froy gutierrez. he/him. cis male. ›spotted at the met steps , tomas gonzales , most likely listening to bad life by omar apollo with their airpods pro . the twenty-five year old gained quite a reputation , known to be -elitist yet +thoughtful to anyone who knows them . you’ll easily spot them when you hear about silicon valley tech-bros , private ramblings about the future during parties & expensive yet mismatched clothing followed by carolina herrera ch prive . latest nepoupdates article talks about the ongoing fraud investigation into his father’s tech company , but i guess any reputation is good reputation .
STATS.
full name: tomas gonzales ii
gender & pronouns: cis male & he/him
age: twenty-five
date of birth: may 14th
place of birth: san fransisco, california
occupation: board member of tech company
character inspos: mark zuckerberg (the social network), siobhan roy (succession), dylan (severence), mr. darcy (pride and prejudice)
ABOUT.
born in california to an infamous tech millionaire, tomas had the shiniest silver spoon that money could buy
his father made headlines for the start-ups and ventures he’d been involved with, but none more significant than the company he started. software manufacturing? ai? space travel? it’s considered to be a leader in the tech world
love him or hate him, tomas gonzales sr. has a loyal following despite being a controversial figure. known for his outspoken nature and his “genius intellect” (and for being an obnoxious bullshitter), he expected nothing less for his son
tomas is slated to take over the company—a job he’d been groomed for since the day he was born. he made strides in the work he’d done in the charitable organization attached to the business. they’ve built schools for the next generation of engineers and developers (so long as they sign to the company once they graduate) in cities around the world. and for shit like poverty and world hunger too, he guesses
behind closed doors, tomas is terrified of his father’s tantrums and angry mood swings. even when he grew up a thousand miles away in new york with his mother, his father always found a way to get under his skin. how could he live up to the standards of an egomaniac who asks for the impossible?
getting out from under his father’s shadow, tomas began to make his own headlines after being spotted alongside his fellow nepo babies. he built a reputation as a more reserved albeit equally pretentious version of tomas sr.
while it seemed perfect at first glance, news broke that the company was under investigation for claims of fraud. embezzlement, laundering, worker violations, lawsuits—the line between fact and fiction began to blur. one thing was certain: it didn’t look good for the company
with charges racking up, people began to suspect that tomas played a role in these schemes. never mind that his family was falling apart and his life’s work was circling the drain
as tomas sr. has disappeared from the public eye, it was up to his son to keep the business afloat. a tall order seeing as how he feels like he’s drowning in the process.
it isn’t all bad, though. it’s given tomas the time to consider who he is aside from his last name. after striding for perfection for most of his life, it’s about time he figure out who and what he wants to be. hopefully that doesn’t mean giving up the private jets and vacations to the south of france
𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 #𝟕 : muse o and muse p go way back. in their world of money and drama, they were a rare gem - always staying away from all of it. frankly, they were your best friends next door. so it only made sense for them to eventually go from best friends to a couple and when they did, the headlines didn’t stop. they were everyone’s favourite. up until summer came along and they had to spent their vacation separately but nothing seemed to get in their way. they were constantly texting each other, facetiming for the whole night. it was perfect. at least up until muse q came into the picture. muse q was newest musical discovery under muse p’s parents recording label and the label was motivated to get muse q out there. with muse p being the gp’s favourite, the answer was right there - muse q and muse p had to get into the headlines with their fake relationship. and muse p didn’t have a lot to say, they couldn’t even say muse o anything. they just stopped replying to muse o’s texts and suddenly, tmz and nepoupdates started blowing up with pictures of muse p and muse q holding hands. it started the biggest internet drama, with muse p not being able to talk to muse o to not risk getting caught and muse q and muse p getting plenty of interview invites, but the fuel was added to the fire when muse q, being motivated to get themselves out there and take all they could from the drama, started shading muse o in the interviews, tweets, etc.
