“My friend is having a New Year’s Eve party downtown tomorrow night….” Vanessa tried to picture Dan interacting with some of her new friends, like Matt and Chip, the gay couple who made extremely explicit XX-rated films. Dan could sometimes be a little… antisocial.
“My dad wanted me to go on some retreat thing,” Dan told her, disappointed. “I just told him I’d come.”
“I understand,” Vanessa said, pleased that she could go to Hollis’s party without worrying about Dan. “I don’t want you to disappoint your dad. Besides, we have plenty of time now.”
Dan melted all over again. It was so cute that Vanessa was concerned about his dad. He took her hand and interlaced his fingers with hers.
“You’re right,” he murmured, drawing her close. “I’ll be back in a few days.” It would mean a lot to his dad to spend some father-son time together. Especially since he and Vanessa would be moving in together soon. He couldn’t wait.
Because nothing says forever like a cramped studio apartment.
welcome back
Blair heaved a sigh of relief as she hauled her Louis Vuitton duffel to the curb outside La Guardia on New Year’s Eve day. Just a few hours ago, she’d said goodbye to Pete at Logan Airport before hopping a commuter plane to New York.
“Where to?” The cab driver gazed at her through the Plexiglas partition.
“Nine ninety-four Fifth Avenue.” Blair rattled off Serena’s address as if it were her own and leaned back against the cab’s black pleather seats. The past few days at the Carlsons’ had been torture. After the “no ring, no bring” announcement, the cozy atmosphere had felt decidedly claustrophobic. Now she was actually looking forward to spending New Year’s in the city and seeing Serena again. She rummaged through her thyme green Lanvin weekender bag for her iPhone.
“I’m coming over!” Blair announced as soon as Serena picked up. The cab hit a traffic snarl right before the Queensboro Bridge. Instantly, the cars around them started honking.
“You’re in New York?” Serena squealed. “Oh my God, I can’t wait to see you!” Her excited, crackly voice filled the cab.
“See you soon!” Blair clicked off. The familiar skyline came into her vision, and a smile curled across Blair’s lips. She was back.
The cab navigated its way into Manhattan and weaved across the east side. On Fifth Avenue, it stopped in front of a familiar, green-awninged building across from the Met. A familiar blond figure stood outside, two coffees in hand.
Blair rolled down the window of the cab and sucked in her breath. Of course, she’d seen photos of Serena in all the weekly gossip magazines she pretended not to read, but Serena in person took her breath away. She wore a tattered pair of J Brand boyfriend jeans and a fuzzy white cashmere sweater. Her thick blond hair was loose around her shoulders and her makeup-free face was flawless.
Serena yanked the cab door open and tackled Blair in a bear hug. “I’ve missed you!” She hugged her tightly. Serena had gotten a Cartier watch from her parents for Christmas and a Burberry ski parka from Erik, but this was all she really wanted: her best friend home for the holidays.
“Me too,” Blair replied honestly. The cabbie removed her bags from the trunk and set them on the sidewalk. Instantly, Roland, Serena’s ancient doorman, took the bags and brought them inside.
Once they were alone, Serena stared dumbly at her friend. She couldn’t believe Blair was right in front of her. She looked older, somehow. Her hair was longer than it had been last summer, her small face more angular. But she was grinning widely in a way that reminded Serena of how she’d looked as a little kid.
“I bought you coffee.” Serena proffered a white Dean & Deluca cup.
Blair took a sip and smiled as the skim latte with two Splendas slid down her throat. That was the great thing about old friends. They knew you, right down to how you took your coffee.
“Can we sit on the steps for a little bit?” Blair asked almost shyly, gazing at the Corinthian columns of the Met across the street. Back in high school, they spent hours on the steps, gossiping and pouring their hearts out to one another. The steps were the center of their universe. Blair had even had her going-away party inside the famous museum. It felt right that they begin their reunion there, instead of in Serena’s apartment.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Serena grinned, already crossing the street.
