Old 05-17-2015, 11:34 AM   #1
ArcticAvenue
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Posers (Closed)

Lucas Lorenzo DelFino


Yeah … noone down at the beach calls him that. Dude, just call him Zo, they all do. Zo’s been a fixture down there for a few years, at least since he was chasing the titles for junior surf championships. At first it was just summers when he was out of school, but now he’s down there all the time. Best way to find him is to find his van - that grey piece of shit half full of band equipment and half cleared for his bed roll. Rumor is, Zo got that van from a stoner who lost a bet. Sometimes they got to chase Zo out of the lot cause that van’s leaking oil; but he comes and goes enough that the folks don’t bother him that much. You won’t catch him the morning though, that’s for sure; not unless morning is still ‘last night’. He’s not always in that van, But, dude, if the van is there, then Zo’s around.

You’ll rarely see him with a shirt on. Board shorts of course, and he has a wet-suit when the water is cold. He can get away with it with the way he looks. Hansom fella, typical blond hair blue eyed. His hair’s been turned by the sun, and who knows what race he is with the tan he’s got. He’s got this hair that looks like it’s been bleached or highlighted, but its the sun. He don’t work out or nothin, hell he seems only to eat from the junk food stands up and down the beach. But you surf, skate, and screw around like he does you don’t need to. Thing is, that shows, you know? He don’t look fake like them guys who push iron all day. Not that I’m gay or nothing - not saying he is either, that’s for sure, but I’m tell ya … I can see why the girls think he’s cute.

Yeah, Zo is always going up to something though. He’s got his beat-up board he calls ‘Jasmin’ that he’s had since a kid. He can inline like he was born with wheels on his feet. He’ll grab a net and jump in on a volleyball game too. And not just with locals either, he’s got this way .. see .. that he can just go up to anyone and start talking to them … and once they get past the fact they’re talkin to some local surfer kid that smells of seaweed and funnel cakes they all get to liking him. Next thing you know, tourists are playing volleyball, or riding on Jasmin out to catch a wave with his teaching. He does a fire ring many night when he’s down at the beach, and the tourists are just as welcome as the locals. He scrapes together enough cash for a cooler of beer (he is old enough, we all remember than 21st birthday if you know what I mean), hands those beers out to whomever, and they drink, tell stories, sing some songs, and watch the fire burn out on the beach. It’s like he doesn’t give a shit … but like in a good way. He don’t give a shit if your are a local or a tourist or a slacker or a bum or a kid or a dad. If he likes ya he likes ya.

It’s the posers, the bullshit posers, though … you ever want to see Zo go off on anyone, bring up them poser douchebags that come down from the rich part or town. The rich fuckers that want nothing but to tell you they are rich. Dude’s got a real beef to pick with them, showing off their money like it makes them special. Clothes that cost a fortune that don’t mean nothin, shoes that cost more than his van, expensive phones, expensive bags, expensive everything. He says, they pay five hundred bucks for sunglasses so when they look down on you they do it with a name brand attitude. Then they think we have to accept what they do is something other than bullshit … no, they are posers. All of them.

He says that’s why he’s never gonna let their band do anything more than gigs at places they know. Zo leads & plays bass in a band called ‘House’ with a couple of buddies; Chuckie on drums and Tito on guitar. Chuckie and Tito weren’t always in house, sooner or later folks go their own way in Zo’s circle of friends; but that don’t mean nothing against Zo. It does make House Zo’s band, so he makes the calls. So they stick to the small time, never become more than what it they are.

Kinda like Zo … like he’s this guy who is in the day. He looks perfectly happy. He is a great guy, great time to hang with - so why ask him to do anything. Course we all know kids grow up, but he seems happy enough with what it is now. Not like there is anyone who sitting there trying to make him do anything he don’t want to either. Zo is in that relaxed world of not worrying about nothing.

…………


Lucas, however, is feeling the pressure. Lucas, the name Zo’s family choose to call him (since they in fact gave him that name) comes from a near history of nothing but success. Lucas’s great-grandfather, Mateo Delfino, emigrated from Argentina with nothing but the clothes on his back, his skills as a carpenter, and a desire to make it in the new world. By the time his son was old enough to take over the family’s furniture making studio, Mateo was already to take care of his family back home with any need they had. Lucas’s grandfather, Ricardo, expanded the business, opening multiple factories in different states. When the time came, Tomas (Lucas’s father) became the first of the family to go to college - and he did to a high end engineer school. He stayed away from the woodworking business for some reason, though with a bit of luck Tomas Delfino came up with a simple multi-stage rotary valve perfect to control outflow air through an environmental control system utilized in passenger aircraft. While explaining it always confused people when Lucas had to describe it, he would just simplify by saying ‘it’s something every plane needs but no one else makes’. When the Delfino Vavle company sold its patents, and long term design to a major manufacturer with an unlimited royalty - Lucas’s family tipped over a net worth that exceeded 8 digits.