୨ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ㅤ ❛ 𝒊 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 , i don't know how this happened . i followed every single instruction , word for word ! ❜ now that's a lie and she might have missed a few steps . considering they don't have enough ingredients just like stated in the cooking book , kiku thought it'd be fine to let them as is . that one or two ingredients will not greatly affect the food they're trying cook . boy is she wrong . this is why she's never in charge of the kitchen . if her mom was here , she would've found a way to salvage this food . ❛ maybe you added something that wasn't supposed to be added . ❜
"Safe to say this dinner party is a bust," Tomas said as he put his phone down. He didn't even bother trying to help Kiku knowing that his own cooking skills would have only made it worse. Leaning over the stove, he couldn't make heads or tails about what the fuck they were even supposed to be making. He picked up his phone again and scrolled through their options for take-out. "Isn't this what you pay your chef for? I don't even remember the last time I turned on my stovetop."
WHO : lari & your muse ( feel free to assume connections ! )
WHERE : bar in tribeca
“ someone told me that planes basically fly themselves which is technically not wrong –– not right either . but they kinda do so i can’t be offended , ” lari chuckles as they recall the conversation . “ i didn’t have the heart to tell them that the whole flying itself thing only applies when we’re in the air . ” she looks over to [ your muse ] before reaching for her drink . “ anyways , want another drink ? next round’s on me . ”
"Well, trust me, we're working on it," Tomas bragged. "We've got self-driving cars and, hell, they came out with an AI fighter plane a few years back." It was a perfectly innocent conversation, really. Mansplaining in front of a literal pilot might have looked like a bad move, but it wasn't like he meant any offense by it. "Not to screw you out of a job or anything. If it makes you feel any better, most jobs are going to be automated in ten years time. Let's drink to that, I guess?"
“ don't push me !!! ” fordy regains his balance , dignity is nowhere to be seen. now ? he doesn't care who's watching , who's recording . “ don't you know who i am ? i could sue you for assult , ” well , that was precisely the problem . cheeks feel hot , it might be humiliation . or desperation . or pure fury at the audacity . the gall ! the gumption ! he turns to whoever is closest for support , “ yo , can you tell this idiot who i am ? ” this was his mother's party , for flip's sake ! surely his own mother wouldn't put him on the blacklist ?
"Fordy, I didn't think you'd show up. Your mom and I were chilling in there, man. You didn't tell me how hot she was," Tomas slurred as she stumbled out the party and into the other man. He'd clearly had one too many drinks by the way he had to prop himself up against Fordy. After a moment, his face broke out into a grin. "I'm fucking with you. C'mon, we're heading to the after party. Let's see if you'll have better luck getting in there."
location : anywhere indoors
status : open to all ( @nepofmstarters )
nursing a hangover, glasses are covering their eyes, shading the bright sun from their gaze but that's not stopping the throbbing in their temples. taking a hearty sip of the steaming coffee, they finally look towards their company. “ must you talk so loud ? my head is going to explode. ”
"I was just saying that my friend was a big fan of yours. The guy won't shut up about that set you had the other night," Tomas explained, clearly not impressed by their hangover. "Never meet your heroes, I guess."
After everything that went down on Valentine's Day, Gemma stopped trying with Tomas. What was the point. Every time she tried to talk to him lately just turned into an argument. There was only so much of going around in circles that she could take. As far as she was concerned, if he wanted to talk then that was on him. She was surprised when he asked her to meet. Everything in her told her this was a bad idea. A waste of time. At the end of the day, she never stopped caring about Tomas. If she was honest with herself, she would come running when he asked. Despite being angry and upset with him. Gemma would always regret the one time she wasn't there for him.
So, against her better judgement, here she was meeting Tomas at their spot in Central Park. Hands stuffed in the pockets of her overcoat to stay warm in the chilly air. "Yep." she acknowledged him with a short response. She was interested in whatever he had to say. Gemma hated this shift that happened between them. He was so cold towards her, like it was a business meeting. Funny how now he was all about open communication but every other time she tried to have a real talk, he didn't want to hear any of it. Gemma exhaled a soft sigh as she walked alongside Tomas. "I don't wanna talk about her. I told you what it was... I'm good." The mere mention of Paige caused her to want to roll her eyes. But she resisted the urge. "Can we just have a real conversation? I'm not one of your business associates or whatever. Stop talking to me like you're in a meeting." She glanced over at him, a softened look in her eyes. "Well you're the one that asked to meet, so what did you wanna say?"
