“I saw these wonderful cashmere pajama bottoms in Barneys’ men’s department,” her mother continued to babble. “I was thinking of getting a pair for Cyrus as a wedding gift.” She turned to Blair. “Do you think he would wear them?”
Serena glanced nervously at Blair, wondering if she should say something. Now was her chance to bust Blair and get her back for being such a bitch. She could say something like, “Hey, Blair, didn’t I see you buying a pair of pajama bottoms just like that at Barneys last week?” But Blair’s face was turning redder and redder, and Serena didn’t have the heart to say anything. Or rather, she had too much heart. Blair was already screwed up enough to have taken the pajama bottoms in the first place—Serena didn’t need to screw her up even more.
“I don’t know, Mom,” Blair said miserably. Her neck felt itchy. Maybe she was having an allergic reaction and would have to be rushed to the hospital.
The manicurists finished massaging their hands and sat down on low stools to rub their feet and calves with lavender-scented oil.
“You never told me how your Yale interview went,” Blair’s mother said, her eyes blissfully closed.
Blair kicked a puddle of milk onto the floor.
“Careful,” her manicurist advised.
“Sorry,” snapped Blair. “It went great, Mom, really great.”
Beside her, Serena let out a sigh. “I just had one at Brown this weekend,” she said. “It was terrible. I think the interviewer was having a bad day or something. He was such a jerk.”
Brown? Serena was at Brown last weekend? Alarms, sirens, bells, and whistles were all sounding loudly in Blair’s head.
“I’m sure you did better than you think, sweetie,” Mrs. Waldorf assured Serena. “Those interviews are so awful. I don’t know why they put so much pressure on you girls.”
Blair splashed another puddle of milk onto the floor. She couldn’t keep still. She wished the manicurist would just let go of her leg. “When was your interview?” she asked Serena.
“Saturday,” Serena said. She wasn’t sure if she should mention that Nate was there, too. She had a feeling she shouldn’t.
“What time on Saturday?” Blair demanded.
“Twelve,” Serena replied.
Uh-oh.
“Nate had an interview there,” challenged Blair. “His was at twelve on Saturday, too.”
Serena took a deep breath. “Yeah, I know,” she said. “I saw him there.”
Blair flexed her foot in anger. What the fuck? The manicurist slapped it. “Relax,” she warned.
“Nate hasn’t called me since he got back,” Blair growled. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at Serena’s profile.
Serena shrugged. “Nate and I don’t really talk anymore,” she said. She certainly wasn’t going to mention the fact that she and Nate had slept in the same bed in a hotel room and had woken up holding hands. Or that they had both gotten drunk at Erik’s keg party and puked in the bushes behind his house together. They hadn’t spoken since they got back to the city—that much was true.
“Where has Nate been, anyway?” Blair’s mother yawned. The foot massage was putting her to sleep. “I haven’t seen him in ages.”
“Me neither,” Blair hissed, and she was certain Serena had something to do with it. “I wonder why.”
Serena knew Blair was waiting for her to make some sort of confession. She closed her eyes. “Don’t look at me,” she said. But the minute she said it she wished she hadn’t. It was almost like she was asking for it.
Blair stood up abruptly, spilling her hand bowls of milk on the floor and nearly upsetting her foot bath.
“Shit!” the manicurist squealed, sliding off her stool and landing on her butt in a puddle of milk.
“Blair, what on earth?” her mother cried.
“Excuse me,” Blair said tightly. Hot tears of rage gathered in her eyes. “I just can’t sit here any longer. I’m going home.” She glanced down at her manicurist. “Sorry about the mess,” she said. Then she stamped out of the room, slipping slightly on the wet tile floor.
“What was that all about?” Blair’s mother asked Serena. She was worried about her daughter, but she wasn’t about to go after Blair and give up being pampered.
Serena shook her head. She had nothing to do with whatever problems Blair and Nate were having, although she was definitely curious. And she was kind of worried about Blair, too, despite how incredibly mean Blair had been to her lately. Blair appeared to be having some kind of breakdown.
“She’s probably just nervous about the wedding,” Serena said, although she was pretty sure that the wedding accounted for only a tiny portion of Blair’s problems. “You know how she gets.”
Blair’s mother nodded. Did she ever.
Disclaimer: All the real names of places, people, and events have been altered or abbreviated to protect the innocent. Namely, me.
hey people!
NOBODY DOES IT BETTER
Due to her dramatic departure, B missed her Frederic Fekkai facial, which is a shame, because few spas do it better. She also missed K and I getting drunk on white wine at Daniel and reassuring her mother that B and N hadn’t consummated their relationship yet. She missed her aunts quizzing S about her college plans. And she missed an incomparable upside-down chocolate soufflÉ. Let’s hope she doesn’t miss the wedding—everyone will still have fun without her, but she’s going to provide all the drama.
Your e-mail
Q: Hey GG,
I heard S totally slept with like, all the judges on the film festival panel, so it’s not really a big surprise that she won, know what I mean?
