by Zoey Dean
"Come on," Sam urged, as she led Anna to the helipad. "I just want to see what asshole from what rag had the nerve to do this."
Whoever it was, Anna thought, they wouldn't get far. A dozen burly security guards in blue uniforms circled the helicopter as it touched down. From their intense expressions, it was clear that whoever was in that chopper was going to go right back into the air, with or without the benefit of the helicopter.
Only it wasn't a reporter or a photographer who sprang lithely from the helicopter's interior.
It was Eduardo. He wore an Armani tux, white shirt, and black bow tie, as if he himself was to have been the groom.
Anna had to steady Sam so that she wouldn't fall overboard.
"It's all right," Sam managed to call to the head of security, since the force looked like they were about ready to take Eduardo down. "I know him."
An interesting understatement, Anna thought.The people who recognized Eduardo applauded his grand entrance, and the crowd dispersed. Eduardo walked over to Sam and said, "We need to talk."
Sam figured the stateroom of her father's newest yacht was roughly the size of a decent-size three-bedroom apartment in Sherman Oaks. Not that she'd ever set foot in such an abode, but she was an artist. She had an imagination. The room was done in royal purple and black marble, with gold-leaf fixtures on the chandelier, the doorknobs, and headboard of the king-size four-poster bed.
Eduardo seemed to be paying no attention to the décor at all. His eyes were fixed on Sam. "I didn't mean what I said to you last night," he began. "And I couldn't go to Paris and leave things like that between us."
"You're not the one who should be apologizing," Sam protested softly. "What I did to you was terrible, unforgivable--"
"I am chalking it up to your youth," Eduardo surmised, raising a hand in protest.
"Maybe," Sam agreed. "Maybe even probably. I just don't know. I've never been any older than I am right now."
That got a small smile from him.
"I wish I had been brave enough to tell you the truth sooner." Sam walked over to the stateroom window and looked out. People were partying and dancing. She saw Dee swaying in Jack's arms. Parker was dancing with Citron. It made her happy and sad at the same time. Couples in love. With a future. "I was blinded by how wonderful you are, by how much you love me, by what a miracle it was that you thought I was beautiful--"
Eduardo came up behind her and turned her toward him. "Because you are," he insisted, his dark eyes earnest. "And I still think it."
"But even with all of that, Eduardo, it's not enough to get married. My parents? They married each other again tonight. But me? I'm not ready. For any of it. But I was so afraid I would lose you. ..."
He put his strong arms around her, and she leaned into him.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."
"I forgive you," he said simply.
She burrowed into his chest, where it felt safe and warm, and for the briefest moment she wanted to beg him to take her back.
But no. She had something to prove. A lot of things to prove. She wanted to prove that she could be part of a family, with an actual mother and an actual father. She wanted to prove her talent to a town that too often thought of her as nothing more than Jackson Sharpe's daughter. Most of all, she had something to prove to herself.
She stepped out of Eduardo's embrace.
"Until we meet again, beautiful Samantha," he said.
"I hope we do, Eduardo. I hope we do."
He kissed her hand. Then she watched again through the window as he stepped out of the stateroom, made his way along the deck and to the chopper, and zoomed off into the night.
"Prodigious. Cacophony. Hypotenuse."
Anna knew who it was before she saw him. She had always, always been able to recognize his voice. It had given her chills that very first day on the airplane, and it gave her chills now, as she turned away from the stern of the Look Sharpe, where she'd been watching a pod of porpoises leaping in the vessel's slow wake.
"Hi, Ben."
He moved next to her. "Remember the day we met, on the plane? When you whispered big words into my ear? That was so hot."
She laughed. "Good to know. And your pronunciation is perfect."
He wore a black Calvin Klein suit instead of a tux, over an open white shirt, and he looked as good as that day on the plane, right down to the cleft in his chin. Better. There was a fresh confidence that hadn't been there before.
"The wedding was great, huh?" Ben asked. He turned to face her, leaning his elbows against the railing.
"Amazing," Anna agreed.
"I heard your good news. About the movie."
