"These events are usually a laugh once everyone's drunk. Until then, I'm just waiting for all the interesting people to show up." The lady puts her cellphone away, and turns to the woman beside her. Natalie had done herself up for this event. Curled hair, eyeliner, red lipstick and blush, a rather inconspicuous short black dress. Most female celebrities either go for flashy extravagance, or dare to be different. Natalie's route is apparently neither. It's like she had actually put effort into blending in to a celebrity charity event. She chuckled at the model's comment, and raised her own glass. It was an amaretto on the rocks. "You can say that again."

She took a sip from it, then looked back at Sirenia. "This is probably a stupid as fuck question seeing as how this is an event for celebrities, but...have I seen you before? You definitely look familiar..."

"These events are usually a laugh once everyone's drunk. Until then, I'm just waiting for all the interesting people to show up." The lady puts her cellphone away, and turns to the woman beside her. Natalie had done herself up for this event. Curled hair, eyeliner, red lipstick and blush, a rather inconspicuous short black dress. Most female celebrities either go for flashy extravagance, or dare to be different. Natalie's route is apparently neither. It's like she had actually put effort into blending in to a celebrity charity event. She chuckled at the model's comment, and raised her own glass. It was an amaretto on the rocks. "You can say that again."

She took a sip from it, then looked back at Sirenia. "This is probably a stupid as fuck question seeing as how this is an event for celebrities, but...have I seen you before? You definitely look familiar..."

Ignore this post, the server spazzed out.

Jessica Jung was on her jet going to hollywood, seeing that she was in brazil doing one of her tour called "Bring it on". As she arrived at the airport, she got out of the airplane strutting her way to her luggage and there she waited for the limo outside. "Ohh. Lord im so tired." She yawned and looked down at her phone as it began to ring, it was drake. She answeres. "Yo." She said and they talked about a new song, that they have to do. He knows that this song will even get ger higher. JJ smiled accepting the offer and hunged up. "Ok-..." she turned seeing people with mics. It was the press "Really?"

They asked her about the other rapping female, but she didnt care. To be honest, she didnt call her competition. And she didnt like to compete. The girl was in her 30s and she acting like she bad ass hell. Babyyyy. Go do something, go cook, clean. JJ left ignoring tje press.

Casey found his seat, next to 3 other celebrities. He dug his memory for a second then tried to strike a conersation.
"Ehm, Wesley Creed, Jon Templeton and Jonathan Bullard right?"
Ashley had made him learn all the names of the other celebrities at the party. "There are things a talk-show host must know" His manager insisted."

“Interesting people? Hmm, yeah. I am certainly not one of them.” Her words sounded wistful yet sincere.

After plucking up the other glass with clear liquid she then smirked at the inquiry, and the use of such vulgar language spouting from a woman who looked especially elegant. “Probably not unless you’re into fetish photography.” She said without shame.

Sirenia did not offer anything further as it was always awkward discussing herself candidly while not in front of a camera. Oftentimes celebrities took these opportunities to subtly advertise themselves to others in separate circles since events like these brought together many different kinds. From her peripheral vision she noticed a man scribbling away in a notebook, and immediately thought that if she ever did wish to start promoting it would probably be best with that gentlemen. The seasoned ones were usually auspicious with interesting careers, and had many enlightening elements on life to consider. He looked especially lost in thought so as a friendly gesture she asked the bartender to order another craft beer, and to pass it to him. In hindsight this probably did not matter since the drinks were probably free.

Drawing her attention once again to the direct woman Sirenia turned to lean her back against the bar so she could overlook the emerging crowd. “I wonder what your definition of an interesting person is.”

"Gentlemen." Jonathan found his table and sat down. In it there were already a couple of men, neither of whom he recognized. As an usher passed by Jonny called for him, "Hey, man, could I get a Gibson or something?". He was already slightly buzzed, but if he wanted to survive the night, a little something extra would be needed. The usher walked away, murmuring something about where were the famous people. Jonathan leaned his head on the chair, looking at the bright fluorescent lamps on the ceiling. "If a DP used that on a scene I would fire him on the spot, huh guys?", Jonny tried joking with his tablemates, but they were about something else and didn't seem to hear him.

As he was looking at the ceiling, another man sat down. He called each of the men on the table by their names and Jonathan felt a familiarity in his voice. It was Casey Tin, the worst talk show host on air. "Tin, right? How's that podcast of yours going?" Jonathan grinned, "I mean, I'm more of a Maron man, but it's still good that you're here."

