At least she has a backup.
“We’re playing charades. Your presence has been requested.”
“Do we have to?” Blair suppressed a groan. It was cute in theory, but they’d played charades, Pictionary, or Scrabble the last three nights.
Maybe they should shake it up with some truth or dare.
“And guess who’s requested you on his team again?” Jason smirked, flashing Blair the trademark white-toothed Carlson smile. “Our dad loves you!”
“Aw, that’s cute!” Blair said, mustering her enthusiasm. They’d be at the resort soon, so she might as well continue being as polite and friendly as possible to his family. She followed Pete through the wide, arching hallway that led to the kitchen. A large wood stove hunkered in the corner opposite two massive Sub-Zero refrigerators. Several overstuffed yellow chairs sat in front of a large dormer window, each one containing a different member of the family. Pete’s father Chappy stood in front of the group.
“Scout!” He called happily as he spotted Blair and Pete.
“Hi, Mr. Carlson.” Blair smiled warmly.
“I already claimed you, so back off, boys,” Chappy said jovially to Pete’s brothers, who all smiled politely back at her. “I’m telling you, Scout, I don’t know how I’m going to manage without you next week,” Chappy continued.
“Oh, well, I’m sure we can play on the beach or something,” Blair said. She blushed. “Play charades on the beach,” she clarified.
“Yeah, but what’ll I do without my favorite teammate?” Chappy shook his head sorrowfully. “No offense, Jane.” He cupped his hand over Blair’s ear. “My wife cheats,” he whispered, winking at his wife. Jane Carlson had wheat-blond hair cut in a sensible bob and was tall, with an athletic frame. Only the deep wrinkles in her forehead made her seem old enough to be Pete’s mom, and they didn’t make her look ancient so much as friendly.
“I do cheat, I’ll be the first to admit it,” Jane said merrily. “I’m glad you’re on the straight and narrow.” She winked at Blair.
But Blair was still stuck on the part of Chappy’s sentence that implied she wouldn’t be in Costa Rica with them. She’d bought five new Eres bikinis for the occasion. They made the most of the five pounds she’d gained from Yale’s meal plan. “Without me?” Blair repeated stupidly.
“I mean, I’d bring you along, but we’ve got a saying in the Carlson family…” Chappy began, his eyes shining, as if he were about to deliver a stump speech. “I believe, when it comes to vacations, in the no ring, no bring rule.”
“It’s the Carlson curse.” Jason sighed, elbowing Blair in the ribs sympathetically. Blair stepped away. While it was true she’d never officially been invited to Costa Rica, she’d been invited for Christmas, for God’s sake. Wasn’t that even more exclusive than a beach holiday? And why not invite her? After all, she’d brought Nate Archibald, her high school boyfriend, on her family vacations for years and it wasn’t like she’d been married to him.
Except in her dreams.
“Blair, we love you and we want you in our family for years to come, but I need to be a stickler on this,” Chappy explained sympathetically, as if she were one of his constituents, arguing over some impossible and arcane rule. “I’ve raised four boys, and while they’ve behaved around you, honestly, these gentlemen cause more theatrics when it comes to ladies than the Yale School of Drama,” he finished.
“Maybe you could get together with your girlfriends and have a girls’ adventure!” Pete’s sister-in-law Sarah piped up from the corner of the room, stroking her eight-months-pregnant belly. “I remember when I heard the Carlson rule, I had a great time with the Theta girls. We went to Cancún!” A look of happy reminiscence crossed Sarah’s heart-shaped face.
“You did?” Randy asked, shooting a look at Sarah. “I didn’t know that.”
“All I’m saying is that Blair should have her own fun.” Sarah winked conspiratorially at Blair.
“More hot chocolate, anyone?” Pete’s mother asked, excusing herself.
“Sorry, son!” Chappy said, genuinely sounding remorseful as he clapped Pete on the back. “Sorry, Scout!”
Blair narrowed her eyes at a painting that hung over the fireplace, of a ship in what looked like an exceptionally violent storm. What type of fucking art was that to hang in a house? And what the fuck was up with that stupid nickname? Scout?
Out would have been more appropriate.
“Blair, I’m sorry,” Pete said simply. “I thought you understood…”
“What? I knew I wasn’t coming,” Blair lied, smiling fakely. Her stomach was churning wildly. For a brief second, she wanted to excuse herself, run to the second-floor bathroom, and puke everything she’d eaten for the past five days. But she didn’t.