Anna was surprised. She hadn't mentioned it to anyone. "From--?"
"Sam, of course," Ben replied. "I'm really happy for you, Anna. Can you work on the movie and go to school at the same time?"
"I'm not sure. There's no way I'm not going to work on the film. It's too big an opportunity to miss. Maybe they'll let me start late. If I have to defer for a year, I'll defer."
Well, well. That was it, then. The decision she'd agonized over for so long had been made. The words came out of her mouth so easily, it was almost like she'd had them planned. Maybe all that overthinking wasn't such a waste of time. Or maybe it didn't go on forever.
He grinned. "That means you'll be here for the fall."
"I guess I will."
"That's ... great. Your dad will be psyched. How's he doing?"
Anna raised her eyebrows and blew out some air. "Better each day. Back to work in three weeks. Can't wait to get out of the hospital."
"I'm happy for you." His blue eyes shone. "For so many reasons."
"And I'm happy for you," she echoed. "The club is a huge success. And you and Cammie ..."
Her voice trailed off as she waited for him to fill in just what he and Cammie were to each other.
"Let's leave Cammie out of it. I've been trying to figure," he mused, scratching his neck, "how things got so complicated between us."
Anna shrugged. "Maybe we just weren't meant to be."
"You don't really believe that."
"No," she admitted. "I don't believe that. 'Meant to be?' It's just something people say so that they don't have to look at all the things they did wrong and wish they could take back. Only by the time they figure that out, it's too late."
"Bullshit," Ben said roughly. He turned back to the ocean as a cheer went up from the upper deck, and the crowd up there started to chant for Jackson to kiss Dina, or vice versa. Anna had to strain to hear him over the noise. "Don't tell me it's too late."
And so it came down to this. This moment. This boy. It had always been him, from the moment their eyes had met in the airplane's aisle. From the first moment his hand had touched her arm. From that insane moment in the plane's bathroom, when she'd found herself in his arms, his lips on hers, and she had never, ever wanted it to end.
He turned again to face her. "The night of the crash landing--remember that huge crowd of people in the terminal, after you all were safe? I was there."
"What?"
"I saw the news. I was at the club with Cammie and Adam, but I left. They thought I went home. I went to the airport."
"But why? And why didn't you say anything?"
"Anna--you kissed Logan in front of Sam, and Eduardo, and your dad. I was there. I was there--about thirty feet away. Close enough to see the slippers on your feet. Close enough to see how happy you looked."
She swallowed hard. Yes. That was how it had happened. She had been so overjoyed, so relieved to be alive, she'd kissed Logan on impulse.
"You looked happy together. And if that's what you want--"
"It's not," she insisted, cutting him off with a whisper. "What I want is ..."
In the background, Citron's voice sang "Unforgettable" amid the tinkle of cocktail glasses.
"I love you, Ben," she said. "That you came to the airport just makes me love you more. I don't care who knows or who
likes it or who approves. I don't care if you go back to Princeton or open ten nightclubs or give it all up to sail around the world. If you want to sail around the world, I'll sail with you and write a screenplay about it. I want to stop thinking and planning and worrying and just be with you, only you, forever and ever and--"
There were probably ten or twenty more "forevers" where those had come from, but Anna never got to utter them. Instead, her arms went around him, and she kissed him.
Their first kiss, eight months ago, in the first-class lavatory of a Delta jet, had been amazing. Breathtaking, even. This one, in the middle of the inky Pacific Ocean, under the twinkle of a million stars overhead, with the glittery lights of the City of Angels shimmering in the distance, was forever.
THE A-LISTSam Sharpe, Cammie Sheppard, and Anna Percy were the most glamorous faces of Young Hollywood.
But it's a new year at Beverly Hills High-and there's a fresh cast of scandalous A-Listers ready to become the toast of Tinseltown.
L.A. will never be the same. ...
Coming January 2009
Something wild and wicked is in the air. The Carlyle triplets are about to take Manhattan by storm.
Lucky for you, Gossip Girl will be there to whisper all their juicy secrets.