James Kerrington

"Can I get that for you, Mr. Kerrington?"

James' head sprung up, suddenly drawn away from the phone in his hands. People were bombarding him with texts, mainly his parents wondering if he was on his way to the charity event, a fundraiser. A few had asked if he had come home okay—those he responded to immediately. This was routine to him: come home to find his parents going about their usual charades, find some friends to mingle with, and lull back into a state of mindless work. It's how he operated and it worked for him. It gave him a solid ground to hold onto, so that he wouldn't fall amid the flurry of games and gambling that surrounded the Kerringtons. It wasn't odd to see his father's brilliant face on a magazine cover, grinning from ear to ear as he talked either business or scandals. His mother was no better and it seemed the stigma that the Kerringtons were a bunch of gossips had somehow traversed into his domain. More than not, he'd have a TMZ van parked right in front of his home, waiting for something juicy to put on TV. His life was barren of anything like that, but the paparazzi didn't seem to let up. Apparently all heirs, regardless of whether or not they now owned the company their parent ran prior, were supposed to be up to no good and knee deep in drugs, sex, and money.

It was enough to aggravate James just thinking about it.

Eyes drawn back to his phone, his chauffeur stood beside him patiently. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as the placid look that dominated his features twisted only slightly. He gave his driver a look, but only for a fraction of a second, enough for the man not to have caught it. In an instant, he threw his coat over his arm and grabbed what luggage he could before signaling for them both to move along. James would deal with it as he saw fit, though the furrowed brows and narrowed eyes didn't let up. It was an average day back home, the sun just barely dipping under Los Angeles skyline. From tropical paradise to bustling city, James carried himself in a way that it didn't seem like he differentiated between the two. Life was ran too much like a company for him, compiled into various piles of reports and stacked neatly on a mahogany desk. Contracts signed, cuts made, profits rising or lowering depending on how the market felt that day. It was the only way he could deal with people raised on Voss water and five-star, gourmet food given to by nannies who they knew and who knew them better than their own parents.

It seemed his driver caught the distance in his eyes from the rear-view mirror and gave words to his thoughts.

"Is everything alright, sir?"

Drawn from the window he was staring out of, James gave a nod and replied, "Yes. I need to head back to change and drop my things off. Then, we'll head to the fundraiser."

He gave a soft sigh. "What is it?"

"Cancer research, your parents told me to bring you there immediately," the driver hesitated as he spoke, but had made the decision quickly after as he missed the exit to the fundraiser.

"I'd rather be Patch Adams entertaining kids with leukemia than discussing how 'terrible' cancer is," James mumbled, fixing a button on his three-piece suit. There was no glory in parading around throwing money at charities like it's what made a good person. He was entirely serious about taking up the Robin Williams' mantle.

"We're here, sir," the chauffeur called out moments later, stopping in front of the large house situated on Hollywood Road. Parking, the man stepped out and opened the backseat door to let James out.

Putting a hand on the man's shoulder, he smiled, "Go home, Red, I'll drive myself."

"But, sir—" the man started out, but James was already nearing his doorway.

Before heading inside, James smiled and waved, "Don't worry about it. I'll pay you out of my own bank account. Go enjoy your family."

With that, James made his way up the large staircase and into his room to change from one suit to another, remembering mid dress that he'd forgotten his luggage. Running back to the stairs, he barely noticed that the bags he'd packed were at the bottom, stacked neatly as if they'd been there the entire day. Smiling, James grabbed his coat and made his way to the garage. Unlike his father, he had a tendency to get friendly with anyone he had employed, simply because they were people he was most comfortable with. James, as a kid, only ever knew his nanny, only ever talked to the maids and butlers that kept the place tidy. The gardeners were the ones who'd watched him mess up his pristine clothing, happy as can be in the dirt of their vast backyard. The drivers kept him company on long drives alone. They were people who seemed to love him more than his own parents and it grew beyond that as he aged.

His father called it playtime in his condescending tone, as if they were kids as well. James called it being friendly.

Finding himself barreling down the highway, James' phone buzzed him out of his thoughts—most likely his father wanting to know where the hell he was. And just as he rounded the corner of the event, exiting his car to hand the keys to the valet and taking the ticket they handed out. The paparazzi cried out him, but he was already closed off, slightly peeved, and ready for everything to be done and gone. His mother, Raina had met him at the door with a porcelain smile and eyes that stared daggers into his own. She looked extravagant as usual, with a hair cut that cost more than his car and a dress that double that. She bent forward as they latched arms in the onslaught of pictures.