They settled midway down the steps. It was surprisingly warm for December, and the museum entrance was crowded with people. Blair spotted two girls huddled over coffee a few steps below them, and for a moment, thought it might be Kati and Isabel. But when the blonde turned, Blair realized she was only about fourteen. She reminded herself that everyone had changed in the past few months.
Some more than others.
Serena rummaged through her oversize See by Chloé bag and pulled out a pack of Gauloises. She handed one to Blair.
“So tell me everything,” Serena began, lighting both their cigarettes. “Starting with how and why you’re here.”
“So…” Blair heaved a deep breath. After the horrendous few days she’d had, grinning stupidly as she played board games with Pete’s family and pretending everything was okay, she couldn’t wait to finally unload the truth. “I was at my boyfriend, Pete’s, house in Vermont for Christmas.” Blair nervously twirled her ruby ring around her finger. “We were staying there just for the holiday, before taking off for Costa Rica. I was so excited and everything was going so well. But then—”
Blair paused as a cute trio of twentysomething guys approached. They stood at a distance of a few feet, shuffling nervously. Guys always approached Blair and Serena whenever they were together, and of course it was flattering. But right now, Blair wasn’t really in the mood.
“Are you Serena van der Woodsen?” a lanky blond guy asked in a British accent.
“I am.” Serena smiled, displaying her perfect white teeth.
“I knew it was her!” his red-haired friend exclaimed. “Mind if I take a picture?” he pleaded, already removing a tiny Nikon digital camera from his khakis pocket.
“Only if my best friend is in it, too,” Serena said sweetly. She threw her arms around Blair’s shoulders and stuck out her tongue. Of course she still looked beautiful.
“Thanks, Serena!” the guys chorused as they walked away, crowding around the guy with the camera so they could check out the picture.
“How annoying,” Blair grumbled.
“It’s not so bad. It happens a lot, ever since Breakfast at Fred’s opened. It’s kind of cute.” Serena shrugged. “So, anyway. You were saying. About your boyfriend?”
“He’s great,” Blair said quickly, taking another sip of coffee. Suddenly, she didn’t want to tell Serena about what happened in Vermont. After all, Serena was an internationally worshipped movie star. How could she possibly understand? “It’s amazing. A real relationship. Nothing like high school,” Blair added. “We’re thinking of moving in together for spring semester.”
“You must really love Yale,” Serena said wistfully. She’d chosen not to go to Yale with Blair, and mostly, she was happy with that decision. But it was a little hard to hear about Blair’s perfect college life knowing she could have been right there with her.
“I do love it. It’s just so nice to be surrounded by interesting people who care about what’s going on in the world. It’s just so collegiate, you know?” Blair said, still thinking about the British guys. Weren’t they a little old to be asking for autographs?
An awkward silence fell over them. “Chuck’s having his New Year’s Eve party tonight,” Serena said finally. She wanted to tell Blair how lonely she’d been in New York without her, but it sounded like Blair was having the time of her life at Yale. She probably thought Serena’s life was pathetic. “I have to stop by another party first, but maybe we can meet up there later?” she asked hopefully. For all she knew, Blair had dozens of New Year’s Eve parties to attend with her Yale friends who lived in the city.
&n
bsp; “I guess I could stop by,” Blair allowed. It would be fun to see the old crowd. Especially with Serena at her side. Every year at Chuck’s party, they’d drink far too much champagne and wind up in the hot tub at ungodly hours of the morning. “Just like old times,” she added under her breath. Just then, a cute guy jogging past the steps did a double take when he spotted Serena.
“I’m freezing,” Blair announced, standing up and stamping out her cigarette. “Let’s go.” She quickly crossed the street, and Serena had to run to keep up with her.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
hey people!
I was at EAT on Madison getting my usual half-caf double cap when I was asked the question. You know the one. I should be used to it by now, but it catches me by surprise every time. And no, I’m not talking about where I get my highlights or who makes my boots or why I look so familiar. I’m talking about the ever popular “What’s your New Year’s resolution?”
