olive’s priceless vintage Valentino skirt and she didn’t even care.

*      *      *

The Sky King, the private jet belonging to Olive, touched down in the Côte d’Azur the following day, bringing with it Electra, Sebastian, Ricky, Liberty, and Marc. After reading all about the breakup of their cousin in various papers around the world the rest of  the Belgravia clan rallied. Olive sent the jet around the world, picking up relatives and friends from Argentina, Scotland, Paris, and other various exotic locations where family members were sunning themselves during the first week of the summer season. After numerous trips through the skies Le Maple Chambre, Olive’s gargantuan estate on the coast, was home to 24 guests. They are as follows: Electra Belgravia, Sebastian Belgravia and girlfriend Liberty Valentine, Ricky France-Lynch, Marc Butty, Arabella Belgravia, Landon Belgravia and girlfriend Claudette Simmons, Isiah Belgravia-King, Edward Belgravia and his wife Belzise Belgravia, Adam and Peter Whitley, Alexander and Julian Belgravia, Rupert Donahue and his twin brother Samuel, Billy Lloyd-Foxe, Nate Campbell, Mick Belgravia, James Jermaine, Jessie Fortesque, Maria van der Morago, and Francesca Killburn.

While still drawn and pale at first, Electra was glad to be away from Bridgeport, away from Ryan and Sammy, and to be surrounded by her family and closest friends. She had had sporadic correspondance with some of her more distant relatives over the years, the trip would be an excellent chance to get to know everyone better. Among the most distant members of her family were Isiah Belgravia-King, the son of Marquis Belgravia-King, son of Alexandra and Jeremy, and his wife Cambola. The family moved to Argentina, Cambola’s birthplace, before Isiah’s birth and he had hardly seen any of his cousins apart from at the major family gatherings. While he dabbed in polo from time to time and was a naturally gifted player (helped in no small part by the infamous Argentinian horses), his real passion was being The Don Giovanni of Buenos Aries; Isiah had an insatiable sexual appetite and a reputation for complete debauchery and hedonism and was determined to sleep with as many non-relatives as he could on the trip.

Also distant were her Scottish cousins Adam and Peter Whitley, the children of Maria and Charlie. Maria, the daughter of Oriana Belgravia, Arielle’s sister, was a noted environmentalist and film maker who had made a huge name – as well as a huge fortune – for herself in Britain. Adam and Peter had just finished stints at St. Andrews and Cambridge respectively, both dedicated students who had skipped the wild student nights to revise for their exams. Now freed from the restraints of their ancient universities they were thrilled to be invited on the trip, both ready to let loose after three years of opression.

Mick Belgravia, the child of Oriana’s son Freddy and his wife Cassandra, was a closer cousin despite his equal distance from Electra in the family tree. A bad boy who slept all day and lived through the night, his all black leather outfits and penchant for heavy rock music were closer to Electra’s comfort zone, and the two of them had often spent many a memorable night dancing on table tops in the Redcliffe clubs.

Kitty, Olive’s sister, and Laurence’s miracle-child Alexis Williamson was also joining in on the trip. A socialite who had been spoiled rotten by her parents she didn’t do much of anything, preferring to take trips around the world where she participated in a few show-jumping competitions before whiling the night away on one or another billionaires yachts.

Edward Belgravia, the adopted son of Tommy, Electra’s uncle, and his husband Austin, was also flown in from Paris with his French wife Belzise. Both infinitely kind and deeply in love, they had no intention of going wild, but were curious as to what a huge Belgravia gathering would be like, and relished the opportunity to get out of the oppressive Paris heat.

Cora, Olive’s younger sister, and her husband James’ children Julian and Alexander were also staying at Maple House. Despite two musicians who couldn’t have been more removed from the upper class world for parents, they had both turned out rather the opposite of their rock star mother and father. Preferring the world of polo they had became close friends with Sebastian, and were currently on the polo circuit trying to increase their handicaps. Constantly decked out in their navy blue polo shirts and with a fondness for mischief and an insatiable desire for fun they were sure to bring something interesting to the vacation.

Landon and Arabella Belgravia, the children of world famous artist Oliver Belgravia and his wife Celeste, who inhabited the same stratosphere of the social world as Olive did, were also flown in from Redcliffe aboard The Sky King. Landon was currently being shown eligable lady after eligable lady, his other desperate for him to make a sucessful marriage. To appease Celeste he had brough Claudette Simmons, a petite blond tobacco heiress who never had anything of substance to say, and whose main aim in life was to adopt a unicorn.

Arabella, despite her wide eyed innocence and favourite pink shirts, was a business whiz, and was currently working at Belgravia Industries International, the multi-billion dollar corporation which her great-grandfather Chace Belgravia had built up from nothing. Despite her business savvy she was still, at a mere 18 years old, shy and naive, and had relished the opportunity of a trip with her family to experience new things. Of course, she made sure the place had WiFi so she could conference call with the office.

On the non-relative side were Rupert and Sebastian Donahue, twin brothers and close friends with Sebastian and Ricky from the polo circuit. Completely identical, the only way to tell them apart was by the black and white shirts they wore: Rupert in black, Samuel in white. Despite their youth the two brothers were fiercely ambitious, determined to reach ten goal handicaps and win the Gold Cup back in their homeland of England. The allure of the trip, for them, had been the ability to play polo all day on the pitch built behind Olive’s massive stables, and the fact that they had both harbored a huge crush on Electra since school, and now had bets of which one of them would get her into bed first.

On the plane from London with Rupert and Samuel was Billy Lloyd-Foxe, another polo friend of Sebastian’s who also relished the opportunity to play on Olive’s wildly expensive thoroughbreds, said by some to be the best in the Europe. After a breakup with his long time girlfriend Jane he was also looking for a girl to blot out the pain, and hoped one of the girls on the trip would be willing to do it for him.

James Jermaine, a flamboyant socialite and notorious bisexual playboy, was also flown in from the Hotel Baglioni in Venice. Never one to miss a free trip, he had been a friend of Electra’s for years, always entertaining her with his stories of the rich and famous and regaling her with snippets of the scandalous exploits they got up to.

The Sky King also stopped off in New York to pick up Jessie Fortesque, a railroad heiress with a fierce, angry face and a personality to match. She and Sebastian had been friends since school, where he and she had many sexual dalliances in forbidden places and who was invited due to her call to Electra, who had been splashed across the front page of a New York gossip column, to offer her condolences for the break up. Electra, who had always got along with Jessie despite her cynical manner and quick temper, quickly invited her along.