"You're late," she hissed, smiling brightly at the nearest camera before they both entered the building.

"Does it matter? I'm already ready to leave."

"Oh, so you don't care about the people dying of cancer?"

"Don't play devil's advocate; you're here for the publicity."

Raina gave him an exasperated look, but hadn't said a word in response as she motioned toward her table. James could clearly spot his name on a table they'd just past, but his mother made no move to release him. She sat him down, tossed the nameplate assigned to his seat behind her and proceeded to begin discussing something trivial with her latest husband, a man of her age who looked more like a bird than a person. Seated across from her was his father and her ex-husband with his latest mistress, a lady who had a fake smile that could combat some of the botox ridden faces of Hollywood. James gave a cursory glance at his father who had immediately locked eyes onto him, before he settled them onto the bar not too far.

He needed a drink.

"So, how was it?" a voice called back his attention.

"What?"

"The trip, how was it?"

"Fine, fine," James responded, not giving too much care to who had asked—probably his father—as he stood up and made way for the bar.

Settling in, he could barely hear his father's disgruntled sigh reprimanding him some few feet behind. The bartender immediately slid a glass in front of him, in which he downed quickly before glancing at the patrons next to him and smiling kindly as a greeting.

Nick put down his pen for moment to say a brief "Thank you." to the lady who had ordered the beer for him, trying not to interrupt the conversation she was having with the person sitting next to her. He appreciated the kindness, though he still doubted that they had much common ground to discuss. After looking around for a bit more and writing some quick notes, he noticed a man wearing a very expensive suit sit down near him, offering a smile as a greeting to the others sitting at the bar. His face was completely unfamiliar to Nicholas, which meant that he either had attained his fame very recently, or he led a very boring life. Nick was hesitant to start a conversation with a complete stranger, so he started talking to the bartender a little bit "When you work events like this, do you ever feel out of place? I sure do."

The taste of his orange and soda wasn’t all that satisfying but for Wes, it was suitable as he was driving that night. He scanned the room with is now almost universally known dark eyes, watching as more and more of the “elite” filed into the golf club. One gentleman took a seat next to him and Wesley immediately recognised him as Jon Templeton, one hell of a director. “Evening Mr Templeton, it’s good to meet you finally. I’ve followed your work” Two other men joined the table, neither of whom he recognised. One made a joke about a DP and the other addressed him as Wesley Creed rather than Reed. Wes just couldn’t be bothered to correct him. As he talked with the other men, Wes continued to scan the room. Where was Jen? She was supposed to be coming tonight. Was something the matter with Tilly? Surely she would’ve called him if something was the matter with their baby. The father in him was becoming worried. “I hear you’re nearly set for your Bound by Blood project, Jon. That’ll be one hell of a production. Grand scale all the way I imagine”

Wes turned his head slightly to order another drink. “Orange and soda please” He handed his empty to the waiter and as he left the actors line of site, he caught the gaze of a black and red haired woman. She would definitely stand out in the crowd that night. Returning his attention to the table, Wes moved his slightly crooked fork back into place. “Not to sound like a downer but I kind of just want these evening to end

"Pretty good, It's a TV- show and everything now. How are you doing? Working on anything new? I loved Goodbye, Hemingway. "
Casey pretended to raise a glass and quoted.
"Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut."

Casey looked around. It was a pretty dull party so far. There was music playing but anything worthy of note. The hall felt manufactured, calculated to look as decadent as possible,full of pretty things without actually being pretty as whole.
It made him homesick a little.
He figured the others felt uncomfortable as well, as well as almost everyone in the room probably.

Wesley proved his theory by saying “Not to sound like a downer but I kind of just want these evening to end"

"I'm getting that vibe of a lot of people here." Casey went on without waiting for an answer. He looked around, everyone was smiling and yet no one was smiling.
This bothered him a lot lately, once he started to notice them a year or so ago he'd start to notice it more and more and it was agitating.
"All these fake plastic smiles, surely everyone here sees trough them. If you are going to spend effort and energy in appearing happy and successful, why not spend that energy in actually being happy? It's not that hard."

Casey paused and looked around, found a waiter and called him over.

"I mean, this is the entertainment business, our life is entertaining people, making them feel better right? Why do so many people here have trouble finding happiness for themselves?" Casey went on.

The waiter rushed over, Casey could see the waiter recognized them all.
"You watch my show right? Have you seen my last episode?" Casey quizzed him.
"Yes mr. Tin"
"Well then you know what I am about to order right?"
"I can make an educated guess sir."
"Four glasses of your best guess then!"

