* this life is toxic ,

[isaaclacroix]

ISAAC J-P LA CROIX,


THESE ARE THE TRIALS OF OUR YOUTH
but this charade is never going to last
so pick the poison and pour yourself a glass
I STILL FEEL THE SAME, NO ONE'S TO BLAME*

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It was just another night for the French Heir. Isaac Jean-Pierre La Croix was down in Los Angeles for some business meeting for the new club his father entrusted him with. Once the meeting was over, it was obvious Isaac would spend some good time in one of the other hottest clubs in the city; strictly research of course. But in this situation he would he would have a few drinks, be surrounded by a few very attractive females and one thing would lead to the next… Then Isaac would be getting up in the morning, wash last night and be on his way. This was routine for the womanizer however, on rare occasions the women of the night would no longer be the women of the night, but rather they turn into the women who stayed in the morning. Yeah, talk about awkward for a man who women like an alcoholic goes through Jack Daniels. That little dilemma usually was solved with his little smirk, a drop of a hundred dollar bill and the phrase ‘buy yourself something pretty.’ And he was out of there. Maybe it was in his blood, that fear of commitment perhaps that was the reason he never really had a girlfriend… Just girls he befriended only to sleep with and then discard like last day’s news paper.

He did not seem to mind that kind of life. The women, the wealth the booze, it was almost a birth right to him. The women and wealth came naturally to him, but the drinking was usually for social purposes before Helene died. He was to blame for her death, no matter what his parents said. Isaac killed his sister. There, he said it. It did not matter that the police concluded that it was a car accident caused by poor visibility blah, blah, blah. But Isaac should have been able to save her, she should have been alive not him, with all the shit he has done up until this point in time. Why do the good have such tragic ends? Rather than going to his little sister’s funeral, he locked himself away; solitude usually brought the worst in him. In his chambers, he smoked and drank, and boy did he pour the alcohol into his system. He drank and drank and drank. What they did not tell you is that you cannot drink your guilt away. However, that never stopped him before. Perhaps that was one of the reasons his parents sent Isaac to the United States, it was the perfect remedy for guilt, yeah? No, not really. He still carried that immense guilt on his shoulders, so much so that he now relied on age-old clichés… God damn it.

But he was now in a little town known as Mini-LA. Valkyrie, what a town; god, this place was most certainly the epitome of boredom. It is common for one to have a sort of ‘home-sickness’ and who wouldn’t miss the bustle of France or Europe in general? Isaac had been here for a little over a month and still had no change in his opinion. It only had petty high school drama and a lot of ‘woe is me, my life sucks’ kind of people. Great, just great. The only thing that managed to strike some of his interest was the fact that his two best friends were also in this d dreary town and that his half sister wasn’t a total bitch, the only sibling he actually did not mind; but how much time could he just spend ‘just chilling’ with his friends or even his little sister? His muse was being temperamental for the past few months… Maybe he should get his act together and actually go to a publisher with the first copy of his novel. It has been sitting at the bottom of his desk collecting dust since the moment he arrived in the summery city. At least there were clubs to go to, all of which were fine and dandy, nothing he hasn’t seen before. It was sort of mind-numbing, attempting to pass his time in some club alone, how very unfortunate actually. He supposed this night was one of those, alone at a ritzy bar, whiskey in hand… The routine of his life repeating itself…Only Isaac would find this lifestyle uninteresting, whereas most other people would be thrilled to enter VIP lounges with a thoughtless ease only imagined on the silver screen. The perks were endless in a life like this, yet, he wanted more out of it.

His chauffeured town car curled around the circular drive way of his place of residence and smoothly stopped in front of his door. He was back… Isaac would say ‘home’ but this place was not really his home, it was just another place he lingered for a while before getting the itch to get out and fly to somewhere else…Maybe Australia or even Fiji… It had been a few years since he had been to Fiji… Isaac’s thoughts of future endeavours were interrupted by the soft voice of his driver telling him that he was home. Thanks, genius. Isaac threw him a look before settling into his thoughts again, not budging the door. He did not bother to remember the chauffeur’s name; it was irrelevant no matter how much Audrey encouraged him to do so… She knew his name and she had never even sat in the same vehicle as him. It sort of disgusted him how normal Audrey was, all things considered. As the driver was about to attempt to get his attention again, Isaac put his left hand up, silencing the man that could easily have been his father’s age, ”Take me to a place I will enjoy for a few hours, preferably with access to a bar…” He ordered the chauffeur. Isaac was underage, but you do not question the man who pays your salary, especially if you drive other people’s vehicles for a living and can be replaced effortlessly.

It was Simon’s, the driver in question, lucky day as he stopped the town car in front of Bare. Nothing better than an expensive whiskey and half naked women surrounding you; relieves everyone’s solitude. Isaac dropped a few large bills on his seat as he nodded to Simon before exiting. He ran a hand through his dark before entering the establishment. As if instinctually, his hand lurched for his cigarette as he placed it between his lips. The cancer stick dangled in his mouth as he casually patted a few pockets of his coat and his pants before a very attractive, but a very surgically altered blonde lit a light at the tip of his cigarette. Isaac smiled deviously as he inhaled the nicotine, “Why thank you, Beautiful… By the way, Blue Label, neat…You know where I’ll be, sweetheart, ” He spoke with his voice smouldering as much as his eyes, flirting a little with the presumably ‘down on her luck’ actress turn part time waitress, trying to make it big. He had known all too well the percentage of success she may attain… It was unlikely Hollywood needed another Pamela Anderson, but he could be wrong.