The last member of the household, who had shared the plane with Jessie, was another heiress who couldn’t have been more different from her in-flight companion. Francesa ‘Fran’ Killburn was the sole heiress to the fruits of the Killburn Corporation, a multi-national business which raked in tens of billions of dollars every year. Despite her lavish wealth Fran had been raised lovingly by her parents, and was a shining example of how an heiress should turn out. Fiercely shy and as rich as an arab sheikh, Fran still found it hard to talk to strangers and blushed even when she spoke to the maid. She would never have took a trip with so many strangers had it not been for the desperate call Electra had placed to her, begging her to come so Electra would have someone who wasn’t a total narcissist to chat with her.

*       *       *

The house in which the assortment of relatives and friends were staying in was one of Olive’s favourites; in a prime position on the French Riviera it was the envy of the enclave of millionaires and billionaires. Up a driveway lined with Maple trees – which is where the house derives its name from – lies the main house; a motor court with a fountain adorn the front, with the yellow stucco house rising behind it.

Featuring ten bedrooms and eleven bathrooms, with six servants bedrooms on the attic floor and numerous living rooms as well as a games room, ballroom, and many other extravagances of the super rich, the place was loaded with Old Masters by Vermeer, Rembrant, Monet and Da Vinci, and featured priceless antique furniture Olive had acquired from all the four corners of the world.

On the west side of the house a large terrace with an awning of overgrown plants,  shielding the guests from the unwavering sun, leads to a set of marble steps which descend to to the olympic sized swimming pool, perched on a bluff with glorious sea views. Beyond the high shrubbery glimpses of the tennis courts and various yellow pavilions are visible through the trees, to the north of the tennis courts a formal garden with a glittering fountain for a centerpiece sits before an avenue of Cyprus trees, with the Octagnox, an eight sided pavilion full of wicker chairs and wild jungle plants, sitting on the very edge of the coast.

The formal gardens at the back of the house offer views of the east, where, beyond the garage, above which four drivers live permanently ready to cart the various guests of the house wherever they wish to go, lay the stables which house Olive’s famed horses. A paddock sits behind the stables for the horses to graze in, and beside the paddock lay the polo fields complete with stands for spectators. Just visible behind the paddock is  Cyprus Cottage, a six bedroom, five bathroom guest house where visitors can be removed from the hustle and bustle of the main house, avoiding the unpleasant situation of everyone being on top of each other.

*       *       *

Waking from a slumber in the master suite which had became her bedroom Electra stretched languorously in the huge four poster, reveling in the 1000 thread count sheets. A slight breeze blew through the room from a few open sash windows, and the endless blue sea was visible through the already drawn drapes. Electra couldn’t help but smile. Her mother may be a lot of things, which Electra didn’t want to think about anymore, but she certainly knew how to live.

Padding across the heated flooring into the suites personal foyer she woke herself up under the high pressure shower and selected an outfit of a pastel green polo shirt and floral shorts from behind the sliding glass doors in the walk in wardrobe. Walking barefoot to the terrace she passed the 18th century chairs upholstered in Missoni fabric which stood beneath an unobtrusive Da Vinci on the wall.

As she gazed out past the forest (which was also part of Olive’s land) to the sea, which glinted duck egg blue in the distance, she thought about how much had changed in the last two years. Her first great love was over, Revolutionis were gone without ever recording a single original song, and the most unlikely of all – Electra and Olive were actually beginning to patch things up. It was definitely the end of an era.

*      *      *

So how did you like this chapter guys?! I’m loving writing Electra’s storyline, thank you so much for voting her in, and thank you for your continued support of this legacy!

The summer should be an interesting few chapters to write, it’s going to be fun to explore the other members of the family – I hate leaving them behind! Who do you reckon will be your fvourite?

Thanks again for your support, you guys are the best! 😀

Marissa x

Generation 4 – Chapter 2

The show started off slowly, just two white beams of light illuminating Ryan and Electra. A somber laser show was projecting from behind a speaker where Ryan’s bass was pumping from. Electra soon began to sing, her pure voice belting out a cover of Bjork’s ‘Hyperballad’. The audience loved it, they watched Electra with wonder as she sung, sometimes closing her eyes, sometimes staring directly into the crowd. “We live on a mountain, right at the top.” Electra crooned, getting more and more into the music as the song progressed. As she finished the last line and the lights dimmed the auidence began to cheer wildly, then the room burst into an amazing array of colours, confetti effects erupted into the life as they launched into their version of The Runaways ‘Hollywood’.

Hollywood, it feels so good!” Electra and Ryan sang into the same microphone, throwing a smile at each other. This was the first show for the new band, Revolutionis, and the reception couldn’t have been better.

Hoping to come off the success of Electra & The Wild Ones show back in Redcliffe had been a mistake, no one in Bridgeport had ever even heard of them, so instead Sebastian had reinvented them with a new name, turned the orange in Electra’s hair purple, and signed up two amazing new members – Sammy, a fresh find and an amazing keyboard player (Ryan had wanted to switch back to his original bass) and Marc, an extremely talented drummer who was quite well known in Bridgeport.

Time seemed to stand still as they played, listening to the screaming cheers of pleasure from the audience in the tiny gaps before they launched into the next song was one of the things Electra, and the rest of the band, loved most. To know that people enjoyed seeing them was the greatest pleasure; they better like them, there were 17 more shows in Bridgeport and the surrounding areas left to go in the next few weeks.

The band were all getting into it, but no one more than Electra, to wild cheers of applause she raised her guitar in the air as they performed a cover of Interpol’s ‘Evil’.

After an extremely eclectic mix of covers they came to their last song, a rock and roll version of Martha and the Vandella’s ‘Heatwave.’ “Thank you guys so much for coming, we’ve been Revolutionis!” Electra shouted into the microphone before the band burst into their last song. Both Ryan and Electra couldn’t help themselves from looking at each other and smiling, they had never expected such an amazing first show.

Running off stage to cheers and whoops of joy they all hugged each other behind the curtain that cut them off from the stage. “That was so great!” Ryan exclaimed, grabbing everyone and forcing them into a group hug. The place may have been a dive bar but it was getting their band out there. Liberty had thought they were crazy for using so many crazy effects on such small shows, but the bar had been packed to capacity and their other dates were selling out fast. Sebastian wanted them to become a cult hit before they burst through to the big time. Standing in the dressing room Electra lit up a cigarette, watching everyone who lolled around the room in various states of undress.

Every member of the band seemed to hate clothes. Ryan had already thrown his top off and kicked his shoes to the side and was sat talking to Sammy, an ardent feminist who insisted that if the boys were taking of their tops she would too, and was now sat with her favourite pleather trousers on, sunglasses perched on her nose, and her breasts free for everyone to see.