It was easier to put on a front, to act like he didn’t care. Leave it to Gemma to call him out on it as if were nothing at all. Most conversations he had of recent memory sat on opposite ends—deeply boring talks of business and all-too personal outbursts with people he barely knew. His father joked that they were one in the same, private and professional. Still, the fact that he couldn’t tell the difference anymore ate away at him. Gemma might have been the one person who had known him as someone other than a walking suit and tie. Even then, the person who got punched in the face and whined like a baby wasn’t any better. He turned away from her, worried that she would have to see the sorry look on his face.
“Do you know what a tidal disruption event is? It happened in 2018,” he started as he tried to remember the details. “Stick with me, I promise I’m going somewhere with this.”
Tomas continued down the path that they had walked a thousand times before. It was a funny feeling—to know that both everything and nothing had changed. It felt weirder that he didn’t have the words to explain it. Instead, he had to settle on using what he’d learned at work to talk about how he really felt. “So, in 2018, scientists found a system of two stars orbiting each other millions of light years away. Since they were close to this supermassive black hole, they figured that the stars would get ripped apart and destroyed. But, they found that only one survived while the other didn’t. Seriously, the odds of it surviving is incredible.” Tomas fidgeted with his hands as if he knew how confusing he sounded. It barely made sense even to himself.
“What I’m trying to say is that I just fell apart when you left. It destroyed me. And you were fine—you survived. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do without you, I mean, I still don’t,” he admitted, taking a moment to realize what he was trying to say for so long. He wondered if Gemma regretted asking him to speak openly, but it was too late to back out. “But now that I’ve made it through the other side of that black hole, the thought that it might happen again would ruin me. You’re my best friend, Gem, but how can we be okay with that? After everything that's happened?“
His team had begged him not to go, practically burying him in paperwork so that he couldn't leave his office. Because for someone whose entire personality revolved around how smart he was, going to see Gemma after Valentine's Day was a particularly dumb move. He couldn't even remember the last time he had spoken to her without it being a disaster. To be fair, Tomas could describe that about a lot of things in his life. What did say about himself that everything he touched went to shit? What did say about Gemma that their relationship was the only thing he thought was worth salvaging? He didn't have a decent answer. Maybe that was why he was waiting in Central Park in the freezing New York weather to see her. They had gone on walks there when they were kids so it seemed right to ask her again for old times sake. Another dumb move on his part.
"Thanks for coming," he said, still putting on a front despite the fact that his teeth were chattering. He didn't know why he was trying so hard or how he could be so angry with somebody he missed as much as Gemma. That she had been the one to leave and cause so much grief in the process, but he still carried so much guilt about what he had done in return. "I promise it won't be long. We're both busy people, I just think we might benefit from open communication." Tomas hated that he spoke to her as if they were having a casual business meeting, but he couldn't risk his emotions spilling out again. Instead, he started making his way down the path and hoped that Gemma would follow. "I heard about you and Paige. Are you alright?"
⌞ ☆ . ❛ well, now that you mention it ... remind me to bill them for that, okay ? ❜ she's joking ( mostly ), but the banter between her & tomas made this collaboration unironically all the more pleasant. ❛ i mean, i did do that ... i've closed versace shows, opened prada ones, been the one wearing the bridal gown for ysl, ❜ she shrugs, a small shadow crossing her face. ❛ people thought i was going to be the next supermodel when i was a teenager, the next kate moss or something. it was kinda a shitty time, cameras in your face constantly, looking for the slightest thing wrong with you. ❜
The best Tomas could offer was a knowing nod. He had felt the weight of unbearable expectations on his shoulders for as long as he could remember. There was a time where he would have killed to be a jobless influencer coasting by on free press, but that changed once his business was aired for the world to see. He could barely handle one, much less a thousand cameras picking and prodding every single flaw. "I thought people were exaggerating when they said that they hated being models. You're being paid to be pretty. Devops and blockchains—those made sense. Those were real. But, now, every time I see something written about me over the dumbest shit... Yeah, I don't think I'd be able to last a day in your shoes. They really are as uncomfortable as they look." Tomas turned away from Nika, feeling all too embarrassed admitting such a thing to someone he barely knew.