Yes, it’s annoying. And yes, it’s kind of a personal question. But I for one think you should reveal your resolutions to the world. After all, it’s the one time of the year you can publicly declare you’ll no longer try to pull off Forever 21 as vintage, you’ll no longer run back to a loser ex, you’ll no longer head to the gym just for a wheatgrass smoothie. The point is, if you want to change your life, you’ve got to let people know so they can hold you accountable. And the best place to announce your intentions? The most fabulous New Year’s Eve party you can find!
live it up
It’s all the debauchery of a costume party minus the awkward outfits, the anything-can-happen fun of Fourth of July without the sunburn, and the revelry of St. Patrick’s Day without the green beer. It’s the night to wear your pink Vena Cava zip-up dress and flirt with your friend’s older brother. It’s time to grab someone and kiss them, hard, until everyone stops blowing those annoying party horns. And, if a certain bad boy from the past is hosting a party in his parents’ exclusive downtown hotel suite, it’s the perfect setting for whatever you want to happen—decadent or demure.
sightings
S and three A-named (if not A-listed) actresses at The Standard. And Waverly Inn. And Rose Bar. Do those girls ever get tired? D climbing into an ancient brown van double-parked on Broadway and Ninety-ninth, followed by his dad, V waving them both off from the curb. C heading to the Tribeca Star with four or five cowboys and several handles of vodka. And this in from Palm Beach: a glittering-green eyed boy who looks mysteriously like the long-lost N, getting on a plane bound for JFK. Hellooooooo, sailor!
the great reunion
I admit it: I thought a certain Ivy League brunette might have forsaken her hometown for warmer climes. But after a change in vacation plans left her temporarily stranded on the East Coast, B is back. She was last seen smoking Gauloises on the steps of the Met with a certain blond beauty who could only be S. And my sources say they were making New Year’s Eve plans. Just like old times! Now the big question is: Who will S and B be kissing at midnight?
your e-mail
q: Hey G,
An idea: You, me, and a bottle of Dom. We can watch the ball drop and create our own fireworks. Thoughts?
—mackdaddy
a: Dear Mack,
Unfortunately, I already have some more heavily populated parties to attend. But, hey, look on the bright side: More Dom for you!
—GG
q: Dear Gossip Girl,
It’s the first time I’m going to see my ex since we both left for college. I have a new boyfriend now, but he’s not in town, and I’m worried what will happen when it’s just me, my ex, and the countdown to New Year’s. What should I do?
—kissme
a: Dear K,
While I don’t condone cheating, as they say, should auld acquaintance be forgot. Which I interpret to mean that special pardons exist for that New Year’s Eve kiss. Good luck.
—GG
the final countdown
It’s already late afternoon and I still have to take a nap before slipping into my don’t-you-wish-you-knew-where-it-was-from frock. And while I have my beauty sleep, I suggest you do the same. After all, who knows where and when (and with whom) you’ll find yourself in bed tonight.
You know you love me,
gossip girl
double-booking NYE is never a good idea
Serena crowded into the elevator of Thaddeus Smith’s loft behind Amanda, Alysia, and Alison. She’d invited Blair, but Blair had declined, saying she’d just meet her at Chuck’s later. Serena hoped Blair didn’t think she was lame for stopping by an industry party, but she’d promised Thad she would.
“Oh my God, Serena, you should date Thaddeus! His building is soooo pretty!” Alysia enthused in between hiccups. Thaddeus lived in a top-floor triplex in an all-pink eight-unit Julian Schnabel building that overlooked the Hudson River.
“I don’t think we’d be good together.” Serena giggled. Because he’s totally gay, she wanted to add. Serena had found this out the hard way last summer, when Thad was her costar in Breakfast at Fred’s. She’d thought he liked her—until she’d met his boyfriend, Serge, and realized Thad had been flirting with her to cover up his real relationship. It was disappointing, but she’d gotten over it quickly. Now, she wasn’t about to out Thad. He’d come out when he was ready.