Casey turned to the 3 at the table again. None of them looked like they were too exited to be here.
"Are you guys happy?"

Jon smiled at the recognition by Wesley and said, "Why thank you the feeling is mutual. Seen some of your more recent work it's quite impressive."

Jon signaled for the waiter and once he arrived Jon said, "A 7 & 7 please on the rocks and make it a double." Jon knew his limits and a double would be enough to be sociable, but not to the point that he would be a falling down drunk. Besides he remembered the sage wisdom of his friend Harvey about the police being out this evening. It wouldn't be a surprise if many were sitting just a block or two down waiting for people to come out of the party.

When Wesley mentioned "Bound By Blood" Jon had to use have nerve in his body to keep from looking to Heaven and saying, "Thank You!" Jon nodded and said, "Yes it looks like the project is about to see the light of day and I as the producer will be very happy to finally see it come to life, but we still have one key role to cast that of Paddy Hutchinson. Once it gets cast we're ready to go. The studio wants Depp or Downey Jr for the part of Paddy Hutchinson, but I want to take different tact with it. While I realize that those two men will do justice to the role I'm worried about them overshadowing the part. I feel that in the hands of a young talented actor it could take their career to heights they never though of. Not to mention set them up in a viable franchise for at least three films."

Okay Jon make the pitch.

He leaned over to Wesley and Said, "You are my choice for the role. If you're interested let me have your cell number I will text you some lines. We'll find a place in the lobby, I'll tape you saying them, send them to the director, and we'll go from there. Everyone has given me the deadline of by noon tomorrow to get you on tape. If I don't get you on tape then I have to call Depp and he's not, no offense to him, my choice for the character. Are you interested?"

Sirenia could not help but accidentally chuckle at the man’s small talk to the bartender. If he felt out of place than surely she should feel like an alien visiting earth for the first time. She knew very well that some awkward situations may arise by moving to a place like Hollywood, and participating in events outside her genre. So, she held no false beliefs that she may or may not be welcomed with open arms. Regardless this place seemed pretty classy and she was determined to make it home…or at least for a little while. She was also willing to venture outside her comfort zone and give back to the community at events such as these.

Her last comment about interesting people was not necessarily directed toward the woman to answer, Sirenia was simply speaking out to the void. She took another swing from the crystal glass and it flushed throughout warming her inside like a cozy blanket. While turning she noticed a new body at the bar along with another beverage of vodka from the bartender who witnessed her gulping these down without so much as a grimace. Vodka, her ultimate favorite drink thus her semi-high tolerance for the liquid. She was also a social smoker but alas how would that fare with the charity being what it was so she ignored the urge, and gathered her two drinks.

“If you’ll excuse me sweetheart I still have no idea where my seat is, my name is Sirenia St. Claire by the way.” Sirenia said politely to the female artist she had been chatting with before deciding to take off.

She flashed a bright greeting smile to James the man who had arrived not long ago before strutting off holding two glasses with condensation sliding down the side. After these were eventually finished drinking would be placed on hiatus for at least an hour or so. Although she certainly was a bit livelier when intoxicated that would not be a very tasteful first impression to her new neighbors. It was also a wonder how she managed to walk in 6 inch heels and a dress of high glossed rubberized material though she made the whole process look simple--if not a bit bizarre. She gently bit down upon the bottom of her pierced lip while scanning around the tabletops for her name card, and weaving through the crowd.

Sirenia left the bar to find her seat, and Natalie simply nodded, before turning back to her drink. The talk of niche modelling cemented the idea that Natalie had seen that girl before, and now she had a name to put to that face. She didn't particularly care, and would probably never see her again, but it was a nice touch. How many times when she wasn't famous did she have that problem? Now she could solve it by asking the person...in person. This was one of those strange times when the thought really hit her that she was a celebrity. You'd have thought the millions of fans would have done the trick, but no. You do get used to them as if they're a part of your actual life now. And in a way, they are. They'll be there even after she retires.

Natalie downs her drink and looks around the room for 'interesting people'. A few people she'll be keeping an eye on, but these people aren't big enough asses to be entertaining to watch while sober. A lot of people were miserable here, even behind their laughs and smiles. Very understandable, but they should have learned how to deal with it a long time ago. Natalie liked to occasionally give to charity. It cleansed her palette and reminded her that she was capable of more and better things than just creating insults and controversies. That, however, was not why she was here. She liked to stay grounded by taking the piss out of 'real' celebrities. A reminder to her brain to never become these people and always stay the same smart-mouthed bitch that makes fun of them.