“Yes, it makes sense.” It felt weird in the pit of Lys’s stomach, but it made sense. “My art isn’t a political statement, Tomas… I want to help you, and I truly appreciate you having faith in me.” And money… Definitely the money. “But I don’t want to be your PR bandaid.” Because that would open up a world of attention on them that they couldn’t use right now.
Sighing, Tomas took a moment to look at the piece in front of him again. The more he thought about what she had said, the faster he could feel his annoyance growing. He wasn't used to people telling him no, wasn't used to his money failing him. "Art isn't a political statement, Lys? Does Warhol know that? Do you think Banksy does those stupid fucking balloon stencils for fun? Don't get a backbone on me now. You're a couple million too late," he answered under his breath.
Sighing, Tomas took a moment to look at the piece in front of him again. The more he thought about what she had said, the faster he could feel his annoyance growing. He wasn't used to people telling him no, wasn't used to his money failing him. "Art isn't a political statement, Lys? Does Warhol know that? Do you think Banksy does those stupid fucking balloon stencils for fun? Don't get a backbone on me now. You're a couple million too late," he answered under his breath.
Even after having a minute to think about it, it hurt betting against them, but if he looked hard enough, one of the players on the Knicks was limping... or was Duke just trying to see things to make his chances better? "Deal." Tomas never said when, and Duke was gonna keep that loophole in his back pocket. "My apartment's amazing, so what's the problem?"
"Your parents are going to lose their shit when they see your junk on TV. It won't be too bad seeing as how they'd have to use a magnifying glass to find anything," he laughed before pouring two glasses for the both of them. Duke Salvo making an ass out of himself wasn't unheard of, but Tomas couldn't pass up on the off chance that it could happen on live television. "Hey, do me a favour and keep my phone for later. Gemma's going to kill me if I leave her another drunk voicemail."
“Probably better ethically for your company if we waited until I didn’t work for you,” Bel pointed out. Since he seemed to really care about the company and all. But what a way it would have been for her to go out of the company. With a literal bang. But this worked too. She stood from the table, grabbing her purse as she followed him out of the restaurant. “I’ll have to move a few things around, but you’re cute enough to be worth it. If you prove yourself in other ways, I could be tempted to make another appointment.” Once the car pulled up, she slid across the seat and waited until Tomas was beside her and the car had pulled away to slide closer, laying her hand on his thigh. “Am I the first person you’ll be fucking in your office?”
"So generous," Tomas joked as he reached over to put his hand around her waist. He quickly pulled back when he remembered that there were eyes constantly following their every move. If he showed up on that gossip blog one more time, he would tear New York apart looking for those so-called "journalists". Fuck, he was just about to hook-up with one of the hottest women in New York and all he could think about was stupid rumours. The thought passed the second she placed a hand on his thigh, his attention now fully on Bel. "No," he answered honestly as he moved closer to her. Tomas couldn't count those even if he tried. "But, you can be the first I fuck in my car."
"So generous," Tomas joked as he reached over to put his hand around her waist. He quickly pulled back when he remembered that there were eyes constantly following their every move. If he showed up on that gossip blog one more time, he would tear New York apart looking for those so-called "journalists". Fuck, he was just about to hook-up with one of the hottest women in New York and all he could think about was stupid rumours. The thought passed the second she placed a hand on his thigh, his attention now fully on Bel. "No," he answered honestly as he moved closer to her. Tomas couldn't count those even if he tried. "But, you can be the first I fuck in my car."
Aleksander kept his mouth full of pancakes the whole time Tomas talks to him, wishing he hadn't invited him to sit in the first place. He was in a good mood when he woke up this morning, and it's gonna take a lot of alcohol tonight to turn things back around after all of this. Maybe he'll even take somebody home. That's a nice thought. He was half lost in his own thoughts as Tomas continued to go on about some space program that Aleksander did ask about but doesn't care about. He looked down at Tomas' hand as he extended it, half observing his hand, looking for scars, calluses, any sign that he'd ever done any work in his life, or, on the opposite hand, any sign that he physically took care of himself. Aleksander treated himself to a manicure weekly - it made him look good and feel good.
