VICTORY DAY.

“We’re in our thirties,” he argues, as if that doesn’t somewhat prove the point she’s trying to make with the expression. “Still got plenty of life in us.” She protests there has to be somebody and Adam smiles but simply shrugs. He knows himself better than to think he can convincingly lie to Virginia. It’s easier, anyway, to play into her next comment. “She’ll be delighted. I should go and pick up a ring.” He has a sip from his cup, coughing a laugh. “I think that’s very optimistic, to think she’ll learn how to text. But she did send me an emoji the other day, so maybe that’s progress.” He sets his cup down, smiling. “What about yours? Do you think the van der Westhuizens would approve of me?”

“Oh, God. Thirties. When did that happen?” She rests her chin into the crest of her palm and releases a brief sigh--interrupted by the shifting of her eyes to the waiter who promptly brought them another pot of coffee. Steam rises into the air between them as Virginia returns her sights back to Adam, as always, gingerly skirting around a topic she believed to be thin ice-- displaying a rare facade of sensitivity and discretion. “I taught you how, so there may be hope for her yet.” She smiles tightly. “They would approve of the family. The job--sure, but you know, your Wikipedia could be better. The face--definitely. I don’t even think my father would be overly protective at this point. Just relieved that he’ll be able to tell his colleagues at the club that I’m getting hitched. Now Delilah on the other hand..”

“Please, come on in!” Sybil spreads her arms in a playful welcoming motion, toying with the irony that the meeting was anything but planned. Clear proof of this was the silk robe which she was wearing, the lack of clothing underneath and a bare face to pair with it. “That’s dramatic. Not dead, just—” She vaguely motions around them, as though the air could provide good enough justification. “You know I get out of it, sometimes." 

It wasn’t unlike Sybil to go MIA; the excuses simply changed over the years. In college (when Virginia first got her taste of it), it was her studies. Now, it was work. Same concept, different names. 

"Oh, you should have said that.” She plops down on the couch, crossing one leg lazily over the other. “I love hearing about crazy people; I do it all day and all I got was this lame Harvard diploma." 

She required no further explanation as she folded a leg beneath herself and lowered onto her perch on Sybil’s couch. The daughter, future-wife, and by extent a politician herself, Sybil was no different from the legislators Virginia frequently worked with. Each seemed to posses their own eccentricities that either made them painfully difficult to negotiate with or amusingly easy to tempt, to persuade. In the years that they’d known each other, however, she’d grown fond of Sybil’s more interesting traits --- the way she planted kisses on her family member’s lips not among them -- and it was with the utmost of hope that Sybil had learned to accept her own, as well.

He turns around to meet her eye, crossing his arms over his chest, work suddenly invading every inch of his thoughts. This is why you’re here, Hans thinks, regarding Virginia in the type of unobstructed sunlight the realtor had spent far too long going on about. For a distraction.

“What if the fire’s everywhere?” Hans asks, voice steady. “Escape route and all.” His gaze drifts away to the areas he hadn’t yet seen, deciding Sure, I could live here. He shakes his head, “‘Leonard Starke’ is the most pretentious fucking name I’ve ever heard." Nonchalantly, Hans makes it to where the bathtub is, running a hand over the brim. ”'Virginia van der Westhuizen’ is a close second.“ He hops inside, letting his head fall back and stretching his legs, though mindful to leave enough room for a second. "Come in, let’s see if we both fit.”

                   ❛ The large percentage of fires are accidents. Your alibi becomes your escape route. Do you see smoke? ❜  Virginia allowed herself a rare moment to prod, the lines between their farce and reality blurring. Issues in an industry as old as oil were nothing new ----- but issues in industries as pervasive signaled trouble. Oil was slick, and when spilled, it was hell to clean. 

The speech, much like the man himself, should be in a museum. In his own campaigning, Silas wasn’t above using the general notion of the grand ‘ol days of the south, he was far more subtle and eloquent about it and only sparsely sprinkled the rhetoric in. While the values he stood for were archaic, he was a modern man in his tactics. He clapped politely when the speech was concluded, here only because he was required to give off the impression that he supported his fellow Republicans. His eyes shifted over to the beautiful blonde beside him. She didn’t even seem to bother faking interest. “I almost wish it would be a failure just so they might inject some personality into their next speeches. But alas, money masks mediocrity,” he answered with a shrug, and those words were rather kind given his opinion of people who had come from well-established families and has essentially bought their way in. And regrettably, the charity event wasn’t doing too bad. Which meant that these pathetic men could get continue to get away with their pitiful speeches.

“Hamptons, huh?” He echoes, meeting her eye. A side to New York Hans had never, and probably would never see. Even if this is just throwaway make belief, the smoothest lies always come from a place of truth and he couldn’t help but think that’s precisely where Virginia spent her summers — indulging in privilege. It made Hans resent her, just a little— as though not growing up in an apartment the size of this closet was somehow her fault. 

Moving on, Hans shifts from drawers to walking alongside the closets, and back into the suite, speaking he walks, “But maybe we should considering slowing down a little. With this administration, the oil business might not stay booming for long.” They’d seen this — the vast bedroom, the light pouring in and reflecting off all that white. And so, he moves on to the door to their right, revealing the bathroom behind it. “Alas, the yacht collection might have to go.” He stops at the Mr-Mrs long sink, taking the moment in front of the mirror to run a hand through his hair. “Or one of the kids. Valentina has been pissing me off lately; I suppose throwing her off a cliff could really help our budget.”

