NOBODY'S HOME.

[prescottmellon]

PANDORA MARLOWE.

This was her house. Okay, not financially, but emotionally and physically, this was where Pandora called the shots ─ to an extent when she insisted everyone to be thoughtful about her phases of hibernation. It was the only time where she felt in solace with herself. Especially with how disorderly her life had been since working at Iris & Eve which had taken up a majority of her former free schedule. So when she desperately needed sleep and slept started to sleep like a humane individual, the last thing she wanted to do was a brawl with someone who occupied the other side of her bed in the wee hours. The disturbance of Scotty happened to be something she did not expect to endure in the first place but here she was, standing in the distance with tempered hues wondering how and why the universe was simply against her on every accord. Work, love life, friendship, and now supposedly, someone who has been interrupting her sleep schedule for the last week. Enough was enough. She needed to lay down even more ground rules. No one needed to be threatened or kicked out during a virus. 

It wasn’t that she despised Scotty. The truth was, she did not know him all of that well. Actually, nothing at all besides his childish behavior with getting high and drunk whilst driving it right into the side of a local high school. The information was spoken through the grapevine.. i.e. the chatty chats of bussers over at Iris & Eve. Far from the type to lurch assumptions upon someone without fully knowing them, even with their families past with each other, she did not grace him with a wide embrace but she was willing to be in his vicinity and give him a shot. Well, all promises kept but every moment with him around made her skin crawl. It was as if everyone decided to make a secret group chat and find ways to irritate Pandora. Nor did it help that he was inconsiderate considering he was a guest ─ regardless of the misfortunate circumstances rapidly increasing in the world. 

“Excuse me?” The motion of her neck moving toward the nearest clock could’ve nearly given her whiplash. Blinking a hue times. It was still mid-day. While naps were understandable, not to the extent to what Scotty was hoping to receive. “Oh, I’m sorry.. did I happen to ruin your sleep and your obnoxious sleep habits?” Placing a hand upon her clothed, oversized Cal-Tech pullover, near her heart as she pressed false care upon her overlay. “Because last time I checked, this isn’t your house, Scotty. You can’t just blast things on full gear without permission!” Hissing through clutched teeth, a singular hand shifting through the lavish space of the home knowing it was only them and a few of the help, but even then, they were lucky considering the basement was soundproof. “You interrupt my sleep. Now, you think I am going to be gentle with you?” A brief before laughing and shaking her tresses. Typically, she would be stiff as a rock but these circumstances said otherwise. “No way, get up, let’s do something outside. Heaven knows it’s been a few years since I’ve gone on the trampoline.” Witnessing as the backyard was full of activities and being inside was making her stir crazy. 

She was angry, he can tell, but Scotty literally gave no fucks about what Pandora Marlowe thought about him. He was on an island, for fuck’s sake, one where every day, the chances of him getting out from were becoming incredibly slim; two weeks and no call from his father, or his mother. His father, he understood; after all, he’d been the one to pull him out from the city jail with an expression as blank as a sheet of paper, but his mother? She was a silly woman who never knew how to deal with young children (the hiring of the nanny said it all), but still, she was the one blood relative that dared show Scotty any sort of loving emotion. Perhaps, she’d been instructed not to write or call.

The thought about his family was what propelled him to seek out Pandy’s companionship in the first place. He missed having someone around that showed emotion, and god knows he wasn’t getting that from one Ledger Mellon.

So seeing Pandy angry at him — it excited him. Finally, someone who reacted like a normal human being to him acting out, begging for attention. He shrugged, lifting himself upright on the couch as he yawned again, covering his ears. “You’re being loud, Pandy. Christ, I just woke up.” No mention of how he’d just blasted the playlist at full volume, but Scotty was the world’s biggest hypocrite. Pulling himself to the edge of the couch, he furrowed his brow. “Trampoline? Your parents still have that thing up?” He wasn’t opposed to the idea; like Pandy, he was sure he’d been twelve or thirteen since he was last jumping on one, and the thought of using it intrigued him. “Sure. Guess it’ll kill the time.” He yawned, again.

[prescottmellon]

LEDGER MELLON.

