Author’s Note: The following excerpt of The Wentworth Shadows Chronicles is purely fan fiction parody. No one is making a red cent from it…and it’s all in good ‘power of play’ fun. If Hollywood happens to be sifting the internet looking for story ideas, this one will cost you a license from Tonner Doll Company, the rightful owners of Tyler Wentworth and her world – but you’ll want me as the writer. And if you’re a reader who doesn’t know Tyler or her world – you won’t get a single bit of this…so just start at the beginning of the Tommydoll blog, and catch up.
Fashion’s Seventh Avenue Darling, Wentworth has made an amazing career for herself. Despite riding the coattails of her infamous ‘aunt’, Tyler took the reins of the House of Wentworth (which was actually in financial crumble when Regina fled to the Riviera, Forbes Magazine tells us). Ingenuity, style and revenue seemingly happened overnight, but her career is a classic tale of the fashion press being coerced. Tyler’s rise was orchestrated by her father, William, and family friend, Virginia Chase. Through mystery and scandal, Tyler rose above the rumors and innuendo to create her successful global brand. However, recent years have been less kind as the design house’s controlling conglomerate, Wilde, Oz, Barbra & Patsy sent its financial interests in other directions, leaving Wentworth to fend for herself, and drastically down-sizing her fashion influence and merchandising diversification.
In a world where she is now largely shunned, Tyler Wentworth holds many secrets. “I’m getting drained by all the bullshit,” Tyler sighs. “I’ve made shitloads of money for many people, and now I’m casually tossed to the curb by a bitchy sister/daughter who sides with money – how typical. It’s funny how you can be dismissed in favor of paying customers – but considering I’ve brought more money in the door than any of those skanks, it just becomes bullshit when you look at what was thrown away.”
The truth is, Tyler has never publicly spoken to the press or her industry – she keeps to herself, and remains a very private individual. So why does she come forth now? “I had a vision during my last pedicure,” she weeps. “It’s time to settle the score.”
Tyler had had enough, and when she contacted me with her earth-shattering revelations, we sat in her Stone Ridge cottage in New York’s Hudson Valley, and we pondered the ramifications…
OW: Good morning, Tyler – so what is the truth?
TW: (sipping a vodka martini) Marely Wentworth is my daughter.
OW: Okay…so you just want to jump right into it, then?
TW: Why not? There’s been so much printed material on me over the years, and I hardly even said a single word about any of it – people know the ‘Tyler Wentworth Story’…but they sure as hell don’t know it from me. I’m going to change that…I’m tired of being a puppet.
OW: Well…you are a…
TW: Yes, yes – I know…I know…can we just move on, please?
OW: Would we be shocked at who the father is?
TW: I don’t know – a fair amount of folks are probably rolling their eyes over this right now…but just to be a ball-buster, let’s wait until later on, and let them fast-forward through everything – make sure the closed-captioning is turned off, too…that’ll really piss off the speed-readers…
OW: I know how you feel…when I was a little girl, I knew firsthand how the…
TW: (ahem) Just whose interview is this anyway?
OW: Um…sorry. So can I call you ‘Ty’?
TW: If you don’t mind me calling you ‘Harpo’.
OW: Fair enough, Tyler. Now…given Marley’s age…when exactly did you have her?
TW: I don’t like people to know exactly how old I am, so let’s just say I was over conceiving age. It was sometime before I started as an intern in Mother’s Design House…
OW: The one you don’t talk about – also known as Regina, correct?
TW: Yes. Sydney had no right to divulge that. It was none of her damn business – and the press hasn’t let up once since it dropped, so yeah – Regina Wentworth is my mother. It’s a long, sordid story…but I’ll give you the highlights. Basically, Regina was only Daddy and Aunt Elizabeth’s sister by adoption. As a really young thing, Regina somewhat seduced Grandpa Wentworth, and since Granny was senile from the syphilis, he needed someone to push his chair, so-to-speak. Regina was adopted, and fell instantly in love with Daddy. Daddy was never really very smart – always thought with just his manhood – so he fell for her…the servants were scandalized.
OW: This is William Wentworth, you’re talking about? Not smart…?
TW: Money buys people for your brains, sweetie…
OW: I can rather imagine – like when I was a teenager, my…
TW (ahem) – Back to me, please.
OW: Of course…
TW: Well, as things would have it, Aunt Elizabeth was also pining for Daddy, and being his real sister by blood – well, she was just this close to going all Lannister on us – and then Regina arrived. Well – that kind of screwed that screwed screw, right?