Ryan, who had seen her breasts many, many times during their weeks of practice, wasn’t phased at all. Opposite Ryan and Sammy, across the coffee table which groaned with every drink imaginable, glasses of wine, pints of beer, music sheets, ashtrays, and other nick nacks, Sebastian was sat with Marc, who had stripped down to his boxers after throwing his sweaty clothes into a bag.

A few strands of the thick smoke which covered the room escaped as  the door opened and Ryan’s mother, Maud, entered the room.

“Hey mom!” Ryan shouted, throwing a packet of cigarettes to her. She turned immediately to Liberty, who had been stood by the door texting furiously on her phone.

“Got a light sweetie?” Maud asked, Liberty was shocked by her appearance. Maud was 40 but looked 10 years older, a once relatively famous stage actress she had fallen into alcoholism after her career had failed ten years ago.

“I don’t smoke, sorry.” Liberty said, feeling a little awkward. Ryan’s mother proceeded to get well and truly drunk, downing one straight vodka after another, and chain smoking so much the entire pack had ran out within half an hour.

“She should slow down.” Sammy said to Ryan as she looked over at Maud, stumbling around and laughing as she joked with Liberty.

“She’s fine.” He snapped back, knowing that she wasn’t fine but not knowing what to do about it, his mother had been like this for as long as he could remember. He chose instead to follow by example and get bombed himself.

“Did we do okay then?” Marc asked Sebastian as they  sat together opposite Ryan and Sammy, who had instantly brushed off the little animosity over his mother and were now arguing about the best guitar players of all time.

“Yeah you were great.” Sebastian replied, his eyes fixed firmly on Liberty to make sure she was ok over there, stuck with Maud who was telling her about her own career. “We can really get some hype going with this I think, you had fun, right?” Sebastian asked, turning back to Marc.

“Yeah, it was the best. You’re a really good manager.” Marc said with a tiny trace of his French accent, being serious for once. Unfortunately Sebastian just laughed, he wasn’t at all put off by Marc’s almost nakedness but he still found it pretty funny, it was hard to take someone seriously when they were wearing nothing but plaid boxer shorts.

“Move over Marc, I wanna talk to my brother.” Electra said, nudging him out of the chair. She gave Marc a friendly hug, not noticing that Marc kept it going a little more than is normal for friends, before flopping down onto the seat next to Sebastian.

“Hey bro, how you doing?” She asked, noticing him staring over at Liberty. “Sebastian?!” She shouted after a few minutes of getting no response from him

“Huh? Oh yeah, sorry. I’m just worried about Liberty, acting isn’t really going as well as she would have liked.”

“How come? She’s a great actress.” Electra said, not entirely truthfully as she’d never seen Liberty act, but she wanted to make Sebastian feel better.

“Just not getting any parts, you know…” He said, trailing off. Liberty had gotten zero parts out of the hundreds of auditions she had went to. She couldn’t see what the problem was, she was pretty, she was friendly, and she could actually act. Why couldn’t she get a break? Now she was infuriated by having to stand and talk to this washed up stage actress.

“I could have been one of the greats you know!” Maud shouted, slurring her words a little.

“Maybe you should slow down…” Liberty said gently, trying to take the cup of gin out of her hands.

“Get off you thief!” Maud shouted back, grabbing the drink from Liberty and downing it before she could take it away. Ryan looked on in sadness. He poured himself another drink to help him forget.

“Excuse me? Hi!” The girl who had edged her way into the room could barely be heard over the chatter and music, but Electra noticed her and asked her what she wanted.

“I work for Azari -” She stumbled a little as Maud bumped into her, “we – um – just want to know if you’re interested in modelling for us.” The young girl was terribly nervous about having to walk into a room full of semi-naked musicians, now she was being shoved around by an old red head with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

“Um, what?” Electra asked, trying to listen to what Sebastian was saying while this nervous girl edged her way around the room.

“Modelling!” She shouted back. “You were great by the way!” Electra couldn’t tell if this girl was serious – Electra had heard of Azari, it was one of the most prestigious fashion houses, but this girl didn’t seem at all like their usual employees; she didn’t have the self confidence they possessed.

“Just leave the card on the table. Thanks.” Electra shouted over the din, “stick around for a while if you want.” She said as an afterthought, feeling bad for her.

“Come dance!” Marc shouted, “you can stick with me any day.” He added with a grin. He was incorrigible. The girl simply stood awkwardly in the corner of the room as people talked around her, she had admired Marc when she had watched the show, but now was nervous. “Come on, I won’t bite.” He said again, throwing her another smile. He would definitely take her home later.

The party continued in the same way for a while, everyone was having a great time until Maud collapsed to the floor in fits of laughter, clearly drunk out of her mind. Ryan got up from the sofa, feeling awkward. His mother hated it when she was helped up, the room went dead silent as everyone looked on in shock.

“Mom, come on.” He said, pulling her up, receiving screams of ‘get off!’ from Maud before she started to laugh.

“What you lookin’ at?!” Maud yelled at Electra, who had been looking on as if someone had been shot. Liberty fled away from the disaster, across the room to talk to Marc, who was temporarily dancing alone while the girl went to the toilet.

“Mom, you really do have to slow down. Or better yet stop right now before you hurt yourself.” Ryan told her as people started to relax again, lighting another cigarette to calm him down.

Maud only had the chance to take one drag before she fell down again, this time completely unconscious. Electra looked at Sebastian in horror, she felt so sorry for Ryan, while Sebastian clapped his hands together and exclaimed,

“Party’s over kids!” with a wry laugh.

*           *            *

Two weeks later, with only a few dates left on the dive bar tour, as it had came to be called, Electra decided to throw a dinner party. The moment the actual day came around she wished she hadn’t, she couldn’t cook so Ryan would have to do everything, which made her feel guilty as he had been worrying himself sick lately over Maud, who had dropped off the radar for a week without a single word. Electra had used some of her trust fund on a private investigator who had found her living with a transvestite go-go dancer in a run down apartment downtown. Electra had insisted Maud move into the loft, which she had thought would be a good idea but just turned into hell. Despite her guilt at putting more pressure on Ryan (it was only a dinner but he was determined to do it well, just as he did with everything in his life) she was glad to have guests over, Liberty was back from a movie (she was a maid who appeared in a three second segment which was still under threat of being cut) and Marc was coming to join them. Hearing the doorbell she ran for it, she needed new company.

Marc embraced her in a hug as he waltzed in, dumping a christmas bag full of wine on the floor so he had a better hold on her.

