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rapeculturerealities · 1 year

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Eliza Bleu’s Own Friends Aren’t Buying Her Trafficking Story

With striking lilac hair and a pugnacious attitude, the anti-sex trafficking activist known as Eliza Bleu has broken into some of the top tiers of right-wing media in just a few years, growing her audience through interviews with popular figures like Ben Shapiro, Tim Pool, and Dr. Drew Pinsky.

But in late 2022, Bleu found an even more powerful ally: new Twitter owner Elon Musk.

Bleu, who refers to herself as “a survivor of human trafficking,” has lent the billionaire an unusual form of credibility by insisting that pre-Musk Twitter was overrun with child pornography. Only Musk, Bleu says, has been willing to stamp out the abusive material on Twitter “at scale.” In another tweet, she declared, “The war against Elon Musk is actually a war over your mind.” Musk responded with a bullseye emoji.

Bleu’s praise for Musk comes even as the billionaire has slashed much of Twitter’s staff, including huge numbers of workers responsible for content moderation. For his part, Musk has boosted Bleu’s profile on the site with replies and retweets, helping her earn more than 100,000 new followers in December alone.

“You have a direct line to me on this issue,” Musk told Bleu in a Twitter Space live chat in December.

“When I stepped away from the gang, my traffickers lost money. And they want that money back. ”

— Eliza Bleu

But now Bleu and Musk find themselves embroiled in a Twitter censorship controversy, after multiple critics of Bleu who shared embarrassing images from her past saw their accounts temporarily suspended from the site. Some users suggested that Bleu’s “direct line” to Twitter brass and Musk himself may have led to the crackdown, even as the Twitter owner insists he’s in favor of “free speech” and wide-ranging debate.

Bleu and Twitter didn’t respond to requests for comment.

Amid the controversy over the suspended accounts, questions about Bleu’s background have emerged. Her critics have seized on contradictory videos and interviews—and her frequent use of different names online—to suggest Bleu isn’t who she claims to be.

Now two former friends of Bleu tell The Daily Beast that, at best, Bleu is exaggerating her experiences for attention.

“It’s making a lot of her old friends around here really angry,” said Carly Wenzel, a one-time pal of Bleu who has known her for two decades, who added she believes Bleu is “completely lying.”

Bleu grew up in a rural area along Illinois’s border with Iowa known as the “Quad Cities.” She’s portrayed her homeschooled upbringing as an innocent one, albeit one that made her all the more naive about how the world really works.

Despite her claims to the contrary, public records prove that Bleu’s original name was Eliza Morthland. Born in 1981, her father is Richard Morthland, a farmer and former Illinois state representative who ran unsuccessfully on the GOP ticket for lieutenant governor in 2018. Morthland did not respond to a request for comment.

In 2021, Bleu appeared to deny on Twitter that she was Eliza Morthland, but Facebook photos show her standing with other members of the Morthland family. A 2010 newspaper article about Richard Morthland shows a woman who looks just like Bleu standing next to the politician and identified as his daughter, “Eliza Morthland.” Richard Morthland also gave a comment for a 2009 article about a band Bleu worked for under her married name Eliza Siep. And Bleu’s cosmetology license lists Richard Morthland’s farm as her address.

There’s no question that Bleu has advocated for trafficking victims, especially on Twitter. But she has offered murky accounts of her own background that leave even her supporters unsure about all but the vaguest details. She can also grow hostile with reporters who ask for basic facts, like the years she was trafficked or the names of perpetrators. For example, journalist Katie Herzog reached Bleu on the phone in December, only to have Bleu become defensive when Herzog raised even the prospect of asking Bleu about her own story.

“Bleu stirred up some controversy of her own with diehard supporters of the band, in online mini-scandals that featured Bleu calling Star the n-word.”

Interviewed on Tim Pool’s podcast, Bleu said she could not offer details about her alleged abusers because of unspecified legal issues. Then she asked why it would be a problem if she was making up her story.

“Let’s say, hypothetically, it is made up,” Bleu said. “What’s my biggest win so far in public? Getting Twitter to address child sexual abuse material and make it a top priority?

“I’m not asking an abuser for money, and I’m not asking people for money,” she added.

The Daily Beast pieced together a rough outline of Bleu’s account of her trafficking experiences based on interviews she’s given to sympathetic media outlets.

Bleu has said that her trafficking spanned two different periods, separated by roughly a decade. In her telling, Bleu was first groomed by a prominent photographer she met at a Warped Tour concert in Chicago when she was 16. A few years later, when she was still a teenager in the late 1990s, Bleu’s father drove her to Los Angeles because Bleu was convinced that an unnamed “high profile musician” she met through that photographer would make her a star.

Instead, she was sexually assaulted within 48 hours of arriving in the city, according to a 2020 podcast interview. Her traffickers quickly hooked her on a drug she knew as “ice”—generally recognized as slang for crystal methamphetamine, though Bleu has said she didn’t know what drug it was.

Bleu claims she was then sold for $500 to a sex-trafficking ring in the Hollywood Hills, where she found herself living with members of a ring that trafficked transgender women.

“I was sold for $500 to a very old gentleman in the Hills,” Bleu said in the 2020 interview.

Bleu claims she struggled to get enough water and food, “because I was on drugs and other substances.” But Bleu was such a handful for her traffickers, in her telling, that they ultimately gave her back to her original trafficker for free. Bleu claims she was hospitalized for a drug overdose before returning to her family farm in Illinois.

“My family didn’t even recognize me when I got off the plane,” Bleu said.

After two weeks on the farm, she returned to Los Angeles to retrieve her car, Bleu claims, but she was once again swept up into human trafficking for an undefined period.

“It’s odd what happens to the trauma brain,” Bleu said on the 2020 podcast episode to explain why she returned to her traffickers, comparing it to Stockholm syndrome.

Bleu’s second trafficking period, in her account, began in roughly 2008 or 2009, when she was living in the Chicago area. In that same 2020 podcast interview, Bleu claimed she was trafficked by a “high-profile athlete” whom she has declined to name. That man and his associates, according to Bleu, put her in a dangerous neighborhood she has said existed on what she called a “gang line”—the violent border where two Chicago gang territories meet.

“My mattress was on the floor because we had so many shootings that year in the area,” Bleu recalled in 2020. “I just didn’t want to get shot.”

Bleu attempted to leave her traffickers in 2013, and, in her account, ultimately succeeded for good in about 2014. Bleu has repeatedly suggested that her former traffickers from Chicago might still be out to get revenge on her and her family members.

“She slept on the floor but by choice, because she was into these floor pillows at the time.”

— A former roommate of Eliza Bleu

“When I stepped away from the gang, my traffickers lost money,” Bleu said in the 2020 interview. “And they want that money back”

Asked in a 2021 interview why she hadn’t pressed charges against the unnamed athlete and her other traffickers, Bleu—appearing on a podcast with more than 100,000 YouTube subscribers—said the men could still track her down and murder her.

“I am terrified that they would kill myself or my family or people that I care about,” Bleu said. “That’s how organized they are.”

Last month, Bleu tweeted that her family knows “every detail” of her story and stands behind her. She then blasted the “corporate media” for asking questions about her past, declaring, “if anyone steps on [my family’s] property or my property let it be extremely clear that we are all armed.”

Wenzel, a one-time friend of Bleu who says she has known the anti-trafficking activist for more than two decades, doesn’t think Bleu’s account is accurate.

Wenzel told The Daily Beast that she met Bleu in the Quad Cities, where both women were partying with musicians. Wenzel was 18, and said Bleu was in her early twenties. The Daily Beast verified Wenzel’s friendship with Bleu through photographs.

In Wenzel’s telling, she and Bleu were both deeply involved in the “scene” subculture of the early aughts—a time of tight jeans, swooping haircuts, and high drama on sites like MySpace and LiveJournal. Wenzel was trying to hook up with a member of one of her favorite bands on a tour bus in Iowa City when Bleu stepped on board. The two young women realized they had mutual friends and a shared interest in music—and the men who made it.

“She said that she was going to be very famous for sleeping with band members,” Wenzel recalled.

Wenzel takes issue with Bleu’s timeline of her first trafficking experience. She claims that she too was at the Warped Tour concert where Bleu met the photographer she claims groomed her. But while Bleu said that she wasn’t even 18 when she met the photographer, Wenzel insists that Bleu would have been in her early twenties—putting the date of the concert sometime in the early 2000s.

“She’s a very powerful, very smart intelligent woman.”

— Carly Wenzel

“Her timeline is just so weird,” Wenzel said, noting she believes that Bleu appears to be “lying about her age in certain articles.”