Lucas didn’t get the engineer gene in the family, though. His brother, Tobias, got that and is already moving up the chain of command in some corporation daddy greased. Even his older sister showed the Delfino determination, clawing her way up a downtown law firm. So when Lucas wanted nothing but to play his bass … it caused some problems at home.

It’s been a few years now. He hasn’t started college. Seems to ignore the conversations that dance anywhere near college. He spends most his days running around to God knows where in that van, that Tomas could replace with a new one with the money he spends to keep the damn thing fixed. Lucas never says where he goes, never talks about what the band equipment they bought for him is used for, or why he doesn’t come home some nights. Still whenever they expect him to show up for something, a corporation gathering or an event at the country club, he does as he is told.

This is going to come to a head though. Lucas is going to have to meet with his responsibilities, and that quite soon.
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Old 05-17-2015, 03:52 PM   #2
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Béatrix Daiyu Valletort
Simply known as "Trix"

Trix comes from old money from both sides of her family tree. Her mother's family started generations back on of China's leading, well known and used pharmaceutical and while the company is being run by her Uncle back in China, her mother as the oldest child had controlling interest in the company. Her father's money is said to some from some noble ranks long-long-long ago but their names hold no nobility weight, just the sway of several million dollars from the creation of a successful investment company.

The only person that Trix ever got along with in her family was her maternal grandmother. She would have been classed as a "hippy" by a westerner with her 'earth provides' ways of thinking and carefree artistic nature. Nainai(grandmother) was unlike any other person in her family and taught Trix the beauty of art and music, the magic in creativity and the joys of simple wonders. In fact it was her Nainai who introduced her to the cello. Like raindrops to a stream Trix picked up the cello as if she had always known how to play it. Seeing this talent her mother and father sculpted something organic and soulful into a machine. Trix learned to hate her cello lessons and if it wasn't for the way her elderly Nainai smiled every time she played she would have given up playing the cello.

As it was Trix was pressures and forced to hone her talent into a remarkable skill and gained a fair bit of attention. To the point that Juilliard invited her to audition for their pre-college division where she spent 4th to 11th grade studying music and living in a scheduled world of outside studies, extra lessons and planned concerts.

When Trix turned 15 her Nainai passed away and everything changed for her. She started what her parents referred to as her rebellious stage and no matter what they did or how many therapist and emotional coaches they sent her to she didn't get better. In hopes that a different scenery would change her attitude the family moved with the false claims that it was for Trix's own good. Not that a new investment headquarters was opening on the other side of the coast and her father had been asked to become their COO.

From her point of view Trix didn't see anything wrong with who she was. The person she was with her Nainai was the person she was now just without all the fake smiles and airs. Once Nainai had passed away Trix saw no reason to continue to lie to herself anymore, to keep being the person that her parents were forcing her to be. It just wasn't the real her and so she stopped. Stopped going to cello lessons. Stopped going to fundraisers for causes that she didn't care about. Stopped dressing like a princess to be paraded around like a show horse. Stopped everything that she had always hated deep down. The cruelest thing was what happened to the people she counted as friends. Once she started to be herself they all turned their back on her and excluded her from their life all together and started treating her like she had some kind of infectious disease. They ignored her and when they did give her the time of day they ran her down, picked on her and called her names. They had once been her friends but once she saw who they really were it jaded her whole point of view of her "class" of people.

In a new state where no one knows who she is, Trix hides behind a fake surname "Smith" and uses her free time to escape the confines of her golden cage. As her parents have yet to accept the change in their daughter they still treat her the same and have the same exceptions of her. Which mainly fall into the lines of 'what we say is what you do no questions asked' and that's not at all what Trix is about these days causing a battle inside of her of that she wants to do and family loyalty.