“Good to see you, Slim.” He said, smiling. Ryan’s nickname had caught on within the band, but Electra wasn’t bothered by it, it was a compliment, how could she complain?

By the time they had finished catching up on what had happened since she last saw him (only two days ago, but still…) Maud had swanned into the room wearing one of Electra’s dresses, as well as her heels, and Sebastian and Liberty were sat together on the sofa, Liberty was telling him all about her movie while he smiled on, he was glad she had finally gotten a part, however small it may have been.

Electra joined Maud at the breakfast bar as Marc had excused himself to take a phone call, and was now prowling around the other side of the room, shouting loudly in fluent French. She watched Ryan’s broad back as he slaved away making the meal, and found herself aching for some time alone with him, apart from the gigs they had never really spent any time together over the last two weeks, he was always making sure his mother was okay. Maud resented Electra for taking away her son, and reveled in the hours she spent with him, forcing him to get drunk and smoke weed way into the early hours with her.

“You looking forward to dinner then Maud?” Electra asked after cleaning up three of Maud’s empty wine glasses and sitting back down.

“Of course,” Maud replied, giving Electra an icy stare, “anything my son cooks will be amazing.” She paused for a moment, “speaking of family, I saw your mother in the paper today, apparently shes donated 300 million dollars worth of art to the BMOA.” She said, looking at Electra’s old burger t shirt with mockery, conveniently forgetting she was wearing one of Electra’s $800 dresses. Maud always wondered what a girl from the Belgravia family was doing with her son, and resented Electra’s family for the fabulous wealth they possessed, Electra didn’t begrudge her the second point, a lot of people were jealous, but she was infuriated that Maud couldn’t seem to understand that she was with her son because she loved him, not because he was some sort of rough trade.

“I hope you two are getting on!” Ryan chided from his position over the cooker, never really understanding his mothers snide remarks, in his eyes she could do no wrong. He hated that she got so drunk, and worried about her constantly, but to him that was normal; it had been that way since he was nine years old.

“Of course.” Electra said, with a tight smile on her face, just managing to resist turning to Maud and giving her one of the cold stares she had learnt from Olive.

“Dinner ready yet, I’m starving man!” Marc shouted from across the room, hanging up the phone on his father, Pierre, who had been calling from France.

“Just about… done!” Ryan shouted, beginning to move the food from the bowl to several plates Electra had laid out.

“I’ll do that!” Electra jumped up from the barstool and took the bowl from Ryan, feeling guilty once more that she had made him cook when he was so stressed. He gave her a weak smile, he realised that Electra was aware of how tired he was, and loved her for it. Giving her a quick kiss he linked Maud’s arm through his and walked with her to the table where Sebastian, Liberty and Marc were already sat. Electra had panicked yesterday she realised she didn’t even have a table, and had quickly ran over to her grandmothers huge triplex apartment (where she spent on average three weeks a year) and, with Arielle’s consent, taken a set of antique Egyptian chairs which had been gathering dust in Leonardo’s old studio.

“Looks great Slim!” Marc exclaimed as Electra started placing the food on the dining table, “I can tell you worked really hard on it, hours slaving away in the kitchen and all.” He joked, throwing her a huge grin. She laughed back, giving him a playful shove as she set his plate in front of him.

“Ooh, it looks gorgeous! My son, the chef.” Maud said, rubbing her hands in theatrical joy before shooting a look at Electra that no one else noticed.

They all proceeded to tuck into the delicious carbonara, conversation turning to music and art. They were all artistic people, three musicians (Electra, Ryan, and Marc), two actresses (Liberty and Maud), and Sebastian, an amalgamation of them all, knowing a little about everything, especially the classic art his mother loved; that was one of the things he missed most about living with Olive, the constant access to famed works of art and fabulous sculptures.

“You going to that modelling shoot tomorrow then? They asked me to do it too, you know.” Marc said without a hint of narcissism as he shoveled the food into his mouth, holding his plate in his hand, the closer it was the quicker he got it in.

“Really? Yeah, I’m glad you’re going, at least I won’t be alone.” Electra replied. “How was the movie Liberty?” she said, quickly changing the subject in case Ryan felt dejected by the fact that he hadn’t been asked.

“Oh, okay thanks. Pretty annoying though, I was on location for ages and I’m only in it for three seconds, delivering some tea to the star actor. He tried to hit on me you know!” Liberty replied with a laugh, “of course I turned him down.” She gave Sebastian a kiss on the cheek, Ryan looked on happily, thinking how good they were together.

She knew that everyone thought they were the perfect couple, and she had to admit that they kind of were, the only problem was her past, which she hadn’t been exactly truthful about. She stared ahead, ignoring her dinner for a few minutes as she thought about her parents. It was only last year that she had told Sebastian about going away with them, then to a cousins wedding, but that wasn’t entirely true. She had been visiting her parents, but not in the happy scenario she had portrayed for him.

As the dinner progressed Maud became more and more out of it. She had already been drunk when she sat down, but now the many drinks from earlier were kicking in, and combined with her running to the toilet every five minutes for a shot of the gin she kept hidden in her medicine cabinet, she was getting bombed.

“Careful.” Electra quickly held Maud steady as she threatened to fall off the chair. All she got in return was a fierce glare, before Maud started pointedly ahead, refusing to look at Electra.

“You okay?” Electra asked, trying desperately to diffuse the tension that had engulfed the room. She hated Maud for doing this, then felt guilty for it, Maud was Ryan’s mother after all.

“I’m fine! Just leave me alone!!” Maud slurred, knocking half of her mostly uneaten plate of carbonara flying all over Marc, who just brushed it off with a laugh.

“She’s out of it.” He whispered to Sebastian with a wave of his hand in Maud’s direction.

Unfortunately Maud herd him, and proceeded to ram her fork into his bare arm. He jumped up with a scream of pain, dragging it out as Maud leaned back in her chair with an amused grin.

“You’re crazy!” Electra screamed in shock. Fortunately the fork had only just broken the skin and wasn’t serious, but there was still a little blood, and Marc was cradling his wound while looking at Maud with a mixture of confusion and, if he was honest, a little fear; he completely agreed with Electra.

“Oh shut up you stupid girl! I hate you, I hate your money and your loft and your stupid pink lipstick! Stay away from me and my son!” Maud shouted back, jumping up from the table, sending her plate flying and her chair crashing to the floor. Glasses could be heard bouncing around in the kitchen cabinets from the force Maud slammed the door with as she ran off to her bedroom.

“Dinner’s over guys.” Sebastian, who had been frozen in shock and embarrassment since the beginning of Maud’s outburst, said, once again the one to bring an end to the soap opera.

