picked you up on ocean avenue -
with n e o n in your eyes ; and dreams of city lights.
multi-muse blog for palmviewfm written by ren / he, they / 28
_ _ _
• richie belgarde [ emma d'arcy fc ] - owner of electric lights
“ i'm twenty-three! ” isabel argues, flashing her id in front of this bouncer whom they're certain must be new, because isabel had never seen them before and they certainly didn't recgonize her when she's been frequenting the club for the past few weeks. she knows she looks young, and she technically is, but seriously, calling her id a fake (when they'd just thrown out their actual fake id) is just absurd. they heave a sigh of defeat, ready to throw in the towel when richie appears at their side to let them in. “ your new bouncer's a dud, ” isabel remarks, purposely not yet quite out of earshot. “ really? then i'll take whatever's most expensive. ” she's joking — mostly, but it didn't hurt to push her luck.
id is plucked obnoxiously from the bouncers - reading it from a distance and comically squinting their eyes. "next time - she goes straight in. she's on the list. now, boys." richie barks at the towering bouncers who - paid very well.. answer with a 'absolutely, boss' as richie hands the id back to isabel. "so did you get that at a fucking craft swap or what?" they scoff, opening the door for her. "don't i know it, sweetheart." they reply in response to the comment about their bouncers. once at the bar - they end up smirking at her. they admire the boldness. they motion over a bartender, speak into his ear over the bar and before you know it - he's on a step ladder taking down a gorgeous top shelf bottle of champagne - two glasses. "so - what's got you trying to get in here by yourself this late hm?" they ask - uncorking the bottle with an impressive ease. "you lose your friends?" they ask - pouring her a glass and handing it over.
gaze flickering upwards upon being summoned to the front of the line, tatyana couldn’t helped but smirk. this wasn’t unusual for her… being a gorgeous, stylish and very well-connected woman in town afforded her special treatment every so often and who was she to turn such flattery down? “finally,” she quipped playfully as she approached the blonde. “you’re so good to me, but you know me… i love being treated like the queen i am.” laughing, she allowed her eyes to look them up and down with interest before turning her attention back to the question at hand. “dirty martini. tell them to make it extra dirty.”
they're shameless in the way eyes scan her - up and down, bringing their lips to tug into a coy but.. charming grin. it's like they get to this fucking club - and the gold wedding band on their left hand deems to disappear from their own eyes. they hold out an inked hand to the woman - as if they assist her like a queen's hand. "your majesty.." added with the playful bow of their head - richie knew how to turn on the charm. heading into the club, past the line of unimpressed patrons - they head for the bar ( oh yes - the whole 'pull the chair out, take the jacket and push in the chair' schtick absolutely happens.. little to no shame ) they watch her - in their expensive little shirt - it's past 11 so it's buttons down to the dip of their flattened chest - visible scarring peaking all too proudly from under the satin. "well if that's how you take your martini's - i'm all too eager to see how you take company." they reply boldly - ordering her drink and an old fashioned for themselves as they sit beside her. "so what's got a woman like you out at a club like this.. at this time?" queue the playful - disappointed tutting.
open starter for: everyone! @palmviewstarters (cap: 0/3)
location: early morning brews
shiva had been quietly observing the other person while she was in line for her morning coffee, if one could still consider it to be morning. she had worked at the electric lights until late last night, and a fresh cup of americano would just do it for her. once she's gotten her drink, she stood there for a couple minutes longer, waiting for the other to get their drink, and as she has predicted, they struggled walking up the door. "here you go." she says, out of nowhere, as if she just swooped by their side, opening to coffee shop's door for them. "you need a hand carrying those?"
they're lying if they say they don't care about electric lights. which - let's be honest, they'll often fob it off, say it's a money grab like the filthy capitalist they are. but it's somewhere - maybe.. the only business venture that's only been for them. so it holds a soft spot. but this business of picking up certain expensive coffee for the crew because they know they like it.. that's too soft. so seeing shiva - they're quick to nod to the iced americano ontop of the box of beans they were carrying. "grab that for me, would you? nobody wants to deal with me without that." they taunt - shameless wink fired at the manager as the pass - body grazing hers as they 'slip by'. muscles flex as they adjust their grip on the box - waiting on her to catch up outside. "didn't think i'd hear from you until much later - what're you doing awake already boss?"
LOCATION : zakia & richie's house
FEATURING : @lovesh0ts
it never felt good. half assed excuse from the person who kept on doing it though.. wasn't it? then to go for a 'fresh start' - buy a club.. sit there like an all you could fuckin' eat buffet? they knew it looked like they didn't care. they knew how it looked. but their mind races - they panic.. they long for a kind of wanting that they can only pin point as.. transactional? and that was not zakia. that woman gave them everything she had. not for any other reason than for love. and by god - that terrified richie. the unfamiliarness of it. they'd been so used to constantly having to prove themselves worthy of love.. be met with backlash and would willingly take it on the chin. because it's what they knew. but her..
they didn't fucking deserve her a single bit. and they knew that. they knew they were a scumbag. but after the third time of trying to go through in divorce and feeling physically stuck? they buried their head in the sand. they're already home when she gets home - stepping out of their obnoxiously large marble shower, towel around their hips - hand using another to dry off their messy blonde hair as they wash off the cheap perfume of.. someone from the club. they look guilty. the same façade of acting like they don't care. but it feels disgusting. they look up at her under lowered eyebrows - like a dog caught chewing the leg of a chair. eyes showing a blend of guilt and fear but under it - a layer of slyness.. an awful green wave of 'try me - push me and see' as they walk past her. "you're home early."
