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~Location, Freelance Whales [[okay so I watched that movie LOL the one that has that Disney brat in it but I swear I only watched it for Douglas Booth! Ahh he's so cute like c'mon he's British...anyway where was I going with this? RIGHT! I heard this song playing, it was only playing for like 5 seconds of the movie and I'm like "Hey, I like this song! It sounds like Freelance Whales but it's probably not because they're not famous or anything.." But I was wronged!! IT'S FREELANCE WHALESSSS..... I feel like Liam Dryden [you DO know who he is right? Youtube him!] when I say this but Freelance Whales give me feels like seriously they're an amazing band! This is turning into a blog and I'm so sorry for that....by the way when What Makes You Beautiful started playing in Jane By Design this week I was like OMG THIS IS NOT HAPPENING and it was so weird....sorry #random #hyper] 

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Thursday, August 2, 2012: Nothing's better than a party, right? Well, that's why we're throwing our annual Summer Dream party. This year's theme is Ararbian Nights. There will be traditional Arabian food there, as well as well as real belly dancers there for our entertainment, not to mention the customized alcoholic drinks that will also be served! So kick back and take it all in. Maybe watch some of the drama as well, since with us, there's bound to be.

______


 It was early in the morning and the chef had prepared a nutritious breakfast for us all, each meal customized to each Carmichael girls' needs and preferences. We dug into our meals, except for Cierra, who took painfully slow spoonfuls and bites. 

"We don't have forever, Ci." Celeste mentioned, noticing the pace at which Cierra was eating. 

"What's the agenda for today, again?" Cierra drawled, clearly still recovering from another hangover. "Wait, what day is it?"

Cassandra and I shared an eye roll. 

"Tonight's the Annual Summer Dream party. We still have to get everything set up and we need to start soon," I clarified, as I stabbed my fork into a piece of Belgian waffle.

Cierra belched unexpectedly which made Camille glare at her distastefully and the rest of us simply shook our heads. Cierra tried to cover it up with a giggle. "Sorry. What's the point of being so da-mn rich if we have to plan our own parties?" She whined.

"Thank you, Merrilyn. Have a safe drive back home," The sound of a door opening and the loud click - clack sound of heels aroused our attention, away from Cierra's drunk antics. We all looked up. The chef was still in the kitchen. She also stopped wiping down the counters for a second and eavesdropped with us. 

We heard the jingling of earrings and a strange ringtone. A woman with a thick French accent's voice cut in. "I thank /you/, Monsieur Carmichael. Rendez-vous à nouveau." 

"Au revoir!" My father said, making me cringe at his terrible accent. 

We heard the door slam closed. The house was eerily silent because we had all closed our mouths and opened our ears to the unusual conversation. As if on cue, we resumed eating all at once. Even Cierra. 

Our father entered the kitchen, yawning and stretching, appearing as innocent and unsuspecting as ever. "Good morning, girls. How's everyone? You all pumped for the party tonight? Camille, dear, have you planned everything?"

"If by planned you mean hired the party planner, then yes. I don't even want to be at that crappy party. What the h-ell is a Summer Dream party anyway?" Camille lit a cigarette, inhaled and blew the smoke right into his face. 

He backed away, heading for the fridge. "No smoking in the house, remember? And not in front of China, please."

Camille scoffed, "You have no idea of the things China does," 

China looked down, letting her long hair fall in her face. She was never good at hiding her emotions. 

Dad reached into the fridge but paused midway. "China? What's that supposed to mean?" 

"I have no idea what she's talking about. You know what. I don't have time for this crap. I'm leaving," she got up and walked towards the door. 

When she was gone, our dad's face turned a little red, probably ashamed that he can't control his daughters, not even his "little angel" China. 

"Well, who's pumped for the party tonight?" He changed the topic, looking at us with a pitifully hopeful expression on his face. 

"You've already asked that," Calliope commented, turning our heads. She never speaks up like that. Ever. Not ever around Dad. 

"Someone's feisty today," Cierra said under her breath. 

Calliope dropped her fork. "What? I can't even talk around here?!" I had never seen Calliope so worked up.

The chef took this as her cue to leave the room. Smart woman. 

Dad went over to Calliope and whispered something in her ear. The rest of us Carmichaels couldn't care less what he was saying to her. All we wanted to know about was what had just happened between him and the Strange French Bimbo. 

"Uh, so who's this Merrilyn?" Cassandra broke the silence. 

Dad turned around. "Merrilyn...you mean, Merrilyn Girard? She's working with your mother and I. We have some exciting news for you girls, we're thinking of opening a new hotel here!" He grinned happily, regarding us as if we were still little toddlers with pigtails and matching outfits. 

"But Mom's sick. She's not working today." Camille noted. 

"I-I know that. It was just a quick meeting. She came and left." He countered. 

I went along with Camille. "Funny, I didn't see her drive up this morning." I raised both brows. 

Mom trudged into the room. "Where's Yulia? I need my coffee," Her voice barely audible. She sneezed and Calliope immediately handed her a Kleenex. "Thank you, sweetie," she said, followed by another sneeze. 

"Mom, you look miserable." Cassandra got up and went to Mom's side.

"What a nice compliment. Just what I needed to hear." 

"Are you going to be better by the party tonight?" I asked, feeling bad for her. So what if she didn't really care about me. She was my mother. I still loved her. 

"Girls," Our father burst in to the conversation, "Please let your mother rest. If she's fine by tonight, she'll be at the party. But the party's not important. What we really care about is her recovery." 

Camille shoved the last piece of her pancake into her mouth and stood up. "You people never cease to amaze me. I honestly don't give a da-mn." She disappeared to her room. 

The rest of us finished our meals and left our plates on the table, leaving the job of washing to Yulia.

We either retreated to our bedrooms or went out to shop or to the beach. The good girls stayed at the home. The bad ones were already gone. 

On my way up the stairs, I couldn't help but think about my father and mysterious Merrilyn. My sisters didn't seem to care as much as I did. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was something. Whatever it was, I was going to get to the bottom of it.

But not right away. First, I had a party to plan, since my sisters obviously weren't going to help. 

xx Claire
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30 comments

leannesugarplum
Wrote 4 years ago
So lovely, wonderful set!

luxecouture
Wrote 4 years ago
Yeah it was weird. Ha okay well um yeah i'm not a mute... and as for that, no one really cares so why bother telling anyone?
xx Calliope

istylista
Wrote 4 years ago
@luxecouture I really have no idea, but it seems kind of shady to me. It's just that you rarely talk, so when you do it's like whoa there, didn't see that coming. I mean...like it's not a bad thing or anything. Now that you're talking a little, care to tell me where you went the other night?
xx Claire

luxecouture
Wrote 4 years ago
[ohhhh ohhh and the plot thickens! so juicy!]
 
What was Dad up to? No one seems to care that I might actually want to know. Whatever.
xx Calliope

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