Generation 4 – Chapter 1

“Argh! Why won’t this thing work?!” Electra screamed, shooting a kick at the rusty old oven as she threw her hands up in frustration. The apartment was the bane of her life, never having done anything domestic in all her eighteen years she was struggling with the day to day basics, leaving clothes all over the apartment; blobs of toothpaste and makeup all over the bathroom; wet towels on the beds; (another irritation – the only accommodation they could afford was a tiny one bedroom apartment which they had managed to squeeze two bunk beds into) and any other sort of day to day mess which would have usually been cleaned up by an army of maids.

“Sebastian! Can you help?!” She demanded, glaring at her brother who was sat on the very uncomfortable sofa looking for job vacancies in the Bridgeport Tribune.

“Mmhm.” He mumbled back, not really listening. He had learned to block out his sisters outbursts after they had moved into the apartment a few weeks ago.

“Sebastian!!” She screamed again, the hunger pains in her stomach becoming worse as the minutes ticked by.

“Dunno, sometimes a good kick works, or maybe its finally gave up the ghost and broke, order pizza or something. Hey look, here’s a job I can do – cashier at Crustys Big Burger.” He threw down the paper in irritation at the lack of job prospects. He wasn’t the most academically inclined at school, and as they had left without graduating they had no formal education to speak of – not in an employers eyes.

“Someone strike me down! Please, kill me now!” Electra screamed dramatically, throwing her hands to the sky. “What are we going to do?” She asked, hanging her head, sufficiently deflated. When they had ran from Belgrave Ranch they had all thought they would have the time of their lives, but money, or the lack of it, came between the four of them and the good times. Ryan and Liberty, both street smart kids who had been in and out of school over the years, had found jobs easily – after growing a five o’clock shadow and lying about his age Ryan had managed to get a job bar-tending, and Liberty was working at the local theater, although her wages didn’t help much as she spent them all on her weekly acting classes.

“We’re useless.” Electra whispered quietly, hanging her head.

“Hey, hey, it’ll all be okay.” Sebastian comforted as he jumped up from the sofa and headed towards his sister. Privately he thought she might at least try to find a job instead of insisting no one would hire her, but he didn’t want to make a bad situation worse.

“How will it be okay?! We’re going to starve to death in this tiny apartment and be found half eaten by cats three weeks later!” She screamed as Sebastian tried not to laugh.

“Shh. It’ll work out.” Sebastian held his sister gently, trying to calm her down.

“You know,” She tried to get her words out through the tears which were about to brim over, “that mama called me, right?” Her confession took Sebastian by surprise, he had heard nothing from his mother apart from the brusque message from the bank saying that all his and Electra’s cards and cheques had been terminated.

“What did she want?”

“She wants to meet. She’s in Bridgeport, at the Breach House apartment. I wasn’t going to go.” Electra told him, beginning to think more about the meeting with her mother – what harm would it do to just go and check it out? It might be interesting.

“Hey – come on, what’s up now?” Electra’s tears had subsided for a second, but now she hung her head once more.

“It’s just – well…” Electra was embarrassed by how she felt, she had thought she was so different. “I hate having to rely on money, but I don’t know any other way. I need money Sebastian.” She blushed red as she confessed, feeling like her mother. She had hated that world when she was in it, but now she realised what her mother always told her about money bringing security and freedom was true.

“You should go meet her.” Sebastian said after taking a big sigh. He found having money much easier too, who wouldn’t? But he didn’t think Olive was going to give their trusts back so easily.

“Really? You don’t think I’m selling out?” She asked, smiling at her brother. She was glad he understood.

“Just don’t agree to anything you might regret.” He said, embracing her in a hug before he watched her leave, he just hoped she would return – he knew his mother could be very persuasive.

*     *     *

As she came out of the subway she smiled, she had always enjoyed it down there; no matter how hot and stuffy it was she found it amazing to watch all the people, all the different cultures mixing together on one long metal tube. Electra just loved Bridgeport in general, she had never thought the East Coast would be for her, but once she arrived she found it a relief to be away from the heat of the California sun which beamed down on Redcliffe every day, and the family ties with Bridgeport (her great-great grandmother, Lily Belgravia, had lived here all her life) made it a fitting choice for her and Sebastian. She could see Breach House ahead now, and dreaded what would happen once she arrived.

The doorman had her name on a list and held open the doors for her as he thought what a beautiful girl she was, he didn’t see too many California blondes out here on the East Coast; he hoped she was moving in, although she didn’t look like the usual inhabitants of the building. Walking into the lobby of the very exclusive building she could tell Olive would feel at home here, the building was so her – old money, WASPish, and completely pretentious. The elevator took her to the thirty-fifth floor and before she knew it she was being ushered into Olive’s overstuffed apartment by a Hispanic housemaid.

She craned her neck to see of she could spot Olive anywhere, but she was nowhere in sight. Probably waiting to make her grand entrance. The maid deposited her in a horribly (to Electra’s eye) chintzy and traditional living room, the hoards of jewels in an antique case glittered in the light streaming through the windows, her feet sunk into two priceless Persian rugs, and the Picasso on the wall taunted her with its ridiculous price tag. Olive lived in a world of very visible money – this wasn’t what Electra wanted. She just wanted to be able to live comfortably, maybe then she could get her music going again – perhaps they could even start booking some gigs. A life doing nothing was not for Electra, her mother lived off her multiple divorce settlements and would never dream of lifting a finger. Electra wanted to do what she loved – music. She just needed a little help.

It wasn’t long before Olive appeared in the doorway, dressed – as always – to the nines, her hair perfectly coiffed and groomed, diamond pin holding it together at the back, her makeup done, as it was every day, by a professional who stopped by the apartment in the morning after Olive returned from her daily tennis match – she was looking more like she was ready for a cocktail party than ready to sit down and have a private talk with her daughter.

She said nothing, just standing and staring at her. Electra found herself wishing she had never came, unnerved by the cold stare of her mother. Finally taking her eyes off Electra she came around and sat on the plush chair opposite her.

“So, you finally realised you couldn’t hack it?” She asked with obvious mirth.

Electra said nothing, wishing more than ever that she hadn’t came, her mother obviously just wanted to gloat about her daughters failings.

“I’ll take that as a yes then. You know, it doesn’t have to be like this -” Electra interrupted her mother, who was getting ready for a long speech.

“I’m doing fine on my own. I came here because you asked me too, now just tell me what you want.” She said, wishing she could teleport back to the tiny apartment, she didn’t want anything from Olive.