Bleu moved to Los Angeles, but Wenzel doesn’t remember hearing about her old friend being trafficked. Instead, she said Bleu unsuccessfully tried to convince Wenzel to move in with her in California. She did not recall Bleu calling home to the Quad Cities with tales of being addicted to “ice” or living with a trafficked group of transgender women in the Hollywood Hills.

Wenzel said she “keeps seeing these stories out of L.A.” and believes “that absolutely didn’t happen.”

By 2005, Bleu was back in Illinois and eventually earned a cosmetology license. Bleu began touring as a traveling stylist for musicians, where she received her first taste of internet controversy.

Bleu worked for mega-popular rock band My Chemical Romance as a stylist, going by the hair-inspired name “Eliza Cuts” online. Bleu’s job brought her into a group of My Chemical Romance entourage members dubbed the “World’s Most Hated Crew.” That clique also included future YouTube star and makeup mogul Jeffree Star, who would later be accused of paying out hush money to sexual-assault accusers.

Bleu was closely monitored by the bands’ fans on sites like LiveJournal—particularly after she entered a brief engagement with My Chemical Romance’s heartthrob lead singer, Gerard Way. But Bleu stirred up some controversy of her own with diehard supporters of the band, in online mini-scandals that featured Bleu calling Star the n-word and allegedly authoring a thinly veiled fictional account of her failed relationship with Way.

After leaving the rock circuit, Bleu lived with a friend in Chicago from roughly 2009 to 2011. That’s around the period when Bleu claims she began to be sex-trafficked again by the unnamed athlete in a violence-plagued neighborhood.

But that’s not how her former roommate, who asked The Daily Beast not to use her name out of fear of backlash from Bleu’s fans, remembers it. Instead, she said the pair lived in Wicker Park, an affluent, trendy Chicago neighborhood. The roommate said Bleu’s parents were “always supportive financially.”

“She was not in a precarious situation,” the roommate told The Daily Beast in a text message.

The roommate does remember Bleu sleeping on the floor, though not because of bullets.

“She slept on the floor but by choice, because she was into these floor pillows at the time,” the friend told The Daily Beast, though she added that Bleu “eventually bought a bed.”

Like the ex-roommate, Wenzel scoffs at the idea that Bleu lived in a dangerous neighborhood. Wenzel, who by then was married with a child, said she brought her toddler to visit Bleu and the roommate at their apartment—hardly the front line of a gang war.

“That is so not true,” Wenzel said. “She lived in a really cute apartment. They’re the whitest girls you could ever meet. There was no gang activity.”

Around this time, Bleu resurfaced online as “Eliza Siep” in 2010, unsuccessfully auditioning for American Idol using a surname she had picked up during a short-lived marriage. But she soon moved on to a new name and another position in the music industry. Now she would become “Eliza Knows,” the sultry, self-proclaimed music “video vixen.”

“Donewald defended Bleu from skeptics earlier this month, tweeting that Bleu is ‘the real deal.’ ”

Under her new online name, Bleu began to dance as a “video vixen” in mostly low-budget music videos. A YouTube playlist that appears to have been compiled by Bleu herself shows her gyrating in videos from 2012 and 2013 with song titles like “Feelin’ Myself” and “A Million Ways to Love You.”

In one 2012 video Bleu posted to YouTube, she filmed herself calling her mother to shock her with the news that she’d become a music-video dancer—only to discover that her mother was happy for her. In the video, Bleu told her mother she wanted to become a music-video dancer because of her childhood admiration for the “Fly Girls,” dancers on the comedy show In Living Color.

Bleu also gave interviews about the video-vixen lifestyle. In 2016, Bleu, speaking in a markedly different voice than the one she used in earlier media appearances and the one she uses today, claimed that she had rejected an offer to have sex with a client for $150,000.

“It’s a nice offer, but it’s not me,” Bleu said.

Still, it appears that Bleu may have engaged in some kind of sex work around this time. In one interview, Bleu advertised her account on a now-defunct camgirl website where men could pay money to talk with her.

Around 2016, Wenzel claims that Bleu asked her to join her as an escort, promising that Wenzel could make $500 in a night—an offer that stunned Wenzel and her husband.

“She was absolutely loving it,” Wenzel said. “She was bragging about it, saying she was making so much money.”

Bleu later suggested that sex workers with a pimp might qualify as trafficking victims, though Wenzel said she didn’t meet any pimp or trafficker when she socialized with Bleu, be it an unnamed “high profile athlete” or otherwise.

“She’s a very powerful, very smart intelligent woman, I will not discredit her for that,” Wenzel said. “She knows exactly what she’s doing.”

As proof that she was trafficked, Bleu often cites the organization she says “saved my life”: Eve’s Angels, a Christian nonprofit that serves sex trafficking victims and women seeking to leave the commercial sex industry.

In her telling, Bleu—living in her gangland apartment in 2013 and desperate to leave her traffickers—contacted Eve’s Angels after discovering founder Anny Donewald through a YouTube video. (In another recent tweet, Bleu claimed to have found the group via a web address in a Bible the group left at a strip club.) The group soon spirited Bleu away from her traffickers and into a safehouse “three states away.” In her account, Bleu claims she briefly returned to her traffickers after that escape, but eventually escaped the traffickers’ clutches for good around 2014.

Donewald defended Bleu from skeptics earlier this month, tweeting that Bleu is “the real deal.” But, like Bleu, Donewald’s claims about sex trafficking in her own life have come under scrutiny.

In 2018, Donewald’s parents and brother filed a defamation suit against Donewald and Eve’s Angels. While Donewald and her children were living with her family members in Michigan, Donewald’s parents “confronted her about her ‘treatment of her daughter,’” according to the lawsuit. In response, Donewald and her group accused her parents of sexually abusing and trafficking children, according to a 2022 appeals court opinion.

Donewald took the case to police, leading to a criminal investigation into her parents but no charges. Donewald’s claims fell apart after her daughter told her grandparents that Donewald had told her to fabricate the claims in an attempt to score a “pay-off” from the grandparents, the appeals court opinion found.

The activist was ordered to pay a judgment of more than $47,000, plus legal fees. As of the May 2022 appeals court ruling, the family was still stalled in settlement talks, with Donewald denying the defamation claims.

Donewald did not respond to requests to comment. Eve’s Angels did not return an email, and two phone numbers attached to the charity were either not in service or went directly to a full voicemail inbox.

Bleu emerged as a public “survivor advocate” a few weeks into the pandemic, worrying in an April 2020 article in the conservative The Daily Wire that pandemic lockdowns would worsen sex trafficking. Within two years she would amass a large profile through Twitter and right-wing podcasts, culminating in her alliance with Musk.

In December, Bleu aided Musk in his campaign against Twitter’s former head of trust and safety Yoel Roth—who seemingly angered the billionaire after resigning in November—linking to a 2010 tweet by Roth that read, “Can high school students ever meaningfully consent to sex with their teachers?”

“This explains a lot,” Musk replied, and many of his followers took the bait, suggesting that Roth was a depraved “sex criminal.” Amid other attacks, Roth reportedly was forced to flee his home. (In truth, the 2010 tweet merely linked to a Salon article that did not advocate allowing teachers to have sex with minors. Instead, it examined a criminal case against a teacher who had an illegal relationship with an 18-year-old student.)

But now, cracks are starting to appear in Bleu’s online reputation, especially within the right-wing circles she once courted.

The controversy ignited on Jan. 6, when she appeared on Tim Pool’s video stream. During the show, Bleu claimed to represent two anonymous “survivors” of Andrew Tate, the kickboxer turned “king of toxic masculinity” accused—with three other suspects—of sexual exploitation and other heinous crimes. (Tate has denied wrongdoing.)

Some of Tate’s most rabid fans, along with other right-wing users, began scrutinizing Bleu’s backstory. They posted clips from past media appearances to cast doubt on her trafficking claims, and trolled her with screenshots from a racy music video dating back to 2016 that she participated in for WorldStarHipHop in her “Eliza Knows” phase.

“She clung to us all from out of nowhere. She had none of the attributes of an Epstein victim yet insinuated otherwise.”

— Maria Farmer on Eliza Bleu

Bleu’s outfits in the video were provocative, but they didn’t feature nudity or appear to be nonconsensual, and had been on YouTube for seven years. Still, Twitter locked the accounts of several prominent right-wing personalities who cover internet drama after they refused to delete their tweets about the music video.

Bleu, for her part, declared that the screenshots amounted to posting a “non-consensual photo.” In a series of tweets on Jan. 20, she vowed to “escalate to the full extent of the law.”

“Twitter did an outstanding job and they will be excluded from legal action. There won’t be anyone else involved spared. I take things all the way and I have no chill,” Bleu wrote. “I’m a survivor advocate and that doesn’t stop with advocating for myself as a survivor.”

