DARLING, DEAREST, DEAD

Leaning on one hand, Liza glanced longingly at the mimosas and Bloody Mary’s being sipped around her, and sighed. Somehow, her parents had put out a notice with her picture on it saying DO NOT SERVE to every single establishment around the island — or, at least that was what she thought her parents did. How else did the waitress know to immediately remove the drink menu from the table, as soon as she saw her face? Liza knew she was pretty, but the looks she was getting from the servers and bartenders at The Brunch Club were more than stares of envy.

Thankfully, Jolie had showed up in the nick of time, and Liza immediately rose from her seat, going in for a hug. Jolie was a one-of-a-kind, generous soul, especially when it came to her words. There was something warming about her presence that Liza couldn’t explain, and she relished in the time she spent with Jolie. Liza got to know Jolie through Lourdes, mostly; envious over the years that her friend had such a wonderful older sister, but Jolie wasn’t the type to exclude. The woman immediately took Liza underneath her wing when she needed the guidance, and today?

Well, Liza was in need of some guidance.

It was almost law that every single young woman of pedigree on this island had some sort of wicked mother, ready to ruin the lives of their daughters. There was her mother, for one. Constantly shifting between hot and cold, there were days when her mother couldn’t get out of Liza’s hair, and others, when she couldn’t give two flying fucks about her. Then, there was Evelyn Halliwell, of course. She was a piece of work. Constantly hovering over all of her girls at once, pushing and nagging and shrieking. And then, there was Jolie’s own mother, Charity Howard, who was as cold as she was elegant. They were all the poor, trauma-ridden daughters, who were just waiting to repeat their mother’s mistakes all over again.

“Jolie!” Liza shouted, a genuine smile gracing her features for once. “Oh my gosh, it’s been too long. How’s everything?” She pulled back into the table again, picking up her menu with a flourish, perusing the entrees with mild interest. “By the way, no drinks. They banned me,” she huffed with a roll of her eyes. “They as in my parents. And every other place on the freakin’ island capable of serving me something that’ll get me drunk.”

special delivery to ; @lizardkennedy​

location ; cleo’s house in avalon

date & time ; march 22nd at 6:53pm

The moment her bothersome of a mother signed up for The Real Housewives of Catalina Island, the dyed honey tressed female made quite a few appearances upon the reality television show to enhance the drama further. Whilst the main focus was upon the housewives lurching at each other throats with their three hundred dollar manicures and dressed to their nines, Cleo wouldn’t deny how effortless it was to be in front of the cameras. It would help further grow her ever-advancing business brand. After leaving her day job from the Davey company, the job she got right before her college graduation, the scheme of putting her energy into things she was fervent about became her biggest priority. After all, throughout her whole upbringing and now, people informed her of being a descendant of a Swedish princess, even though she often lacked the grace due to the things that escaped from her lips, the tiara was meant to fit flawlessly on her styled locks. She’d never openly thank Evelyn for the opportunity to air out her mother’s dirty laundry on national television but in retrospect, everything was bound to hit airwaves sooner than later. It was Cleo who gave it the needed push to allow it to enter into the hands of Reina Rhodes. It was meant for television and that was final. Especially if Evelyn would shriek in disdain, payback was a bitch and it was Cleo in the flesh.  When she heard from the production crew, after a quietude due to the housewives since they were in St. Barts, the eldest born of Evelyn Halliwell was ready to get her claws out for a potential round two of a bloodbath against her mother. She had the woman’s number blocked. So, if she attempted to contact her, it would bounce back and this time, she intended for it to stay that way. Still, for television and with her cutthroat, brutal honesty, the woman was ready to tackle the shrieking misfortune of her birth-giver but nothing happened among those terms. Sitting and waiting was not something Cleo Halliwell allowed. Not if it was going on an hour now. The production team and herself agreed on the evening being an ultimate waste of footage. So, sending them off in a green light, her slender digits ran through her beachy waves as she ambled around in her kitchen in her slippers ─ still being a woman of comfort and only wearing shoes around the house when necessary. The opening of her front door instantly caused her neck to whip in the direction, hands on her hips before doing a pivot on her heel to catch sight of Liza. “Let me guess, you smelled the production crew and thought you were going to have your five minutes of fame, Liza?” Addressing glacially, irritation coursing through her tone before huffing out a breath. It wasn’t Liza’s fault nor did she need to receive any backlash because of her mother. Motioning the other toward the l-shaped sectional, she remained occupied nearby her kitchen island knowing she’ll have to play hostesses. She’ll suffice for the other, she supposes. “What do you want to drink? And spill on why you’re here.” 