Receiving a phone call from his older brother, Callahan, on the dreadful overcloud of a Monday in Catalina Island did not astound him. Of course, any time his older brother called, it was all with ill-intentions and news. The last phone call he received from Callahan was discussing the departure of their childhood maid, Clementine, due to her husband’s sudden illness that surfaced. Surely, the male knew the information shattered everyone back in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania and while his connection with Clementine was one of a kind, he had no desire to fly back to his place of birth for her farewell party. Instead, the male was generous enough to sign a hefty check to the pseudo-mother figure and always extending the line of communication if she needed anything more. So when he received a phone this morning, long after Seraphina had said her goodbye’s in the plan of spending more time with the housewives, he should’ve seen the antics of his nephew coming from miles away. Unfortunately, it ran in the Mellon blood. Not something he was boasting. If anything, the disdain was dripping immensely from his dry responses and understood he had to pick up the broken pieces… yet again. 

A father he was not. It seems as if his brother had desires to give his younger brother an opportunity to put Scotty’s head on straight. Considering how quaint and often a challenge to get to Los Angeles due to the ferry schedule, it seems like his nephew would just have to tolerate all of the necessities given to him ─ a bedroom, devices to further corrupt his brain with, even an opportunity to change horizons of his location with living in Catalina Island, which is influx with wealthy patrons left and right. Heaven forbid he didn’t private Scotty with a private boat which was sitting comfortably at the port on their private beach access. The first step was to teach his nephew how to be humble with everything handed down to him. The legacy of their surname first and foremost. 

Spotting the twig of a Mellon trawling two designer suitcases up the driveway from the recently installed security system, the older male insisted no one within the staff dare to leave the Westington Estate to provide him further assistance. It was rather cruel. It was sadly Ledger to a T when he was not intoxicated. Knowing how to make someone’s life strenuous than it needed to be. A glacial welcome after the last time Ledger saw his nephew, the pairing were bonding over alcohol and engulfed into a sea of laughter, but the circumstances have changed. He stood by the front door when he heard his nephew yelling. Beryl hues rolling into the back of his head before unlocking the grand, sleet black coated front door to witness the sight of his nephew plopped down on the step. “Have a good trip up the Ventura, Scotty?” Frigid, cavernous tone greeted as he glanced down at his nephew in irritation in his hues. The male was identical to his father ─ who eventually softened up having kids but not enough to dare to embrace either of his sons when they were growing up. It was the same in terms of how Ledger acts. Affection was only given to Seraphina. Otherwise, everyone could fuck right off. “I hope the ferry wasn’t too terrorizing as you were submerged with other commoners.” 

The first thing Scotty notices is how icy his uncle’s demeanor is — from his perfectly-coiffed hairstyle, right down to his spotless designer shoes, the man is undeniably put-together, and he runs his own fingers through his mess of curls, sneer countering Ledger’s frigid expression. “Oh, piss off,” he huffs, pushing past his uncle into the home, leaving the suitcases to the front. It’s a brazen assumption that the help would bring his things in; really, the least his uncle could do, considering his horrid trip. First class on the flight, of course, drinking his way through the liquor menu, but as soon as he hopped off at LAX, Scotty was on his own.

A fucking ferry. Did his uncle get a kick out of that? Perhaps his father too?

Scotty knows he’s a disappointment, that he doesn’t deserve this shit encrusted in money and gold, but it isn’t his fault that he’d gotten used to the finer things in life. Blame his parents for hiring that nanny who tied his shoes until he was twelve. Or for sending him off to their family-owned island home every summer, just to get him out their hair. Or for donating another building to their namesake school, just so he was guaranteed a spot in the class. From his first steps all the way to the ripe age of twenty-five, Scotty never had to do an inch of work to get anywhere in his life.

And now? He is paying dearly for it.

He plops down on their plush couch, already feeling nauseous and faint from his hearty breakfast of Jack Daniels and Bacardi and he looks around the elegantly decorated home, hazel-green pupils demanding attention. “Where’s your help? I need an Evian and a cold compress.” Scotty turns, raising an eyebrow at his uncle. “For my eyes. I’ve just been on a fucking airplane for six hours, and then a goddamn ferry for two, I need something to help me relax.” 

[prescottmellon]

PANDORA MARLOWE.

