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MidReal Story
The Billionaire Bad Boys of Alameda
Scenario:Rich frat bro travel bloggers handsome Kenny,and Tom who looks like Alfred E Neumann from MAD magazine convince homely but large busted Elizabeth to come back to their hotel room for a paid interview.
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Kenny Richards
He is a wealthy playboy and part of a popular travel blog team. He is charismatic, confident, and carefree. Kenny enjoys an extravagant lifestyle, often indulging in the finer things in life. He takes pride in his physical appearance and believes in treating himself well. Despite his wealthy lifestyle, Kenny occasionally feels the weight of responsibility when his team, including Tom, require his assistance with various interviews and promotional activities.
Elizabeth
She is a workingclass woman who recently moved to a new apartment in San Francisco. She is independent, cautious, and ambitious. Elizabeth struggles with her new surroundings and lifestyle, missing the support from her family in Los Angeles. Despite her initial reluctance, she agrees to meet Kenny and Tom for a potential interview opportunity at their hotel. The experience leaves her feeling both surprised and intrigued by the luxurious world they introduce her to.
Tom
He is Kenny's colleague and friend who coruns their popular travel blog team. He is quirky, humorous, and observant. Tom often finds himself in awkward situations due to his resemblance to Alfred E. Neumann from a popular cartoon show. He maintains a lighthearted attitude and enjoys the camaraderie within their group. Like Kenny, Tom appreciates the luxuries offered to them during their travels but also acknowledges the hard work involved in creating engaging content.
Kenny Richards here.
You know, one of the handsome rich dudes who makes up the famous travel team with my homie Tom?
Yeah, that’s me.
My life is pretty damn awesome, and I’m going to tell you why.
First of all, I’m loaded.
Like, if I wanted to, I could buy an island tomorrow.
Sheesh… maybe even a whole country.
But that’s not all, my friends.
I’m also extremely good-looking.
Like, if I wanted to become a model tomorrow, I could probably make a million bucks in my first month.
I have abs of steel, a round, firm butt, and a face that could stop traffic.
And don’t even get me started on my hair…
It’s like I have a head full of golden silk.
I get carded every time I go to the liquor store because people there can’t believe someone as hot as me is pushing thirty.
Anyway, my life is pretty great, and one of the best things about it is that I get to travel with my best bud Tom to all these exotic places and write about them on our super popular travel blog.
I lean against the marble counter in the hotel lobby, watching Elizabeth’s eyes dart back and forth between Tom and me.
She’s clutching her purse—a worn leather thing that looks like it’s been through a war—in front of her like it’s some kind of shield.
Tom is fumbling with our expensive camera equipment, trying to get everything organized.
He almost drops one of the lenses, but manages to catch it before it hits the floor.
Elizabeth lets out a little gasp, and I step forward, keeping my eyes locked on hers.
"The suite has an amazing view of the bay," I say, and I see her shoulders relax just a little bit.
The light from the chandelier above us catches on my Rolex as I press the button for the elevator, and I see Elizabeth’s gaze flicker down to my wrist.
Her eyes linger there for a moment before she looks up at me again.
Tom is still trying to get all of our equipment organized, and he’s starting to get flustered.
"Kenny," Elizabeth says, her voice barely above a whisper, "why did you really invite me here?"
I glance at Tom, who finally stops fumbling and looks at me with raised eyebrows.
"A beautiful view,deserves a beautiful lady."I reply.
Inside the elevator, I position myself between Elizabeth and Tom, who’s still fumbling with the camera gear.
The walls of the elevator are mirrored, and I can see Elizabeth’s reflection as she stares at the numbers climbing higher and higher.
When my shoulder accidentally brushes against hers, she doesn’t pull away.
The elevator stops on the twelfth floor, and I guide Elizabeth out into the carpeted hallway with a light touch on her lower back.
Tom trails behind us, muttering something about memory cards.
We stop in front of the door to our suite, and I slide the keycard into the lock.
Elizabeth’s chest rises and falls with quick breaths as she watches me.
The door swings open, revealing the breathtaking view beyond, and I know this is where everything changes.