As soon as Liza could walk, she’d glued herself to the second-eldest Halliwell sister, insistent on following the older girl around — it was a side effect of having two older brothers and a maternal figure as uninterested in her as one would be in a banana peel. Ever since she could remember, the Halliwell family had welcomed her with open arms, even if Evelyn Halliwell did terrify her just a smidge.

Since she’d graduated from SDSU, Liza had felt unbelievably lost. Her whole identity had been wrapped around being the Queen Bee, wherever she went, even if it meant being nasty and catty. That was her brand: being a bitch, and she liked it that way. Despite it all, underneath the layers of malice was a softer girl, trapped and terrified, beaten raw from a family that punished vulnerability and emotion.

Of course, Cleo’s home was Liza’s haven. She found herself slipping in whenever she needed a casual chat, because she could rely on the other blonde for some well-needed truths, as harsh as they were. There was no need to put her walls down with Cleo because… well, because, with Cleo, Liza already had her walls down. The woman had known Liza since she was a child, and she no doubt would know her until the end of time.

Giving the other a knowing smile, Liza shrugged as she placed herself on the couch, kicking off her chocolate Uggs as she pulled her knees close to her chest. “Maybe,” she insinuated, although tonight, she wasn’t in the mood to hog the camera’s attention. “I don’t know what to do anymore. It’s so boring here,” she groaned. There was really more going on, but Liza wasn’t ready to spill yet. “Vodka, if you have it.” She bit her lip, wondering if Cleo was going to be as uptight as her parents were in preventing her from getting to the liquor cabinet. “Or — you know, whatever you have. Water, juice.” She missed drinking, she really did, but her parents seemed to have cut her off at every single alcohol-serving establishment on the island. The perks of having wealthy and well-known parents, she supposed.

Lourdes was impressed, to say the least. She had always Liza to be a bit of a cautious one, always walking the line of safer than sorry. Just when she thought her friend had changed, nope, she had to pick that glass of water and swallow it like a tablet. The girl almost laughed, but she kept it polite. “Cute. It should kick in…sooner than later. I hope.” Letting her own pill rest and dissolve on her tongue, Lourdes leaned back with Liza, sighing. “I really hope you have no plans tonight, because if this trip hits in the middle of dinner with the ‘rents….” 

Liza wasn’t a prude by any means, but she never liked drugs as much as she liked liquor. Weed made her too mellow and sleepy, and molly just made her dizzy and see too many colors for it to be pleasant. But her defiant energy had made her take the pill on impulse, and now, she was regretting it. “Fuck, Lourdes — oh my god, my parents are going to kill me,” she moaned, sounding quite upset. Usually, she didn’t give a flying fuck about what her parents thought, but she was already skating on thin ice with them. “They planned me dinner, with some fucker I might marry. Shit, you have to do my makeup. Make me look... sick, I don’t know. I have to get out of this shit.”

Jason’s smirk only grows as she realizes her mistake and tries to cover it up, and he decides this one might be fun to fuck with. This meek little girl, he feels like she’s easy prey and he just can’t help himself. He leans forward just slightly, a little too close for comfort as he tries to catch her eye and make her squirm. “As you damn well should.” Leaning back again, Jason takes another swig of his whiskey before setting his glass back down, giving her a look that practically screams predator. “He was ogling my wife. Of course I’m gonna beat the shit outta him,” he shrugs, “You’d want a guy you were with to defend your honor, wouldn’t you?”

Liza bites her lip, eyebrows furrowed as she makes another glance at the man, who’d, in the span of a couple minutes, had gotten far too close for her comfort.  “I… guess?” She says softly, not sure if he was looking for her to say a specific answer. “I mean… you were only trying to protect your wife, right?” Her eyes visibly scan down to his left hand, searching for a wedding ring — she hadn’t ruled out the prospect that he was outright lying to her. 