—ceecee
A: Hey ceecee,
She slept with all of them? Even the girls?
—GG
Q: yo gossipgrl,
whassup? i just wanted to tell you that i think you are hot, even though we’ve never met. i’m a guy, by the way. i also wanted to say that i was in the park after school on Wednesday and saw J and N. she’s kind of hard to miss, i mean the top half of her is. they looked pretty happy to see each other if you know what i mean.
—goodie
A: Hi goodie,
Urn, thanks for the compliment, I guess. Definitely thank you for the scoop. Word has it N and J have been hooking up after school every day. Poor B.
—GG
Sightings
B stalking the streets between S’s and N’s houses, trying to catch them in the act. J and N at the public library on Ninety-sixth Street, studying. How cute! N is clearly determined to get into Brown and into J’s … heart. S standing at her window wearing the brown ChloÉ dress B’s mom bought for all the bridesmaids. I know she’s supposed to have the best figure on Fifth Ave., but I hear she was looking a little hippy. Too much junk food up in Rhode Island, perhaps? N picking up his wedding tux at Zeller. And B at a hockey game at Madison Square Garden with her brother and her new stepbrother. I guess even hockey was better than hanging out with her bride-to-be Mom or her perky bridesmaid friends. Now that’s hard to believe.
Less than a week till the big day. Have a great Thanksgiving, but don’t pig out too much, or you won’t fit into your wedding duds!
You know you love me,
gossip girl
hot ushers and sexy bridesmaids
“This dress makes me look like I have silicone implants in my thighs,” Kati complained, poking at her legs as she examined herself in the mirror.
“It makes my skin look totally gray,” Isabel whined. She squirted some Lubriderm into her hands and smoothed it over her arms. “I should have bought that bronze body powder at Sephora,” she added, pouting.
Blair rolled off the bed in their St. Claire Hotel suite and snatched up the ChloÉ dress, letting it dangle from her fingers. It was long and brown and sleek, with tiny pearlescent beads sewn diagonally across the bodice, and two delicate beaded strands, like necklaces, to hold it up.
She yanked off her white hotel bathrobe and pulled the dress on over her hea
d. The material clung to her figure, but it didn’t feel tight—it felt great. Blair examined herself in the mirror. The dress didn’t make her look hippy at all. She looked hot. Yesterday she’d been waxed, plucked, exfoliated, steamed, and moisturized from her hair follicles down to her toenails at the Aveda Salon and Spa on Spring Street. She had new golden beige highlights in her hair, and her mother’s makeup artist had dusted her entire body with sparkling scented body powder. Blair fluffed up her hair, which had just been blown out by her mother’s hairstylist. She didn’t care if Isabel and Kati weren’t happy with their dresses, Nate wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands off her tonight. Plus, the dress went perfectly with the Manolos her father had given her for her birthday. Blair pulled the shoes out of her bag and strapped them on. She was glad she could still be faithful to her dad, even at her mom’s stupid wedding.
“You know you want me,” Blair said to her reflection, pretending she was talking to Nate. She looked amazing, and she was definitely ready to do it.
“All set,” Serena said, coming out of the bathroom in a cloud of sweet-smelling perfume. The dress looked pretty great on her, too, but Blair tried not to look. She had done a marvelous job of ignoring Serena all through hair and makeup that afternoon. She didn’t see any reason to stop ignoring her now.
Someone knocked on the door. “Hey, it’s me,” Aaron said. “You guys ready?”
Blair opened the door. Aaron and Tyler were standing out in the hall wearing their tuxedos. Aaron had gotten his dreadlocks cut short so that they stuck out from his head in all directions. He looked like a rock star attending the Grammys. For once, Tyler looked like the perfect little gentleman, with neatly parted hair and a perfectly tied bow tie. She had to admit they both looked adorable.
“Wow,” Aaron said. “That dress rocks.”
Tyler nodded in agreement. “You look really good, Blair,” he said earnestly.
Blair frowned, reveling in the attention. “You don’t think it makes me look fat?”
What a drama queen.
Aaron shook his head. “Give it up, Blair,” he said. “You know you’re hot.”
Blair grimaced. “You really think so?”
“Yeah,” Aaron said. “Mookie thinks so, too. He told me. I had to leave him at home, but he’d definitely want to hump your leg in that dress.”
“Fuck off,” Blair growled, although she was enjoying every minute of it.
She turned to Kati, Isabel, and Serena. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get this fucker over with.”
As the girls filed out of the room, Blair glanced back at the suite’s sumptuous king-sized bed. Okay, so the next few hours were going to be hell. And sure, she didn’t know where in God’s name she was going to college next year. But today was her birthday, and tonight she was going to lose it to Nate in that bed.
“Do you, Cyrus Solomon Rose, take Eleanor Wheaton Waldorf to be your lawful wedded wife, to love and serve, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?” asked the Unitarian minister from the altar of the intimate all-faiths United Nations Chapel.
“I do.”