Ella Irwin, Twitter’s head of trust and safety under Musk—who has also previously praised Bleu—defended the suspensions in a thread on Sunday.

“In the past 2 weeks, we’ve suspended multiple accounts and/or restricted content, causing confusion for users,” Irwin wrote. “Unfortunately, we can’t answer questions or share details about specific users and account actions.”

But Bleu’s critics have not been placated, especially after contemporaneous clips of Bleu as “Eliza Knows” celebrating the launch of the WorldStar video surfaced, suggesting that she participated in its creation consensually.

“She once told me there’s three people I would cheat on you with: Ben Shapiro, Elon Musk, and then there might have been one other.”

They’ve also dug up a 2021 interview in which Bleu told right-wing pundit Michael Malice that she was “trafficked” on Twitter when a group of people used her pictures to create social media accounts. At that point, Bleu had escaped her supposed actual traffickers years earlier, and the fake accounts were being used as some sort of ill-defined catfishing scheme, she said. Bleu’s critics have seized on that interview, in which Bleu described a sort of identity-theft as “trafficking,” as proof that Bleu uses an expansive definition of the term.

The expansive definition also didn’t sit right with Maria Farmer, a victim of Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell. From Farmer’s perspective, Bleu’s public posts seem to conflate what it means to be a sex-trafficking victim with sex work. “This woman and her cohorts have effectively bastardized the words trafficking and survivor—we just want to use the word victim now,” Farmer told The Daily Beast.

Since emerging as an anti-trafficking activist, Bleu has crossed paths with Epstein victims. In September 2020, she announced on Twitter that she had “accepted a new position with Victims Refuse Silence,” which at the time was the trafficking nonprofit of Virginia Giuffre, a high-profile victim of Epstein and Maxwell. By November of that year, Bleu tweeted that she had stepped back into a part-time role with the organization. (Corporate records in Florida from 2021 and 2022 list Bleu as the group’s secretary and director.)

Bleu was once featured in videos on the group’s website, soliciting donations, asking people to get involved, and plugging her own Twitter handle as a resource for trafficking awareness. “I firmly believe that anybody that’s helping us in the survivor space should be very thoroughly vetted because we have a lot of nefarious players that just want to be close to victims and survivors,” she said in one video, in which she claimed her former traffickers made a Twitter profile with her name, photos, and videos without her consent.

Teresa Helm, a victim of Epstein and former director of Victims Refuse Silence, said she became friends with Bleu and asked her to join the group before it dissolved. “She’s been almost like a freelancer in the world of advocacy,” said Helm, who now works for National Center on Sexual Exploitation, which was once known as “Morality in Media.”

“She’s nonstop on Twitter which has been wonderful because it has brought to light a lot of things that were happening that people weren’t paying attention to otherwise,” Helm continued, adding that Bleu told her she’s friends with Musk. “She’s been a pioneer in waking people the hell up.”

Asked about Bleu’s doubters, Helm said, “I support her as a trafficking survivor entirely. Nothing in her past makes anything less valuable in terms of her advocacy work. It’s not her job to prove anything to anybody.”

Still, some survivors of Epstein’s sex ring said they didn’t trust Bleu. One victim, who asked not to be named, told The Daily Beast that she shared concerns about Bleu after researching her background and finding ties to right-wing figures and publications, such as Pizzagate-promoter Mike Cernovich and conservative website The Blaze.

“The ability to finally share my story and connect with others was freeing, but it’s not as straightforward as ‘simply going public,’” the Epstein victim said. “Only a strong foundation of therapeutic recovery prepared me for the publicity generated by the salacious facts of this case. However, I was not prepared for my trauma being co-opted for other’s gain.”

Farmer, who tried to report Epstein and Maxwell to the feds in the 1990s, said she had raised concerns about Bleu’s backstory on Twitter, only for Bleu to block her.

“She clung to us all from out of nowhere,” Farmer said of Epstein survivors. “She had none of the attributes of an Epstein victim yet insinuated otherwise.”

Bleu’s critics have also seized on her reality-television appearances in an attempt to poke holes in her trafficking story. Sometime around 2002, for example, she appeared on the dating show Blind Date as a contestant so hostile that the show’s editors kept a running onscreen count of her complaints. In 2012, at the height of what she would later describe as her second period being sex-trafficked deep in Chicago gang territory, Bleu appeared as an amateur model on Chicago-based The Steve Harvey Show, where Tyra Banks judged her performance.

The suspensions have fueled speculation about Bleu’s access to Twitter execs and complaints that Musk’s supposed commitment to free speech only goes so far when his friends and allies are being embarrassed.

David Karpf, an associate professor in the School of Media and Public Affairs at George Washington University, told The Daily Beast that the Bleu controversy underscores how chaotic content moderation has become under Musk.

“You can say whatever you want on Twitter, so long as nobody notices and you don’t say mean things to anybody in Elon’s circles,” Karpf told The Daily Beast.

For her part, Bleu insisted on Twitter on Tuesday that she didn’t ask Musk to suspend the accounts that tweeted the WorldStar video.

“If I was going to ask for a favor from Elon Musk, I would ask him to make humans a multi-planetary species,” she wrote.

Farmer told The Daily Beast that Bleu’s support of Musk was a slap in the face to survivors. She points to Musk’s reported visit to Epstein’s Manhattan mansion and Maxwell’s infamous photo with Musk at a 2014 Vanity Fair Oscar party. “Elon Musk needs to pull out a little Shakespeare and study it: Thou doth protest too much,” she said, adding that she believes “it’s almost like he’s hired this woman to cover for himself.”

“Anyone who was even remotely affiliated with Jeffrey Epstein is odious at this stage,” she added. In response to some of Bleu’s pro-Musk tweets, multiple users have replied with the snapshot of Maxwell and Musk, with one writing: “thank you Elon Musk (shown here with convicted child sex trafficker Ghislaine Maxwell) for looking out for the children.” (For his part, Musk has claimed he was photobombed.)

Bleu has occasionally raised money online related to her anti-trafficking efforts. In 2020, she raised $1,625 for a vacation, writing that normally “I serve survivors of Human Trafficking, my standard caseload is 20 survivors at a time. During this season I took on an extra 61 survivors via online advocacy.”

She raised another $2,205 the following year to attend the libertarian Freedom Fest conference. Bleu has also indicated that she opened a safe house of her own for trafficking victims. In March 2020, she tweeted that she had opened the facility, called the Humanity House. It is unclear whether the facility is currently in operation.

Bleu’s latest posts, which once attracted praise, are now rife with trolls. One person created an account in her name whose main photo features Bleu bent over alongside the caption, “help im bein trafficked.” Another user remade the Steve Buscemi “fellow kids” meme with Bleu’s face and the words: “Hello fellow survivors of human trafficking.”

“There’s definitely a lot of misogyny and right wing trolls,” an ex-boyfriend of Bleu’s told The Daily Beast. “I don’t think she should have to be dealing with any of that."

According to the beau, who asked to remain anonymous, the two met in 2019 at an event for presidential candidate Andrew Yang. At the time, he says, Bleu was working in elder care and living on her family farm.

Bleu shared with him that she’d been trafficked in Los Angeles as a teenager; he had no reason to disbelieve her. “It wasn’t like she just randomly came up with like, a trafficking story,” he said, adding that when it comes to her personal life, “She is definitely a very private person, despite how public she is.”

Even back then, however, Bleu told him she wanted to be famous.

“She mentioned how she would love to be on the Ben Shapiro podcast,” the ex said, adding that she also envisioned starring on Joe Rogan’s show. “That was a joke that she had: ‘I’m going to get on Joe Rogan before you.’”

Bleu also joked about the famous men she dreamed of dating, with Musk among them. “She once told me there’s three people I would cheat on you with: Ben Shapiro, Elon Musk, and then there might have been one other,” he recalled.

“The reason this is all funny to me now is because last month she was on Ben Shapiro’s podcast. Her and Elon Musk are in communication with each other,” the ex told The Daily Beast.

“She definitely had these aspirations of being somebody. Her aspirations are kind of going exactly how she wanted in a weird way.”

