new orleans ♔ don't need another perfect lie

[starfucker]

♬ Secrets - OneRepublic

WHO || Burt, Finnick [closed]
WHAT || Finnick gets Burt drunk and learns all his secrets
WHERE || Finnick's swanky new penthouse, New Orleans, LA
WHEN || July 6th, 2012; late night
HOW || Actionspam

[ So, Burt's generosity continues: he's now renting Finnick one helluva sweet New Orleans penthouse.

In return for which, he expects Finnick to show up at parties all over the old US of A, flying in and out at odd hours between grueling voice and dance rehearsals. The goal? To get Finnick spotted hanging out with other celebs, almost all of whom are getting slipped a little something under the table just to let Finnick glom onto their buzz.

Newstand celeb rags have started including pictures of him, treating him as if he's already an American heartthrob - as if you already should have heard of him, and if you haven't, now's the time to hop on the Finnick wagon. Never mind that he hasn't actually recorded a single song or performed anywhere. Burt's got plenty of faked accounts ready from people who've been fans of the guy for years. He's abruptly everywhere: chilling with Leo DiCaprio at a New York Club while Kanye West drops some new singles, out on dates with Hollywood hotties in public cafes, embroiled in Tinseltown drama while not being at the center of any of it.

It's exhausting... but it's working. People are starting to recognize Finnick on the street, or at least whisper to their friends "Is that--?" Burt assures Finnick it's all a part of the process, and tonight they've spent discussing creating Finnick's actual first CD.

Of course, Finnick's still got a mission to do. While the New Orleans group has been carefully investigating and mapping out NOVA HQ (in crayon on the wall of their hotel room, thanks to Mark), Finnick's been trying to get more intel out of Burt. And what better way to do that than to get him absolutely sloshed?

With a copy of OK! in between them, open to a pic of Finnick and the Situation cruising the Jersey beach, Burt's been jovially drinking shots and rambling for awhile now. ]

No, see the real beauty of it is how dumb ... how straight up fucking special needs the American public is. Most of them buy into somebody's celebrity because they see your faces all over these things, or ET, or Access Hollywood, before they've even so much as heard you sing one goddamn note. Do you have any idea what that says about people?

Comments

[starfucker]

That's why I'm the best there is. [ he pours himself another shot ] And that's why some day I'm gonna run that little punk ass right off his throne.

[65]

[he pours himself a shot, but just to look like he's drinking too and not just sitting here trying to pry into burt's life.] Punk ass? You mean your brother, right?

[starfucker]

Yeah, that's the fucking fuck ... ass I mean, who else. [ his words are already slightly slurred, and he angrily lifts the shot, some of it sloshing out as he does so. ]

[65]

Have you always been this ... loving towards one another?

[starfucker]

What, do you mean once upon a time were we the fucking Brady Bunch? [ he snorts and downs the liquid, hissing and shaking his head ] I wouldn't go that far. [ he slouches back in the seat, shoulders hunched up around his ears ]

It was different, though. ... Not just before that cockrash went psychotic and that bitch showed up to brainwash him or... vice fucking versa or whatever. But back when we were kids.

Ma loves to say Celia -- that was our sister, by the way, a fucking angel -- that Celia was the heart and soul and conscience of our whole fucking family. [ a beat, and then an aside: ] Naturally, I was the balls. [ he pulls out a flask from somewhere and starts unscrewing the top ] And Chad was the little limp dick.

And as soon as she died, I guess there wasn't anything to hold us back from fucking anything and everybody that moved.

Not literally. [ beat. ] Sometimes literally. But fucking people over, you know, to get our own rocks off. [ he pours a little of whatever's in there in his glass ]

Fucking each other over. [ he gets caught up in staring at the glass, forehead scrunching up. ] As much as... balls can fuck their own dick.

[ a sour face ] This analogy got lost somewhere.

[65]

[well, there were deets nestled somewhere is all those dick analogies. and finnick is just the guy to go mining for them.

he is so concerned. do you see this??? this is his concerned face.]