“Fine. I’ll open your trust once again if you cease any contact with that awful boy.” The cards were laid out, but Electra wasn’t taking it, she had came here hoping that her mother would give her some money, now she would rather die than submit to her blackmailing ways.

“Well if that’s all you have to say then I’ll leave, I’m not going to stop seeing Ryan.”

“Come now, we both know that you won’t last much longer in that tiny apartment; Sebastian may fare better, but before long he’ll come running back to me for money.” Electra hung her head as her mother spoke. If she took her money she knew she would turn out just like her, bitter and shallow.

“By the way darling, that skirt is far too short. A hem should never come more than a few inches up from the knee.” She smoothed down her own dress as she spoke, thinking that Electra should put on something more respectable than that tiny little thing, and those boots were a mess.

“I don’t need to be taking tips from you.” Electra spat back, “in fact, I don’t need anything from you.”

“I can keep that money from you forever, I can keep it from Sebastian too! Don’t you realise that I’m trying to help you?! You think you’re so different from me, but money is clearly what drives you – just own it. Cut that boy out of your life and you can have it all once more.”

“Why would I want this?” She gestured around the ornate room with disdain, “You have nothing really – you may be the darling of high society but in the real world that counts for nothing. You may be praised for your philanthropy but you don’t care about the causes you donate to, not really. You have no real friends, and both your children have ran away from you. And guess what? We don’t even want your money.” Electra took a deep breath, the words may have been harsh but they were true, and Olive had to realise it before life passed her by.

“I’ll ruin you.” Olive said quietly, perfectly composed. “I could make a few phone calls and make sure no one ever, and I mean ever books you for a gig. I’ll ruin Ryan too.” Olive was about to continue with all the awful things she could do with her huge net of influence when they heard a voice from the hallway, and watched as Arielle Belgravia, Olive’s mother and Electra’s grandmother, strolled into the room.

“You will do nothing of the sort.” Arielle announced grandly, standing over the two of them. Arielle had been informed by her good friend Thomas, the doorman, who always kept her up on the gossip of the building, that a beautiful blonde with orange streaks in her hair had arrived a short while before Arielle got back from her shopping trip. She had known instantly that it would be her granddaughter, who she didn’t see as much as she would have liked but still loved very dearly. She had headed straight for her daughters apartment, which was much smaller than the Triplex Penthouse Arielle had owned since she was in her twenties and never ended up selling because of some sentimental attachment to her ‘young and foolish days’ as she often described them to her grandchildren. Slipping in just as Olive had sat down she had heard the entire conversation, and knew that something finally had to be done with her wayward daughter.

“Mother! What are you doing here?!” Olive said in shock, feeling like a nervous teenager again.

“Something I should have done a long time ago. Electra, you can have the money, but know right now that once you spend the trust that it’s gone. You won’t get any more from me, and as you can see you won’t get any from your mother either.” Electra was in shock, the last person she had expected to come to her rescue was her grandmother, a rather eccentric woman who had lived her life out of the public eye in a huge, family orientated house in the Redcliffe hills and still resided there with Electra’s grandfather, Noah, and their six cocker spaniels.

“Grandma, I don’t know what to say – I really can’t take the money from mama.” Electra said, feeling slightly guilty, but unwilling to take the money from Olive as if she  would catch her greed.

“And it’s no right of yours to give away my money.” Olive interjected, regaining her composure.

“Actually darling –” Arielle mocked, mimicking Olive’s voice, she had always thought the high society world her daughter lived in was beyond silly, “- the trusts for Electra and Sebastian are operated by me and you have no right to close them. You may have your own money that they would inherit but their trusts from me are considerable.” Electra felt her body relax as she listened to Arielle, knowing that the money wasn’t Olive’s was a huge relief.

“How dare you do this?!” Olive screamed, jumping up and coming towards her mother. “And in my own house – get out!” Arielle merely gave a small laugh.

“I’m not one of your society friends you can boss around. I won’t be thrown from your home, I am your mother. I had always hoped that you grow out of this phase, I was in it myself once, it was in that phase that I bought that ridiculously large penthouse upstairs.” Arielle sighed, feeling guilty as she wished that Olive could have turned out more like her siblings.

“Oh well I’m so sorry to disappoint you but I’m not a child and will not be treated like one.”

“Well you’re certainly acting like one!” Arille snapped back as her daughter backed away, her cool exterior once again shattered.

Giving Electra one last withering look Olive turned on her heel and marched out of the room as Arielle made her way over to the fire, sadness in her eyes.

“I never wanted this for her.” She said, more to herself than to Electra.

Electra didn’t know what to say to Arielle – she had a sense that her grandmother wasn’t up to talking about Olive, so she just sat for a few moments in silence, letting Arielle have her own private moment. Crossing the room Arielle lowered herself onto one of Olive’s overstuffed sofas.

“I’m not as young as I once was.” Arielle smiled. “Anyway, you better get yourself back to this Ryan. He sounds a little like my first husband…” She trailed off, staring into nothingness. Electra had never heard much about her Uncle Tommy’s father, all she knew was that he had never wanted to see his child again after his and Arielle’s marriage had fallen apart. “He was a good man, poor as dirt but exceptionally talented, and we loved each other.” Electra listened with deep enthrallment as her grandmother spoke, she loved stories of the old days, “But in the end the money was too much for him, it always is. Who would have ever thought that lavish wealth would cause so much trouble? Luckily I found Noah, rich in his own right, but still… Leonardo was quite something. We lived upstairs you know.”

“It must have been hard.” Electra said, respecting her grandmother even more than she had a few hours ago; she was much deeper and wiser than the gregarious woman she presented to her grandchildren.

“Yes, yes. Anyway, life is for living – so you better get back to it.” Getting up from the sofa with surprising vigor for her age she embraced her granddaughter in a tight hug. “Live life the way you too sweetheart, or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

“Thank you for everything grandma. Without you I don’t know what I would have done!” Electra still couldn’t quite believe the help her grandmother had given her, she had been more of a mother in the past half hour than Olive had ever been, not just by helping her with the money but with the sentimental stories, the advice, and the love.

After giving Arielle another hug Electra raced from the apartment, hoping Olive wasn’t waiting in the lift ready to stab her to death; she wouldn’t put it past her. Resisting the urge to throw up as she ran past a huge pile of trash outside her apartment building she ran through the dark hallways to their apartment, located in the centre of the building, giving them no natural light whatsoever, there wasn’t a window in the place. Entering the apartment after struggling to open the door she saw Ryan cooking – the only one of them that could.

He had grown his hair out since the summer, choosing to dye it back to its original black, and was wearing some of Sebastian’s clothes – because all of his own were dirty and they could neither afford a washing machine or to have their clothes washed at a laundromat right now.

