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@genevieve-foster-blog
I need an experts opinion.
Maybe go out and have some fun for a change? Couldnât hurt, right?
I guess it wouldn't, but then again you never know what might happen... Honestly, I think I'm a little too paranoid for my own liking.
I really hate Mondays.
True. Most people walk to work around here, but itâs usually some of the tourists who insist of using the cab service. Lucky you actually get to control your life. Sometimes I feel like my agent forgets that Iâm still human and need time to myself. Iâm lucky if I have Sundays off now. Itâs a pleasure, Gen. Are you originally from New York City?
I either drive my own car or walk. Usually walking seems to be the better way to go though. I never liked taxi's all that much. The drivers are either perverted or unable to keep their service car clean which I find to be down right appalling. Oh, your agent..? Aw..., now I know where I've seen you from. I'm surprised I didn't recognize you before. How silly of me not to know a professional model when I see one. Haha, it must be all the coffee I've been drinking. No, I'm not actually. I grew up in California and my family moved use here when I was 14. I've been living here ever since, but as soon as I had taken up photography I started to do a little more traveling. What about you? Where you born and raised in NYC?
I need an experts opinion.
I was invited to a party by a client and yet I'm hesitant to go. Would it be wise for me to stay home and do what I always do or should I go and intend of having fun instead?
I really hate Mondays.
The food and clothes in New York City are to die for, thatâs a fact. There are some pretty rude people in this city, but I donât blame them I guess. Things could get hectic and stressful around here. Really? Are you a fashion photographer? Iâm Hailee Watson, by the way. Nice to meet you.
It all depends on which part of the city you visit. Luckily, there are a few people out there that know a thing or two about common courtesy. Ugh..., not exactly. I take pictures of a wide variety. I'm discreet when it comes to my business. It's easier if Iâm at a point where I'm not booked to an extent but can make a fair amount of cash to survive on. Surprisingly, I'm doing better than I thought I would. Genevieve Foster. Please, call me Gen.
I really hate Mondays.
Tell me about it. And it doesnât help that the drivers in this city are insane. I swear, they probably aim to hit pedestrians. That sounds like a good way to go. What do you do now?
There are days when I loathe the fact I live in New York City and then there are times that I'm reminded of the reasons why I loved living here in the first place. The food, the clothes, even the people... But that's just me and my philosophy doing an overtime of thinking. Now? Um.. I'm a photographer.
I really hate Mondays.
I need another vacation as soon as possible.
Some times I feel like the whole universe is going against us while we work our asses off. That's why I quit working and invested my time into something I love.
Genevieve Foster (Sky Hart) · 23 · Ex-stripper/Photographer · Sophia Bush · TAKEN
â Sky, an ex-stripper from Lace & Leather, faked her own death. She hated her old life; stripping for other peopleâs pleasure, and being Ianâs own personal property. She was trapped in a nightmare that she couldnât escape. So, when her friend Rebecca came to her with an escape plan, she took it without question. The two girls planned to fake their deaths, that being the only way to really leave all of this behind them. Rebecca planned to live a new life with her boyfriend Steven, and Sky planned to do what sheâd always dreamed of: photography. The thing about plans is, you never know whatâs going to come along and ruin it. In this case, it just so happened to be murder. Rebeccaâs murder, to be precise. Sky was startled by what had happened, and fled, carrying out the plan by herself. Then, there was nothing she could do. She was dead. A few weeks later Sky had a new name, a new look, and a new job as a photographer. She isnât well known and she likes that, living the dream and being a whole new individual. Now, known as Genevieve or Gen, she owns her own apartment studio and lives a happy life, but what she hasnât realized is that someone out there knows her dirty little secretâŠ
» Connections
Kyle West (Knows her secret)
Lola Wilder (Friend)
Seconds and Years || Brian & Genevieve.
Brian stepped into the rather brightly lit bar with a sigh, letting the door swing shut behind him with a dull thud. He did a quick scan of the room, a habit heâd picked up out of paranoia, and then made his way to the bar where he took his place on a stool and drummed the hard surface with his fingers until the bartender was done serving a dark-haired woman to his right. He ordered a beer, his usual boring drink, and waited impatiently until it was placed in front of him. The bartender briefly asked if he was that âdude from the radioâ, and when Brian said he was, the guy felt the need to announce it to the entire room. Fantastic.
Brian coughed, flashing a smile at the bartender as he walked off to serve a couple getting a little too handsy down at the other end of the bar. He hadnât realised so many people still listened to the station. He wondered if theyâd know what he looked like if he hadnât tried to kill himself. It seemed like such a simple, innocent thing to think that he almost choked on his beer when he realised he was toying with the idea of leaving Tonic and walking right into oncoming traffic. That was a crazy thought, though of course he didnât mean it. Still⊠maybe he should stop thinking about it altogether. You know, just in case.
Not that he really needed to, of course. Brian was fine. He could think about suicide all he liked, and he wouldnât seriously be tempted one little bit. Not. At. All.
He lifted the bottle to his lips mechanically and took a long swig, sighing heavily when he set it back down on the bar in front of him. Maybe he should have just gone home instead. He slid his hand into his pocket, looking for the rest of the money he knew he had on him, and his hand connected with something that rustled. He pulled it out, rolling his eyes when he realised it was an empty packet of pills. The only one heâd actually finished. He fiddled with it a moment, thinking, before sliding it back into his pocket. At least he didnât need those anymoreâŠ
Briefly, he wondered if he should have brought his phone with him instead of leaving it in the car (which, he realised, was going to be hell to get out of that parking space). Then he decided he didnât care.