What happened to her?

[starfucker]

[ burt manages to look surprised, staring at finnick like he just asked who the president is. ] What, you don't know?

[ he snorts ] Plane crash. On her way to some gig in some fucked up backwater county fair where they still cared about her music. We were ready to fire her, you know. How fucking ironic is that.

And that's when we had this whole brainstorm, drinking beers on the back porch back in Marengo, me and Chad. We used to talk back then. We were talking about how fucking surreal it all was, how we couldn't even really feel that she was gone, and then we started talking about how fucked up it was that her fans were sending all this shit to the record studio, weeping like bastards already and ...

I don't know. Maybe we thought capitalizing on it all would be our way of figuring out how to mourn her. Sounds fucking backwards, I know, but there's Becksworth brand thinking for you. And he and I were on the same goddamn page every step of the way, until the money was just too good, and we couldn't feel anything any more.

That's what they don't tell you about being rich, kid. But you'll figure it out.

[65]

[he shrugs at burt's question as if to say "i don't get out much" without actually saying anything to interrupt the flow of the story.]

You were going to fire your own sister? That's a bit cutthroat, isn't it?

[he sounds surprised, but not judgmental. it doesn't actually surprise him that much, given what he knows about burt and the company. and his dismal outlook on human nature.]

[starfucker]

Sure it is. But it wasn't like she was any better than the rest of us. Hardly had the time to spare for her family the second she made it big. Was gonna pull out at one point and take it to some other fucking company. But then no one wanted her: career couldn't last, because it doesn't matter how much fucking talent you have, if you don't have a goddamn hook.

The plane crash. That was a hook. Sold more records after her death than she ever did alive. People eat that tragic shit for fucking breakfast.

[65]

[she was ~an angel~ and now she's a skank?? o-ok then. but finnick's not saying shit. still.]

I'd prefer to not die in a tragic plane crash, if that's all right with you.

[starfucker]

[ VIRGIN-WHORE COMPLEX ]

Well, that's not exactly an ideal situation, no.

[65]

[he finally drinks his shot.]

I just thought I'd clarify. I don't know if tragedy is an angle you try to sell very often, but I wouldn't want to get caught up in the wrong PR situation.

[starfucker]

Then my advice to you is to project enough personality that we don't have to invent some kind of rehab scenario or spousal abuse controversy.

[ a beat ] Not that we do that.

[ another beat and he snorts into his drink ] Often.

[65]

[o-oh my.] Please, my personality is sparkling.

[starfucker]

For now it is. Market changes. People change. Go from great to grating in .5.



You know what it was that really fucking turned my brother's spots? Some chick. She's on his ass twenty four fucking seven.

[65]

[it's like beating this shit out of a deets pinata, man. he nods sagely.] Girls have a way of complicating situations. What was she -- how was she doing it?

[starfucker]

Damned if I know. [ he angrily slams the glass down ] It's like she's worked some kind of magical vagina voodoo on him. Like she's mastering his mind like some kind of mind... master.

[65]

[ aw yeah most successful info retrieval he's had without having to put genitalia in/near his mouth.]

Sounds awful. [he scrunches up his nose in distaste.] Hopefully they'll break up sooner rather than later.

[starfucker]

I don't think so. That bitch has his fucking balls in a vice and he's lost touch with fuckall reality. He has no goddamn business sense anymore. Spent half our budget on fucking construction projects on the building and I haven't even seen a fucking difference.

[65]

Secret passageways? [he snorts as he says that like LOL WOULDN'T THAT BE RETARDED even though inside he's like omg it's probably secret passageways.]

[starfucker]

Might explain why the fuck I haven't seen the asshole around the building in months. [ he snorts ]

[65]

He could just be trying to avoid you and any potential drama.

[starfucker]

Are you kidding me? Fucker thrives on drama. He and I built our lives on it. He's not about to pussy out now. No sir.