Joe Bernard

The fundraiser was already well underway when Joe finally decided to show up. His all black 2012 Chevrolet Corvette ZR1, worth a little over 100.000 $ stopped in an agressive manner in front of the building where the event took place. As he gets out of the car, flashes of light from the photo cameras imdieatly start to bust his face. Joe didn't seem to bothered by that as he gave the car keys to the vallet who took his car in order to park it along with the others. As he was walking down the aisle towards the entrance, reporters imidieatly started flocking towards him in order to ask him questions. "Please! No questions. I have nothing to say." Said Joe continuing to make his way to the entrance.

However a female reporter asks him. "Mr. Bernard, it's strange for an MMA fighter to be seen in such places. Are you here because you want to repair your damaged image a little?" She said as she extended a small recording device towards him. Max stops and turns around. He looks at the recording device then at the female reporter. "What's your name?" He asked. "Mr. Bernard...you are answering my question with a question." She said with a serious look. "No, humor me! What's your name? It's not like i'm asking you to take off your clothes. Although judging by the way you look I think you'd be better off without them. A body like yours dosen't deserve to be hidden away." Said Joe who was visibly upset. "Now...what's your name?" He continued as the female reporter looked shocked at him.

"Sarah!" She said with half a mouth. "Okay Sarah. I'm here because I hate cancer. I'm here because two of my relatives have died because of cancer. My grandmother and my aunt. And you are right, i'm here because I do want to repair my damaged a little. Satisfied! Now I want all of you sharks to leave me alone." Said Joe as he turned around and after a few more steps finally made it inside, where he was greeted by Max, his manager. Max, or Maxwell Terry by his real name was a 50 year old englishman. Max used to be a boxer but he retired 12 years ago and became a manager. His collaboration with Joe started last year, after Joe fired his previous manager and the man he worked with ever since he became a pro, because he caught him trying to steal money from him.

"Goddamnit Joe! I told you to stop arguing with the press. Now they are gonna use this little incident against you." Said Max who shook Joe's hand and acted like everything was allright. "Max, as far as i'm concerned, those sharks, those leeches can do whatever they want. I couldn't care less. Now if you excuse me, i'm off to the bar for a drink." Said Joe with a calm tone, slapped Max on his left elbow then went off to the bar. "Remember no alcohol! You're driving!" Said Max as he crossed his arms, nodded his head in dissaproval and watched as Joe dissapeared into the crowd, as he was going to the bar.

---

“Alright, I see you when I get there. Love you guys too.” The young Latina star hung up her cell phone before placing it square between her breasts. She had already finished getting ready for the charity event, though she hadn't spent much time doing so. While other celebs attending might have cleared their whole schedule for the spa, hair dresser, makeup team, and tailor, she simply woke up, took a shower, and put on an outfit her friend Jackson had gotten her from Barcelona when he had gotten back after doing his first modeling gig there as sort of a guest star. For a guy, he really knew how to put together a nice outfit for women. She added the finishing touches by slipping on a pair of silver hoop earrings. With a last look in the mirror, she grabbed her clutch and headed out, clutching at the soft fabric of her flowing dress. Avoiding her pets so that she didn't get fur on her before she even arrived, she blew them kisses and waved farewell to the pet sitter before exiting her lavish Hollywoood mansion, slipping into the limo waiting for her outside.

As soon as she stepped out of the long pink limousine she was greeted by flashing lights and a plethora of chatter. She immediately put on a smile and made her way down the velvet blue carpet, waving at those paparazzi and stopping every so often to pose before finally heading inside. Her bright brown eyes scanned the area and the lightest frown of disapproval formed against her lips, her brow pinching and pulling down slightly as she noted what she considered to be a small and unimpressive venue. Shaking her head, she walked through the crowd and would every so often stop and take a selfie with a friend or chat for a few seconds. Many congratulated her on her latest movie, digging for information on whether she'd be coming out with another any time soon. She dropped a few hints of yet another movie though she gave no detail as to what it might be about before making her way away from the masses.

She was stopped by a reporter that she vaguely recognized from MTV and offered a smile. “Ginger Whitson, right?”

“Yeah! I hope you don't mind! I'd really love to get a short interview with you. Just a few questions!”

“By all means.”

“Alright! Thanks. First of all, such an honor to meet you!”

“Thank you, Ginger.”

