REED, BENTLEY NICHOLE

[BENTLEY NICHOLE REED]

BENTLEY REED

full name bentley nichole reed
nicknames coco or bennie
type original
gender female
age seventeen
birthday september first
group neutral
clique drama geek
grade senior
sexuality bisexual
occupation costume design assistant
face claim rita ora
alias bria

persona
perfectionist, crafty, sarcastic, crafty, melodramatic, a connoisseur, fashionable, dedicated, hardworking,witty, charming, headstrong, hard-headed, imaginative, self-absorbed, sly, opinionated, loud, bookish, hip, materialistic, free spirited, optimistic, moody, artistic, intelligent, snappy, ambitious, creative, controlling, and bipolar.

life
Hello there *in my fake-but-amazing English accent* my name is Bentley! Umm, I’m not exactly sure where I should start so I guess I’ll go from the beginning. Well, I was born to Irish-American art director Allen Reed and boutique owner Albanian-American Karmela Hassan-Reed in Chicago, Illinois. It’s kind of a mouthful but you should just hear my family talking. Daddy’s side is very Irish and Mommy’s side is very Albanian. I suppose you could say that my parents were the “free spirits” of their families because I didn’t grow up in the same type of household that both of my parents grew up in. In my house everything was pretty bohemian. In Chicago, kids kind of grew up fast in a sense where I was doing public transportation at the age of seven because we lived downtown in a condo and my parents didn’t even own a car! I was an only child so instead of me having a sibling to play with all the time, after school I’d either go to Mommy’s boutique or I’d visit Daddy at his office.

Its pretty cliché to say but I got most of my artistic dreams from my parents. They’re both professionals in the art world but I’m looking to be a bit more creative like a fashion designer especially when I always tell my mom how to make her boutique pop and make it more hip and interesting. However, I wasn’t always into fashion or fashion design. I used to think that fashion = model and since I’m only 5’2 I don’t see that happening. I started off in theatre at a very young age. My parents let me try out for productions around Chicago—they thought it would make me a little bit more outgoing and grounded since I would be around other people. Granted, those people were usually always older than I am but they were still my friends. I did the whole vocal coach thing to help me project and because of that I got interested in a lot more musical productions instead of dramatic plays.

My parents dropped a bomb on me and told me that we will be moving to Maryland because my father was getting relocated. I was a bit upset with the news because Chicago is a little more theatre driven as opposed to Maryland but I eventually got over it. I think I was in the seventh grade—I started school here and I was automatically bullied. I was loud, boisterous, and I fabricated a lot of stories to make them more interesting but that’s just how people are in Chicago—it just didn’t register well for people here. On top of that, our house is kind of like a creamy pinkish color, it’s more of a cottage as opposed to the normal Western-looking houses here. My family just rubbed people the wrong way in the PTSA meetings and the dislike towards my parents came to me at school. I’m not going to lie, it really kind of hurt my feelings but it didn’t take long for me to find people like me. The second semester of eighth grade year two pretty cool things happened, my parents let me get my first tattoo and my Mommy let me dye my hair this white-blond color. It was always something I was interested in, plus my favorite aunt on my Dad’s side is the only blond in a family is dark-haired/red heads.
Ninth grade rolled around which meant I was finally leaving my tormentors in middle school and starting high school. Many of the tormentors came with me but everyone sort of split up into their selective groups. I joined the drama club and the young thespian’s society here but after a year without acting or singing not only was I rusty but I really wasn’t passionate about it anymore. I of course act in my theatre classes and in outside productions but at school I was put in technical theater. For an actress/singer that’s a nightmare—no one really watches the Academy Awards other than for Best Actress, Best Actor, Best Movie, etc! I remember screaming and crying to my parents about it and Daddy put the perfect idea in my head. He brought up costumes from all of my favorite movies. He pointed out that I didn’t like Marie Antoinette or Memoirs of a Geisha because of the acting. I kept those movies in my collection because of the costumes. After he told me this my mind flashed through all of my favorite movies and the things that stuck out the most was the costume design.