“Blair, darling, here’s your hot chocolate. I made sure to put some extra marshmallows in there.” Jane pushed the steaming mug into Blair’s hands. “Won’t you sit down?” She gestured to one of the comfortable overstuffed chairs.
“Thanks,” Blair said. She squared her shoulders and turned to the waiting Carlson clan. “You all ready to play?” She forced herself to smile, a plan already forming.
“Maybe I will have a wild girls’ weekend,” she whispered to Pete. “I haven’t been to New York all year.” His face fell as he no doubt pictured all the fun she’d be having without him. Blair raised an eyebrow challengingly. After all, she was a woman. A Yale woman. She had places to go.
And games to play.
make new friends, but keep the old…
“This came from the man at the other end of the bar,” the skinny bartender slash model said as he proffered a glass of champagne.
“Thanks.” Serena van der Woodsen glanced down the long, dark oak bar of Saucebox, the new lounge in the just-opened hotel on Thompson Street. Breckin O’Dell, an actor she vaguely remembered meeting a few times, held up his own glass of champagne and saluted her. Serena nodded, brought the glass to her lips, and took a sip, even though she preferred vodka.
“Oh my God, you should totally date him. His agent has ridiculous connections,” Amanda Atkins said, pulling on the sleeve of Serena’s The Row scoop-neck jersey dress in excitement. “Can we get some shots down here?” she called to the bartender. Serena smiled indulgently. Amanda was an eighteen-year-old recent LA transplant best known for her role in a dorky sitcom about a girl from Paris who moves to a farm in Tennessee to live with her redneck uncle. Recently, though, she’d been cast in an indie film and was trying to break free from her good girl reputation.
Another shot and she’s almost there.
“Maybe,” Serena said unconvincingly. She stared at the bubbles fizzing to the top of her glass as if they held the secrets to the universe. If she looked around her, she’d see tons of Breckin O’Dell look-alikes, no doubt wishing they’d been the ones to buy Serena van der Woodsen—the Serena van der Woodsen—a drink. Instead, they buzzed around Amanda and her other two actress-friends, Alysia and Alison. They called themselves the three A’s, even though Alysia’s name was actually Jennifer.
The three A’s were admittedly a little shallow, but they were also goofy and fun and never turned down a party. Usually, Serena had a blast hanging out with them, but tonight, she felt a little… off. Her parents had just left for St. Barts, while her brother, Eric, was spending the winter break in Australia with a girl who’d been a visiting student at Brown last year. It wasn’t like she wanted to spend New Year’s Eve with her family, but she also didn’t like waking up in their huge Fifth Avenue apartment alone. Serena downed her champagne in one gulp, telling herself that she just needed to have fun.
And, after all, she is the expert.
“Hey, you’re that farm chick!” one guy stuttered, not looking Amanda in the eye. His hair was gelled and he was wearing a pink and white striped button-down. It was clear that he’d had to bribe the bouncer to get into the bar.
“Yes,” Amanda sighed. “But, actually, I have to stand over here now.” Amand
a took two steps away, as Alysia and Alison snorted in laughter. Serena offered the guy a sympathetic smile. Even though she was beautiful, Serena was never mean.
An infuriating combination.
“God, you’d think Knowledge would know to not let guys like that in. Did you see his hair? It was, like, sprayed on.” Amanda flipped her extensions over her shoulder as she named the beefy bouncer whose job was to keep Saucebox as exclusive as possible, even though, to Serena, it felt exactly the same as every other bar she’d been to recently.
“Serena?”
Serena whirled around, ready to have another one of those so great to see you conversations with someone she’d probably met once. Instead, she saw a familiar, smiling face that immediately took her back in time.
“Oh my God, Iz!” Serena squealed excitedly. She slid off the smooth bar stool and threw her arms around Isabel Coates, a fellow Constance Billard alum who’d gone to Rollins College down in Florida. She was super tan and had highlights in her shoulder-length blond hair. She automatically looked over Isabel’s shoulder, sure she’d see Kati Farkas, Isabel’s best friend and constant sidekick. Isabel and Kati had done everything together back in high school. Kati even turned down admission to Princeton so they wouldn’t have to be separated. But instead of Kati, a girl with a ski-jump nose and straight brown hair stood next to Isabel.
“This is my girlfriend, Casey,” Isabel announced proudly.
