Gossip Girl

by Cecily von Ziegesar

  She pulled out her phone from her knockoff Louis Vuitton purse, perched on a white love seat by the window, and called her old friend Elise Wells. They’d kept in touch a bit while Jenny was at Waverly and Elise was at Constance, and Jenny knew she’d be home on break from Stanford.

  “Jenny?” Elise squealed, answering the phone on the second ring. “Are you in New York?”

  “Yes, I am!” Jenny said brightly, then cut to the chase. “Want to go to a party?”

  On the other end of the line, Jenny could sense Elise hesitating. “Is your boyfriend coming?” she asked finally.

  “Nope, just me. Sorry it’s short notice. Remember Blair Waldorf? Her brother, Tyler, invited me to a club where he’s DJ’ing tonight. It’s somewhere downtown,” Jenny said, trying to remember the name of the club. Something that reminded her of coffee. “At Filter?” That sounded right.

  “Wait, Tyler Rose, as in the DJ TyRo?” Elise sounded excited.

  “Yeah!” Jenny said in surprise. Elise had heard of him?

  “Pick me up in ten minutes,” Elise commanded.

  Outside, Jenny looked at the rows of green-awninged buildings on Fifth Avenue. Most of the lights in the windows were out, and she felt a shiver of excitement course through her body. She hadn’t had a wild and crazy night in forever. She hadn’t realized until now how much she missed the feeling of an anything-can-happen adventure. She hailed a cab and directed it to Elise’s building several blocks away.

  A figure brushed out of a door. It was Elise, looking taller, blonder, and skinnier than Jenny remembered. She wore a cleavage-baring Alice+Olivia purple tank top and a tight black Marc by Marc Jacobs skirt without a coat.

  “Hey!” Elise exclaimed, bursting into the cab and hugging Jenny.

  “Hi!” Jenny grinned excitedly. She’d missed her old friend. “Um, we’re going to Filter? On Fourteenth and Tenth,” Jenny told the cabbie through the Plexiglas partition.

  “I brought some stuff to get the party started.” Elise grinned mischievously as she passed her a bottle of Diet Coke. Jenny took a swig, coughing when she realized it was saturated with vodka.

  “Thanks!” she grinned, taking another, more careful, sip.

  Some things never change.

  The cab pulled up to a one-story black building. A red velvet rope held back a line that snaked its way down the block, and a beefy bouncer stood with his arms crossed, blocking the ominous-looking steel door entrance.

  Jenny boldly marched up to the bouncer, ready to tell him she was on the list. But she didn’t have to. He just grinned, showing his gold-capped teeth, and waved them in, clearly finding the two overeager girls to be a welcome change from the bored-looking hipsters who made up the rest of the line.

  “Nice, Humphrey!” Elise said, clearly impressed. She made her way to the bar while Jenny picked through the crowded club. It was dark and dingy, and girls with asymmetrical haircuts and short mod dresses were dancing with guys wearing skinny ties and vests. Tyler—it was hard to think of him as TyRo—was playing a weird but cool mix of Ladytron and the Cure and the Clash. It was the type of music her friend Brett loved, but Jenny never really understood. She always preferred cheesy Top 40 music. Still, there was something decidedly cool about the scene.

  Elise tapped her on the shoulder. “I got you a drink.” She held a vodka soda out to Jenny. “I should tell you, I have a boyfriend back at Stanford, so I have to behave tonight.”

  “How good is good?” Jenny arched an eyebrow.

  “Dancing is okay, cheek-kissing is fine, number exchange is fine because who knows, but no lip-kissing,” Elise said, rattling off the rules as if they were officially sanctioned.

  Rules are made to be broken.

  “Deal!” Jenny grinned, then goofily tapped her glass against Elise’s.

  “Jennifer!” Tyler greeted her. His black T-shirt was soaked with sweat, but Jenny didn’t mind. “I’m glad you came. I have a break right now. Drink?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he led her through the crowd and toward the bar. “Two double Red Bull and vodkas,” he ordered.

  The bartender was a superskinny girl with jet-black hair and tattoos of stars on her arms. “Whatever you want, TyRo,” she said with a wink as she passed the drinks to Tyler. Condensation dripped down the sides of the highball glasses.