“Hey Slim.” He said, calling her by a new nickname he had coined when he had admired her slim figure in her favourite cotton dress. Leaving the food for a second he came over to her, he was a surprisingly good chef, having cooked most of the meals for him and his mother growing up he had learned fast – it was a blessing they had him in the apartment, they would have starved without him.

“What’re you so happy about?” He asked with a grin as he took in the glee on Electra’s face. Glee that she soon felt bad about, she knew Ryan wasn’t into the money side of her family, and the words of her grandmother were ringing in her ears, ‘the money was too much for him, it always is.’

“Here’s the thing…” Electra began, proceeding to tell him everything that had happened with Olive and her grandmother, watching his unmovable face very carefully for any sign from him. After she had finished he just stood there, taking it all in.

“Aren’t you happy?” Electra asked, wishing he would just give her something. He looked down uncomfortably as she waited for an answer.

“You know me,” Ryan said, “I don’t really care about that kinda stuff.”

In her moment she felt like blurting out that he didn’t seem to mind living in the comfort of Belgrave Ranch for a summer, but she held her tongue, it would only make things worse.

“Listen, this isn’t going to change us.” Electra said, holding his shoulders, “Like my grandma said, once this money is gone that’s it – and compared to all the money Olive has this is nothing, but it can buy us a great place, and give us a base to set up our music, we need new instruments,” she gestured over to the keyboard and guitar which were stacked in the corner and were in desperate need of replacing, “and we need to get our name out there again, the hype of that first show is fading fast, with Rasta and Josh still in California we need to either convince them to come out or find some new members, it isn’t gonna be easy.” She continued in this fashion for a while, and slowly Ryan came to understand what she was saying, the money would make things easier, he had just really wanted to succeed without it.

“Listen to me, I love you – that’s the main thing. I know you think moneys dangerous to relationships but you know I’m not like that – nothing can tear us apart.” Electra said, begging Ryan to understand her.

“I get it Slim. I guess I was hoping for too much, just expecting you to go from the life you lived to this one – I suppose this is a kind of compromise. I love you too.” Ryan replied, embracing her in a hug before kissing her over and over; they fell onto the sofa and spent the rest of the day there, just enjoying each other.

*      *      *

A week after Arielle had called and told her the trust was open Electra, Ryan, Sebastian, and Liberty set about finding a place to live. They wanted it to be perfect, as their group was made up of two couples it didn’t have to be huge, but they wanted a good living space with room to practice, even if it meant having to push furniture aside, good light, and an office space for Sebastian, who had taken up his role of managing the band once more, this time officially. They found a big, beautiful loft on the edge of the city and fell in love, and moved straight in.

“We’re home!” Sebastian had exclaimed when the move in date finally came. With the new found security of Electra and Sebastians trusts from Arielle they could set about doing what they wanted without the pressure of scraping enough money to get by hanging over their heads. Sebastian got straight to work trying to find Electra and Ryan gigs, but they both knew they needed more members before anything serious would come of it. Liberty continued with her acting classes, dropping her job at the theater and working full time on going on auditions. And Electra and Ryan worked on what was most important to them: the music. They were all determined to succeed, and with each others support they knew it was possible.

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.

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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 – The Wedding

The wedding of Olive Elphinstone (nee Belgravia) to Greek shipping magnate Dimitri Stanislopolous was one which interested many of you readers. The society queen was wed on June 18th at the Redcliffe Botanical Garden, and gave us access to the exclusive pictures from the event. With two children from a previous marriage many of us were wondering how the kids would take to Dimitri, but Ms. Elphinstone assured us they adore him, ‘he’s such a good father – they couldn’t ask for anything more!’ she told us when we asked for a comment after taking these pictures of the happy family.

The engagement party was held at Olive’s penthouse and included most of the large Belgravia family, including her music mogul father Noah Belgravia, her journalist sister Kitty Williamson, and the new Duchess of Gloucestershire, Constance Cavendish, daughter of Olive’s brother Oliver and his wife The Hon. Celeste Belgravia.

The champagne flowed freely as guests mingled with the great and the good of Redcliffe society, limousines were parked back to back outside the building and paparazzi clamored for a chance to get pictures of the widely anticipated event. Toasts were followed by more toasts as the evening progressed, with the Mayor wishing the happy couple ‘all the best’ and Judge Peterson, whom Olive assures us is a good friend, said ‘there couldn’t be a more perfect couple.’

Dancing was a permanent fixture throughout the evening, while guests mingled on the outskirts of the room the center was consistently packed full of guests letting loose, including Electra Belgravia, Olive’s daughter, who eventually retired at 11PM, despite saying earlier in the evening she wanted to stay up all night, Olive herself assured us she was simply tired.

The actual ceremony the next day was a lavish affair, and although many guests were sporting dreadful hangovers from the night before everyone couldn’t help smiling as they saw the beautiful bride coming down the aisle, her father close by her side.

From left to right; Electra Belgravia (daughter of the bride), Cora Belgravia (sister of the bride,) Kitty Williamson (sister of the bride), Father Phil Morris (ceremony officiator), Dimitri Stanislopolous (groom), Adam Caravix (best man).

The ceremony was long drawn out with speeches of love and the sacred bond of marriage from the officiator, broken with tears from the mother-of-the-bride Arielle Belgravia, who sat in the front row with a huge smile on her face, despite the tears of joy that ruined her makeup. Guards patrolled the perimeter of the Botanical Garden as the ceremony continued, throwing out many intruding paparazzi, as well as a few crazed fans of the many high profile guests inside.

The first married kiss of the couple marked the end of the ceremony, and guests gathered around to throw confetti as the bride walked the aisle once more, this time on the arm of her new husband.

We managed to get more shot of the bride before she left for her honeymoon (a 3 month around the world trip with stops in New York, Bali, Paris, London, Rome, Fiji, Hong Kong, Thailand, Tokyo and finishing the trip off in Sydney) with her daughter, whom the new Mrs Stanislopolous gushed over, citing her fun nature as ‘the reason I love her the most.’ 

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Hope you enjoyed the wedding! Real chapter coming soon.

Also I should note that this is written from the view of a journalist – Olive’s answers are suspect… you all know how much she loves to lie. 😉

 – Marissa x

Interlude: Tommy & Oliver

Being caught by Jenny while kissing Austin was not what Tommy had wanted to happen. He had wanted to ignore it forever, to just keep going the way things were going, but after Jenny’s discovery she had taken his life down a course he couldn’t change. Running off into the night she had reappeared a week later at the Belgravia house, proceeding to awkwardly tell Arielle and Noah everything.

