KELLER, calvin g.

[calvin keller]

MARTIN A shark, in every sense of the word. My grandparents are that gaudy type of new money who reside very close to Mar-a-Lago and made their fortune on cheap, shitty developments in areas where people don't know better. Martin all but emancipated himself at 16, moved in with a friend in Tampa, and drained his inheritance into a separate account. One private school, one public college, and a Wharton MBA later he took a job with WME and viciously clawed his way up until CAA recruited him and he started splitting his time between LA and NY. These days he exploits talent and constructs contracts with brutal efficiency; anyone who's anyone has at one point put his e-mail in CC. This includes my mother's ex-husband. DAPHNE Daphne Goelet, of the original Goelet family first published in The Social Registry. Though she's loathe to mention it publicly, claiming it to be too gauche, behind closed doors she pours over that list every year to ensure herself, her siblings, and now myself (Schuyler's on the junior list), appear on those hallowed pages. Her biggest wedding jitters were apparently what her marriage would do to her status - as if an A-list movie star would hinder one's status these days - and then her quite prompt divorce worried her worse. Much to her relief the affair with my father (her ex's agent) was an invisible footnote on her write-up, though she still sours at the mention of a second marriage. Daphne always valued business over passion anyway; one is an easy guarantee. SCHUYLER Sweet Schuyler takes after my mother, down to the worrying wring of her hands. She fell into society so early in life she's never known anything else, chairing junior boards the moment she could justify Chanel. If her winters don't involve skiing in Verbier and her summers don't involve a week long sail that anchors in Antibes she's very lost, looking forlornly out windows as if the world simply moved on without her. Depending on the day I wager she's never been kissed, or she's the biggest whore at Yale. Unfortunately she speaks in riddles and defers to my mother about everything, so in essence I barely know her at all.

DOMINIC (FRIEND) "He’s like my third favorite C.K. after Calvin Klein and Louis. We’re very close, I think I remember the order of his last names. Our dads know each other, we grew up together, he knows The Life™. We’ve competed for the same girls, fucked the same girls—actually we’ve even fucked in the same room. He’s the brother I never had (I have two but they both suck). He remembers the nights I don’t, I remember the ones he doesn’t—that’s mutually beneficial, isn’t that a type of parasitism? Anyway, I was obviously dismayed when he went to college in California, but it works better for the 3 of us. The 3 of us being me, Kitty, Cal. In a perfect world we would be a throuple but Kitty had to go fuck it up for me. So now the loves of my life are separated on opposite coasts, probably for the better (much to the chagrin of the environmental freaks who monitor the CO₂ output of my PJ). The last couple years has been me trying to decide who I love more between them. It’s kind of been my only ambition tbh, so once that’s done I don’t know what I’ll do. He’s honestly one of the few people I’ll actually listen to. One time when we were teenagers I had a really bad trip, like on the verge of psychosis, and he babysat me while I was naked in a bathtub. We cuddled until my comedown was bearable, and then drank it off. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. Briefly, when we come up for air from all the drugs and drinking, during those few moments of excruciating sobriety, I think he’s the only person that really knows me. Sorry, I should probably do this when I'm sober. Ask me again in a few days." SERA (EX) "Calvin and I met at a mixer at Stanford - who could miss that jawline, it cuts glass. What the girls pray for these days when they put on those chin straps. Anyway, you can just tell this guy is money. Suave, conversational, and yet that little thing that always flashes in their eyes. As if he's playing an entirely different game, the chess to your checkers. But for one reason or another he liked my particular game of checkers, indulging conversation for hours on this antique loveseat in someone's family home. He eventually gave me his number and his last name, and a quick google search unearthed a brief suspension from his private school in New York and a wild family pedigree. The kind where his mother is rarely photographed, their events are so hush hush and elitist. I come from wealth, my father did well in the stock market, but even then they're so unreachable. I bet his mom would have looked down on me had I ever met her. Did meet his dad though - spitting image, but his dad's intensity is ratcheted up times 1 million. I think being out in California mellowed Calvin out, honestly. He never really had a temper, never really argued or cared to argue. The fights we picked were ones that eventually lead to sex, not anything serious or relationship-defining. Looking back it was all just fun - we'd go down to his house in Malibu on the weekends to have a beach to ourselves, he taught me how to surf, we were regulars at Nobu. Every time he came back from New York I would like, watch in real time as his shoulders slowly came down, like he was always watching or waiting for another shoe to drop. I asked once, but he waived it away, claimed that 'that was a different time' though he always talked about his friends there. Never met them, either. Classic. That was probably my thing about Calvin - he was a decent sharer, but everything was so stupid and surface. Eventually I realized that may be it to him, this middling vibe of nothingness, and I came to resent it. Right before we broke up he brought me to an underground poker game he was running, very Molly's Game, and it relit the fire - but then he quickly dispatched me right after much to my shock. Not that I hadn't been thinking about it, but it was this whiplash of him finally showing me something and then slamming the door in my face. Still waves at me on campus though." REDACTED (ACTRESS) "I've been working on this really beautiful film with the Martins (Scorsese, of course, and then Keller, my agent). Filming has spanned between Australia, Atlanta and Los Angeles, an inspiring coming of age...oh, I actually can't say more, it's in my contract. Anyway, have been on set for the past three months and when we finally settled into Hollywood, that is when Calvin showed up. Sweet, attentive Calvin - I knew the moment I laid eyes on him he was Martin's son, but for all the harshness of Martin Keller, there was the softness of Calvin Keller. Head down, always nodding, unafraid to volunteer at craft services or run to CVS for fashion tape (he knew what it was, even, a plus - he must have sisters). He spoke very little but the moments I'd interact with him he was deliberate with his eye contact and every once in a while, he'd toss away some feedback on the set or recent take that would make my heart flutter. He understood, had the eye of a director, and I came to seek out those tiny kernels of truth. Craved his presence on set, those curious bright eyes...it wasn't long before a cast dinner out, swimming in tequila, I pulled his phone number off the PA sheet and invited him back to my suite at the Hollywood Edition. We shared one drink before his head was between my thighs, and for those two weeks at a sound stage we'd rinse and repeat. It was a reminder of the stamina of the youth and the electric thrill of being wanted carnally, something my partner of 6 years seems to have forgotten. Calvin didn't follow us to the next location when we went back to Atlanta, but I will carry those memories with me in the depths of my illicit mind. Confirming this is all off the record, correct?"