I remember the next day I went to school with my head held high, I thought I was the shit. From then on I kind of took over the costume design of the plays and productions at school and even a few outside of school. I’m in love with acting but something I’m passionate about is the costume design and fashion design of the productions. I’m thinking about having a career in that but I have to get through high school first!


roleplaying sample
By the time Esme ordered her food she was already having second thoughts about coming to this diner. It looked a lot like the one near the brothel home in Mexico where she grew up and spent most of her time when she wanted to get a free milkshake from the destitute Americans who moved to Acapulco. Esme was suddenly reminded of why she never visited this place other than her first night living alone in Valkyrie—she had vowed never to return again. The diner even smelled like the one back in Mexico. One would think she’d be fond of a piece of home but that would be far from the truth.

Esme hated thinking about home. Hate is a strong word and an even stronger emotion but hatred was all she felt when she thought about her life in Mexico and what she’s been through. Somehow Esme found a way to repress her memories of how her life was like, things were still fuzzy but it seemed as though the really chilling things stuck with her. She’d always remember the warm thick feeling of blood splattered across her face with her father was shot in front of her, she’ll always remember just big faces of her mother’s sweaty and disgusting clients, and she’ll always remember how it felt to literally be on the brink of starvation before she met Magdalena Giovanni who was then known as Maggie Corinthos. Those memories along with being aware that her mother hasn’t bothered to find out where she and her sister ran off to—that was when she was thirteen, Esme was now twenty-one years old and she still hasn’t heard from her mother, perhaps she was dead.

Esme could practically feel her blood getting hotter and her grip on the counter getting tighter. She wasn’t upset about her mother possibly being dead; in fact she hoped she was. No other excuse for not seeking her children will be satisfying to Esme. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the sound of a stranger’s voice near her. It kind of scared her because usually she’d listen when her back was turned and this guy could have killed her. Esme’s dark eyes met his and her lip twitched a little in response to his “joke”. Esme was still a little salty about the fact her guard was down so she merely turned around again and paid her money to the cashier, now a little bit wearier of what she would be feeding her body. The stranger went on without Esme really listening until she heard her name. How did he know her?

Esme turned towards him again, this time getting a closer look. She mentally scanned his face and body and she racked her brain thinking of where she heard his name until she remembered him. She vaguely remembered him from being at the Giovanni’s house a few times—he was a Siren, perhaps even the Siren. “I’m Esme, the only Vega you should be concerned with.” Esme shook his hand but hated her sister being involved, it scared her. She also hated that her accent was especially thick tonight—she had been talking both Spanish and Italian all day. Esme took a table nearby when she got her drink as she waited for her food. “So what brings you here? This doesn’t exactly look like your kind of…scene.” Esme said somewhat sarcastically. The place usually crawled with Latino gangs, Mafia grunts, and Mafia soldiers who were desperate like she was. Definitely not the place for a computer hacking Siren but who was she to judge?

This Donny kid was probably the most interesting person in the diner that night—really, that whole week because it has been really quiet for her. Aside from that he was pretty attractive—as far as white men went. Esme usually dated exotic looking men…and women. Still, it’s been a while (two weeks—one was because of her period) since she’s had sex anyway so she was always on the hunt for something or someone knew. She couldn’t help the fact that she had a one track mind for a girl but hey, they say “business women” were the ones with huge sexual appetites. She decided to clear her mind for now anyway, besides she doubted he could handle her anyway. “More importantly, what are you doing out so late?” Esme asked while gesturing for him to sit. She didn’t plan on staying for too long but she was curious and must have been in a great mood. She had an idea of what he was doing out so late but she wanted to give the benefit of the doubt. After all, she didn’t know him but she never knew who would be a great asset to her and who wouldn’t. Esme was all about trying new things anyway.

other characters
NONE :c