Lucas Cole Posted December 17, 2014 Share Posted December 17, 2014 The setting is modern day, the people the insincere, vain and super-wealthy aristocracy of the 21st century: celebrities! Superstar houseparty! <3 The limo nosed delicately through the crowd, peppered by a thousand camera flashes like bright gunfire, easing its way towards the front gate. The paparazzi crowded closer as the vehicle came to a halt, shoving one another, screaming questions at the blank, shiny sides of the car as though they expected it to answer back. Inside, Lucas Cole slumped a little lower in his seat and gave silent thanks for tinted windows. If they wanted a photo of Faust's frontman and lead guitarist, they'd have to wait til the concert next week. A quiet whirr indicated the driver was winding his window down to press the intercom, and moments later the gates opened, and the limo slid inside... leaving the vultures and their cameras behind, held back by an invisible force-field of lawsuits and the threat of arrest. It was a short drive to the front door, down a winding driveway that passed behind the screen of trees that kept prying eyes from the house itself. If you could call it a house, Lucas supposed, peering up at the vast building as they passed. 'A quaint summer house', the invite had said, overlooking the beach... and that part, at least, was true. You could hear the breakers from here. But there was nothing quaint about this property. Tens of millions of dollars worth of modern architecture, sheer glass walls with ocean views, enough rooms to house an army of guests: an essay in the extremes of conspicuous consumption. This house had more in common with a mansion than the beach hut that had been so coyly implied. The limo slid to a halt, and moments later the driver opened the limo door, and Lucas stepped out into the night. In torn jeans, motorcycle boots, a burgundy cashmere sweater and a hideously overpriced designer leather jacket, Lucas looked his usual self: the sort of man who could spend a fortune on his wardrobe and still manage to look faintly shabby and unkempt. Music from the party inside throbbed in the cool night air: he was late, and the place was packed already. With all the easy self-confidence of the truly entitled, Lucas made his way to the front door, pushed it open and walked inside, evading two B-list porn stars and a leering national anchorman, skirting around the edge of a gaggle of sparkling socialites, and finding himself at last near the open bar. He paused here, letting his gaze wander. Was there anyone here he knew - where was the host? And just how much of a blow-out could he expect this party to be...? Lucas sighed softly through his nose, fishing in his jacket for a pack of cigarettes. All very well wanting to see or be seen, but if there was nobody worthwhile to do either, this was going to be an extremely long night... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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