“Also, I'd like your opinion on charity events like this. There's been a few rumors that you've stood at odds with a few Hollywood big wigs due to different views on the way charity events should be held.”

“The rumors are true. I usually actually hate attending a lot of these things. Half the people can't remember what they're donating for until their personal assistant or manager reminds them. And I feel like a lot of people are just here for the wrong reasons. Sure, they care about improving lives, I hope. But you have to ask yourself, why does it seem like most of the time everyone here is more concerned with having their picture taken, drinking, hooking up, and scoping out new deals with the industry's artists? I can guarantee you that at least eighty-five percent of every manager, producer, director, and screenwriter looked for new potentials for a project before they took a moment to think about the cause.”

“Wow. That's quite an accusation.”

“I speak what I feel and I call it like I see it. I've been coming to these things since I was old enough to walk and almost every single time it's the same thing. Honestly, if we really wanted to help cancer patients, the charity could have been held at the hospital. It would absolutely make the patients' night just to see half of us, to speak with us, take pictures. We could raise money while at the same time comforting.”

“A lot of people have gone on record before and still continue to do so, accusing you of being sanctimonious. Obviously you wouldn't agree. What do you have to say about it though?”

“They can say what they want. Everything I do is for my fans. You could take away all of my deals, my connections, my money, my house. Right now. I would still do what I do and perform for my fans because I know it makes them happy. I feel like a lot of celebrities under-appreciate their fans and don't realize just how much they mean to them. It's hard being in the spotlight. It's hard having your life, your every move be constantly watched and graded by others. It's no reason not to have fun. We're all humans and we all have the right to indulge. But as such major figures across the world we have an example to set.”

“Wow. That's really deep. Uhm. Thank you for this! Please, enjoy your time here!”

She gave a polite smile and a nod, opting to take a photo with the young reporter before seeking out her seat. She was directed by an usher and found herself approaching a long time friend of hers, Wesley Reed, and stooped to give him a hug. She offered the other men at the table a soft blush, a smile, and a gentle nod of acknowledgment. They were talking business. Of course. Because they couldn't wait another few hours until the event was over to make their pitches. Waiting until the next day to contact an agent was unheard of. But she didn't let her displeasure show that much, only subtly frowning until she took her seat. As a waiter came near her, she lifted a finger gently and beckoned him near. “Alex! Working again, I see.” She gave a light chuckle and the two exchanged words before he disappeared and came back with a chilled bottle of blackberry wine. Most people thought she was strange to drink her red wines chilled but she hated drinking many hot things with the exception of her cocoa and tea. She avoided the gaze of the others, instead letting her eyes roam the room. She saw her adoptive mothers both seeming to attempt talking to others about work as well, a small smile etching across her features.

---

Jackson hated wearing suits more than anything he else. He was the type of guy that preferred slumming it, much like many other professional athletes. Perhaps it was because of their different line of work from many other celebrities. Actors and musicians and producers worked for years on sometimes just a single project and prayed for a year after releasing it that they'd win an award or two after getting all dressed up in their tuxes and dresses. Being an athlete before an actor, Jax was more used to earning his awards by shedding blood and sweat. Never tears. When he went to claim his award, he stepped into the ring with only a pair of shorts and shoes and he fought for it. Even after his time as an actor he still wasn't quite used to getting dressed up for these sorts of things. He shared the same belief of many of the events as his friend, Hollywood's long time sweetheart, Art, but he was a bit more vocal about it that she was. Normally he wouldn't attend. He had made the papers a few times in the past year for skipping such events and opting to spend a week with his co-stars to hop around different hospitals to directly donate to the patients there, spending time with them. He loved the smile on a fan's face when he did his famous Alcide growl. But he had promised Armonía that he would meet her and Wes there tonight, if only to keep the sharks away from her.

He was a bit (a lot) more aggressive than she was and he knew that she hated being approached with pitches at charity events. He didn't blame her. But getting to spend time with her was always nice and they usually went out for a smoothie and a movie afterward. The two had won an award together for Best Kiss in the summer romance movie The Vow and seemed inseparable since then. He couldn't pinpoint any romantic feelings but he did care very much for her and was very protective. He had shown as much when he went to jail twice on account of beating a crazed fan to a pulp that had obtained backstage passes in order to try and get her home with him. Despite his highly violent ways on the field and in the ring leading people to thinking that he was always cold and ruthless, anyone who really knew him would tell you that he was quite a teddy bear outside of the ring. But like all bears, he's got claws. Hes been lucky so far in not getting fired from True Blood for his jail time but he attributed it to Alan Ball being a pretty big fan. Jax still remembers Alan gushing when he turned up for auditions.