#Bleu #Grifting #Sex trafficking

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therainbowtimes · 1 year

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Tesla’s damning allegations of racism and discrimination — in the current lawsuit against the company — are so unabashedly offensive that areas of work at the Fremont plant were called the “slaveshift or plantation,” white employees called Black people the n-word and in Spanish “negrita/o.” Black people “were confronted with racist writing while working at Tesla. They saw racist graffiti – including ‘N[ ],’ ‘KKK,’ swastikas, the Confederate flag, a white supremacist skull, ‘go back to Africa,’ and ‘mayate’ [Spanish slur] – written on the restroom walls, restroom stalls, lockers, workplace benches, workstations, lunch tables, and the break room.” The only way to ensure that Musk is paying attention is to not support his companies, period. We stand with the Tesla employees who suffered all of this blatant prejudice while no one did anything to properly address and stop it. We condemn Elon Musk’s lack of action and simple inhumanity. If we don’t take clear stances against bullies and bigots, we might as well never complain nor report on it. Let’s no forget that Musk has a trans daughter who left him and renounced his last name. Musk has been unashamedly clear of his anti-LGBTQI+ stances, especially, as of late, his anti-trans ones. Let’s make it a point in the New Year to support those who support us and our allies. Read the full story at @motherjonesmag via the QRCode after Musk’s photo. #elonmusk #elon #elonmusknews #teslalife #teslafremont #musk #fremont #lgbtq #lgbtqiap #lgbtgirl #boycotttelsa #blacklivesmatter ##transrightsarehumanrights #blmmovement #latinx #transgender #transpride #discrimination #prejudice #whitesupremacists #therainbowtimes #rainbowtimesmagazine #independentmedia (at 𝘽𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙣, 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙨) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmjsyuUuFJU/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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orderrup · 9 months

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why is it when people want to be mean to billionaires online, what happens first is bullying them for their marginalizations?

elon musk and mark zuckerberg suck so much. But they are *routinely* bullied for being autistic and jewish respectively.

like holy shit, the amount of yelling "cringe! Cringe!! Cringe!!" at elon for engaging in weird but harmless things (like his bad jokes) instead of actually attacking his wealth and power is wild. Like this man gobbles up government subsidies for his crappy companies, and bullies his daughter constantly online. He makes *harmful* choices. Leave his weird ones alone.

Why do I have to listen to another "lol lizard man, not a real human" joke about zuck. It's not funny when alex jones does it. Why is it suddenly hilarious when comes from a lefty?

Even when people want to bully jeff bezos, it's probably 1. Bc hes bald or 2. Bc he's divorced

Every "unflattering" photo of these guys is just of them looking fat.

This is bullying. And it's not like they'll ever see it, tbh. You know who does see bullying? Their fans. And also your followers.

If you claim to be in favor of leaving autistics alone, then you shouldn't be bullying people (even mean, shitty people) for their autistic traits. Same for jewishness and baldness and fatness.

Please bully them into paying taxes! Or yell at your representatives.

I know I've been guilty of these dunks before. But just consider that we're not actually dunking on billionaires like this.

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elonmuskfansgossipblog · 2 years

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Ain’t no way.. Justine must’ve paid the paps to get these “candids” 😑 I mean, after all these years, and now coincidentally we get the photos just a few days after the breaking news was released??

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-10944253/Elon-Musks-ex-wife-Justine-Wilson-walks-dog-days-transgender-son-legally-woman.html

🙄🙄

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dankusner · 2 months

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TEXAS Longtime locals and newer residents make list of 27 state billionaires

By IRVING MEJIA-HILARIO

Staff Writer

[email protected]

It’s not just average, everyday citizens who are moving to Texas. More of the ultra rich and powerful are beginning to call Texas home.

A total of 27 individuals, including Dallas Mavericks minority owner Mark Cuban, Dallas philanthropists Margot Perot and family, Tesla Motors CEO Elon Musk, Dallas oilman Ray Hunt, and many more, are part of a long list of the most affluent people who claim the Lone Star State as their stomping grounds, according to the Bloomberg 2024 billionaire index tracking the world’s 500 richest individuals.

Musk, also the owner of social media platform X, formerly Twitter, remains atop all other Texans as the third richest individual on the list. He only trails Amazon executive chairman Jeff Bezos and Louis Vuitton CEO Bernard Arnault. Musk has an estimated net worth of $187 billion, according to Bloomberg.

The controversial Texas businessman and South Africa native has close ties to Texas’ capital, Austin, as he’s made it the home of the Tesla Gigafactory. The factory produces approximately 375,000 electric vehicles every year.

Musk’s ties to Texas don’t end there, as the state plays host to a SpaceX launch site and has broken ground on 6,000 acres near Austin where he’s planning to build a “Texas utopia,” according to The Wall Street Journal . Musk has also moved his tunneling venture Boring Company and brain chip company Neuralink to Texas.

Though Musk has an affinity for Texas, he’s also dismissed Dallas as a city he finds to be “too Texas” for his liking, according to Walter Isaacson’s book titled Elon Musk .

Sports fans may also be unsurprised as other prominent names such as Mark Cuban, Jerry Jones, Tilman Fertitta and Stan Kroenke all made the list. Of those names, Fertitta is up the most from last year as he’s gained an additional $915 million to add to his $12 billion net worth. Cuban also made a splash in cash this year when he sold a majority stake in the Dallas Mavericks for $3.5 billion.

Since this point last year, Cuban has gained $425 million and has a net worth of approximately $7.29 billion, according to Bloomberg. He sold the majority stake to casino matriarch Miriam Adelson, who also sits at 43rd on the overall list with an estimated net worth of approximately $35.5 billion.

Another Dallas billionaire, Jerry Jones, continues to grow his hoard of wealth as he added $60.7 million to his estimated $12.6 billion net worth, according to Bloomberg.

Despite recent controversies, such as a recently dismissed defamation suit in which a woman claimed she was his biological daughter as well as an uncovered photo that showed Jones as a bystander when six Black teenagers entered desegregated North Little Rock High School in North Little Rock, Ark., in 1957, Jones’ love for Texas doesn’t seem to be going anywhere any time soon.

He recently pumped $100 million into Comstock Resources Inc., a Frisco-based natural gas company of which he is listed as a majority shareholder.

Other Dallas-Fort Worth names such as prominent Walmart stockholder Alice Walton, Koch Industries director Elaine Marshall, Hunt Consolidated chairman Ray Hunt, Energy Transfer Partners CEO Kelcy Warren, Rees-Jones Oil & Minerals owner Trevor Rees-Jones and philanthropists Margot Perot and family were all featured on the list.

Other big Texas cities didn’t miss out on some big names. In addition to Musk, University of Texas at Austin alumni and chief executive of Dell Technologies Michael Dell calls Austin home, and Friedkin Group CEO Dan Friedkin, among others, look to Houston as their homes.

To make the list, a person had to have a minimum net worth of at least $5.79 billion.

Other Texas billionaires on the list include:

Autry Stephens ($23.4 billion), Endeavor Energy Resources founder

Jeffery Hildebrand ($19.8 billion), Hilcorp Energy founder

Charles Butt and family ($13.3 billion), H-E-B Grocery chairman

Andy Beal ($13.1 billion), Beal Bank chairman

Robert Smith ($11.4 billion), CEO of Vista Equity Partners

Richard Kinder ($10 billion), Kinder Morgan chairman

Randa Williams ($9.67 billion), Enterprise Products Partners chairman

Dannine Avara ($9.65 billion), Enterprise Products Partners stockholder

Scott Duncan, ($9.65 billion), Enterprise Products Partners stockholder

Milane Frantz ($9.65 billion), Enterprise Products Partners stockholder

Ann Kroenke, ($8.18 billion), Denver Nuggets and Colorado Avalanche owner

Michael Smith, ($7.97 billion) Freeport LNG chief executive

Tito Beveridge ($7.51 billion), Tito’s Vodka founder

Thai Lee ($6.32 billion), SHI International Corporation CEO

Dallas has added more millionaires than all but 3 other US cities, new report finds

The number of millionaires in Dallas has increased 75% over the past decade as wealth continues to accumulate in the fastest-growing region in the United States.

That's according to a report by consulting firm Henley & Partners Holdings Ltd., which ranked Big D fourth for the percentage increase in the number of millionaires from 2013 to 2023.

Dallas tied with Washington, D.C., and trailed only Austin, the San Francisco Bay Area and Miami.

That concentration of wealth has big implications for a wide swath of North Texans, from financial advisers and other service providers to government leaders and nonprofit bosses.

Overall, Dallas has the sixth-most millionaires in the country with 68,600, according to Henley & Partners, which says it specializes in residence and citizenship by investment.

New York continues to wear the millionaires crown with 349,500. The Bay Area ranked second, followed by Los Angeles, Chicago and Houston.

But the tech-fueled Bay Area ranked No. 1 for the most billionaires in the country with 68. New York City ranked second with 60, followed by Los Angeles with 43. Dallas ranked sixth with 15 billionaires.

The increase of wealth in Dallas has coincided with an economic boom.

The Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex's population growth has led the nation in recent years — it added an estimated 152,598 people from mid-2022 to mid-2023, the largest increase of any metro in the nation, according to new data from the U.S. Census Bureau.

The region has grown to more than 8 million residents.

The Metroplex has also added a large number of corporate headquarters in recent years, including those for Charles Schwab Corp., Caterpillar Inc. and CBRE Group Inc.