Loves: photography, her cello, her loaded bamboo vanguard board, sleeping in, boots without heels, nature and animals.
Likes: lemon head candies, fun dip, pop rocks, odd flavored candy sticks, non-classical music played on classical instruments and a large range of music from all over the world.
Dislikes: thunderstorms, make up, dresses, gospel, crust on her sandwiches and smoking.
Hates: ants, high class society, her cello, cauliflower, schedules and brunch at the country club.
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Old 05-18-2015, 09:48 AM   #3
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Morning sun had well since turned to day, as Zo’s stomach began to rumble; a sign that he had successfully wasted time until lunch. The waves that morning weren’t monster, but worth the drive down, worth skipping breakfast. He was out there for an hour before he thought to come to shore. Since then he been pretty much walking around chatting, his wet suit unzipped and rolled down to his waist. Then as he wandered off the beach, he ran into Eddy - an ex-drifter turned old hippie beach comber - who in his drug riddled mind felt the need to tell the story of the time he went to Vegas to chase down the cousin of a dude who slipped him sandwiches down at Guido’s. Then there was the pink teens, a gaggle of middle schoolers who can’t hide their crushes on him -- no way he’d touch those girls, but its always fun to flirt a little with girls who don’t know how to handle it.

Back at the van, he propped his board ‘Jasmin’ up to dry, then dug around for a towel that didn’t stink like ass. He had to settle for something that was more half assed. He really didn’t need it since he long since dried off, but it was force of habit. He wiped down his exposed skin, and ran the towel through his hair.

His phone rang. A smartphone, but it looked as simple and beat up as any you would see. Zo swiped it, and started talking with it on speaker.

“What up?” called a guy back.

“Hey Denis,” Zo replied. “What kept ya from the waves this morning?”

“Pulled the morning shift. The boss figured out surfers are the only ones that can be up to serve coffee at 3am.”

“Sucks to be you,” Zo laughed. He wrapped his towel around his waist over the wetsuit.

“What’s the plan?” Denis came back. “Just got off and don’t want to be bored today.”

Zo dug a little more around in the van until a pair of orange & brown striped board shorts that have long since seen better days. “I’m crazy hungry now, so I’m getting me some fries.”

“Then what?”

Zo shrugged. “Don’t know? Sounds like some folk have boards out down the beach. Could go skating. Or you could spend your tip money and buy beer and we can shitface the day away.”

“Heh,” Denis laughed. “Maybe later.”

“Then just get your ass down here, and we’ll figure it out.” They hung up with the plans sort set, and Zo got more focused.

With the towel still wrapped around his waist, Zo pushed the wetsuit over his hips and wiggled them down his legs. It was a public parking lot, still filling up with the weekend beach goers and folks coming out to the stores, parks, and boardwalks. There were more full spots then empty, with people of all ages moving through it. And there Zo was wearing nothing more than a towel. He shook out the shorts like he didn’t give a shit … but that was Zo in a phase. If he loses the towel, what is anyone going to do except stare.

Dressed again in the board shorts, canvas shoes, and a t-shirt draped over his shoulder in case he needs it, he wandered down the walk. He could smell the fries … wanted the fries … and today that’s all he cared about having was those fries.
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Old 05-19-2015, 07:46 PM   #4
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Dreams are a freedom from the reality of life, the escape from that which is inescapable and the one place that provides exactly what you need or feeds your deepest fear.


In Béatrix's life there was no peaceful awakening, no tranquil rested feeling after a good night's rest. For Trix every morning was a battle to wake up, to submit to the blaring siren of her alarm clock and start the day. Most people would look at Trix's like and wish it were theirs but they wouldn't understand the hellish torture it was to live in a golden cage of expectations and unrealistic demands. To have every minute of their day pre-planned for them with no care of her own wishes, hope, likes or dreams. After all who knew better then parents.

Under a mountain of blankets a young woman grumbled and growled, her voice and silently cursed words muffled by the designer fabric and stitch work. The alarm had won again and Trix slid her defeated finger over the screen and silenced the dreaded electronic dog collar. In all fairness it wasn't the iPhone's fault. No, that laid in the hands of her mother and their synced calendars.

5:45 am - 5:59 am: Wake up and get dressed.
6:00 am - 6:59 am: Morning exercise in the gardens. (mother and daughter time)
7:00 am - 7:59 am: Clean up and get ready for the day.
8:00 am - 8:59 am: Family breakfast.
9:00 am - 11:59 am: Cello Lessons.