  “I need energy,” he explained, nodding toward the Red Bulls.

  “Totally.” Jenny nodded. Now that she was here, she wanted to dance all night.

  “So, do you like the music? I’m trying to do this Brit pop indie rock thing, but I’m trying to give it this sort of post-post-punk New Wave shoegazer edge.”

  “It’s so cool,” Jenny said honestly. When she’d listened to this kind of music in her dorm room at Waverly, she’d never really gotten into it, but here in the club, with the bass thumping and so many bodies moving to the beat, she could feel it humming through her bones.

  “So do you go out a lot?” Tyler asked companionably, placing his elbows next to her.

  Jenny shook her head. She rarely left her Providence apartment, much less went out to parties. If they polled this club, she’d probably be the most boring person here. She’d probably be the most boring student in the entire RISD student population—including the girl who made elaborate wire sculptures of unicorns. “I want to go out more,” she said finally.

  Since when?

  “I have parties every night this week. You should come. But first…” Tyler possessively grabbed her hand and led her toward the dance floor. “Let’s dance.”

  Jenny grinned and nodded eagerly. As Tyler gripped her warm hand in his, she felt a rush of electricity shoot through her that she hadn’t in a while.

  Let’s just hope she remembers the rules!

  two girls in the bed usually means trouble

  “Shh! Be quiet!” Blair whispered sharply to Serena. She didn’t want it to be obvious to every Upper East Side Peeping Tom that they were about to break into the Archibalds’ ivy-covered town house.

  Earlier tonight she and Chuck had been at home, drinking muscadet and discussing couches when Serena called, asking if Blair wanted to grab a drink. The phone ringing was like an alarm.

  Alert: You’re officially middle-aged!

  One glass of wine with Serena had become two bottles, and the conversation had quickly evolved into an isn’t it weird we’re all grown up discussion. Which had turned into a let’s go back to the old days scheming session. Which was why Blair was now standing outside Nate’s town house, freezing her ass off in her Antik Batik brown leather jacket and high-waisted Tahari sailor pants.

  “What if they’re here?” Blair asked, watching as Serena twisted the key in the lock. In all the years they’d both had an extra set of keys to Nate’s apartment, they’d never sneaked in together. “Ew. What if they’re, like, doing it?”

  “Gross. Nate’s parents always go to St. Barts the day after Christmas and stay until New Year’s,” Serena said over her shoulder. “So they probably are. But who cares? That will just make it more fun. You were the one who said Jenny and Nate needed shaking up,” Serena pointed out as she pushed the door open. Serena cocked her head like a cocker spaniel. “Shhh,” she whispered, as if Blair had been the one talking.

  She exaggeratedly tiptoed up the mahogany staircase. “I hear the TV upstairs,” she explained.

  “You guys better be decent!” Blair called as she pushed the door open to the second-floor study, where they’d spent hours watching old movies when they were younger.

  They found Nate, asleep by himself, his mouth open and a trail of drool heading down his angular chin. A tartan throw was pulled over his body and his dark blond hair was all tangled. He looked adorable.

  A smile played on Serena’s lips. “What do we do now?” From her tone, it sounded as if she knew exactly what she wanted to do.

  “The usual?” Blair arched an eyebrow.

  “I’ll get the supplies,” Serena said, heading into the Archibald master s
uite as Blair raced up to Nate’s bedroom. It was a lot cleaner than the last time she’d seen it. The king-size bed was perfectly made, and there were no piles of DVDs or notebooks on the floor. It reminded Blair of a hotel.

  And we all know what good luck she has in hotels.

  She climbed into the bed, pulling the green flannel sheets around her. She’d always hated flannel, because the material felt so scratchy compared to her own Frette sheets, but Nate had refused to sleep on anything else. Tonight, though, the sheets felt cozy and warm against her body. She leaned back against the pillows contemplatively. It was weird that the last time she’d really spent time here was four years ago. In four years, she’d be twenty-six. What would that be like?

  Serena burst in, holding a bottle of Grey Goose in one hand, two highball glasses in the other, and two DVDs between her laser white front teeth. She scattered them on the duvet cover and grinned.