The attraction of wealth has helped contribute to DFW's ascendance as a U.S. financial center with hundreds of money managers choosing to move to or expand in the region.

In December 2020, DFW surpassed the Los Angeles metro as the second-largest hub of financial workers in the U.S., trailing only New York, according to data from the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.

Dallas isn't alone in Texas for its increased wealth. The Henley & Partners report tabbed Austin as the fastest-growing millionaire hub, with a 110% increase in the past decade.

Elsewhere in the country, Salt Lake City and Florida's Tampa and Naples are expected to attract rising numbers of wealthy individuals over the next decade, according to the report.

Nationally, the number of millionaires grew 62% from 2013 to 2023, significantly higher than the global rate of 38%, according to the Henley & Partners report. The U.S. ranks first in liquid investable wealth at $67 trillion, the number of millionaires (5.5 million) and the number of billionaires (788). However, America's per capita wealth of $201,497 ranks sixth globally behind Monaco, Luxembourg, Switzerland, Australia and Singapore.

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nickgerlich · 3 months

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Getting Real

The social media landscape became very fragmented once Elon Musk bought Twitter. A slew of competitors were soon launched, including Meta’s Threads, which we recently explored. But there’s another new site that has quietly been trying to build a user base that has nothing to do with Twitter, instead focusing on users upset with the Instagram algorithm.

Oh, and also the fakeness of content creators all posting perfect photos of themselves in exotic places.

BeReal is the antitheses of all that, requiring users to shoot and share when randomly summoned by the app. Both the back and front cameras are used, so you shoot what you are seeing, but it is also inserting a picture-in-picture of you at that same moment.

And in a nod to one of the most over-used words of the day, the focus is on authenticity. No edits allowed, no filters, no nothing.Not wearing makeup? Not a problem. Locked in your office with a mountain of work? It’s OK. We all do it. Or, if you get lucky, sipping margaritas in Key West? Have one for me.

Sounds interesting, and it does address the problem of Instagram’s algorithms, the falseness, and the fact that Instagram has doubled down on reels, deprecating still photos in favor of video.

But there are some tough issues to overcome. First and foremost is that BeReal does not have a revenue model, and no matter the good intentions of its developers, it is not sustainable without one.

Then there is the sobering reality that there are only 23 million active daily (MAU) users. That may sound like New York City and LA put together, but it is not good for the long-term health of the app. It needs a lot more traction than this.

And then there’s the annoying fact that users are supposed to quite literally stop whatever it is they are doing, and take a photo. That alone has kept me from joining, because my day is so fast-paced with meetings, class, workouts, driving, and a zillion other things that, quite frankly, I can’t be bothered.

Yes, you can post a late BeReal, but it is clunky. Worse yet, it tags your post as being late, a scarlet letter if there ever were one. Shame on you for not being in the moment! It means that you violated the spirit of the app by posting something with forethought and purpose.

Interestingly, and well-played I might add, the app pursued college students. That’s a great target audience, but as my daughters have discovered after graduating and joining the workforce, they no longer have time for BeReal either. Life and work get in the way, unless you are just fabulously wealthy and have nothing but leisure time.

The growing fragmentation of the social graph means there will be tough sledding for some, unless they can figure out how to monetize a niche audience. It’s possible, as we continue to see today with magazines and cable channels. But that doesn’t work for everyone, as the streamers have found out, and are hence scrambling to consolidate.

Don’t forget that if Instagram senses that BeReal is mounting a serious threat, it will introduce its own me-too features that could squish them like an unwanted bug. For now, Instagram has far bigger fish to fry, which means keeping pace with TikTok.

BeReal may have noble intent, but the majority of Insta users still tolerate the algorithms and reels. Monthly active users are expected to reach 1.4 billion worldwide this year.

And how many did I say BeReal has? Oh yeah…23 million. Hmmm.

Nice try, but I think the gas tank is going to run dry on this one sooner than later. ForReal.

Dr “Besides, I Already Have Enough Social Apps” Gerlich

Audio Blog

#marketing #social media #BeReal #Instagram

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larryhappiday · 6 months

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How Billionaire, Elon Musk's Dad, Fathers Two Children By His Step Daughter

Errol Musk the father of Twitter (now X social media network) owner, Elon Musk, is fathering two biological children by his step-daughter and some think this is abominable. How excusable is this? Get Noorio Wireless Security Camera Easy to install without wiring. Jana and her two children with Errol Musk Photo: Reddit Shop Noorio B200 Security Camera to keep your house safe. Errol Musk, (then…

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#Elon Musk #Errol Musk #family dynamics #health mental #Jana Bezuidenhout #step-children

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reputationbarbie · 7 months

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❝BGC❞

A/N: unedited so ignore any mistakes. i hope yall enjoy. ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

─⋆♡ chapter summary: the president’s daughter chooses her cabinet, attends the state dinner, and goes to the club for the first time.

─⋆♡ main tropes: Michael B. Jordan x Fem!OC, Rome Flynn x Fem!OC, Damson Idris x Fem!OC. Bodyguard x Princess, Secret Service x First Kid, forced proximity, forbidden love, tolerated enemies to lovers, college romance.

─⋆♡ chapter warnings: angst, 18+ black!writer, language, fighting, threatening, choking, physical descriptors (brief), characters affected by symptoms of anxiety or depression.

series masterlist ✰ faceclaims ✰ libby's cabinet ✰ spotify playlist

⋆ word count: 6.1k ⋆

I always disliked government meals.

The poking and prodding to get proper before standing in front of thousands of cameras is bearable. But attempting not to have any unsavory photographs released by the morning is the hard part.

Jo sits across from me on the floor with nothing but a coffee table separating us. My mother has her cabinet and I need mine. Pictures of senators and billionaire's daughters are scattered on the tabletop.

Although I want to surround myself with a diverse group of girls, there are a few powerful players who already run this town. Of the players, 3 in particular hold the key.

My finger points toward the blonde girl. “What do the Rockefellers have hands in?” I ask Jo.

Jo slides and twists the picture so it’s facing me perfectly landscape. “Everything, Libby. Literally everything. This girl is the most important person in your group,” she urges, shoving the picture closer to me.

The photo paper under my fingertips feels strange and I want to drop the material like a hot potato. “I thought I was the most important person in the group,” I complain. I’m not really concerned with status. I’d much rather fade into oblivion after my mom's term, not continue in this type of spotlight. But I’m unsure how this girl is more important than me.

“Her family makes your mom look like chump change. Now your mom with the support of the Rockefellers? That would be something,” Jo ponders aloud.

I stare at her picture, having a quick resolve over my feelings. Maybe she’s nice. “So kiss Meredith Rockefeller’s ass. Got it,” I repeat to Jo.

“What about her?” I ask, pointing to Vanessa Hermès’ headshot.

Jo softly chuckles. “Heard she was a bitch. Just be careful,” she warns me.

“Okay and her?” I move on to the final girl.

She stands from the floor, dusting herself off. “The Pearsons are loaded. Her father was one of the first people to invest in Elon Musk’s projects. Her mom was the mistress but she’s his only child. He’s up on cap hill of course,” she finishes.

I gnaw on my lip, taking time to process the information. “Interesting. What time are they coming?” I ask.

She slides her heels back on, adding some extra height to her short stature. “You’ll have afternoon tea at 1,” she sighs.

Michael abandons his book, extending his hand for me to grab. I accept it, standing from the floor. He allows me to use his support to slide on my heels and I don’t miss him squeezing my hands tightly to ensure I don’t fall. “That’s all?” I start on the next topic.

Jo reaches for the door handle but right before her fingers touch the gold, she abandons it and turns around. Fuck, I almost made it. “Actually, tonight you’re meeting Charles Armstrong Jones, Viscount Linley,” she breaks the news.

I release Michael’s hands, stepping around his now tense body. Any time my potential social life is mentioned, he gets all soldier boy. But I don’t have time to address his traits right now. “No, I’m not,” I quip.

Jo crosses her arms. “You are,” she repeats.

“Am not,” I taunt like a child.

Jo raises her eyebrows and I know she’s caught onto my little game. “You are. If you’re going on a date with anyone in the next four years, it’ll be an eligible bachelor that the white house has already approved.”

I roll my eyes, grabbing a glass of water for the table. “Fine,” I groan.

“Prince Achileas-Andreas of Greece and Denmark will be there as well,” Jo continues as I take a sip of water.

And he will be my Achilles I’m sure. “Louis Spencer, Theodore Arnault, Patrick Finnegan,” I hear Jo cut through my spiral of thoughts.

I set the glass back down on the coffee table. “Oh wait, that’s a normal name. Who’s that?” I ask.