His apartment has felt confining as of late, and there’s only so many Candy Crush levels he can complete before his energy level runs out and he’s forced to confront his apartment’s resounding silence. So, the family home. Rory loathes that it’s still the next best place to clear his head, even though it’s occupied by a bustling cast and crew half of the time —  but it’s still, by far, a healthier mechanism compared to just lying on the couch, glaring at the screen decorated with jellybeans and gumdrops, waiting for the energy bar to fill up.

He doesn’t walk so much as stumble into the room, his phone dangling dangerously on his hand, the familiar hum of the app from his phone effectively making his presence known before he even opens his mouth — and even then, what comes first is an indignant huff of breath. “You know the worst part about this game?” Rory says to anyone who’d cared to listen, “the waiting. And if I use my credit card to pay for unlimited energy, that’s it for me. I won’t be able to look back.”

Liza had come around to the estate to bug Ellie for the fifteenth time today — and the fifteenth time, she got lucky, watching as Rory strolled in, phone humming with a familiarly annoying tune. “What are you talking about — lemme see,” she said, immediately reaching for his phone, wrenching it out of his clutches. “Oh my god, Rory; you’re so old — Candy Crush?” She began to laugh, clicking through the game to see his progress, obviously quite far, since he alluded to having spent money on it. “Seriously, who plays these games with the sound on, anyways? It’s so annoying.” 

As much as Jason truly appreciates being called scary by this girl, the stuttering’s kind of off-putting and his smirk falls just slightly. Of course, that’s not about to stop him from continuing to peacock around like an asshole. “Oh, come on, sweetheart — you think I’d lay a cruel intended hand on a woman?” Yes, he would, but Jason’s not about to admit that to the poor girl sitting next to him at the bar, or anyone for that matter. He loves to keep the illusion that he’s a good guy, if only because it might help him get laid. “Of course not. I’m a gentleman, I know how to respect women. That guy was just asking for it.”

“I mean, I don’t know you. You might,” she replied, always speaking before she thought, and she instantly regretted it as soon as it came out of her mouth. “But I believe you,” she quickly added. Her gaze moved to her side, if only slightly, to actually get a look at the man — a well-worn smirk, perhaps a bit too smarmy for Lizzie’s liking — but she was always a bit too curious for her own good. “What… did he do?” The hesitance to pry was clear in her voice, but she couldn’t help the interest from overtaking her impulses. 

The laughter that erupted from Lourdes was nothing short of an unladylike cackle, throwing her head back as she let the euphoria pass through her. “That’s the fun part! That’s why it’s in the mystery box, and I’m sure Val knows not to drug me! She’s like my bitch, okay? I gotchu.” Watching Lizzie being a pussy wasn’t going to dampen Lourdes’s high and she shrugged at the suggestion. “Cool, pass me a pill. Gonna pop that cherry with my new nails, and let’s go to space, bitch! No cold feet allowed” 

“I don’t have cold feet!” Lizzie pouted; she didn’t like to be called a wuss, even if she was being a bit of one. “Give me one.” She pulled a pill out of the bag, holding it up to her eye with a mildly worried expression, before glancing over at Lourdes and popping it into her mouth with a swig of water. “There,” she said, leaning back, a determined look on her face as she crossed her arms. “I took one. When’s it supposed to kick in?”

“So I said, ‘if you’ve got a problem, buddy, you can leave, ‘cause this is my goddamn bar’ and then he said, ‘actually, I do got a problem’ and then, uh —” Jason smirks as he takes a gulp of his whiskey, recalling the memory of how he’d beat the shit out of that pompous asshole with ease. “Let’s just say he didn’t come back again. Anyway, I ain’t allowed to do that anymore.”

Lizzie looked wide-eyed at the frankly, terrifying man sitting next to her. Somehow, she was roped into listening to him regale her with a story about how he’d beaten someone up. “Oh — um, wow. That’s… you’re — uh, scary,” she stuttered, before realizing what she’d said. Whipping her head around, forehead shot up, she shook her head. “Um, not that you’re scary — just, um, that’s a scary… story. Yeah.” Lizzie swallowed, clutching her drink. “Please don’t beat me up.”

“Oh yeah, who are you, Nat Geo? No? An animal expert? Not that either? Then there’s no way I’m taking your word on dogs being unable to eat raw eggs.” It wasn’t like Miles to grow a conscience all of a sudden, but with the cameras rolling, did he really want to be the guy who committed a crime against an animal? Not really. But Lizzie’s sorry tale sorta won him over and he sighed. “Fine. Just one egg though, and we gotta make it count.” 