Instead of allowing himself to be observant, though, he realized that he was actually, truly, being asked about work on a Saturday. Ignoring the urge to put his fork through his eye, Aleksander sighed. "Nothing," he replied, bluntly. "Futures. Investments. Same old. Client-advisor confidentiality, I can't say much else, you know the shtick." That was as close as he could come to a dismissal. He didn't want to talk about this. "Client retention is good. Employee retention is good. Everything is normal, and we're not going to space." He purposely left off the rest of his thought - that his father didn't need to send things into space in order to stroke his ego. "Work is work, and it's boring, and I really don't want to talk about it. Do you have anything else, more intriguing, less boring that you like to spend your Saturdays talking about? Or... are you using this opportunity that I offered to sit at my table just to flex on me? Or do you want me to go back to my father and tell him all about your space expeditions? What did you want out of this conversation, Tomas?"
Tomas wagged a finger in Aleksander's direction, satisfied that Aleksander had picked up what he was trying to avoid saying aloud. Wasn't that the underlying current behind most conversation anyways? It was for Tomas, at least. Truthfully, the business was all he had going for him. He had bet all of his cards on the company and even the thought of it failing would ruin him. He worked too hard to let it go to shit despite his father undermining him every step of the way. That was why he couldn't shut up about it. That was why he spent his waking hours thinking about how to make it better. That was why he was playing nice even after Aleksander had insulted his father—no, only he could do that.
"No," Tomas said bluntly. No use in beating around the bush anymore. "I'm not as interesting as, well, you are. We're are different in that way. But, we still have a lot in common. Boring shit aside, we're both smart, right?" Tomas folded his hands together as if preparing for a speech that he'd already done a thousand times before. If he wasn't going to eat subpar diner food, he was determined to at least make the trip worth it. "You know what a good deal looks like, hell, you just said it yourself. The smart thing to do would be to tell your dad about my company. You wouldn't have mentioned it if the idea didn't interest you. If you back us, your kids and their kids will be shitting gold bricks on Mars. Seriously, Wylie, think about it."
At that, Tomas stood up to leave and took out a fifty for Aleksander's meal. It might have been too much, but that didn't matter. "It's cool having 'fuck you money'," he said as he took one last look at them. "You can do fuck all with it. Anyways, I'll talk to you soon. Maybe next time we can eat somewhere nice."
⌞ ☆ . ❛ hey ! well look, if it isn't my favourite fashion savant. ❜ nika grins, jabbing tomas on the shoulder, a playful nod towards why he'd even asked for her help in the first place. ❛ you look good though, better than the time you wore palm - tree shirts unironically. ❜ nika was avant garde enough herself, but lines had to be drawn sometimes. ❛ are you sure you don't happen to be a model ? a friend at versace was looking for someone to help with their next campaign ... ❜ / aquavit, with @elitisms.
"Is my publicist paying you more for the compliments? I mean it's doing wonders for my self-esteem." Tomas was surprised with how much he liked Nika. It might have taken some time to get used to the fact that he couldn't wear his stained hoodies and tacky printed shirts anymore, but the press he got for his new outfits more than made up for it. It was an investment, really. "I'm actually trying to steer clear of cameras. Why don't you do it? I mean, you model anyways and I get that it's a competing brand, but c'mon. You'd be great for that shit."
Glancing over at his name, a laugh easily sounded. "That's a weak bet. Only $500? Wait, are you betting for or against them?" Another sip of his drink - perks of watching from the box. The New Yorker in him hated betting against them... but the promise of maybe winning was enough. "Yeah? And we're going." Not a question, a statement. A confirmation
"The Knicks are taking this one, man. I was being nice with the $500, but fine," he said, looking out over the players huddled together during a time out. "$500 and loser has to streak across the court." Tomas didn't think that Duke would actually follow through on his bet if he lost, but he did like the idea of making the guy sweat. "You'll regret saying that when I end up crashing on your couch tonight."