He was expecting to see a few of his True Blood co-stars at the event when he arrived, though he knew that Anna and Stephen had just welcomed another baby so they'd probably be staying home with her. He didn't mind though. He was just waiting until the two felt well enough to welcome guests over to see the baby. Jax loved babies. Looking at them anyways. He loved holding them too but he was always so scared that he'd drop them or crush them in his arms so he tended to get a bit bashful around them and often settled for just poking their squishy cheeks and letting them hold his fingers. He had been asked plenty of times if he was ever going to find a girlfriend and settle down with a family or just remain married to his career. Honestly, dating had never been his thing. There was a point in time when people thought he was gay. He did spend most of his time around a bunch of guys and was rarely seen with a woman outside of his family. There were still such rumors. But he just didn't have the time for a relationship and most women that cared hit on him weren't really his type.

Dread filled him as he forced a smile and stepped out in his all black suit, pushing some of his hair behind his ears. He was blinded by the flashing lights but didn't bother to stop and pose or answer any questions as he hurried indoors. There was a crowd of people and he immediately sought out his two best friends, not above blitzing through the crowd if he had to. He paused at the bar to grab a glass of scotch, catching a few familiar faces – one of them a young fighter he knew of and had met a few times, gone to a few parties with – but he didn't linger. He quickly made his way to the table, hardly so subtle in switching Cameron Diaz's name placeholder with his own from another table before taking a seat. “Judging by the looks on your faces, we're not having fun yet. It's not too late to dip out.” He gave a light smile and spoke in a joking tone though he knew his friends were positive that he wasn't joking at all and he would have no problems standing up and marching out with his head held high.

Wes was a little taken back by Jon’s quick and sharp pitch of a movie idea. He had remembered reading all about Bound by Blood. A crime drama centred around the massive Hutchinson clan. Having worked on A Town Called Justice for five years, Wesley was no stranger to the genre. That said he was looking for a change, Bound could very much turn into a similar project which in turn might lead to typecasting; something he was very lucky to avoid during his early years as a teen idol. Then again, the hype surrounding the movie was enormous and it hadn’t even been given the green light yet. Being considered for a role alongside the likes of Johnny Depp and Robert Downey Jr was an honour in itself. Could Wes afford to be away from home that long though? He had already missed a fair chunk of Tilly’s little life whilst filming for Justice but the opportunity to work with Jon on such a compelling project was hard to pass up.

“Alright, I’ll do the lines but I need some guarantee’s if I get the part Jon” Wes didn’t want to go all A-List and make a set of demands but in this case, he hoped the man sat next to him would understand. “I can’t be away from my daughter, not for long anyway. So if we’re filming anywhere but California, I need days off to see her. I’m only willing to stay away for two months” He pulled a pen from his jacket and scribbled down his number. “If you’re happy with that, here’s my number. Text me the lines and the place you want to meet” He slid the napkin over to Jon and smiled. “Sorry for being a bit of a diva but I love my daughter and I’ve already missed too much”

One of the other “celebrities” on the table had ranted after Wes’s comment about not wanting to be there and the young actor had simply tuned out. He had ordered the four men drinks and when they arrived, Wes simply pushed his back into the centre of the table. “I appreciate the gesture, Mr….” He narrowed his eyes to read the name placeholder as he had no idea who this man was. “…Tin but I’m not drinking tonight. Thank you though”

In the corner of his eye, he noticed the familiar shape of one Art Talamantez, an old friend from his days in Justice. He gave her a wave just as another old friend, Jackson Babineaux made his presence known. They had met a few years prior when Wes did a guest spot on Jackson’s show and they had been pretty close friends ever since. “Normally I’d agree and be walking out with you now, Jax but Jen’s supposed to be here tonight and I need to have a word with her about Tilly. How’s everything with you?”

Jon listened to the requests made be Wes and said, "Guarantees? Wes compared to some of the other guarantees that I've been asked for during this crusade, I say that because that's what it feels like right now, yours are the easiest ones to accommodate. Trust me this will weigh heavily in your favor with the studio."

Jon pulled out his smart phone and quickly browsed through the script in his phone doc. He picked out 7 lines that Jon felt were essential to the character of Paddy and text them on to Wes. Jon said, "20 minutes meeting room 1 just off of the lobby. I'll camera phone it, send it out tonight, and with any luck this will be done in 24 hours. Thanks Wes this character has your name all over it. I'll meet you in 20. I realize camera phone isn't ideal, but hey Hugh Laurie got his role on "House" that way."