                  ❛ Or the south of France. Your choice. ❜  Ever the obedient wife, Virginia follows him back into the suite, listening to his voice and briefly pondering how much truth he allowed to slip through the facade. But she refuses to be the first to crack, the first to shed this skin and return to their usual scales, so she merely echoes back,  ❛ it’ll take a little more than dawn dish soap to do that. Don’t close doors when there’s a fire --- you’ll lose your escape route. ❜  Her hands find perch upon her lips, the toe of her heel moving to the side,  ❛ we’ll have to do a background check on who lived here before. They could’ve been new money. ❜

VIRGINIA VAN DER WESTHUIZEN / PLAYLIST.

PLAYLIST  / she’s always a woman by billy joel  ◈  radio by lana del rey  ◈ the actress hasn’t learned the lines (you’d like to hear) from evita  ◈ new york, i love you but you’re bringing me down by lcd sound system  ◈  grigio girls by lady gaga  ◈  wuthering heights by kate bush  ◈ i did something bad by taylor swift  ◈  kiwi by harry styles  ◈  first cut is the deepest by shania twain /

PIVOTAL LYRICS  / 

SHE’S ALWAYS A WOMAN / BILLY JOEL she is frequently kind and she's suddenly cruel / she can do as she pleases, she's nobody's fool / but she can't be convicted, she's earned her degree / and the most she will do is throw shadows at you, but she's always a woman to me

RADIO / LANA DEL REY american dreams came true somehow / i swore i’d chase until i was dead / i heard the streets were paved with gold, that’s what my father said

THE ACTRESS HASN’T LEARNED THE LINES (YOU’D LIKE TO HEAR) / EVITA the girl hasn’t learned the lines you'd like to hear / she won't go scrambling over the backs of the poor to be accepted / by making donations just large enough to the correct charity / she won’t be president of your wonderful societies of philanthropy / even if you asked her to be, as you should have asked her to be

GRIGIO GIRLS / LADY GAGA tough girls on the mend / so when i’m feeling small / i toss that cork and call all the pinot, pinot grigio girls (pour your hearts out) (watch your blues turn gold)

“My good old aunt Ginny. Always the best advice.” Adam snorted, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I don’t think we’re in danger of that happening any time soon. Remind me later, I might forget.” He flicked his own blue eyes up to her with a twist of a smile. “No, never. But call me Addie again and I might have to.” He shook his head. “Maybe we just need to bite the bullet, you and me. Put an end to all the pesky parent questions. My mom likes you well enough. I think the first time I introduced you to her, she asked me for a month if I was bringing my girlfriend around again.”

Yes, he did have children who were older; his eldest was likely within five years of herself. Though he also had younger children as well, both within a year of each other, but he did his best to push that thought form his mind and instead nodded along as she continued to lay on the compliments. “Well thank you, that is all very kind of you to say,” Daniel replied as he lead her over to the elevators. “You seem to have the gift of gab as well.” In the way that she’d had his ear for a minute now and she had spent it trying to get on his good side. And it was working.

VIRGINIA VAN DER WESTHUIZEN / ENNEAGRAM.

ENNEAGRAM TYPE 3 / THE ACHIEVER. TYPE 3 / 3 WING 2

people of this personality type need to be VALIDATED in order to feel WORTHY; they pursue and SUCCESS want to be admired. they are frequently hard working, competitive and are highly focused in the pursuit of their goals, whether their goal is to be the most successful salesman in the company or the ‘sexiest’ woman in their social circle. while threes do tend to succeed in whatever realm they focus their energies, they are often secretly afraid of being or becoming ‘losers.’

basic fear: of being worthless

basic desire: to feel valuable and worthwhile

AT THEIR BEST  /  self-accepting, inner-directed, and authentic, everything they seem to be. Modest and charitable, self-deprecatory humor and a fullness of heart emerge. Gentle and benevolent.

AVERAGE  /  highly concerned with their performance, doing their job well, constantly driving self to achieve goals as if self-worth depends on it. Terrified of failure. Compare self with others in search for status and success. Become careerists, social climbers, invested in exclusivity and being the ‘best.’

AT THEIR WORST  /   fearing failure and humiliation, they can be exploitative and opportunistic, covetous of the success of others, and willing to do ‘whatever it takes’ to preserve the illusion of their superiority.

               ❛ i don’t get paid nearly enough to answer personal questions. try again later. ❜  there isn’t a word in the english lexicon to convey how greatly his words have unnerved her. the slash of her tongue is merely self-preservation – at least, the only form of it she knows. she slides her hand into her back pocket, curling around the silhouette of marlboro’s jutting from her jeans. this, too, is a survival mechanism.

“So whatddya think?” He asks Virginia, nodding to the vastness of the walk-in closet they find themselves inside of. “Big enough to fit all your shoes?" 

The realtor had long since left them alone (after one too many stories of their faux marriage and its rightful but nonexistent children), and so they were off to finish the tour by themselves, analyzing every corner of their soon to be home without supervision— but that hardly meant they had to drop the act. It was a little bit of a competition, at that: who would keep it up longer. 

Hans circles around the aisle, opening the drawers in consecutive nonchalant motions, as though really checking how many watches one could fit inside. "Keep in mind,” he slides one of them shut, “you should leave some room to expand.”

@vanderwesthuizens​

                   as if genuinely appraising the monumental space, virginia’s eyes take a turn around the empty closet, fingertip running along one of the marble counter tops.  ❛  some,  ❜  she bites, turning around to wink at hans furtively.  ❛  the others will have to go in the vault, if your yacht collection can make room. then again, four million is enough of a steal to build additional space, isn’t it? ❜

hans -- her synthetic husband -- was a good liar; it was something she admired in him, and likely assured his success as a lobbyist. but virginia, having been raised among the wealthy and by two decisive snobs, spoke with an air of believably; channeling the nasally whims of those who regularly flitted in and out of her mother’s garden society.