Bel loved to fluster people, to throw them off just a bit and see how they reacted to her. And obviously Tomas’s reaction did not disappoint. She smirked, leaning across the table a bit more. “Is that really all it takes? Had I known that, I would have tried much sooner than this,” she teased. Bel pretended to contemplate the offer, tapping her nails against her cheek. “I suppose I could squeeze you into my very busy schedule. You’ll be fulfilling a lot of my fantasies after all. Sleeping with the boss in his office? You have to admit it’s a pretty tempting idea.”
Calling over the waiter, Tomas barely glanced at the bill when he passed over his card to pay. He'd even managed a smirk, ignoring the worried voice in his head that warned him against it. Bel was a nice distraction and didn't he deserve those from time to time? "I wish you would have," he played along, already getting up to leave. "Let's get going. I'll have my driver take us back to my office. You know, it's nice of you to let me interrupt that busy schedule of yours."
Calling over the waiter, Tomas barely glanced at the bill when he passed over his card to pay. He'd even managed a smirk, ignoring the worried voice in his head that warned him against it. Bel was a nice distraction and didn't he deserve those from time to time? "I wish you would have," he played along, already getting up to leave. "Let's get going. I'll have my driver take us back to my office. You know, it's nice of you to let me interrupt that busy schedule of yours."
Aleksander hated the fact that he had to keep an eye on the rags just as much as he had to keep an eye on the Times and the Wall Street Journal. Anything that could mention the name Wylie was his duty to monitor, to try to keep his family's reputation clean. It felt like too much. It was too much. They had enough people on payroll to take care of these things, so why was it his duty to keep their name out of trouble? He could feel his jaw getting tense, so he reached for another bite of pancakes, despite the fact that they'd lost nearly all of their flavor because of that tension. He couldn't even enjoy breakfast, now.
Those idiots out there are my friends, he thought, but kept his mouth shut. And, quite frankly, I'm jealous of them. "Glad to know you don't think I'm an idiot," he muttered, downing the rest of his orange juice, half-wishing he'd ordered a bloody mary or a mimosa instead of just the juice. Alcohol would certainly help him get through this conversation. "Alright. Tell me about the space project, and I'm gonna sit here and listen." He gestured for Tomas to go on, turning his head back down towards his pancakes. He didn't add, and I'm going to keep my mouth shut about the workings of Wylie & Associates, because it's none of your business, and I'd rather step in front of a taxi out there than talk about work on a Saturday, solely because he didn't want to get another talking to from yet another person about how work should be the most important thing in his life. Life would be so much easier if he was just another nameless nobody, like all of the people in this cafe, who didn't seem to have a care in the world.
There was a hint of something in Aleksander's voice that Tomas didn't care to mention. Because despite his pancakes and pierogis and fucking air of pretentiousness, he was still one of them. No amount of hipster, yuppie cosplaying would take away from the fact that he was a Wylie. Aleksander might not have wanted to talk about it, but he would still go to work on Monday and the next four days after that for the rest of his life. Even if it might have been a terrible thing to admit, Tomas took a bit of satisfaction in that. There were both part of the same stuck-up rich kid clique—why pretend otherwise? But, there was no use in ruining a good breakfast even though he hadn't even ordered anything. He'd hadn't been there very long and he already decided that he wasn't touching a single greasy dish on the menu. If anything, Tomas was happy enough to have a nice conversation with a friend.
"Right, well, my father wants to develop everything from the ground up," he started, leaning forward in his seat. "The equipment, the software, every line of code is coming from a team we hand-selected ourselves. You know, they said it couldn't be done so we said fuck them. We've launched, I don't know, a couple thousand satellites into orbit so a space program just seemed like the next step." Tomas spared any further details, mostly because the project went stagnant when his father went and fucked it all up. Worse was that the prototypes were amateur at best, but letting an egomaniac run a tech company would do that. When Tomas finished, he opened his hand out to Aleksander. "Now, what about you? What's been going on with Wylie & Associates?"