“Oh.” Wait, did that mean girlfriend girlfriend? Serena noticed Isabel’s hand intertwined with Casey’s.
“We met in a women’s studies class.” Isabel smiled adoringly at Casey.
There’s her answer.
“This is Serena van der Woodsen. We went to school together,” she explained.
“Nice to meet you, Casey,” Serena said, holding out her hand to the tall girl, who took it gingerly.
“Nice to meet you too. I haven’t seen any of your movies,” Casey announced self-importantly.
“How’s Kati?” Serena asked.
Isabel sighed and shook her head. “She has this, like, football player boyfriend and is pledging a sorority that wears pink sweatsuits to class. It’s awful.” She sighed disdainfully. “Casey and I pretty much do our own thing. But what about you? I saw your movie. You were pretty good,” Isabel allowed.
“Thanks,” Serena said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “Things are okay. Just working a lot. We’re filming a sequel to Breakfast at Fred’s that’s coming out this summer, so that’s fun…” Serena trailed off. Even though she’d been on the cover of the October issue of Vanity Fair, part of her felt stuck. After all, she’d come home from her big premiere to her same pink childhood bedroom in her family’s sprawling penthouse. If possible, she almost felt less grown up than she had last year, especially since she now had an agent and a publicist who told her exactly what to wear, what to say, and who to be seen with.
“Sounds great!” Isabel cooed. “Anyway, I was just showing Casey all the old places we used to go. Remember how we used to, like, spend hours trying things on at Barneys? I just can’t believe we were ever so young. Things have changed a lot,” she mused, nuzzling her blond-highlighted head against Casey.
“Things have changed,” Serena agreed. Less than a year ago, she and Blair and Kati and Isabel would meet before school to smoke Merits on the Met steps and imagine their lives in college. Now, Blair was a poli-sci major at Yale, Isabel was a lesbian, Kati was a sorority girl, and Serena was a movie star.
“So, have you seen anyone?” Isabel asked.
“No.” Serena shook her head. For her, only two people really mattered: Blair and Nate. She and Blair had tried to keep in touch, and once Serena had sent Blair a package full of Wolford stockings and black and white cookies in a Barneys bag—all of Blair’s favorite New York things. Blair had reciprocated with a stuffed bulldog wearing a Yale T-shirt. They’d send occasional e-mails and texts, but never anything long or involved. It was fine, though. Blair and Serena were the type of friends who could go weeks without speaking, then pick up right where they left off.
As for Nate… they hadn’t talked since he left, to sail the world for a year. Serena wondered if she’d ever see him again. But she didn’t want to think about that right now.
Or ever.
“Are you going to Chuck’s New Year’s party tomorrow night?” Isabel asked, draining the rest of her drink. “I mean, I know he’s, like, such a misogynist, but I figured, you can only protest so much, you know? I prepared Casey.”
“Wait, didn’t Chuck go to military school?” She hadn’t thought about Chuck—with his sketchy history, his trademark monogrammed scarf, or his questionable sexuality—for months. But the last she’d heard, after getting rejected from all twelve schools he’d applied to, he’d gone to some underground, in-the-middle-of-nowhere academy. Of course her parents saw Chuck’s parents socially, but they never mentioned him. It was an unspoken rule on the Upper East Side that parents didn’t discuss their unsuccessful children.
“Who knows?” Isabel shrugged. “The party’s on, though. I saw Laura Salmon at City Bakery this morning and she told me she spoke to Rain Hofstetter at some lame Constance alum tea party that Mrs. M organized. Thank God I missed that. But, anyway, I guess she talked to Chuck? I don’t know. It’s at the Tribeca Star. But I guess since you’re a movie star and all, you probably have to host some MTV special or something, right?”
“Well…” Serena trailed off. In truth, she already had an invite to a party at Thaddeus Russell’s Chelsea loft. Thaddeus had been her Breakfast at Fred’s costar and was a true friend. But he wouldn’t mind if she stopped by to say hi and then went off to Chuck’s party.
“I’ll be there,” Serena chirped. She suddenly couldn’t wait for New Year’s Eve. How could she not go see her old high school crowd? While she may not have been thinking of them all that much recently, it wasn’t like she’d forgotten them.
And they certainly haven’t forgotten her.
I will always love you
a gossip girl novel
The secret is out 11.3.09
Love the One You're With Page 19