“Yes! Okay — oh! Oh my god, I’m going to call him and tell him to come outside, and you can throw it right in his face. Hang on —” Lizzie pulled out her phone, scrolling through to find his number and pressed call, praying to god he’d pick up. “Hi… um, will you come out of your house? I just have something I want to give back to you!”  

“No bitch, I’m giving you rat poison. Of course these are safe! My dealer’s the best, honestly. A little pricey, but she pulls through for me and I can’t complain.” Lourdes took the baggy into her palm and formed a fist around it, trying to be discreet while hiding it. “She said that these are for a good trip. I asked if it was LSD and she just shrugged, so the big question is….are you ready to go on a trip with me?” 

“A trip?” Lizzie asked, hesitating. “Wait, you don’t even know what you got? Lourdes!” She held the bag up to her gaze, examining the little pills with an apprehensive eye. “Maybe molly? I mean, it could be LSD but... “ She moved her gaze back to Lourdes, biting her lip. “Let’s take a half. Just so we don’t die?”

God, on all of the days especially on a day that Pandora needed the moment to be lost in the moment by herself, did she not expect to have run into the once familiarity of Lizzie Kennedy. Her best friend. Former best friend. Occasionally, they were more in the moments where they explored with one another in terms of osculating ─ which always brought out a giddy condition as the apples of her cheeks henced to a scintillating faint red color. It made her feel wanted. Like she was worthy to be dragged into the euphoria of a fleeting moment of petals coming in contact with one another. It was wrong for Pandora to have once believed the other could’ve seen her in romantic terms. After all, every part of her wanted to believe that Lizzie would’ve opened her hues one day and felt the same set of emotions that Pandora endured for her. None of that happened. Disappointment hit differently. It was like getting the taste of her own medicine. Eventually, the blonde had to allow the distressing emotions of ever being loved by the other flutter away. It was not easy considering there were a lot of incredible, yet unfortunate experiences, both of them shared together. The past was the past for a reason. Or was it? The sight of reuniting with Lizzie once again nearly caused Pandora to collapse into the nearby lounge chairs. Luckily, breathing and focusing on her well-being instead of creating a scene was how she functioned. It was a definite case of tunnel vision. Whilst their lack of relationship turned them in opposite directions, it still meant she had to hear about all of the grand terms of success about her former-best friend through the grapevines. The only person to instigated this topic was her grandmother, who still did not quite understand how the pair of friends went their separate ways. Each time this topic was brought up, all Pandora could do with her sea-foam hues was allow them to roll before grumbling, “You wouldn’t understand it, grandma. It’s too complicated for your ever-growing Alzheimer’s mind.” Anyone in passing would’ve been gasping for air at the granddaughter’s brutal response but it was the easiest way she could inform the elder woman without getting wound up in the former emotions. There was no use in discussing it anymore. It was worn her to the bone. 

Bringing the clutched towel near her clothed chest, a crimson with fury inched over her features. Every part of Pandora had expected to not run into the other. Whilst, information circulated like wildfire, the blonde wished every inch of her being was egotistical, thriving off shrieking on top of her lungs and causing misfortune souls glanced at their direction. Far from it, all she wanted was a stillness in the ever-complicated, existential crisis of her life currently. A nod shot toward Lizzie’s direction, “Yup, it’s been six years,” she replied without hesitation. Only to feel her petite frame to stiffen at the remark of the other. It was far from the first-class attitude that consumed her. It was due to all of her overflowing, crush emotions being taken out on someone’s that made her former person happy. All because she was far from mirth with herself. Clearing her throat, minimally lifting her chin as a wary beam surfaced upon her petals. “I remember Jesse. How could forget about that…. attractive specimen?” Mendacious through her teeth, silky oceanic hues catching a glimpse at the other a fleeting moment later. How much she would rather get forced in front of the RHOCI camera than being here. Why didn’t Claire allow the camera’s in their fucking house? It was beyond her. 