  “Breakfast at Tiffany’s or Some Like It Hot?” Serena asked, setting up a makeshift bar on Nate’s dresser and splashing vodka in the two glasses.

  “Do you even have to ask?” Blair asked, wiggling out of her pants and throwing them out from under the covers. She sighed happily. It was like old times.

  Old times without underpants?

  Serena grinned and took a large sip of her drink. “Obviously,” Serena said, popping Breakfast at Tiffany’s into the DVD player. “Here you go.” Serena offered a glass to Blair. Then, she unbuttoned her own knee-length black Dries van Noten dress and pulled her black Wolford stockings off.

  “So much better!” she said, crawling into bed next to Blair in her beige Cosabella boy shorts and pink Calvin Klein camisole and cuddling up next to Blair like an overgrown puppy. Blair lay back against the pillow and gulped her highball, feeling giddier and more at home than she had in ages.

  Nate woke up with a start. He’d been dreaming that he was sailing by himself in the middle of a calm, blue, endless sea, until all of a sudden his boat had been attacked by sharks. He glanced at the flat screen, currently playing Shark Week reruns, before flicking it off. He rubbed his bleary eyes. Where was Jenny? And what time was it? He heard muffled voices coming from upstairs. “Jenny?” he called, his voice echoing in the town house.

  “I’m coming to find you,” Nate called, taking the stairs to his bedroom two at a time. But there, lying in a tangled heap as if they belonged there, were Serena and Blair.

  He blinked in amazement. They were singing along to the black-and-white movie on his TV. Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Of course. It was a scene he’d walked in on a million times back in high school. But this wasn’t high school. What were they doing here? Was he still dreaming?

  “‘Moon River and’—Natie!” Serena squealed, bounding off the bed and rushing toward him. She was wearing only a pair of underpants and a tank top that didn’t match. Nate blushed.

  “Where’s Jenny?” Nate asked suspiciously, glancing between the two of them.

  “We didn’t kill her.” Blair snorted. “My brother invited her to a party downtown. She’s probably there.”

  He glanced from Serena to Blair, not knowing what to do. They looked like they’d been there for a while. Wrinkles from the pillowcase were indented into Blair’s cheek, making her look adorably rumpled and reminding him of all the sleepovers they’d had over the years. Serena’s tank top strap had fallen off her shoulder, revealing her glittery skin, surprisingly tan for December.

  Nate gingerly perched on the edge of the bed, watching as Holly and her boyfriend wandered around Tiffany. He must have watched this movie a hundred times. What was one more?

  “I’m getting ice cream,” Blair announced, stepping out of bed. Nate gazed at her as she padded toward the door. She was wearing her bra and underwear and every inch of her looked amazing. And Serena was so long and lean and leggy and…

  Down boy!

  Blair came back with a two-gallon tub of Rocky Road that she’d unearthed from the back of the freezer and three spoons. “Natie, you’ve got to have a talk with Regina about her ice cream selections. What happened to the mint chocolate chip?” Blair settled back into bed, loving how she could say whatever she wanted—be whoever she wanted—in front of her two oldest friends. She hoped no matter what happened, it could always be that way.

  “Let’s make a promise!” Serena said spontaneously, as if reading Blair’s mind. She took a gigantic scoop from the carton, licked her spoon, and held it up. “No matter who we marry or how many kids we have, we’ll always have slumber parties.”

  Blair clinked her spoon against Serena’s. She took another large scoop of ice cream and bit into it, not caring about the calories or the fact that she was dripping all over herself or that they were acting like a bunch of seventh graders.

  “I’m in, but only if I can hold the carton.” Nate grabbed the ice cream and scooped out a large spoonful. He felt happier than he had in a long time.

  Next up: creative use of whipped cream?

  a kiss is never just a kiss

  Vanessa lay on her bed in the Humphreys’ apartment, Marx by her side and Norma snoring contentedly on the floor. Norma loved living at the Humphreys’, so at least Vanessa wouldn’t have to worry about finding a home for her while she was in Indonesia. The dog actually begged for Rufus’s soufflés and other kitchen experiments gone wrong.

