NAME: Oleander “Ollie” Bishop AGE: Thirty GENDER: Cisgender (she/her) SEXUALITY: Pansexual pandemiromantic OCCUPATION: Socialite FACECLAIM: Haley Bennet STATUS: TAKEN
KEY INFORMATION
TW: SUICIDAL THOUGHTS
Mommy was a drug addict and Daddy slept with half of Wall Street. You were born into decadence, Dolce and diamonds, and had the IRS banging on the door so many times it started to sound like a lullaby. The parents, believe it or not, are still together, although you got out as fast as you could. It wasn’t anything personal; you just hate their guts.
This isn’t a case of Miss Bitch with a Heart of Gold. Oh, no, baby. Oleander (and what a fucking name) Bishop meant only one thing: destruction. You heartily dislike most people, and anyone who manages to slip the net will probably end up in your black book at some point or another. Unashamedly rude and catty, you stir up gossip and drama wherever you can, all with a thousand-watt smile and the Class President pin on your Chanel blazer. Parents loved you. Teachers adored you. Everyone else? Well, they had to, or you’d crush them with one manicured hand.
Working is boring. So is life, now that you think about it. That fathomless depth within you, the one that’s supposed to be filled with empathy and kindness, is black as a void, cut through with cocaine and Tiffany jewels. What you really hate is that adulthood is harder to manage than high school. Most people won’t fall into line, which really pisses you off. With your empty life and your days stretching out into the distance, you’re not sure how much more you can take before it’s bye-bye New York, hello the afterlife.
CONNECTIONS
ROMEO LEE: Birds of a feather, and all that. You’re as nasty as each other and delight in pushing each other’s buttons. You’re known as the terrible two, and doesn’t that have a nice ring to it? There is no doubt there’s been plenty of sexual tension over the years, an endless push-pull that makes the game that more fun, but you’ve never taken the plunge. Probably because sex tends to destroy many things in your life, and he is the one person you never want to ruin.
IMOGENE BUCHANON: The bestie. So-called. Imogene is pristine where you are dangerous, but that doesn’t mean you’d ever underestimate each other. See, while she likes to keep her hands clean, you don’t really care, and for that matter you may as well be the doberman kept on a cute little leash. You’re incapable of being sweet, but Imogene does bring out a more sensitive side that no one else sees. You can be as harsh and foul-mouthed as you like and she’ll just smirk, pour you a martini, and say, Tell me you ripped her throat out.
RAFIQ “RAFI” SYLVER: You suppose the engagement should be good news. God knows your parents practically threw up with happiness when you (begrudgingly) told them. He’s similar enough to you (mean spirited, selfish, hedonistic) that you’re not willing to throw the ring into the river just yet, but the chase that for months promised something exciting has only ended with crystal shopping at Barney’s and endless talk about wedding catering.