Shaking her perfectly pinned blonde tress toward the other, “No, I did not hear. I was too busy to care about what was happening in your life.” Again, another lie. It caused her to flinch severely underneath the California rays above them, gravely awaiting for the moment when she could find a lounge chair of her own and allow her skin to prickle a few more shades of tan. Any moment to be as far away from Lizzie currently. Everyone approached Pandora with the latest information about the other. Perhaps it was to test the reactions upon her. Some moments it worked more than others. A freehand rested right above her safeguarding glasses, taking the other in the moment and the rays of illumination cascading from the beams above. How much she missed the other ─ especially as a best friend with all of the other bullshit aside. “So,” the angelic tone breathed through in the silence, nibbling on her lower lip. “What brought you back to Catalina?” 

The discomfort between them was palpable and Lizzie squirmed in her seat, wondering how someone once so close to her could feel miles away, even as she stood just four feet before her, an arm’s reach away.

She missed it, she really did.

Her friends back in LA were nice enough but with Pandora, it’d always been… different. Call it soulmates, kindred spirits, or whatever else, but there was a string pulling them together, even now, after so many years, and Lizzie couldn’t make heads nor tails of it. She finally smiled, tight-lipped and stony-faced, remembering Jesse in a not-so-fond light. Like all her boyfriends, he’d turned out to be a straight dud. Left her in the middle of the road after some big fight at some stupid party, and zoomed away in his roaring Jeep. She’d thrown out the Zimmermann dress she’d worn that night after she’d gotten home. The bottom hem was caked with an inch of mud and dirt from walking the six miles back to her apartment. A shame, but what was worse was the aftermath of the breakup.

“He was definitely attractive, but that was about it for his positive traits,” she joked, lopsided yet genuine smile returning to her face. “Yeah, we broke up. It was pretty shitty, but…” Lizzie trailed off, glancing over at the pool (anything to stop from feeling the animosity coming from her ex-friend’s face). “You didn’t need me to tell you that.” How many times had Pandora been the one to comfort her through countless world-shattering breakups, holding her head and force-feeding her ice cream until her tears dried and she’d fallen asleep? When Lizzie fell in love, she fell hard, but that only meant the splits shook her right to her core, to her very bones.

Of course, Pandora’s final question immediately erased any semblance of a smile from Lizzie’s face, and she inhaled, arms crossing over her chest. A defense, a protective shield against what she was about to say. “My parents wanted me to come back. They, um, want me to get married — I know, it’s insane; like, he-llo, are we in the sixteenth century? — but, yeah.” She chewed on her lip, shallow little breaths escaping from her lips as her eyes wandered back up to Pandora’s. “So. I heard your mom’s on that show that’s filming here. The Real Housewives of Catalina Island? That’s… pretty cool.” Anything to get off the topic of her own personal life hell.  

special delivery to ; @lizardkennedy​

location ; catalina country club

date & time ; february 22nd @ 12pm. 

Today happened to be a day where the cameras gave Pandora the freedom to enjoy her weekend. Then again, why would they follow the daughter of a housewife? This wasn’t Pandora’s show. It was her mother’s or well, technically, the blonde referenced the mother figure by her first name ─ Claire. One time did she allow the word ‘mother’ to escape off the prong of her tongue. Ever since that moment, all of the will power caused her to withheld from ever saying it again. It was intricate. Then, it wouldn’t have been the first-hand nature of Pandora, who wondered how she became this person with no drive to find an aspiration to achieve. Just a body floating through the sea of patrons that came and went from the isle of Catalina. For right now, it would be something she’d have to improvise on. Shockingly, neither one of her parental figures felt the need to lecture her but it didn’t mean that one day either or could be fed up. After all, in comparison to Mathieu, the blonde was a saint sent from above. Just having an existential crisis at the age of 25 years old. Always the first one in the family to experience these emotions. At least she’ll look prodigious in the choice of her clothing.  What else did Pandora have planned for the day other than improving on her skin shade? Absolutely nothing. There were no e-mails to scan over. There was nothing eruption on her cell phone. A young girl had rented out her love, Sandy, for a lesson at the local stables. Not that she could argue but the price of the parents willing to pay out Sandy for a couple of hours was something Pandora could not refuse. It would help cover her upcoming month or two of Sandy in the stables. Then again, money wasn’t an issue but she didn’t like to mooch further off of Tropher and Claire considering she still lived with them. Wandering into the familiarity of the Catalina Island Country Club with a freshly rolled towel in her hand, less than a few steps away from the towel station, piercing seafoam hues latched upon Lizzie Kennedy. The last time the blonde had seen the other after an eruption about her best friend’s boyfriend. After all, it was Pandora projecting her feelings for the other ─ who was still purblind or if she was. It was contradictory. “Lizzie,” she breathed through celestial tone as a lump hitched in the pit of her esophagus. “I—-” Stumbling, allowing her hand in contact with the towel press as her knuckles turned snowy white. Emotions getting taken out on an object. “When was the last time I saw you?” 