  Unlike everyone else with a sense of smell.

  The only sound in the apartment was the annoying-yet-comforting hum of the fluorescent light in the hallway that Rufus always meant to replace but never got around to. Vanessa typed Indonesia into Google’s search box and pressed enter. Immediately, maps, travel reviews, and NYTimes.com articles sprung onto the screen. Nothing helpful. Nothing that told her whether or not she should go. She heard the key scrape in the lock. Rufus was spending time with his anarchist friends, and Jenny was probably with Nate, so it had to be Dan coming home. Vanessa was surprised by how eager she felt to see him. She slid off the bed and headed toward the living room to investigate.

  “Hey,” Dan said as he unwrapped a Burberry scarf from his neck and flung it on the couch. Serena had given him the scarf as a Thanksgiving present.

  Usually, the fact that he and Serena had grown up in such different worlds didn’t matter to him. But there were times—like when he received a Thanksgiving present that cost more than a month of working at the circulation desk in Butler Library, or when she invited him to stay at her parents’ sprawling Connecticut house—that it became apparent how fundamentally different their backgrounds were.

  Dan had been thinking about this more than ever recently. He hadn’t seen Serena since before Christmas, four days ago. He’d called her tonight to invite her to a movie, but she was meeting Blair. Dan had gone to Film Forum alone, and surprised himself by buying a ticket to the new Hollis Lyons film.

  He’d thought about Vanessa the whole time, which made sense, since it was her ex’s movie. But it was more than that. He was thinking about Vanessa and her film grant, and how excited she was for her future. Serena wasn’t like that. Serena was smart, but she was never especially ambitious.

  Vanessa sauntered into the kitchen. “Hey,” she said casually. She didn’t want Dan to think she’d specifically come out of her bedroom to see him. She opened the refrigerator and made an elaborate show of pawing through its contents.

  “I don’t think there’s anything there. I haven’t eaten yet, either. Want a pizza?” Dan asked.

  “Sure.” Vanessa shrugged.

  Dan moved over to the counter and ordered a large double cheese, onion, and pepper. He turned to Vanessa after he hung up. “Serena had plans with Blair, so I saw your ex’s movie tonight. The one about the Maoris in Iceland?”

  “And?” Vanessa asked curiously. She still hadn’t seen it, though the movie posters were on subway cars and bus shelters everywhere. She really didn’t know if she wanted Dan to love or hate the film.

  “You could have done it better,” Dan added. “I can’t wait to see what y
ou make in Indonesia.”

  Vanessa smiled, her heart melting a little bit. That was exactly what she wanted to hear.

  Dan grinned. “Did you ever think this is who you’d become?” he asked, settling onto the counter.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean—going to Indonesia. Being a real filmmaker. Like, back when you were eighteen, wouldn’t you be so excited if you knew this was who you’d be four years later?” Dan asked, stirring his Folgers coffee crystals into his favorite chipped white mug.

  “Yes, I’d be excited. But I always thought…” She trailed off. She’d meant to say that back then, whenever she imagined her future life, she imagined herself and Dan together. “I don’t know.” She shrugged, not finishing the sentence. “What about you?”

  Dan closed his eyes. He’d thought he’d be more in control of his life, be more sure of what he was doing. Of course, everything seemed perfect. Outside of his two poems in The New Yorker, he’d been published in some of the most prestigious literary journals in the country. He was dating a movie star. He was heading to the best grad program for writing in the world. But somehow, something seemed… incomplete. “Yeah, things worked out.” Dan shrugged.

  “You and Serena seem good together,” Vanessa offered after a pause. She’d never really talked about Dan’s relationship with Serena before.

  “Yeah, she’s great,” Dan said distantly. Serena was great. But no matter what, they didn’t have as strong a connection as he described in the poems he wrote about their relationship. It wasn’t the marriage of two minds, not really. It was more like falling in love with an illusion of perfection.

  Sounds like we’ve got the beginnings of another poem.

  Just then, the buzzer rang.

  “Saved by the bell.” Vanessa grinned as she stood up and pulled a twenty from the back pocket of her tight black jeans. After paying the delivery boy, she set the steaming box of pizza on the coffee table in the living room.