“He’s been fundraising for Obama since he was 11. Started his own company. He’s worth 18 million,” she expands. Every word she says sounds enticing. If there’s anyone I’d have something in common with, it’d be him.

I nod, looking up towards the ceiling as if the request for alone time with this man will come from there. “Hmm,” I mutter.

Jo clears her throat and my eyes snap towards her. She’s standing behind Michael, whose knuckles have turned white from gripping them so tightly. “Move him to the top of the pile?” asks and I know my face has given my subconscious thoughts away.

I scratch my neck with discomfort. If I can’t have the hottest man I know, I deserve to have something equivalent. “Yeah,” I answer quietly.

“Okay, did you want anything before lunch?” asks and I can practically see her itching to leave the room.

I shake my head, waving her off. “No, I’m fine. I’m thinking of just a stroll for lunch instead of eating. The tea will have food anyway,” I explain.

She puts her hands up, spinning around. “Okay. Call if you need something. I’ll come get you when it’s time,” she finishes, reaching for the door handle.

“Thank you,” I say to her as she exits, walking over to my closet to suit up.

I swiftly take the heavy winter coat off the rack, fumbling trying to pull it onto my frame. I almost give up and grab another coat when I feel a tug on the edges. Michael holds the top open, allowing me to slide in my arm successfully on the other side. “Thanks,” I murmur, fixing the top of the garment to lay smoothly on my shoulders.

“You're welcome,” he responds before I watch him turn around and leave the room. My focus returns to getting fully dressed for the chilly weather outside and I reach for the gloves at the top of the closet.

I’ve never noticed my short stature until moments like this. Who the fuck would put gloves this far back for someone who’s 5’4? My grunting reverberates off the wood in front of me until I eventually give up out of frustration.

I almost jump into the air when I feel the heat of a body behind me. I watch as an arm extends above my head and successfully grabs the leather accessories I’ve been dying to get my hands on. The hand retreats and when I turn around, Michael is standing there with the gloves held up by his face.

I reach for them and he snatches them back, just out of reach. I want to smack that simultaneous smack that stupid smirk off his face and ride his tongue until he suffocates. Fuck off, horny brain. “I’m not jumping for it,” I flirt, crossing my arms.

“I didn’t ask you to,” he counters, putting his hand out palm up. “May I?” he asks for consent for what feels like a grade school level of intimacy.

I nod, putting my hands in front of me. His fingers pull the straps of the velcro back and the noise that comes from it makes my ears tingle. “You fucked the strap up yesterday. Your mom would kill me if you got pneumonia,” he scolds.

But I know that my mom has nothing to do with it. I hate him. I hate him for showing me he has a heart, for showing me he cares about me, for being perfect and just in reach but unobtainable.

“Thank you,” I allow him to slip the soft fabric over my knuckles, tightly pulling the velcro around the cuff.

My body subconsciously leans closer to him as he moves onto my other hand. His brooding personality causes a polarity of thought in my brain. How can someone be so magnetic but such a cunt at the same time? “Good?” he questions.

I swallow thicky, batting my lashes at him. “Yeah,” I declare.

He drops my hands, stepping to the side. “After you, my lady,” he puts his arm out in an ushering manner.

“Stop calling me that,” I call over my shoulder as we walk out of the living area and into the hall. I jokingly tip my hat at the random secret service guard at my door who immediately whispers something into his earpiece.

My feet spin around and I walk backward, looking at Michael. “Do you hear everything in that thing?” I ask, pointing at his identical earpiece attached to what I assume is a radio under his jacket.

“Yes,” he deadpans and I roll my eyes. Always so serious.

Accepting his answer, I turn around to make the descent down the steps. Why they keep the first family in the attic is beyond me.

When we reach the bottom floor, I hop down off the bottom step dramatically. The feeling of my hair flying up gives me butterflies in my stomach. My brother creepily comes around the corner, making an appearance with his green coat shrugged on. “Where ya goin’?” he interrogates me.

I stop dead in my tracks, looking around to see if we have any tour visitors before I bitch him out in the hall. “To mind my own business. Where are you going?” I quip.

Agent Flynn snickers behind him and I send him a small wave. “Trying to find some business to mind,” my brother grumbles, stepping past me.

He doesn't give me a chance to respond before jogging up the steps with Agent Flynn. TGIF.

Michael stands behind me in the green room. The clock on the wall reads 12:55pm and I sigh, staring at the tempting sandwiches in front of me. I didn’t have lunch, opting for a run to clear my brain instead.

“You alright?” I hear Michael ask.

No, I’m not alright. You showed me you might be capable of feeling human emotion, making it much harder to hate you. “Fine,” I huff when the door opens.

I slide the chair back slightly, standing from the table and smoothing out my dress. I’m typically not this nervous, but I need this to go off without a hitch. Killing two birds with one stone by having good friends who are already in the spotlight is the smoothest this situation could go.

A woman who reminds me of Jennifer Walters walks in first dressed in a suit before a group of girls file in behind her. I see the blonde girl first, a bright smile on her face. “Oh my gosh, you’re so pretty in person! I’m Mer,” she greets me.

Her demeanor makes me feel at ease. No wonder her family has their hands in everything. They’re so goddamn charismatic. I return the smile, extending my hand for her to shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m Libby,” I say.

She pulls me closer before opening her arms. I give her a puzzled look as she waits for… something. “Oh, I’m a hugger,” she explains, pulling me into her embrace.

I reciprocate the action so Michael doesn’t put a bullet through her forehead, even though I hate hugs. “Oh okay,” I mumble.

When she releases me, another girl steps in front of me. “Hi, I’m Kendall,” she introduces herself.

I shake her outstretched hand, admiring how put together she looks. “Hi. I love your shoes,” I compliment, looking down at the pink shoes. They’re similar to mine, except they have a pretty silk bow adorning the back.

Damn, I thought my Manolo Blahnik’s were doing something. Her Saint Laurent pumps are triple mine. “Thanks. I love your outfit,” she cheers.

A short brunette girl steps in front of me with a horsedrawn carriage logo printed nearly on everything she’s wearing. “Vanessa Hermes,” she states.

I awkwardly outstretch my hand. “Liberty Washington,” I lightly mock her. I mean, come on; the stick up her ass is making my brain itch.

She doesn’t reciprocate so I awkwardly lower my hand. Instead, she looks behind me. “And who’s he?” she asks.

I turn around, walking toward the table with the girls. “Oh, that’s Agent Jordan. My secret service detail,” I say nonchalantly to the group.

“Well Agent Jordan, meet Alex and Daniel” Meredith points to the two individuals standing in the corner. “Daniel is Vanessa’s, Alex’s is mine,” she expands.

“We’ve met,” Alex extends her hand for Michael to shake and I thank the gods above that he does. I’m starting to think they didn’t test his social ability when matching him with me.

Once pleasantries are exchanged, the girls start to sit down at the table. When I go to pull out my chair, Michael stops me. I’ve learned that he’s insisted on consistent chilverly and I wonder where he got it from.

Michael takes his familiar spot on the wall for all my meals, still directly behind me and in earshot, but not so much so that he feels intrusive.

Kendall leans closer across the table, reaching for a finger sandwich. “I thought Daniel was hot but Agent Jordan is smoking. Where did you find him?” she asks, eyes flickering back and forth between the cold demon behind me and my angelic eyes.

I shrug, trying to think of an appropriate way to explain this situation. “I didn’t. He kind of found me,” I respond.

My hand picks up my glass of lemonade, washing down a sweet but dry cookie. “And you’re hitting that right?” Meredith asks.

I nearly choke on the contents in my mouth. “What? N-no. I’m-i’m not allowed and neither is he,” I stammer.

“But he’s allowed to have relationships?” Vanessa presses. She’s the last person I want to give any information about my potential crush on Michael. She seems like the type of bitch to take it and use it against it at a later date.

I nod, feeling Michael staring a hole through my skull. “I assume so just not one like that with me,” I stipulate.

Vanessa’s knife scrapes against the plate while she cuts an impossible tiny sandwich. “Great, he’s open game,” she cross-examines, almost as if she’s waiting for me to slip.

My eyes survey her as she sticks the fork in the cut sandwich square, sticking it in her mouth. If Michael wants a girl that eats a sandwich with a fork then be my guest. “Have at it. I prefer men with beating hearts,” I suggest since we’re polar opposites. Selfishly, I know going for her would solidify he doesn’t want me.

Meredith’s eyebrows raise. “So you are hooking up with someone. Do tell,” she pressed.

I nearly choke on my drink. “No. Outside of the administration is playing matchmaker, I’m not seeing anyone,” I clarify.

The silence that falls over the table is deafening. The women stare blankly at me and I feel like I’m missing out on Washington’s best-kept secret. “Ahhhh,” Vanessa sighs.