I guide Elizabeth to the floor-to-ceiling windows, my hand still on her lower back.
The setting sun is casting an orange glow over the bay, and the Golden Gate Bridge stretches out before us, its towers reaching toward the clouds.
Tom is still fumbling with his tripod behind us, muttering something about ISO settings.
Elizabeth presses her palm against the glass, leaving a smudge of condensation as she leans closer to the view.
I can feel the warmth of her body radiating through her cotton dress.
When she turns to thank me, her face is inches from mine.
I catch a whiff of her drugstore perfume mixed with nervous sweat.
Tom clears his throat behind us, reminding us he’s still there.
"Kenny," Elizabeth says softly, her eyes searching mine, "are you really happy with all of this?"
Tom pauses, finally looking up from his equipment, and adds, "Yeah, man, sometimes it feels like you're trying to convince yourself more than anyone else."
I hesitate, the weight of their words hanging in the air, before admitting, "Honestly, I've been wondering if there's something more than just the view."
I guide Elizabeth to the plush armchair near the window, my hand lingering on her shoulder as she sits.
The fabric rustles beneath her, and she smooths her dress over her knees, still stealing glances at the bay view.
Tom fumbles with the camera's focus, muttering about the lighting while adjusting the tripod's height.
When Elizabeth shifts uncomfortably in her seat, I grab a silk throw pillow from the nearby sofa and offer it to her.
She accepts it with trembling fingers, tucking it behind her back.
The camera's red recording light blinks on, and Tom gives me a thumbs up.
Elizabeth takes a deep breath, her voice steadying as she asks, "So, what are we really doing here, Kenny?"
Tom nods in agreement, his eyes flicking between us as he adds, "Yeah, is this just about the photos, or is there something else you haven't told us?"
I pause, feeling the weight of their expectations, and finally confess, "There's a story here that needs to be uncovered—one that could change everything for all of us."
I pace near the window, my footsteps echoing off the polished floor.
Elizabeth's question hangs in the air like a challenge.
Tom fiddles with the camera settings, muttering about light balance and aperture.
Elizabeth perches uncertainly on the silk pillow, her fingers twisting in her lap.
When she starts to rise, I quickly move closer, touching her shoulder.
"Let's keep things professional," I say, forcing a smile.
Tom shoots me a knowing look as he adjusts the tripod's height.
"Right," he says, his voice laced with skepticism.
I clear my throat and explain the interview format: lifestyle questions, travel experiences, nothing too personal.
The red recording light blinks on again.
"Just stick with the plan," I tell myself, gesturing at the camera.
I sit beside Elizabeth on the plush hotel couch, keeping a professional distance between us.
Tom adjusts the lighting, muttering about shadows and contrast.
When Elizabeth shifts uncomfortably, I rise and head to the minibar.
I pour three glasses of expensive whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing against the crystal.
Elizabeth accepts hers with trembling fingers, spilling a few drops on her dress.
Tom makes a joke about liquid courage, his laughter sounding forced.
As I hand him his glass, I catch Elizabeth's eyes darting between us, her chest rising with quick breaths.
The camera's red light blinks steadily, recording everything.
Elizabeth takes a sip, her voice barely above a whisper, "Kenny, is this about the story or something else entirely?"
Tom leans forward, his curiosity piqued, "Yeah, are we chasing headlines or ghosts here?"
I exhale slowly, feeling the weight of their questions, and admit, "It's both—there's a truth buried here that could unravel everything we've known."
I shift closer to Elizabeth on the couch, our shoulders touching.
The whiskey glass trembles in her hand.
Tom fumbles with the camera settings behind us, muttering about poor lighting conditions.
When Elizabeth sets her barely-touched drink down on the coffee table, her fingers graze mine on the leather cushion.
The camera's red light blinks steadily as she turns to face me, her eyes moving from my mouth to my eyes, asking silent questions.
I start explaining about our travel series, but she cuts me off, leaning in until I feel her breath on my cheek.
Tom drops a lens cap, the plastic clattering on the hardwood floor.
Elizabeth whispers, "Tell me the real reason we're here, Kenny."