special delivery to ; @prescottmellon·

location ; the marlowe’s residency

date & time ; march 16th at 2:30pm

The quintessential routine of Pandora’s day to day consisted of sleeping in till noon, briefly scan over her e-mails which was always an influx of young girls attempting to get with Matthieu through her, and then scrolling shamelessly social media sights before her cerebrum grew numb. All of this happened before her shift at Iris & Eve. Unfortunately, the next two weeks would be a fortunate hit to her income. Other kids would’ve asked their parents to loan them money to pay for their finances, the platinum locked blonde took measures into her own grips. All of the evenings of her shift were jammed packed and the enormous tips were benefits. Then again, what mattered more? Your own personal health or your finances? Both, but technically the first option. It’s how she ended up in this circumstance. It may seem like butterflies and sunshines flower just by the glance of it. Prescott Mellon had decided to make himself snug in the Marlowe Residency in Ventura as self-quarantine became a reality. Plus, swearing on her mother’s grave, the other male did not want to go home and spend it with his uncle. Now, it just meant she had to share her bed with him. Platonic and all. From her bedroom, the young girl could hear a COVID-19 Quarantine Party playlist blasting through the surround-sound downstairs. The only reason how she knew it was this particular playlist because Pandora was guilty, herself, on taking a listen to it. Of course, it appeared on her Spotify activity and a majority of Matty’s fans entered into Instagram DMs asking her about her favorite song. This was their generation. It was a reality but yet, comical to the majority of them. If she could remember correctly, she had sworn the kid’s neighbors down the street were shrieking in relief at the lack of school for the upcoming weeks. Or, it could’ve been Evelyn because that woman was a tyrant and misfortune happened to be her middle name. Then again, who had the time to investigate the noise down the block? Not her. Social-distancing was in full effect. We’ll just see how well it turned out to be considering Scotty was here and plenty of liquor to last them for fourteen days, hell, even longer if they wanted to pull extreme measures.

After folding the last of her items, the petite female made her grand way down the sizable stairs that ate up the majority of space in the house, only to wander into the family room. All she could do was put her hands upon her petite hips, watching Scotty in the distance making himself right at home. The break between the current song ending and the next one beginning was the perfect moment for her to intrude on his festivities. Howling on top of her lungs, something that may have been unexpected from how rarely Pandora’s voice rarely rose from the shelter of its angelic range. “Hey!” Seafoam hues staring down at him before throwing her hands up in the air. Within an instant, the platinum blonde told Alexa to lower in volume which oddly enough, the device decided to abide by her request for once. “Are you fucking deaf? Do you realize there are other people in this house going through quarantine as well?” Knowing and doing the most to bite her tongue about how his quarantine should be at home with his uncle. All of the yattering which caused her eardrums to ache in agony, this was the last territory she’ll dip her toe into.

A week in, and Scotty was already sick of the island — there was absolutely nothing to do aside from going to the beach and lounging around Uncle Ledger’s estate, which meant he immediately resorted to the next most exciting thing on his ever-growing list of procrastination: annoying one Pandora Marlowe. 

The Marlowes were a family friend of theirs, the way wealthy families seemed to know each other by default — oh yes, the Marlowes, we saw them at the fundraiser last weekend! — except, the Marlowe children’s biological parents had passed, tragically, more than a decade ago. Him and Pandy were never particularly close, but having been the only person he even remotely knew on the island aside from his wretched uncle, he’d immediately latched onto the blonde with a quick fervor. 

It was a lazy Monday morning, a twelve-plus hour sleep going on since Sunday afternoon, when he’d tucked himself into Pandy’s bed and refused to budge — and then, he’d woken himself up to an empty house (save Pandora, of course), and seeing the panic about COVID-19 start to rise (along with the various posts about the famed quarantine playlist, he’d plopped himself down on the couch, asking Alexa to blast it at full volume, before promptly passing out again. 

It couldn’t have been more than fifteen or twenty minutes before Pandora came stomping down, hollering at him with a scolding ready in her mouth that he jolted up, still half-asleep, squinting at the woman with a mildly annoyed expression. “Chill the fuck out, Pandy,” he replied, yawning. “I was just trying to sleep. God forbid I sleep.”

[prescottmellon]

for → @ledgermellon​ location: the mellon-mcdowell household time: march 15th, 2pm

Fuck dad, fuck this fucking island, fuck this god fucking awful family, and fuck Uncle Ledger for not chartering a fucking boat. 

It’s funny, really, how Scotty thinks he ends up in the worst predicaments of all time — it really could be worse, considering he ran his brand-new Mercedes S-Class into the side of a local high school, drunk and high out of his mind. Lucky enough that his father had the money that all the coverage it got was a single line in the police blotters, but that was the last straw. After that, it was a call to Ledger, and he was whisked off on the next plane to LA, where he’d taken a public ferry (how quaint!) to the little island off the shore. 

When he arrives at Ledger’s doorstep, he’d already tugged his two extra-large suitcases up a hill fourteen blocks, the first time he’d ever carried his own shit, and he forgoes the doorbell and slams his fist into the door, yelling. “Open up!” He yells, before he gets tired again and plops down on the step, sighing, wishing he had a cigarette to quell his spiking nerves. Or a Xanax. Whichever was more accessible, really.