My eyes observed each of their faces, each of them different and completely unreadable. “What?” I finally croak, less confidently than expected.

Meredith puts down her porcelain mug onto the saucer in front of her muttering, “We’ve all been there.”

With a bad taste in my mouth, I sit back and cross my arms. Any feeling of hunger that I once had is now eliminated. “So this is normal?” I clarify.

Kendall nods, answering for the group, “Yeah. Every powerful parent wants their kid with an equally as powerful partner.”

My mouth falls open and I dejectedly groan, “Oh.”

“Just talk to each of them for 3 minutes each in front of your parents so they see you’re making an effort and then fuck someone else,” Meredith advises.

My eyes go wide and an award silence falls over the table. I don’t even know how I’d be able to hook up with anyone with Michael always up my ass. I take a bite of a coffee on my plate and the sound of my chewing is almost taunting, so I decide to speak up. “Look I know this is weird as fuck. I’m sorry my parents played matchmaker with your parents but I really need friends for the next 4 years in DC. All my friends are in New York,” I rant.

“Oh don’t worry, we got you,” Meredith politely shoos.

Kendall nods with Meredith, tucking a piece of freshly silk-pressed hair behind her ear. “Yeah. This town is easy once you get the hang of it,” she eases my anxiety.

“What color is your dress?” Vanessa asks with a tilted head.

“Blue,” I respond and I can immediately tell that’s not the correct answer for the only girl in this group who doesn’t seem to like me.

Vanessa rolls her eyes. “We shouldn’t be photographed together. We’re all wearing black,” she complains, making me feel ostracized.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” I apologize genuinely.

“It’s okay! Let’s lean into the jewel tones. We should start transitioning to spring colors, anyway. Right ladies?” Meredith steps in and effectively redirects the energy of the conversation. Thank god for the girl; she’s like the human representation of sugar.

Vannessa’s brows knit. “We have to start getting ready in 2 hours,” she points out.

Meredith wipes the corners of her mouth with the cloth napkin. “That’s why we have backups, darling,” she reminds her friend before turning her attention to me. “Don’t worry, Libby,” she coos.

Kendall puts her hand on my arm and when I turn my head to look at her, she’s smiling brightly at me. I hate to be the one to push a BIPOC girlie out of the friend group but there’s only room for one bitch in this town.

Kendall retracts her hand, reaching for the next item that catches her eye. “So how did you all meet?” I ask out of curiosity.

“Do you not know anything about us?” she cross-examines. What did I ever do to this girl?

I shake my head, looking down at the plate. I feel the anger seeping through my pores, but I know that’s not real. Anger is just the layer of emotion over frustration, Liberty. That’s what your therapist would say. “Um no,” I squeak.

“The least you could do is your research,” I hear Vanessa Scoff.

I take a deep breath, composing myself before I come clean. “Actually, I kind of did. Well, my aide did. I asked for only the need to know. I didn’t want to have a preconceived notion of you,” I stammer through my explanation.

My eyes flicker back and forth between the girls, hoping they appreciate my openness. “Oooo, I like her,” Kendall voiced.

The corners of Meredith’s mouth quirk up. “Me too,” Meredith agrees and I smile. ⅔ isn’t bad considering women are women.

Once the dining crew sees we’re finished nibbling on our snacks, they file in, cleaning out everything. The conversation stops until the room and when they do, Kendall locks her hands and puts them on the table in front of her. “So, Libby. Do you drink?” she digs and I know I’ll have to ask about the group's history later.

I gnaw on my lip, unsure of how much I want to disclose to them. Although this is a friendship, I still need to be strategic about my words. “Ummm,” I start.

“Oh come on, you can tell us,” Vannessa urges.

I know I can tell probably Kendall and Meredith, but not so much Vanessa. At least, not yet. “I’ve been drunk a couple of times but it’s been a couple of years since I’ve tried anything,” I lie.

Meredith throws her napkin down on the table in front of her dramatically. “Oh boo. You’re def coming out with us tonight,” she demands.

“Tonight?” I ask. I’m not sure how to say ‘I need security clearance from everyone in the United States to leave the house but yes, I would love to join you.’

“Yeah, after dinner. We’ll probably go out with the whole group,” Kendall explains, snapping me out of my self-sabotaging spiral. Stop worrying, Libby. Jo can probably just say it’s for the plan.

Now, thinking about the possibility of going out tonight, I feel giddy. “Um okay, I just have to ask if I can–”

“Oh don’t worry about it. I’ll have my assistant talk to your assistant or something. You’re coming,” Meredith cuts me off.

Okay. Cheers to making friends, Libby.

My fingers caress the smooth Tiffany blue fabric as I attempt not to wrinkle it stepping into it for the night. The fluffy tulle underneath the top layer slightly scratches my skin and I straighten my back, trying to get used to the uncomfortable feeling. I’ve been fidgeting ever since I sat in the beauty chair an hour ago.

Michael took his break right after we came back since we’ll be going out tonight. I won’t see him until the gala, and I’m trying not to obsess over the thought of seeing him in a suit again.

A light knocking on the wood of my door sounds through the room and I call for them to enter, figuring it’s just Jo. My mouth nearly falls to the floor when Michael walks in wearing an all-black tux. He has no tie on and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, showing his delicious collarbone. Fucking hell. Before him, I didn’t even find collarbones attractive. I don’t miss the matching Tiffany blue pocket square that contrasts perfectly against the dark fabric.

My hands fly to the top of my dress, attempting to hide the fact that my chest is practically falling out of the garment. “Jo asked me to grab you. You need help with the zipper?” he asks, pointing towards my back.

I nod, feeling the flush spread from my cheeks to my entire body. “Um, yeah. That’d be great,” I sputter.

He quickly crosses the room until he’s standing behind me in the mirror. When his fingers grip the bottom of the dress to start zipping, they brush against my skin. I flinch slightly at the cold sensation against my spine. “My bad,” he half-heartedly apologizes, before gently tugging the zipper upward.

As he zips up my dress, my heart pounds. I can feel my body warming up at his touch. The air is so thick it threatens to choke me. I can only wonder if he is having the same trouble. “It’s okay. Your hands are just cold,” I chuckle.

Once the zipper is at the top, Michael reaches inside, hooking the dress. He takes a step back and lets out a large huff. Was he holding his breath that whole time?

I adjust the straps on my shoulder, smoothing the dress out in the front. “Thank you,” I say to his reflection in the mirror.

“Mm. Let’s go before Jo kills me,” he responds, turning around.

Scooping the white gloves off the vanity, I scurry behind him. “Didn’t know Jo scared you,” I tease.

“She doesn’t. But if I cross her, she’ll have my job,” he says with his back facing me.

“And your freedom,” I add.

Michael suddenly stops, causing me to smack into his back. “Thanks for reminding me, Lib,” he growls lowly.

“Fucking hell, Mikey.” I groan out as I steady myself and he turns around to face me. “No warning?” I demand, raising my eyebrows in a what-the-fuck way.

“No,” he challenges.

I lurch at Michael, stomping like a child. “Fuck you,” I fume.

Michael sidesteps out of my grasp and I curse myself for the stupid super-soldier training. “Not tonight, my lady. I have a headache,” he exaggerates with a hand over his forehead like a damsel in distress.

I roll my eyes in disgust. “I’m going to vomit,” I grumble.

Jo comes into the hall, putting her hand on the small of my back. “Please don’t. You were supposed to be downstairs,” she pauses to look at her wristwatch. “5 minutes. The girls are waiting for you to go in,” she says, gently pushing me forward.

My eyes widen and I brush past Michael, quickly bolting towards the stairs. “Shit, shit, shit, shit. Sorry, Jo!”

“Don’t run! You’ll sweat out your hair,” she shouts, running after me. Realizing she’s right, I slow my pace walking down the steps.

When we get to the first floor, the girls come into view. Each of them is dressed in beautiful pastel colors, but their accessories are all different. Damn, we’ll look good as a group.

“Showtime ladies,” Jo claps after we’ve exchanged pleasantries. Kendall hooks her arm onto Vanessa, who looks displeased by the physical touch.

Meredith follows suit, hooking her arm on the inside of mine with a warm smile. “I’m nervous,” I confess. This is the first presidential event I’ll be attending as The President’s daughter and it’s putting me on edge. On top of that, I have to think about my dating life.

Meredith squeezes my arm, reassuring me. “You’ll be fine. Just remember what we talked about. 3 minutes then come hang with us,” she instructs lowly.

When we turn the corner into the visitors foyer, I take a deep breath. Once we walk through those double doors, i’ll be debuted to the country. The cool February air shocks my system and I rapidly blink, trying to acclimated to the weather. It’s no bother however, because the flashing lights of the camera clicks are enough to blind me.