Turn the page for a sneak peek of gossip girlthe carlyles
Created by the #1 New York Times bestselling author Cecily von Ziegesar
hey people!
Surprised to hear from me? Don't be.
Something's happened and as you already know, I'm never quiet when things get interesting. And the Upper East Side just got a lot more exciting: We have a new threesome in town. And they're far too exquisite not to talk about ...
But first, I'll need to back up a little.
As we all know, the beloved Avery Carlyle passed away this summer. She was the elegant, silver-haired woman who gave away her money to museums, libraries and parks the way other people donate last season's dresses to St. Géorge's thrift shop. At seventeen, she made headlines dancing on tables. At twenty-one, she married (for the first time) and moved into the famous peach-colored townhouse on the corner of 61st and Park. And at seventy-two, she still drank Coke and Gin and was always surrounded by fresh-cut peonies. Most importantly, she was the queen of getting exactly what she wanted from anyone. A woman after my own heart.
So how does this affect me, you ask? Keep your panties on, I'm getting there. Avery Carlyle's wayward daughter, Edie--who ran away to Nantucket to find herself through art after college--was called back to New York to sort through her mother's affairs. Judging by the bookcase of leather-bound journals (and the six annulled marriages) Mrs. Carlyle left in her wake, that process may take a while. Which is why Edie shut down the Nantucket house and moved her family into B's old penthouse. Since the père Carlyle isn't in the picture, the cozy family of four consists of mother Edie and her triplets, A, O, and B.
Meet the Carlyles: There's O, buff bod, golden blond hair ... looks good so far. Then there's A, blond hair, blue eyes, a fairy-tale goddess robed in J.Crew. And lastly B, which stands for Baby. Aw. But just how innocent is she?
Then of course, our old friends are up to some new tricks. There's J, last seen drinking Tanqueray gimlets on a yacht in Sagaponack. But why was she there, when she was supposed to be doing arabesques at the Paris Opera House? Did the pressure get to her, or was she just homesick for her tycoon-in-training boyfriend, JP? ... And what about the impeccably mannered R, swimming laps on the rooftop pool of SoHo House while his mother did a piece on summer entertaining for her television show Tea with Lady Sterling. We all know Lady S can't wait to plan his fairy-tale wedding to long-time girlfriend, K. But can young love endure? Especially when K was seen in the confessional at St. Patrick's ... What's to confess, Kitty Cat?
What will the old crowd think of the new additions to our fair island? I, for one, can't wait to see if they sink or swim. ...
your e-mail
Q: Dear GG,
So, my mom went to Constance Billard like a million years ago with the triplets' mom and she told me the reason they moved here is because A slept with the entire island--boys and girls. And then B is like, this crazy brilliant genius that's mentally unstable and never washes her clothes. And O apparently swims up to Nantucket on the weekends in a Speedo. Is that true?
--3some
A: Dear 3,
Interesting. From what I've seen, A looks pretty innocent. But we all know looks can be deceiving. We'll see how brilliantly B does in the city. As for O, Nantucket's a long way away, so I doubt he can swim that far. But if he can ... I've got one word for you: Endurance. Exactly what I look for in a man.
--GG
Q: Dear GG,
So, I just moved here and I love New York!!!!! Do you have any advice to make this year the best year ever?
--SMLLTWNGRL
A: Dear STG,
All I can say is be careful. Manhattan is a pretty small place itself, albeit much more fabulous than wherever you came from. No matter what you do, and no matter where you are, somebody is watching. And it's not going to be gossiped about in your high school cafeteria--in this town, it's bound to hit Page Six. If you're interesting or important enough to be gossiped about, that is. One can only hope.
--GG
Q: Dear GG:
I bet you're just saying you deferred from college because you didn't get in anywhere. Also, I heard that a certain monkey-owning dude never made it to West Point and I think it's pretty mysterious that he's still here and so are you. Are you really a girl?? Or are you even a senior? I bet you're just some nerdy thirteen-year-old.
