<div class="floatright">(http://imageshack.us/a/img14/3372/20c18ad46c21e22bcde4eab.jpg)<br/><strong>Drake Holland <del>   </del> Age: 22 <del>   </del> Actor's son</strong></div><strong>"Aaaand cut! That's a wrap, people!"</strong>The director's voice was met with enthusiastic cheering and broad smiles, many clapping or pumping their fists into the air as the tense atmosphere relaxed. Crewmen and actors hustled about the scene, shaking hands and congratulating each other on a job well done. At the center of all this was young Drake Holland, who had played the main male lead in the production. Many flocked to him almost naturally, surrounding him like a pack would their leader. His charismatic personality and looks enthralled them; this he knew. It was something he had practiced for years, after all.<br/><br/><strong>"You were amazing, Mr. Holland!"</strong>one of the cameramen, a sturdy guy in his late thirties with a slowly receding hairline, complemented the young actor with a grin that went from ear to ear and a friendly clap on the shoulder that had Drake buckle for a brief moment. God, how he hated when people touched him like that...<br/><br/><strong>"Ah, just call me Drake, Mr. Jones."</strong>It wasn't something he was going to like, being called by his first name by some mediocre man who never made it past a life as a medium wage worker. However, this would score him a lot of points in the social rankings of those surrounding him that he thought were worth his time and attention. The young lady playing the female lead particularly had his interest. He would have to see if he could persuade her to have a 'post production evaluation' at his apartment some time.<br/><br/>A few minutes later a bottle of champagne was opened and the party got going. After some lengthy conversations with, for the most part, the main cast and the director, a old veteran very successful doing smaller productions like these, Drake excused himself, saying with fake smile that was impossible to tell apart from a genuine one, that he had get ready to attend the annual Decatur Gala with his family later that evening. Naturally, he did not leave empty handed, having at least managed to score the phone number of the female lead.<br/><br/>Arriving at his luxurious downtown L.A. apartment later that afternoon, he set out to get his things in order for the party that evening. It was a large social event where he could make good connections. Having his parents there as well would be a huge boost, seeing as they were both world famous actors. His father's most recent role had been that of a older, mediocre rated super hero in a story where super heroes fight crime while having their costumes littlered with logo's of their sponsors, as if they were athletes and had their crimefighting recorded live on TV. It was an interesting twist on the familiar superhero genre, and one that had worked out well, seeing as the movie had become a major hit and Micheal Holland had been signed on for two sequels almost immediately.<br/><br/>His mother, on the other hand, was more known for her long running role in a popular soap opera. She played a role that fit her perfectly: that of a soft and caring mother. Unlike her husband, who had come from a long line of actors, Lianna was born in a middle class working family and had worked herself to her current fame and success, utilizing her talents. Those were the things Drake admired most in himself and some of the people around him: talent and the ability to use it to secure yourself fame and fortune. That was why, unlike his younger brother Drake, who seemed perfectly content mooching off their parents without any real ambitions of his own, the eldest son of the Holland actor couple strove to be successful as well, using his own talents.<br/><br/><strong>"Yes... Yes, I will, mom. Don't worry,"</strong>he responded some time later, talking to his mother over his cellphone as he stood in front of the full size mirror in the corner of his bedroom, contemplating which colour and pattern tie he should wear with his outfit. He had so many of them, it was often hard to choose. In the end, he went with a lighter shade of orange that didn't have a pattern, but possessed a nice looking silver accessory. It looked good, would go well with his dark designer suit, and made him stand out in a manner that wasn't obvious attention seeking.<br/><br/>Drake was picked up in the evening by the white limosine of his parents. They chatted idly on their way to the party in Decatur. He mostly questioned his father about his role in the sequels to the superhero movie. It was good to get some insight on those truly big roles, even though he's heard it a million times now from his parents. The prospect to boost his fame and fortune with such glamour roles excited young Drake; to be better than anyone else, an elite.<br/><br/>The Holland family made their appearance together, walking up the red carpet with the parents with arms linked and a son on each side. This was how they always walked. It was mainly because Drake and Damon did not get along. The former had little patience with waste of space people like the latter. They were quickly swarmed by the media, but the eager crowd did not faze them; they were used to it. A few questions were answered, some jokes were made, some<del>   </del>or rather many<del>   </del>pictures were taken.<br/><br/>Inside Drake lingered by his parents' side for a while, mingling with whatever high ranking producer, director, or other person of status would come up to talk to them, but eventually he branched off, deciding to take a short break. Managing to snag a glass of champagne from a passing waiter carrying several on a tray, he slowly made his way outside for some fresh air. The cool January breeze was rather refreshing after a long while inside, where many bodies kept the room warm. Contrary to what he had expected, Drake was not alone. A young woman, appearing to be around his own age if her attractive backside was anything to judge by, had braved the night in a long, shoulderless dress. She was humming quite melodically to herself, so he decided not to disturb her, standing to the side. Leaning against a pillar, he closed his eyes, eyelids hiding those clear aqua eyes as he took a sip of his drink, letting the taste linger on his tongue as he listened to the young blond's humming. It was rather soothing, he had to admit. Perhaps she was a musician?