Trix turned off the phone, she didn't need to see any more then that. Nearly every day was the same with every slight differences thrown in for socializing "fun". What that really meant was the Trix was carted around to any and all events that her parents felt necessary for Trix to attend. The only saving grace was her personal driver Mr. Hobbs. He felt sorry for her and had no problem looking the other way and reading the paper or doing the daily crossword as she ran off and did what she would. They had come to terms years ago and by now things didn't even need to be said.

"I could drive you to your cello lessons." Edward spoke from behind his daily reports not bothering to even look up as she talked to his daughter.

"No thank you Father. I have my cello already in Mr. Hobbs car." It was a lie but Trix had stopped feeling bad about it a while ago. The truth was that her cello lessons were the only time to herself. The tutor they had hired to continue her lessons was quite good but Trix was better and he was just as happy to teach as he was to get paid $585 an hour doing whatever it was that he did while Trix was gone.

"Hmm." There was a start of a nod but when Edward's phone rang his attention was turned to who it was. "Ah! Glen!" And with that family breakfast was done 13 minutes early as Edward left the table to finish his call in his study.

From the other side of the table her mother Grace glanced at her watch and kept from frowning. Frowning after all gave you wrinkles. "If you are finished with breakfast you may leave as well." Grace huffed standing from the table. "Have a good day, listen to your tutor." Grace didn't wait to hear if her daughter had anything to say before she left the room, her Burberry heels clicking on the pristine marble floor.

Once bother of her parents were gone Trix let out a loud sigh of relief and slumped in her chair. As calming as yoga was supposed to be, it was canceled out by the long list of dos as Grace prepped her daughter for the coming spring gala at the country club. Grace had booked a performance for Trix, the first since they moved out west and as Trix's mother she wanted to remind her daughter of all the things she must keeping in mind. Theses were their new friends and Grace wasn't going to let Trix ruin the relations she and Edward had made by Trix's outlandish behavior. Making a great effort to remind of the that time when she turned 19 and shamed their family by not showing up at a charity event.

"May I take your plate Miss?"

Trix blinked, she had lost herself in memories. "Oh, um. Yes, please." There was nothing wrong with the new house or the servants that cared for it but they weren't the ones she had grown up with back east and didn't know how much Trix hated being called Miss. As the table was being cleared Trix removed herself from the room. She didn't want to be in their way and knew that as long as she was there the workers had to take great effort to mind her.

As Trix left the house and met Mr Hobbs in the motor courtyard she couldn't help but feel a bit more relaxed with every step that she took away from the house and her parents.

"Will I have to find you again or will you tell me where you're going today?" Mr Hobbs asked as he held open the back passenger door to the black Range Rover Autobiography.

Trix smiled for the first time that day and shrugged. "If I knew where I was going I'd tell you."

It the was answer the Mr Hobbs expected and before he closed the door to the luxury SUV he handed Trix an old Motorola RAZR flip phone. Her phone could be linked and traced by her parents. Plus where was she supposed to be other then at cello lessons during the hours of 9-12.

"Thank you." Trix sing-sang kicking off the Rossi heels for the rugged worn down beaten soft combat boots in the bag next to her. As Béatrix Valletort it was all pearls, name brands, skirts, dresses and heels. But when Trix was herself or rather Trix Smith she got to let her hair down and dress in what felt good. Which was normally older worn soft cotton shirts with fun logos or prints, jean shorts and her favorite pair of boots. In the back most part of the SUV next to her cello case was a longboard skateboard that Mr Hobbs was nice enough to keep safe for her.

By the time Mr Hobbs drove to the farmer's market Trix was changed out of the skirt, polo shirt and heels. And what had started as boots had changed to a set of sandals and one of her favorite "elephant" outfit. "Pop the back for me?" Trix asked as she tucked her trusty Pentax K1000 into her elephant bag and hopped out of the SUV. When the back opened Trix grabbed her longboard and waved bye as Mr Hobbs drove away.

The farmers market was busy and within minutes Trix was surrounded by a mass of people. No one knew her or suspected her of being the child of her parents and at last Trix could be herself as she wondered the market taking pictures here and there. It was past an hour later before she came up for fresh air and parted from the market. This was the first time she had been dropped at the market and as she looked around she recalled the ocean not being too far away. She had seen the ocean a few times on the east coast but never on the west. A new adventure laid ahead of her as she stepped up onto her longboard and kicked off. She was off to see the ocean.
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