Before We Were Fifty

Chapter 1:

When you're family is in show business, you cut the bullshit of privacy. There is no privacy when living in Hollywood, especially when your mother is Melanie Griffith, your father is Don Johnson, your loveable grandmother is none other than Tippi Hedren. Yep, that's my famous family- not including my step-father Antonio Banderas. I am the oldest of seven siblings between my two parents and their lovers- so I know what family means, but I also knows what one person's actions can do to that family.

My mother and father were married twice. Once in 1976, which that time it only lasted that entire year and then once again from 1989-1996. I was born a year after their second marriage, which means I must have been conceived on the night my father proposed to my mother. Pretty cool, huh? Maybe not so. You see, nothing lasts in Hollywood. I have known this from the past step parents I have- each leaving behind another scorned heart of a child who will never known what it's like to have a whole family. But then again, no person is guaranteed happiness in this life either. I often told myself that happiness is all around me and that one day I'll be old enough to make my own decisions. My first one is to never fall in love.

Okay, you're probably thinking I'm stupid and naïve for thinking I could never fall in love. That love is just a myth- well guess what, it is a bunch of bullshit. I'm twenty-three years old and I have never truly loved a man before in my life that wasn't related to me- the love being family type (not incest-like). Yeah, I've had my fair share of odd couplings. Jordan Masterson for example- maybe not my best choice. Ugh, but worst of all is Matt Hitt. True, not a bad looking guy, but a total asshole who fucked anything that walked- legit found him trying to hump Zeppelin the one time. His drug habits are appalling also- if not mortifying. But like everything else, it came to an end and I'm perfectly find being single. Single is good- single is safe and calming.

"DAKOTA! WE'RE GONNA BE LATE!"

"Okay! I'm coming Michelle!" Michelle. How the hell could I forget about her. She's been my rock since we first met. Modeling was a nightmare, but having Michelle by me made everything ten times better. Unfortunately because of that, she drags me to all these stupid parties that are filled to the ceiling with people I rather not care to meet. Pulling on my slim black dress, my blonde hair curled to just below my shoulders- I shuffle down the apartment stairs to where Michelle is waiting in her tight blue dress and excessively tall high heels. Being 5'7 1/2" I usually am not towered over by other woman, so this is a little uncomfortable for me. "Why do you insist on dragging me around, when I'm perfectly comfortable staying here in my baggy sweat pants and louse t-shirts watching Gilligan's Isle?"

"Because, you need to be a real person and actually have fun. Drink, party, have sex..."

"Who says I need that? I'm content drinking here, partying is a waste of time, and as for sex..."

"Yeah, yeah. Ms. Virgin. All I'm trying to do is get you to stop feeling doomed. That's it. Now come on. I told Nolan we'd be there soon." Getting in the elevator, we take it down to the parking garage an get in her Cadillac. Not to be a downer, but this is the epitome of rich bitch. As she has Al, her driver and sweet old man, take us to her party downtown, she's lost in her own world of her phone and I mindlessly stare out the window, hoping by some chance she'll let us go back home. "Ooo, Sasha Vega just gave me the deets on who's all at the party so far!! So many hot guys apparently. We could get lucky tonight."

"YEY!"

"Alright Ms. Sarcasm. You probably won't, but I will pray for you anyway." I snort, sending her the 'I'm done' signal and she turns back to her phone. When we pull up to the place, it's booming on all levels of the four story building- which is exclusively owned for the purpose of this pompous life style. As we get out of the car, I put on my acting smile and walk into the party, giving my name to the bouncer at the door. Walking in, the party is crowded with the gorgeous and the rich. The music is deafening and the whole atmosphere is that of a concert. Michelle, grabbing my arm, takes me to the bar and orders me my favorite- a double vodka with a slice of lime and sugar on the rocks. "I think I see Marta Vanderbelt! I have to say hi!!"