Ever since Lizzie had returned to the island, there was nothing she wanted to do more than just hide. Everywhere she looked, her old haunts would find her, memories of a life before that she didn’t want to think about. If she could, Lizzie would’ve flown to the furthest corner of earth, far from the island, away from her parents and every single thing that twisted her stomach. And she would’ve except two months ago, her parents had given her an ultimatum: if she wanted to continue to live on their (very generous) dime, she would get married.

The very thought chilled her to the bone, but truth be told, not being supported by her parents scared her even more. What would she do? The fact of the matter was, she was neither smart nor particularly good at anything, and she’d spent her four years in college kissing boys and girls and everyone else, that there was nothing for Lizzie to do other than to be married. But then she’d waste away in a big mansion somewhere on the coast, throwing silly little parties and primping for charity events she didn’t care about.

What kind of life was that?

Those were the thoughts running through the brunette’s pretty little head, sunbathing by the pool at the local country club, when she heard her name being said — shocked and surprised, a hint of nostalgia dripping from the word. Lizzie turned, brown hues snagging on her blue-greens, surprise evident on each other’s faces, though Lizzie was sure both knew how the island was much too small for them to avoid each other.

“Pandora,” she said, testing her name out on her tongue, feeling the weight of her once-best friend’s title in her mouth. There weren’t very many Pandoras she knew, and briefly, Lizzie wondered if the other had the opportunity to use her name, just the same. “Six years, is it?” She tried, raising a brow. She swung her legs over to the side of the chair, observing the other’s face. “I think you yelled at me for dating — oh, what was his name again? — right! Jesse,” she chuckled, chin cupped in her hand. “You were right, as always. I think I broke up with him that summer, but we… weren’t talking. So you didn’t know.” The end of her sentence trailed off, and she looked down, the little smile on her face faltering. “Or maybe you did. I don’t know. It was… a huge shit show.”

@lizardkennedy​:  what a great opportunity for a ton of bad decisions.

“Oh yeah…” Holding the baggie out for Lizzie to inspect, the smirk on Lourdes’s face promised so much mischief once they were high. Maybe she was seeking people to indulge her bad habits with, or maybe for once, she just wanted to hang out with her best friend and not worry about her physical aches. “Hmm, so what colour are we feeling tonight? Maybe a little pink treat as a Valentine’s present from me?” 

“Lourdes!” Lizzie shushed, pushing the bag down from where she held it up, although a hint of a smile made its way onto her face. “I swear to god, if anyone sees... ” She glanced around her, for good measure, though no one paid any attention to the two young women huddled together. “But, seriously. Where did you get them?” Her eyes scanned her best friend’s face, a hint of worry coloring her expression. “Are they… safe?”

@lizardkennedy​:  now is not the time to grow a heart, dipshit.

“Yeah, well you forgot to mention that he’s got a fucking dog. No, scratch that, three dogs!” When Lizzie had enlisted Miles’s help to prank someone’s house, he didn’t think too much of it. He had time on his hands when he wasn’t at the restaurant, and what was an opportunity to cause some chaos. And what Miles had planned was some harmless fun; noisy, but relatively harmless. But now that dogs were involved? No sir, that wasn’t his thing. “I quit. Let’s just….no, we can’t egg his car because shells and dogs, and TP would be the same thing…why do we have to do this, again?”

“Don’t be silly, you can’t back out now!” Lizzie exclaimed, looking back onto the guy. “Just one egg. Come on, you know I have a bad arm, and you throw really well. Anyways, dogs can eat raw eggs,” she answered, all matter-of-fact. “I don’t know. I’m bored, and I went on a date with this guy last weekend and he was kind of a dick. Actually, a huge dick,” she lamented.