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STATUS complete!
TAGGED open, bby
ATTIRE isaac
CREDITS format and graphics to yours truly.
LYRICS 'coppertone' by the academy is
NOTES I liked this post too much... perfect isaac.

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[johannzweig]

- - - - -
i judge by what she's wearing
just how many heads I'm t e a r i n g
- - - - -

“but, mom, you were supposed to be here hours ago...yes, i know it's the alps..i-i know you guys like it there but-...no. no it's okay, i'm fine here. enjoy yourselves.” he put the phone back on the receiver, staring at it from his seated position in his desk chair. this was the third time this wee that johnny's parents had rescheduled their return from their vacation in switzerland and, frankly? it was making him tired. sad? no. no, no of course not. the boy sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his head into his hands, groaning into his palms. standing up suddenly, johnny stormed out of his study, slamming his fist into the wall next to the door on his way. “am i not good enough for them anymore? i just...i don't understand. standing still, closing his eyes, and sucking in a bout of cool hallway air, he chanted, “if you ignore it, it will go away. pretend they care, and they will. tell yourself it doesn't make you upset, and it won't. keep your cool, johnny,” before continuing on his way to his room. his hand went to his jeans pocket, pulling out his cell phone and sending a quick text message to his chauffeur. johnny could deal with this, but not at home. not here, where he was surrounded by his mother's tapestries, his father's heirlooms. there was a bar around here. somewhat local. it was in...well, he didn't know exactly where it was. but his chauffeur did and quite frankly, that's all he cared about at the moment.

where were his cigarettes? god, if he didn't get a smoke right fu-..oh. here they were, on his bed. swallowing anxiously, he slid the teal pack from under his pillow. why were they even here, anyway? his parents weren't home. nothing to hide. he stuck a little piece of heaven between his lips, right then, and fetched a lighter to let the flames and comfort begin. johnny decided he would go with just a cardigan tonight – no use in a shirt, when some pretty little thing was probably going to just spill her cosmo while she was ripping it off later. johnny really wasn't in the mood for cleaning someone else's liquor off his clothes, and especially when he would most likely never even know the person's name. whatever. he snatched the pack of cigarettes and stuffed a couple in his pocket, found a sleek black tie and fastened it quickly, and finally looking himself over in the mirror. johnny knew he looked good. it was something he was constantly reminded of by fawning boys and girls, rumpled photographers, strangers on the street, even. but sometimes he needed to know that he thought he was sharp, not just everyone else. the boy took pride in his appearance, just as he did in almost everything else.

not long after he descended the curving marble staircase into the atrium, johnny's ride swung around to the front entrance. he put out his smoke on the front sidewalk with a snarl and slid into the back of the rolls royce (it was that simple one, the ghost – his father had insisted). the quiet driver closed the door behind him and gracefully entered the front seat, pulling out of the drive without a word. “i assume you know my destination?” the older man kept his eyes on the road. “judging on the time of day, sir, i'd say i'll be taking you to that club, bare. correct, sir?” johnny gave a curt nod, and the driver took his silence for affirmation. the minutes passed quickly with johnny's eyes closed and face clean of emotion. he had approximately thirteen minutes to get himself together. get in the zone. no problem.

johnny walked in alone and with a confidence most men don't possess even when surrounded by beautiful women and intimidating friends. he didn't even need sunglasses to rock this. his feet carried him automatically to the bar, where he took a seat and signaled to the bartender that he would like a bit of bourbon, please. blue-green eyes scanned over the room as he sipped, quietly, looking people over curiously and purposefully. he'd be damned if he wasn't getting any tonight. the crowd looked easy enough. underage boys and girls throwing themselves at each other, tipping back beer after beer and giggling about whose car they should shoot up in afterwards. it was all getting so, so old.

it was to the point where coming to bare was something of a chore for johnny. lonely, johnny? bored, johnny? horny, johnny? time to go to bare. time to bang some pretty little girl and push the limit to barely sober, johnny. because mommy and daddy aren't home often enough to even give a crap whether or not you end up plastered, whether or not you wake up naked in oklahoma, whether or not you get some girl pregnant. sure they'd care if they were home, but they weren't, so what was the point in acting like there would be someone to reprimand him for drinking when he returned home? the disappointed look on the maid's face when she smelled scotch on his breath was hardly incentive to keep himself clean and free of crime. granted, he wasn't that much of a rebel. the cigarettes were insanely addicting but the drinking was just for recreation. he had nothing else to do, really, so he drank. he came to this pathetic little bar and drank their pathetic liquor and stared at pathetic people grinding themselves desperately against each other, hoping to find something in this new stranger that they didn't in the last. johnny knew better. he knew that no matter how many times you 'fuck that dirty hoe', you will never wake up feeling fulfilled or refreshed or even alive. oh boy, did he, of all people, know that sex, drugs, lies, liquor, all of it was just a distraction. nothing was going to shake you, make you, break you, get you out of the hellhole you're living in. his life was a routine, and this sad scene was just another task to check off. this wasn't living, this couldn't be all there was. one day, johnny knew, he'd find the answer. the key. he'd have the knowledge and he'd definitely have the will to rise above all this petty nonsense and live his life to the fullest extent, surrounded by intelligent and beautiful people that knew everything he did. as he sat and sipped his bourbon, he really couldn't wait for that day to arrive.

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NOTES johnny is such a bucket of angst .
WORDS 1106 .
TAGGED isaac .
OUTFIT h e r e .
LYRICS nickelback's next contestant
MUSIC a little bit of everything .
CREDIT this template was made by juliette capulet; at caution 2.0. keep this credit or she'll send all her little vampires after you. :3[/blockquote][/size]