Meredith takes control, leading us over to the first photograph station. I pose and smile with the group, praying that seeing me on the front page tomorrow morning will brighten my mom’s day. “Can we get a solo picture please, Liberty?” I hear a paparazzi yell towards me.

Meredith and Kendall overhear the commotion of requests and I feel them both take a step back. Feeling anxious, I secure my hands around their waists, keeping them by my side. “I only listen to Jo,” I shout back, tilting my head towards my aide.

I search the crowd for Michael, hoping to use him as an anchor just in case Jo approves the solo shots. My desperate eyes connect with his “Miss Jo. Can we please have a solo picture of Liberty?” I overhear a different photographer ask Jo.

“We’re doing friends and family shots only tonight, everyone,” Jo lets them down and I thank god for her understanding my introversion.

We make our way through the rest of the photo ops, finishing with my family. Each of the girls in the group charm the pants off my parents, leaving them begging the group to return and breathe life into The White House.

Once the next diplomat introduces themself to my mom, we take that as our dismissal cue, walking up the steps to the main entry. When I peer over my shoulder, I feel at ease seeing Michael just a few paces behind.

When we enter the state dining room, Jo bids me a goodbye for the rest of the night. I turn to take in the decorations, seeing the area covered with white and blue balloons and streamers. There are tables lining the walls, leaving the center of the room open with enough space to do cartwheels across the dance floor. The harsh overhead lights have been dimmed with string lighting filling the empty spaces on the ceiling. I make my way over to the bar area with the girls where huge glitter stars are hanging from the tall ceilings.

The government really put tax money to good use with this one.

Michael slightly spooks me when he comes up to lean on the bar next to me. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to him being around with his level of stealthiness. I open my mouth to compliment his tux when someone cuts in instead. “Hey Mere,” I hear a man's voice say behind me.

When I turn around a tall and rather attractive-looking white man is smirking at Meredith. Like I’m watching a ping pong match, my eyes dart back and forth between the two. As a girls girl, I need to know if Teddy and Meredith have any history so I can have her back. “Teddy,” she grits through her teeth and her tone has me deciphering that it’s taking a lot of energy for her to stay composed.

“Teddy and I went to school together,” she introduces us. I extend my hand for him to shake but she steps slightly in between us, leaning over until her lips are close to my ear. “Don’t shake his hand, he’s kinda creepy,” she whispers, grabbing something off the back of the bar behind me to disguise her warning.

I retract my hand, putting it down near my side. I look at Michael and attempt to telepathically communicate with him. Don’t let him touch me.

He nods and I tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear, trying to remember how to be appealing without making physical connections. “Theodore Arnault, a pleasure to meet you,” Theodore introduces himself.

I smile, waving slightly. “Likewise,” I mumble before he turns his attention to the bartender.

I furrow my brows at the girls. Maybe I should’ve studied who was going to be here. “Who did I just meet?” I question.

“His dad owns a bunch of shit, including the club we’ll be at tonight,” Kendall explains before picking up a glass of champagne from the bar.

“What type of club is it?” I ask, anxious to prepare myself for the social situation.

The corners of Vanessa’s mouth curve into a maniacal smile. “The private no phones kind,” she reveals.

“Hm,” I grunt before my darling sister comes to sweep me up to enjoy the hustle and bustle of the event.

3 more hours and I can finally have some fun.

I watch myself as I dance in the mirror of the pink bathroom in the private club. It’s around midnight now, and I’m only one drink in, waiting for Kendall to finish her business. I lean forward to look at myself more closely, and then pull out the lip gloss tube that I put in her purse, reapplying a shiny new coat.

Kendall comes out of the stall, and then the water turns on next to me at the counter. I turn to find her scrubbing her hands furiously, grumbling to herself. “It’s gross in here and the floor is sticky. I hate clubs.”

She shudders and shakes her hands out over the sink before grabbing a paper towel to dry them off. “If you’re not having fun, we can leave and go back to my place.” I simplify, swinging the door open and going straight towards the bar.

Michael sees us exit the toilet room, standing from his position next to the door. “Yes, because 3 drunk girls in The White House is a good idea,” she notes sarcastically. My head falls back with laughter and I join Michael with her in tow. She says that but I bet I can convince her to sleep over.

The club is extremely packed with music so loud that the only place we can hear each other is either right outside or inside the bathrooms. So that’s why when I make my way over and lean over the bar, I have to scream out, “Two margaritas,” to John. He’s been our favorite bartender all night, making every drink a double.

I stretch my hand out to him with my credit card in it but he gives the response of, “Your money’s no good here.” John shakes his head as if he’s sick of telling me that tonight, and turns around to make our drinks.

So far the club music is good and the drinks are strong. John slides a tequila sunrise and a tequila sprite across the bar and I smile, silently thanking him while grabbing our drinks. I take a couple sips of mine as I hand Kendall her tequila sunrise, and move towards the middle of the dance floor towards Vanessa and Meredith. Michael walks around the edges of the room, giving us enough space to socialize but still keeping us safe.

I usher Kendall with me and when we make it to the center, I start swaying back and forth with the music, sipping my drink. Suddenly, a hand is on my waist, and my eyes go to Kendall who’s in front of me in question. She shakes her head, signaling it’s definitely not Michael.

I turn around and to my surprise, there stands a beautifully chiseled man with brown eyes and dark brown hair. He bends down until his lips are close to my ear. “Hi,” he loudly greets to be heard over the music of the club.

The rainbow lights flash on his face. He’s not Michael, but he’s definitely not ugly. Michael and I can’t even be together, so might as well flirt with a potential power player while I’m here.

“Hi,” I shout, standing on my tip toes so he can hear me.

He puts a hand on my waist, bending down again. “Wanna dance?”

I take another sip of my drink and circle him until I’m facing his back. Tan skin, strong arms, and a muscular back. He lacks bicep muscles, unlike Michael, but he does have an ass for days. I continue walking in a circle around him until I’m standing in front of him again. My hand reaches forward to touch his chest, letting it trail down to his abs. “Yes,” I flirt, giving him a mischievous grin.

He smirks, and grabs my waist, spinning me around until my ass is against his crotch. His hands rub my body as we dance to the music together, and I take another sip of my drink before his lips meet my ear again. “You want me to hold that for you?”

I’m clumsy as shit and I wouldn’t mind putting pause on this drink for a few songs. But I don't want to put it down on the bar. Seems like a good idea to me, I think, and pass my drink to him. “Yeah, sure.”

We dance together for a few more songs before I spin around, taking a sip from my drink in his hands. When it’s empty, he bends down and shakes the cup to show me it’s empty. “I’m gonna toss this.” He smiles, then disappears into the crowd, my eyes on his ass until I can’t see it anymore.

I turn around and look for my friends for the first time in 10 minutes. Meredith, Kendall, and Vanessa are still dancing together, unaware of the man I’ve been grinding on. Michael’s stare, however, is like a silent sniper. His eyes are consumed with anger and they’re cutting through the crowd of people that’s between me and where he’s sitting at the bar. Shit. This is definitely a conversation we shouldn’t be having inside the club.

I turn towards the girls, tapping them both on the shoulder to signal I’m going outside for fresh air. They nod, going back to dancing before I feel my arm being grabbed. When I look up, my eyes meet Michaels. He wastes no time dragging me through the crowd of people and towards the entry. As soon as we make it to the front doors, I yank my arm out of his grasp.

That doesn’t deter him from squatting and tossing me smooth over his shoulder. “Put me down,” I howl, beating on his back. He ignores me and I watch the ground pass below me as he continues to walk.

When he finally stops and sets me down. I look around, trying to gain my bearings after being upside down when he forcefully grabs my face with his hand. If I snap back like I want to, I’ll fucking pass out from hitting my head on the brick. “You like it don’t you,” he spits in my face.

“Like what?” I shift on my legs, smirking at him.

He loosens his grip on my face, trailing his touch down to my neck. I try to stay composed, but I’m sure he can feel my pulse beneath his fingertips.

“The fact that I can’t have you. You taunt me every second of the day. You fucking know,” he speculates.

Truthfully, I didn’t. Thank god men are idiots. “Had an inkling but I wasn’t sure until now,” I disclose.

“Stop,” he orders, pressing his lips in a thin line.

I put my hands on his sides, gripping his black cotton shirt. “Stop what?” I egg him on.

“Stop dangling…” he starts to respond but I’m distracted when the world starts to feel dizzy. My breathing turns shallow and I try to process his words. I’m probably just drunk.

I nod, locking my knees when my vision begins to slip and I become nauseous. My body sways and I feel strong arms cradling my body.

And then, darkness.

Taglist: @cherrellek, next part

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