✿ฺ 
✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ
✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ
Shaun stirred awake with the sun pouring through the giant windows of his stunning Beverly Shores home. The light bounced off his collection of obscure art in a way that nearly qualified as a second alarm clock. He squinted at his phone, which was vibrating angrily on the bedside table as if possessed. “Not today, Satan,” he mumbled, flipping the phone over and burying his face in the pillow instead.
After a few moments of deep denial, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The floor felt surprisingly cold on his bare feet, which reminded him of the last time he nearly considered buying slippers. He quickly banished that thought and made his way to his mom’s room, feeling a bit like a concerned toddler instead of a forty-something man child.
Peeking into his mother’s room, he found her awake, sitting on the edge of her plush bed. The early light cast her in a soft glow, her hair curling in light bouncing locks as she chatted amiably with their one hired staff member, Mariya, who was busy arranging flowers on her nightstand. Shaun’s heart warmed at the sight of her—somehow, she always found a way to make their home feel vibrant, even on the quietest days.
Though they hadn’t noticed him yet, Shaun lingered for a moment, taking in the scene. His mother’s laughter, that familiar, bell-like sound, mixed with the rustle of petals and the comforting atmosphere of their Beverly Shores retreat. Just for now, he wanted to hold onto this unspoken bond, to let the world outside fade into the background, his phone still buzzing its lonely chorus. He snuck out with a quick wave to Mariya while he had the chance.
Shaun leaned back in his car seat, the engine purring beneath him like a contented cat, as he drove through the sun-drenched streets of Beverly Shores. He flipped on the radio, pretending it was the soundtrack to his latest Hollywood mission, but instead of a heroic score, he was met with a cheery pop tune that felt at least ten degrees too upbeat for his existential quagmire. “Miss Alexandra Sinnott,” he muttered, rolling her name around on his tongue like an expensive wine. He was totally ready to pitch the idea of switching managers to the world’s biggest whirlwind of chaos. Shaun liked to think they were connected by more than just mutual acquaintances; after all, they had both been mentioned in numerous tabloids—albeit from vastly different angles. But, regardless, he knew how to be pushy.
As he approached the gated estate where Patricia reigned supreme, he felt a giddy rush. They weren’t just acquaintances; they were connected through a labyrinth of mutual friends, coworkers even. Well, he assumed.
Keeping his car in idle up to the front gate, he was greeted with a bright reflection of the sun bouncing off the perfectly polished security booth, which might as well have had a neon sign that read: “Hollywood Dreams on Hold.” It wasn’t incredibly inspiring but he supposed that kept out crazed fans. Shaun reached over to click the talk button anyhow.
“Hey there!” Shaun beamed, flashing a smile that could charm an actual snake. He honestly had no clue if there were cameras or not. “I’m here to see Patricia Devore!” He wasn’t sure if he should use her stage name or real. He decided on pulling out the ‘I know Alexandra Pat Sinnott’ card if this bore unfruitful.
✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ ✿ฺ
@cordyx | Patty D | I kinda like that nickname 