--RUCHUCKB
A: Dear RUCHUCKB,
I'm flattered that my continued presence is spawning conspiracy theories. Sorry to disappoint, but I am as feminine as they come, without a pet monkey in sight. My age? As the venerable elder Avery Carlyle would say: A real lady never tells.
--GG
Sightings
This just in, from the newbies: O running in Central Park, without a shirt. Does he own any shirts? Let's hope not! ... A trying on a silver sequined Marni minidress in the dressing room of Bergdorf's. Didn't anyone tell her Constance has a dress code? ... And her sister B in FAO Schwartz, clinging to a guy in a barn-red NANTUCKET HIGH hoodie putting stuffed animals in inappropriate poses and taking pictures. Is that what they do for fun where they're from?
Okay, ladies and gents, you all probably have to go back-to-school shopping--or for those of you who've headed off to college, read Ovid and chug a beer in your new 8 × 10 dorm room. But don't worry; I'll be here, drinking a glass of Sancerre at Balthazar, reporting on what you're missing. It's the dawn of a new era on the Upper East Side, and with these three in town, I just know it's going to be another wild and wicked year. ...
You know you love me, gossip girl
welcome to the jungleBaby Carlyle woke up to the sound of garbage trucks beeping loudly as they backed up Fifth Avenue. She rubbed her puffy eyelids and set her bare feet on the red bricks of her family's new terrace, pulling her boyfriend's red Nantucket High sweatshirt close to her skinny frame.
Even though they were all the way on the top floor, sixteen stories above Seventy-second and Fifth, she could hear the loud noises of the city coming to life below. It was so different from her home in Nantucket, where she used to fall asleep on the beach with her boyfriend, Tom Devlin. His parents ran a small bed-and-breakfast, and he and his brother had lived in a guest cottage on the beach since they were thirteen. He'd come to visit for the weekend, and after he left last night, Baby dragged a quilt onto the terrace's hammock and fell asleep in a Frette duvet cocoon.
Note: Sleeping al fresco is a worst-case-scenario situation. Never done willingly (i.e., only if your cruise ship hits an iceberg or your elephant loses a leg on safari).
Baby shuffled through the sliding French doors and into the cavernous apartment she was now expected to call home. The series of large rooms, gleaming hardwood floors and ornate
marble detail was the opposite of comfortable. She dragged the duvet behind her, mopping the spotless floors as she wound her way to her sister Avery's bedroom.
Inside, Avery's golden-blond hair was strewn across her pale pink pillow, and she sounded like a broken teakettle. Baby pounced on the bed.
"Hey!" Avery Carlyle sat up and pulled the strap of her white Cosabella tank top. Her long blond hair was matted and her blue eyes were bleary, but she still looked regally beautiful, just like their grandmother had been. Just like Baby wasn't.
"It's morning," Baby announced, bouncing up and down on her knees like a four-year-old high on Sugar Smacks. She was trying to sound perky, but her whole body felt heavy. It wasn't just that her whole family had uprooted themselves from Nantucket last week, it was that New York City had never--would never--feel like home.
When Baby was born, her emergence had surprised her mother, and the midwife, who thought Edie was only having twins. While her brother and sister were named for their maternal grandparents, the unexpected third child had simply been called Baby on her birth certificate. The name stuck. Whenever Baby had come to New York to visit her grandmother, it was clear from Grandmother Avery's sighs that while twins were acceptable, three was an unruly number of children, especially for a single mother like Edie to handle. Baby was always too messy, too loud, too much for Grandmother Avery's presence, too much for New York.
Now, Baby wondered if she might have been right. Everything, from the boxy rooms in the apartment to the grid of New York City streets, was about confinement and order. She sighed and bounced on her sister's bed some more and Avery groaned sleepily.
"Come on, wake up!" Baby urged, even though it was barely ten, and Avery always liked to sleep in.
"What time is it?" Avery sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. She couldn't believe she and Baby were related. Baby was always doing ridiculous things, like teaching their dog, Chance, to communicate by blinking. It was as if she were perpetually stoned. But even though her boyfriend was a raging stoner, Baby had never been into drugs.