With that Jon was on his way but he stopped at the bar. He said, "Gin & Tonic make it a double." On his way out there were other producers and actors who stopped and Jon was accommodating to them, but the whole time his one thought was to get to the meeting room to set things up for Paddy. Jon was so excited it was taking every nerve in his body to keep from yelling to the top of his lungs, "I GOT HIM!" Jon knew that this wasn't a done deal until the ink was on the paper, but Wes wanted certain concessions that were super simple to accommodate and his asking price wasn't going to eat up a majority of the budget.

Jon did feel bad that he hadn't been to engaged in those around the table, but this deal with Wes was paramount to him. Jon was seeing a light at the end of the tunnel concerning this project and for once it wasn't an on-coming train.

Jon got Harv on the phone and said, "Harv have your smart phone ready within the next 30 minutes. Wes is here and will be doing a read thru on 7 lines I'll be recording it via phone and sending it on to you."

There was a long pause and for a moment Jon wasn't sure if he just killed Harv until he said with a great amount of joy in his voice, "Well they don't call you the Boy Wonder for nothing. Great job Jon looking forward to seeing the final results."

Jon hung up the phone and as he entered the meeting room it was dark and he cut on the light. There were two people in there trying to "have a good time" and Jon's arrival created a somewhat awkward moment.

Without even thinking Jon threw 200 dollars on the table and said, "Go get a room, This one is on me!" The couple clearly embarrassed began to walk away until the gentleman picked up the money and said, "Much obliged."

Jon looked at him with a somewhat bemused look and said, "Don't mention it." Once the room was clear Jon shook his head and said, "Okay time to make some magic of my own."

Sirenia St. Claire
A sudden impact out of nowhere collided into the middle of Sirenia’s midsection while searching for her table. Both glasses of vodka spilled onto the front of the black latex dress rapidly gliding off the material with ease and dripping to the floor. The clash came from an intoxicated woman losing balance and shifting awkwardly on high heels. “That’s Rebecca for you.” One of her so called friends commented while the rest burst into laughter, and scoffed at the embarrassing display. They did not offer any assistance or ask how Rebecca was. They simply shrugged their shoulders to the fetish model as if it was her problem to deal with now. Sirenia could call the situation many things but funny was certainly not one of them. She very carefully bent down to hoist the woman up with one fell swoop so that she could stand straight, and looked her over to see if she was hurt by the broken glass.

“Oh my God, I am soooo sorry about your dress. I can pay for it I swear to God.” The woman’s words were a slurred mess and the stench of alcohol radiated from her breath. Sirenia instantly recognized Rebecca from The Real World. Reality tv was another guilty pleasure she indulged in though many did not know that about her.

“No need to involve religion—coincidentally my dress is liquid proof. Don’t worry about it doll.” She said sincerely yet cast a snide glance to the reality stars party.

“I don’t feel so good.” Rebecca’s face suddenly turned a haunting shade of white as she began grimacing.

Sirenia quickened her pace to the ladies room practically dragging along dead weight. They passed by the same caterer who had not returned from searching for her table, and though upset with him she kindly asked for his assistance once again...maybe this time he would actually help.

“Call a car please but make sure they drive to the back.” The words were said in passing as both women entered into the glamorous bathroom. Luckily they made it into a stall just in time and so commenced the visit to the porcelain thrown. Sirenia twisted the woman’s long brunette tresses into a messy braid before grabbing a towel for the woman to clean up with.

“When does life get better?” Nearly exhausted from ridding the drinks Rebecca’s voice was a raspy hush.

“Is that a trick question?” Sirenia smiled and helped the woman up. “Let’s get you to that car.”

“I feel much better now, thank you.” A gracious smile crossed the brunette’s lips and it was best that she leave for her eyes were blood shot.

They had never even exchanged names during this little mishap but both felt it unnecessary since they both wanted to forget this night ever happened--most likely. Sirenia waved to the distant car before being escorted back inside to the gathering. Back to the bar… she thought with a chuckle even though she smelled like one from the previous accident. Before she even fully reached the location the bartender caught sight of her with a shake of his head and began concocting her vodka beverage. Like Deja Vu she took hold of the drink and threw a worrisome glance around the room, still unsure where her seat was. Hopefully if any speeches were to be given she would find that hidden place card or risk standing in the back for the duration.