OW: You’ve never been to Alabama, have you?
TW: Oh dear Lord, no…we always sent a look-alike for those visits. Anyway…Regina got pregnant and they banished her to France. Virginia Chase helped them to concoct a secret dalliance with some Upper East End whore – Daddy pretended to marry her, and off they went to Europe for a year-long honeymoon. Not many questioned when Daddy came back with me, but his virtually unknown wife had gone missing, or something like that – it was never ‘solved’, but I know she’s probably in the foundation of the Eurotunnel, or some impossibly obscure place such as Jimmy Hoffa. No one could prove anything, except Regina…and with her in a French Prison, money buys all kind of silence.
OW: Those are some allegations, Tyler! Do you have proof?
TW: I don’t need proof, Daddy saw to that- and Regina was welcomed back into the fold to guarantee her silence, and to offer familial support of her fashion house. I didn’t even learn about it until I started as an intern.
OW: That must have been devastating news – did you feel your whole life was a lie?
TW: I felt that way all the time…if anything, really – I felt like I finally had some truth. It’s odd how many people will lie to you right to your face, trying to make themselves blameless for another truth they don’t have the balls to tell you. Fucking cowards.
OW: Stedman can be like that sometimes.
TW: Is that right?
OW: Gale and I talk about it all the time with Sydney an Esmé.
TW: And how does that make you feel?
OW: Back to you, bitch…
TW: (smirking) Word. Well, anyway…I had a hard time accepting Regina as my mother. People say The Devil Wears Prada was about Anna Wintour – but I can assure you Weisberger wrote a fair amount of Regina in there…and the Meryl Streep interpretation was no coincidence.
OW: Regina just hates Streep, you know…
TW: I know. She always wanted to be a film star. She was talented in fashion, and made quite the mark with Wentworth – but her interest faded, as all interests of hers eventually do. The House suffered, and I had no idea how bad the financial situation was until I assumed the lead. What an asswreck. But I pulled it around, had loads of great support – and we hit the top. We stayed at the top for a long time, but we got ignored by our backers, and then largely forgotten. By our 15th Anniversary, hardly anyone gave a shit anymore.
OW: I thought you had died.
TW: Yeah, well…Regina finally got her wish – after that cheap, but massively successful Sinister Circus film series for BBC – Regina’s star really got up there. Legalities precluded adaptation to American TV, but FX took strong inspiration for its American Horror Story: Freakshow season. In the original concept, Elsa Mars was to be a minor character, and Regina was considered. But Jessica Lange had them re-write the role, creating a starring position for her ongoing appearance in the series. Regina was out…and that was that…after the fit she publicly threw at the Golden Globes, she’ll never work in Hollywood again. I think she’s in rehab this week…who knows, we don’t talk much since forever.
OW: I hear her soul’s so unclean – pure water can melt her.
OW: Melt her.
TW: God…if only. I’d be the first to grab her a Perrier.
OW: Tell us how it is that we never even knew you were pregnant – really, Tyler – after leading such a publicly seen life – I mean, your wedding was held in a room of 300 strangers. That’s just cra-cra, lady…
TW: It was Matt’s idea…he’s a sexual voyeur/exhibitionist addict – it turned him on. He actually wanted cameras in the hotel room that night…I put my foot down – firmly on his nuts – no way that was happening for me.
OW: Why do you stay married to him – he must be good…yeah? (wink wink)
TW: There’s virtually nothing there, Oprah – and that jawline just gets in the way when he heads south, if you get my drift.
OW: Oh dear. So why did you marry him?
TW: He’s a good listener. He also makes a mean paella.
OW: Did he know about Marley?
TW: Yeah…he didn’t care. He loves me…kinda hard to dump someone that loves you so much- when you’ve been cursed with a bump for junk, and all…I don’t care how much money and Gay Mafia connections you have – oh shit, did I just say that?
OW: (texting to her assistant) Print that. (to Tyler) We’ll edit it out.
TW: (sigh)…so Marley. Well, she was a big surprise. I didn’t even think I could get pregnant. And bam…it happened in the Wentworth Design Room when I was an intern there – with the first assistant.
OW: You don’t mean…
TW: Yeah…Jeremy, Jeremy Voss. He was dreamy then…and a little bit kinky, too…he makes that Fifty Shades of Grey guy look like one shade of afterbirth pink. Jeremy really likes to do this thing with his…
OW: We’re not that late in prime time, dumpling.