KITTY "As much as I would love to know what Kitty would say, I refuse to give her the space. Why, do you ask? Because the one thing I've found with her is that you become the sorest loser when you don't play her games. Which means she has no fun, which means you're the winner after all. I haven't deigned to stoop to her petty levels of amusement since Dom tipped me off she was likely the one behind the faculty member conveniently perusing the back quad when I had my daily smoke in my open period. Look - if there's one thing we all get off on, it's the boredom that consumes us. Kitty's choice of weapon is the anonymous internet and unwavering loyalty to the people she destroys. Don't know if I admire it, or abhor it. Anyway - when you catch her in the right second she's a little girl with an iron fist on a few variables, and the second you unravel those she's useless. She's wound so tight any little moment that isn't executed perfectly to the mantra in her head is the biggest slight - I know the exact moment it happened. We all bonded immediately our first year in school together - Dom, Kitty, Vi when she was around - and it felt like a constant battle of Minefield where you blew up if you took the wrong step. Mine occured junior year, when we were all at Jean's (pre public opening) in their underground space, and I moved her off of me when she sat on my lap. My high that night was scratchy, bordering more on paranoia than bliss and I couldn't be closer than 2 feet to anyone - anyway, Dom laughed at the motion and she stalked off in dismay. The next week I was hauled into the dean's office, and Kitty proceeded to blow up my phone the entire week I was suspended. Rallying behind me when I saw right through it - spoke to her lack of character, but gave me the out I needed to head to California. I guess I should thank her for that, but even then she'd probably be offended. Talking to her is its own language, getting along with her takes a master's degree. I'm content with what I know of her and how I can push her buttons when I'm in town, and I'm alright with that being it." VIOLET "I've always been the odd girl out when it comes to the three of them. Dom, Kitty and Cal. Mostly because I was constantly flitting in and out of their lives. My parents never made a schedule for me when it came to who would have me. They just took me when they wanted, or worked best for them. It always London vs LA vs NY. Those were the grounds that I walked all over, and made my own. Sometimes I would start school in NY with Dad and then end it in LA with Mom. I met Cal first, actually and my introductions followed with the other two. Cal intrigued me, tall, dark and handsome. Who wouldn't be entranced with that? I think we both were fascinated with each other, to be honest. While I'm like them in many ways, I'm not. My mother being a groupie-turned-famous, upsets a lot of people in the world in which I was thrown into courtesy of my father and step-mother.  The industry kids stick together, somewhat, when we're not stabbing each other in the back. We've stayed close, honestly out of the three of them I'm probably the closest with him. My favorite thing about Cal? He stays in his own lane. Keeps his comments to himself for the most part. My drugs and alcohol problem? Never told me no, just encouraged me to live my life. Others would construed that to be fucked up, or twisted but to me? I liked it. Thrived on it and wanted to be around him always. I'm so tired of people telling me what to do, or how I should do something. He was the first person that I called once I was released from that prison. No one in our group is fully based somewhere, thanks to the access of PJ's and what not, but knowing that he's primarily in LA as I manipulated my way through rehab?  This is going to be fun."

My vice is a game of odds. Sports, life - everything shifts in favor with a few stats, a couple key words. It speaks to how easily people are manipulated, or how far physical prowess can get you in life. Obviously I lack in the latter, but what I learned from my father about the former is that everyone can be ground down with enough effort. People confess to murders they'v never committed, for god's sake. Just tweak a few variables in your favor and suddenly the path's there, a few steps away from cashing out and carrying on. I took these valued principles and started a...gentlemen's club, of sorts. Curated crowds from various private schools, boarding schools, foundations and foreign embassies. Those who could lose consistently and think nothing of it, enticed by brotherly edging and nights where no one walked away with memories. Activities ranged from traditional cards to international game betting, taking rakes then letting them go just for a bit of a thrill. The money meant little to me - it was the seconds of spoils, the anger of defeat, that fucked me up. It's my greatest victory in life that though I was drug through the mud in New York, the minor offense was just a scratch in what I'd created there. Instead I took my curation to a more golden coast, slowly building back a network of individuals that for one night a month, and one night only, anything could be theirs. All it took was a gratuitous buy-in and the ultimate discretion. So far, so good. BETS CAL HAS MADE WITH HIMSELF AS IF GOD PAYS OUT CALLIE SULLIVAN GOES ON OZEMPIC: $4000 ✅ 4 OUT OF 4 NIGHT OUT WITHOUT A FIGHT: $2 DRINK THE PERFECT MANHATTAN: $750 I FUCK TOP BILLED TALENT ON A SET: $6000 ✅ MOM AND DAD DIVORCE: -$6000 SCHUYLER IS MARRIED BY 22: $1500 A PEER PURSUES A DJ CAREER: $1000 DEVELOPING A PEANUT ALLERGY BY 30: $400 VIOLET GOING TO REHAB: $2500 ✅ DOM AND KITTY HOOKING UP: $10000

jill . moritz hau . student