Even though the news would make so many boys’ dreams come true.
“Oh my God, I heard Brad and Angelina are going to be here, and that Brett Ratner will be too and is looking for a lead for his next film. Do you think I look too skanky?” Alysia asked, examining her red marabou feather dress in the elevator mirror. She looked like an aging Vegas showgirl.
“No, you look great,” Serena lied. The theme of the party was Heaven and Hell. Serena hadn’t really planned on dressing up, but at the last moment, and at Blair’s urging, she’d decided to wear a short white Calypso sundress that was technically a bikini cover-up, a black garter on her perfectly toned leg, and a headband that had little Swarovski crystal devil horns. The entire look was fun-sexy, unlike Amanda’s custom-made angel wings or Alysia’s feathered dress.
“You want?” Alysia asked tipsily, passing Serena a silver Tiffany flask. She hiccupped again.
“Alysia, I swear to God, if you embarrass me in front of any agents, I’m going to tell everyone you starred in a fat camp commercial when you were twelve,” Amanda said haughtily, elbowing Alison in the ribs.
Serena laughed, remembering all the mini fights she and Blair had had in elevators on the way to parties over the years. It all seemed so long ago.
Does that mean it’s time for a rematch?
The elevator doors slid open to reveal the living room of Thaddeus’s apartment. It was an enormous, loftlike space, with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the inky black Hudson River below. The space was already crowded with scantily clad girls in red and white, and guys in jeans and white button-downs or red T-shirts. The air felt twenty degrees hotter than in the elevator.
“Serena, baby!” Ira Green, the producer of Coffee at the Palace, greeted her, slapping his fleshy palm against her bare back. “I noticed your boyfriend was here. Great career move.” Ira nodded importantly.
“My boyfriend?” Serena asked in confusion, glancing around the crowded room.
“Breckin O’Dell? Says in Page Six you’ve been canoodling.” Ira grabbed a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing server clad in a white bikini and red stilettos. “Look, I’m all for it, but I don’t want you to get exclusive. Not good for pre-film buzz. In fact, I’d love for you to really spend the evening mingling. I’ve got a couple of my own friends who’d love to meet you.”
“I’d like to meet them,” Amanda piped up, sticking her hand out for Ira to shake. Serena took that moment to gracefully duck away, weaving between party guests toward the bar set up in the corner. She usually loved parties, but right now, all she wanted to do was say hi to Thaddeus and then hop a cab to the Tribeca Star and
spend the night partying with Blair. Tomorrow, they could have a lazy brunch, nursing their hangovers with glasses of fresh-squeezed orange juice. Then they’d watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s and all the other old movies Blair loved.
“Serena!” someone shouted from behind her. Breckin O’Dell was lumbering over to her from the bar, looking extremely pleased with himself. His reddish hair was artfully spiked into peaks, and he wore a skinny purple tie and a black vest.
Hell is other people’s… outfits?
Serena made a beeline for the bathroom. She really didn’t feel like getting into another conversation with Breckin. He was definitely attractive and had appeared in a couple spy thriller movies, but his conversation topics ranged from his abs to his agent.
She swung open the bathroom door. A bare-assed girl was straddling a half-naked guy on the edge of the onyx sink.
Definitely occupied.
“Sorry!” Serena squealed, slamming the door shut. Gross.
“Serena!” Breckin sidled up to her. “May I say you look lovely.” He snaked his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him. “My agent thinks we should date. What do your people say?”
Serena stifled a giggle. Her people? The phrase made her think of little green aliens landing their UFO on Earth. “Do you always do what your agent tells you, or do you have a mind of your own?”
“Oh, I have a mind of my own,” Breckin said slimily. He plucked two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and offered one to her. “And there’s a lot going on in there.” He winked.
“Cheers!” Serena clinked glasses with him while sneaking a glance at her gold Cartier tank watch. Eleven fifteen. She’d planned to leave the party by eleven, and she still hadn’t said hi to Thad or talked to any of Ira’s producer friends.
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