TW: Right. Well…We were like rabbits until I discovered I was pregnant. But Regina had the solution – finish design studies abroad – and return to Wentworth with kid sister in tow – since nannies largely raised the little beast, no one knew any different. Daddy and Elizabeth were all too happy to take in a new ‘daughter’, considering Regina was turning the tables on them now, too. And then Regina dumped him – Jeremy was on his ass, in her eyes…that’s why he never got first assistant.
OW: It seems like I’ve read all this before somewhere…
TW: Isn’t all of our lives plagiarized from this or that – in all truth?
OW: Not mine…I was only 14 when I…
TW: Nobody cares, Oprah…that’s why you are interviewing me.
OW: You have a point.
TW: Of course I do. And now Marley’s bitched up her game with that Eurotrash whore Emalie Coddington – why even that name is made up! Her real name is Emanglemyne Codpuck. We knew her in design school, Jeremy and I – what a bona fide weirdo. Funny how she places herself as one of my fiercest competitors. I’m not the ‘shit’ of Seventh Avenue anymore, so we’re happy to get contracts from Target or Kohl’s, these days. Haute couture is over for us. But I am really excited about a new line of transgenderwear for men to women and women to men – Caitlyn Jenner is working with us on that – it should be gorgeous. I’m over it all…but I’m a survivor. If you sit around waiting for your sun to rise again, and to glow anywhere, you’d better do it yourself – because no one else is going to do it for you. So for that fucking bitch to say she’s a fierce competitor? Really. She sells to Old Navy and Topshop – hardly Fifth Avenue, sweetie. Chatting up Marely at a show like Coterie is laughable at best – more like holed up in a back stall somewhere in the vaults of the Javits Center. It’s hardly Mercedes Benz Fashion Week – it’s chip chop shopping…glad rag shops…middle-America retail. ‘Fierce competitor’, my blooming ass…
OW: And how is Jeremy behaving in all of this?
TW: Well of course he knew. The family released him from any financial obligation – he showed a little interest in being a father figure – that lasted about 30 seconds. Marley really is a little bitch, you know…even when she was little.
OW: Did figure skating do that to her?
TW: Who knows? I mean, there isn’t a non-competitive muscle in her bony little body. And it’s not like she’s really original, either – all her skating routines were ripped off from some other kid who just conveniently left figure skating at the time Marley picked up on it all. She has this real mean streak, you know. Look at what she’s doing to me – wearing her own designs, and flaunting all the new plastic around.
OW: How have you adjusted to Marely’s reinvention of herself?
TW: Well, I drink a lot. No really…it’s true. I was very concerned with all that surgery she had done to look more like me – well, me after I had my surgery, that is. What 20 year-old does that? Why would you put yourself through that? I know what it’s like to have your body changed, slimmer, fuller, more athletic, more flexible…ugh.
OW: I know a thing or two about body changes…I wish I looked like Ru Paul.
TW: Me, too darling – me, too.
OW: And how is Matt helping you with your situation?
TW: He drinks, too. It’s one thing we have left in common.
OW: Do you think you’ll stage a comeback now with Marley on the scene?
TW: Comeback? At my age? No…I just think it’s all done…well, until another anniversary comes and goes with virtually nothing to celebrate. We did have great clothes, a wonderful stylist – lavish sets and parties. I remember the Fifth Anniversary party at my penthouse – man, everyone was so shit-faced. But those were fun times then…well, until someone threw up on the floor…but we try to look past that. I remember Sean having this giant face of some guy printed and applied the penthouse window – we thought Angelina was going to freak out – too funny – and a little too much acid slipped in her cocktail – that crazy Mei Li, God rest her soul…
OW: I was never invited to any of those parties.
TW: Gale was.
OW: Hmmm. Well…so what will you do now…now that the story is out?
TW: Go back into hiding, I guess…there’s really not much out there for me. I just wanted people to know what a big phony Marely is…and she’s not fooling anyone.
OW: Do you miss her?
TW: Yeah…like a scorching case of herpes.
OW: But can’t you just let it go?
TW: It’s like letting go of herpes.
OW: I see…well, I guess that pretty much wraps it up, then.
TW: (checking her iPhone) Pretty much…I’m running late for my Zumba class.
OW: Thank you for joining me, Ty.
TW: Anytime, Harpo.
OW: Bitch, I’ve interviewed the Queen of England…