They were understandably shocked by Jennys revelations, and confronted Tommy as soon as Jenny left, destined to board a plane to Australia for some ‘me-time’ as she put it. Tommy had fled the house when they confronted him, mistaking their concern for anger that he was gay. He fled straight into the arms of Austin.

The two boys proceeded to demolish their way through the town, hitting club after club, getting wasted, and falling into bed together at the end of the night.

Still ignoring Arielle and Noah’s phone calls, and refusing to tell them where he was staying (Austins small apartment in the center of the city) both of the boys concentrated on their careers in Sports, and each other. They didn’t fall so easily into domesticity, neither seeming to care about the tip they left the apartment in, and finally decided on hiring a maid, after all they were making big bucks. Tommy had been promoted to MVP, and Austin was a shoo-in for a promotion too. After a particularly vigorous practice game Tommy finally spoke to his parents when they cornered him after work. He had thought they were going to say how disgusted they were with him, but in reality all they wanted to know was if he was happy, which he assured them he was.

Problems with his sexuality were however, still around. He and Austin hadn’t told the team, who although they knew the boys were living together didn’t know they were ‘together-together’. They had decided to put it off for now, they had no real need or desire to flaunt their relationship to the world, both were intensely private and intended to remain so. Children was another factor Tommy and Austin hadn’t yet discussed. They were more interested in ‘living in the moment’ and for now and the foreseeable future they had no plans for children, the hassle involved with surrogacy or adoption was something neither of them wanted to deal with, besides, they were young, beautiful, successful, and having a good time, who needed responsibilities?

*      *      *

It wasn’t long after kissing her that Oliver and Celeste went to bed. Instantly Celeste announced that a little Belgravia was on his or her way into the world, and the two wedded immediately. Celeste had finally gotten what she wanted, but something inside of her told her it was more than that. Constance Belgravia, named after Celestes mother, was born on April 26th at New York Presbyterian Hospital, New York City, where Oliver and Celeste were vacationing. The budding family soon packed up their base at the Veloria Gallery and relocated to Celestes colonial mansion on the outskirts of town, close to the Belgravia house.

Constance became the darling of the Belgravia’s, the first grandchild of Arielle and Noah, and the first great-grandchild of Lily and Chace.

Sitting in the sunroom at the back of the house all day, watching her mother sculpt and her father paint, she soon became immersed in the arts, and developing a keen interest in music as she was exposed to the sounds of The Velvet Underground and The Beatles from her fathers collection, as well as Rachmaninov and Tchaikovsky from her mothers collection.

Oliver continued to paint, even being granted a medal from the town Mayor for ‘extensive services to the arts’. The sunroom was the perfect setting for, with the huge windows framing an unmatched view of the town, and exquisite natural light.

Constance’s birthday party was a grand affair, with a life size sculpture of her nestling among two tables loaded with gourmet food, and a bartender on sight ready to cater to the needs of the guests. Most of her family came to the party, as well as many of Celeste and Oliver’s respective friends.

She particularly enjoyed getting to know her extended family, spending a lot of time with Cassandra, the wife of Freddy, who was the son of Oriana.

Even Celeste showed a rare streak of kindness, bringing the geriatric Chace his drinks throughout the night.

Her parents continued to lead a lavish lifestyle, out clubbing most nights and being seen by the world press, with articles about their wild antics appearing daily, and Oliver becoming something of a cult figure.  They often pushed the limits of what their celebrity would allow, sex in club hot tubs was one of their favourite activities. They did however devote as much of their time as possible to Constance, who was the apple of their eye.

Constance loved to watch her families artistic abilities, reveling in her fathers magnificent paintings, her mothers exquisite sculptures, and the beautiful sound of her father playing the piano.

She filled her days painting, trying to copy her fathers work – never seeming to (understandably) get it quite right. The two were inseparable, going on trips to the botanical gardens, the local art galleries, and the National Parks, as well as trips to France, where they soaked up the local culture from the comfort of the air conditioned limousine.

Despite her own plans, Celeste found herself very happy in marriage to Oliver, he checked the boxes for her, and for the time being at least she had no desire to leave and move onto her next man. The two became closer and closer, both sexually and emotionally, and it wasn’t long before Celeste announced she was pregnant once again.

As much as he loved her he never got the likeness quite right when he took to her sculpting station…

It wasn’t long after Constance had gone away to LeFromage Art School, more due to her own pleas than the wishes of her mother, that on the 1st of January, while Oliver and Celeste were attending a gallery opening in Paris, Landon Belgravia was born. As much as he loved his daughter a son sent Oliver over the moon with joy, and he was soon taking his son through the first, tentative stages of life, teaching him to walk on the cliffside patio, helping him with the potty, and teaching him to talk by the graveside of Mysterious Mr. Gnome.

It wasn’t long before Landon was given a similarly extravagant party for his birthday, with the Belgravia clan rallying round to welcome another one of their own to the next stage of life.

Landon especially enjoyed hearing tales of his great-grandfathers past as they sat eating cake, hearing stories of his now deceased great-grandmother and beginning his first tentative steps on the guitar that Chace had bought him for his birthday.

To everyones surprise another Belgravia was born the night of Landons party, people had thought Celeste had been cultivating the ‘hippy look’ to fit in with the other mothers at Constance’s school, but she had in fact been carrying another Belgravia. Arabella Belgravia was born on the 1st of January, ensuing birthday-party conflict with her brother forever more.

*    *    *

In other news…

Freddy Belgravia, musician, the son of Oriana Belgravia and Jasper Merridon (never married) married Cassandra Velci, a fellow musician, who gave birth to a son, Mick Belgravia, who is also an aspiring musician.

Maria Whitley (nee Belgravia), the environmentalist and documentary film-maker, daughter of Oriana Belgravia and Jasper Merridon, married Charlie Whitney, the acclaimed musician, at a ceremony in the Belgravia Penthouse. The couple plan to move to Charlie’s native Scotland.

Andrew Belgravia-King, currently a surgical resident, son of Alexandra Belgravia and Jeremy King, married Jenny Killmon, who he met while in residency (she is also a resident).

Marquis Belgravia-King, world-renowned surgeon, married Argentinian Opera star Cambola Mizichi in the grounds of her parents house in Argentina. Like his cousin Maria, he plans to emigrate to his spouses native country.

– CLICK HERE FOR THE FAMILY TREE –

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Condensed versions of what would have happened in Tommy and Olivers lives so far, as well as a little information about the rest of the family.

N.B. The time frame of this goes beyond where we are so far with Olive.