It was nothing that couldnât wait until tomorrowâŠ
Gen sipped at her fresh martini, licking her lips as she looked at the glasses trim. She twirled it slightly in her hands listening to the door swing open and close, catching a glimpse of a figure out of the corner of her eye, she bent her head down to look at the inside of her glass. There wasnât much going on around her to take the time to stop and focus on it so whoever the man was had easily caught her eye. She listened to the bartender announce that the man was Brian Kerr, a radio host, Gen tried to remember exactly where she had heard that name. No, nothing came to mind and she shrugged it off maybe she had listened to the station once or twice back before her âdeathâ. Nowadays she didnât have much time to even get a cup of coffee so listening to the radio wasnât on her agenda.
Gen slightly brushed her fingers through her hair while she finished her drink off deciding that she would needed about 2 more before the day was done. Motioning for the bartender to make another she took a peak at Brian. He didnât seem to being doing much of anything but sitting there looking perplexed. Â What was he supposed to do- break out into dance moves on the table? Surely not. Maybe she was imagining things she often did so and easily jumped to conclusions which surely led to trouble.
Gen didnât live to learn, but lived to experience (an adventure) even if it led her to downtown Starbucks it still qualified as do something with your life. The bartender brought her her drink as she quickly gulped it down telling him to get her another. He gave her âmaybe you should slow downâ look, but she rolled her eyes and went back to listening to her inner thoughts.
Before she knew what she was doing she reached into her jean pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill and slid out of her seat to make her way to Brian. âHere, your drink is all bought and paid for.â She said slamming the money on the counter. âYou know if youâre planning on popping pills I suggest you donât make it so obvious.â She frowned upon him and turned on her heel to head back to her seat.
Calling someone out like that was not her intention and yet she did it anyway. Her dayâs accomplishments were looking at a big fat zero.
Seconds and Years || Open.
If there was one thing Brian Kerr hated more than people walking on eggshells around him, it was people walking on eggshells around him and whispering behind his back. He stared through the glass panel at the producer and his assistant muttering behind their hands. He was sure heâd seen them glancing at him from the corner of their eye every now and then. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes with a hand, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to get out of here. Every second felt like a year, and he was certain that if he stayed here heâd go crazy.
Man, did he need a drink.
So, why shouldnât he go and get one? These people didnât want him here - hell, they didnât even need him here! Theyâd done fine without him for over a year, heâd been stupid to think he was still needed here. Without warning he stood up, grabbed his jacket and made his way to the door, ignoring the calls from behind the screen - he was surprised theyâd even noticed. He pushed the door harder than heâd intended, almost cracking his co-star in the face. âSorry,â he managed to mutter as he pushed past her and hurried down the hall. She didnât say anything, but he knew sheâd be fuming. They were back on in under three minutes, and she would have to continue alone for the rest of the day. He just couldnât stay in there. It was too crowded, too hot⊠too horrible.
Brian made his way to his car, pleased that his police escort had gone - obviously assuming he would be in the studio all day. Maybe he was overreacting. Nothing had happened to him thus far, maybe those guys were all talk and no action? He rolled his eyes, starting the engine and reversing out of the lot. He felt like the world was watching him, and he suddenly wondered if he should start taking his medication again. He quickly banished the thought with a snort, how dramatic did he have to be? His actions were completely justified - even if no one else thought so. He was certain they wanted to fire him, and wished theyâd just get it over with already. He could afford to be unemployed for a while. It would probably be good to hide in his apartment for a few months⊠right?
It took him ages to find somewhere to park, which irritated him, but he soon calmed down once he came to a stop. He turned off his phone, which had five missed calls he noticed, and threw it into the glove box. Then he pushed open the door, locked the door, and made his way down the street. He passed the Luna Lounge, which he deemed himself too old to even consider entering. He was heading for Tonic, a place heâd grown rather fond of in the past few months and had been frequenting often. Besides, it was the only place he knew those drug dealers - or gangsters, whatever they were - didnât go to. He would be relatively safe there.
 Sky⊠No not Sky, Genevieve. She was no longer Sky Hart, but a whole new person: Genevieve Foster. She hated referring to herself as Sky, but every so often would she slip up and let the old her show.
 She put her fingers to her temples as she rubbed them in frustration. She was about to decline the biggest opportunity she ever had in her career, but the whole point of having this transformed life was to be able to live it the way she had always wanted. And, of course, this offer she was receiving was something she had always dreamed of but it would have been too conspicuous for business and someone might easily recognize her.
She looked at the businessmen sitting at the other end of the table. âIâm sorry gentlemen, but my final answer is no. There is someone who is much better suited for this position and I⊠Iâm just not ready.â She sighed and pushed her chair back before standing up. She pulled on her jacket as she pressed her chair back in. âIt was a pleasure meeting you, though.â She outstretched her hand in a fare well shake and once she said her final goodbye Genevieve turned around and stepped out into the fresh air. As the wind blew her hair back she inhaled the oxygen deeply and headed to the closest bar. Tonic.
Genevieve having this short amount of time to develop as a person straightforwardly fell into her place in the world. That was an accomplishment Sky had never established which had made her weak and vulnerable, but not Gen. This was her rightful spot even if everything was partly mixed in with a lie. She had no regrets about the decisions she had made and she was proud of who she had become. Although her background was short to go by it was still something to be satisfied of. Genevieve gave herself a mental slap in the face before opening the door to Tonic.
The place wasnât as crowded as she had expected it to be so finding a nice seat at the bar was no trouble. Taking her jacket off for the second time Gen slid herself onto the stool. She put her elbow onto the counter top as she folded her fingers into a fist to rest her check upon. Gesturing for the bartender to come over she waited patiently. âMartini please.â She sighed. This place wasnât her favorite since she often saw familiar faces Sky would recognize, but it was one of few places she knew of that contained foreign liquor.