closed starter for: richie belgarde ( @dethrcne )
location: pelican place inn
it has been something that lived in the back of sovaia's mind for the past six months ever since finding out that richie was in town, she didn't how how to react, how to even approach them, especially with how things between them had abruptly ended, which became one of the reasons why she came finally had decided to come back to palmview two years ago. she held on to the promise with her heart, which lead to both being broken by the club owner when they disappeared on her. she had found herself too inebriated the night before that she decided to stay at the hotel to recover, and now as she was making her way out, her jacket from the night before hanging on her arm accidentally dropping to the ground and before she was able to pick it up, it was now held by the person she did not want to think about in the first place.
the jacket barely has time to hit the ground before richie scoops it up. they're already holding it out when the voice hits them. oh, you have got to be kidding me. a laugh escapes before they can stop it at her weary pleads. "that's exactly what I was about to say." the words come easy, automatic. the kind of humor they've spent their entire life hiding behind. for a moment, they just stare at her. two years, and somehow she still manages to knock every rehearsed response clean out of their head. "what are the odds?" they ask. "out of every hotel in palmview, you pick the one I'm standing in."
where: electric lights / 1:26am
who: open to all / @palmviewstarters
richie leans against the brick wall beside the club, cigarette balanced between their fingers as they watch the other's increasingly unsuccessful attempts to make it past the door. after a moment, they let out a quiet laugh, take one last drag, and jerk their head toward the entrance. “come on - ” they call, flicking ash onto the pavement. “you're making this look way harder than it needs to be.” they unclip the velvet queue rope that skims the other's side, holding it open for them to step out of line. "told you - if you want to come, you let me know.. i'll take care of you." the blonde promises, muttering to security to let them skip in future. "what're you drinking? on me."
i𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔.. 𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆
las vegas native , thirty two , owner of electric lights
tw: suggestions of child abuse & marital coercion
[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed { RICHIE BELGARDE } walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who { THEY } are ? they kind of look like { EMMA D'ARCY } and i could be wrong but i think that they might be { THIRTY TWO } years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last { SIX MONTHS }. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of { ROMAN ROY } from { SUCCESSION }. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at { ELECTRIC LIGHTS } as a { OWNER }. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the { PARIAH } of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty { DISFUCTIONAL } at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty { HARD-WORKING } to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that { ONE BEDROOM } residence beside me over in { PELICAN PLACE / CONDO #340 }. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you!
richie belgarde was born into the kind of money people only ever saw through glass windows and magazine covers. their father made fortunes disappear and reappear on screens with a few phone calls, a stockbroker whose name carried enough weight that people listened whenever he entered a room. their mother had once been beautiful in the way old photographs captured forever, but by the time richie came around, there was always a drink somewhere nearby, always another party she couldn't remember attending. one parent was absent because he was working. the other was absent despite sitting in the same room.
their father believed failure was something that could be corrected. sometimes with words, sometimes with a hand on the shoulder that squeezed a little too hard, sometimes with lessons richie learned not to talk about. by the time they were old enough to understand the difference between fear and respect, the two had become impossible to separate.
they learned very quickly that attention was not something given freely. if they wanted people to look at them, they had to be louder, funnier, crueler. the belgarde name had already become attached to casinos and hotels spread across las vegas, each one bigger than the last, built with the kind of confidence that only came from generations of wealth convincing themselves they were untouchable. richie grew up wandering through gaming floors long after midnight, slipping into penthouse suites, watching men lose more money in an hour than most people made in a year.
it taught them two things: everyone had a price, and everyone eventually folded.
at eighteen, they became a permanent fixture of the city's nightlife. tabloids loved them. photographers followed them. people who had never spoken to them before somehow became their closest friends the moment they saw their last name attached to a reservation. they drank too much, spent too much, said things they shouldn't, and somehow managed to fail upward every single time. their father hated it, which only made richie do it more.
by twenty-five, they had inherited control over a significant share of belgarde properties. despite every expectation that they would eventually run the company into the ground, they turned out to be annoyingly good at the business. they could read a room better than most executives could read a balance sheet. people underestimated them because they assumed they were stupid. richie never bothered correcting them. it made winning easier.
the marriage - that was a surprise to nobody. happened exactly the way every bad decision does: fast, loud, and somewhere between midnight and sunrise. she had a smile that made every warning sound unreasonable and a way of speaking that made them think they were the smartest person alive. by the time either of them sobered up, there was paperwork signed, photographs taken, and absolutely no prenuptial agreement.
the divorce never fully happened. technically, they were separated. technically, they hated each other. technically, she still owned half of everything that mattered. half their money, half their shares, half their businesses. somehow, despite all of that, they continued finding their way back into each other's lives whenever they occupied the same city. every reunion became an argument, every argument became a challenge, and every challenge became a mistake they would inevitably repeat. neither of them seemed interested in fixing the problem.
recent years had not been kind to the belgarde name. rumors began circulating through financial circles and news outlets. whispers of insider trading. accusations that certain outcomes inside belgarde casinos had been manipulated in favor of people with the right connections. investigations never seemed to stick, yet neither did the rumors disappear. people started asking questions. shareholders became nervous. lawyers became expensive.
for the first time in their life, richie found themself somewhere they didn't want to be: out of the spotlight.
at thirty-two, they arrive in palm view under the excuse of exploring expansion opportunities and diversifying company assets. nobody really believes them. the truth is far simpler. they are laying low.
palmview gives them something las vegas never could: distance. distance from reporters, distance from board meetings, distance from family, distance from every fire they helped start. whether they intend to stay that way is another question entirely. richie has never been particularly good at behaving themself, and trouble has always had a habit of finding them first.
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