“And do you, Eleanor Wheaton Waldorf, take Cyrus Solomon Rose to be your lawful wedded husband, to love and serve, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
“Oh, yes. I do.”
Misty Bass shifted her hips on one of the chapel’s uncomfortable wooden benches. “Tell me again why they had to get married so quickly?” she whispered to Titi Coates.
Mrs. Coates moved closer to her friend and gave her a knowing glance through the little blue veil that was attached to her fabulous peacock feather cap. “I heard she was running out of money,” she whispered. “It was her only way out of debt.”
Mrs. Archibald couldn’t help getting involved. “I heard she fell in love with his summer place in the Hamptons,” she said, leaning forward to whisper in Misty’s and Titi’s ears. “She wanted it for herself, but he wouldn’t sell. So she figured out another way to get her hands on it.”
“How long do you think it will last?” Misty asked dubiously.
Titi smiled viciously. “How long could you live with that?”
They examined Cyrus Rose, who was looking particularly rosy in his gray pinstriped morning suit and cream-colored shirt, tie, and waistcoat. He’d worn a gold pocket watch and spats on his shoes.
Spats? What did he think this was, a costume party?
Eleanor looked radiant despite her ridiculous dusky pink Little Bo Peep gown. Her blue eyes gleamed with happy tears, and ancestral diamonds glittered from her neck, wrists, and ears.
But most importantly, the bridesmaids and ushers …
Blair clutched her bouquet of winter lilies and kept her eyes fixed on Nate, drowning out the wedding service completely.
A few days ago, Nate had finally sent her an oblique e-mail saying he was sorry he hadn’t seen her in a while, but he’d had to go up to Maine to spend Thanksgiving with his family. Blair had responded immediately, telling him how nervous and excited she was about tonight. Nate had never replied, so she’d had to satisfy herself with the thought that all would be resolved when they saw each other again.
As long as that bitch Serena didn’t get in the way.
Blair waited for Nate’s eyes to shift to Serena so she could catch him staring at her yearningly. But Nate kept right on watching the ceremony, his green eyes sparkling in the candlelit chapel.
For once, Blair decided to be optimistic.
Maybe, just maybe, she was wrong about them. Forget Serena—Nate was as excited about tonight as Blair was. Why else would he be looking that good? He absolutely radiated sexiness.
But then again, so did she.
Her ChloÉ dress fit her body like a condom, and she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath it except for a pair of stay-up, lace-top stockings.
Oh, and her birthday Manolos, of course.
Blair was ready. She was a bouquet-carrying sex machine.
So why wasn’t Nate looking at her?
Nate watched the ceremony, feigning interest to avoid eye contact with Blair. He had noticed that she was looking particularly groovy, but all it did was make him worry about how he was going to handle things later on. In his pocket was Jennifer’s favorite calligraphy pen, which she’d given him to remind him of her while he was gone for Thanksgiving. Nate couldn’t bring Jennifer to the wedding, for obvious reasons. But he’d promised to meet up with her at the hotel bar during the reception so she could see him in his tux. He’d also promised her that he’d refrain from smoking a big fat joint before the wedding. Now he regretted it. He was going to have to face Blair completely sober. Nate stuck his hand in his pocket and gripped the pen. It made him jittery just thinking about it.
Serena felt jittery, too, although you’d never know it. Whenever a professional got his hands on her face with makeup and blew out her hair, the results were unreal. Her golden hair shone, her skin gleamed, her cheeks glowed, and the brown Chloe dress hugged her body, accentuating her narrow hips, the curve of her back, and her long, graceful legs.
But inside, Serena was a little messier.
First and foremost, she was worried about Dan. He was acting strange.
She hadn’t been able to see him at all before the ceremony, but she had talked to him last night. Sort of. She’d done all the talking. Dan had kind of grunted at her and said he’d see her at the wedding. Serena didn’t know what was going on with him, but there was definitely something.
She was also worried about Blair, despite the fact that Blair had been ignoring her all day. The girls were standing next to each other, and Serena could practically feel the tension zinging off of Blair’s body like static electricity.
Across the aisle, Serena’s brother Erik winked at her. He looked like a prince in his tux. A male version of Serena, all golden haired, blue eyed, and tall, with a sprinkle of freckles on his nose and adorable dimples in his cheeks. Serena had told him all about her crappy Brown interview, and pr
edictably Erik had said two words in response: “Fuck ‘em.”
It wasn’t exactly the most reassuring piece of advice she’d ever gotten, but Serena respected her brother’s carefree brand of wisdom—it worked for him. And she was seriously considering art school now anyway.
She turned her head and tried to locate Dan in the audience, but she couldn’t see his brown tousled hair anywhere among the glamorous hats and crisply coiffed dos of the wedding guests. She wondered if he’d even bothered to come.
Dan was slumped in a pew in the back, his hands sweating like crazy, trying not to listen to the ruthless gossip going on around him.
“It’s even tackier than I expected,” he heard a woman whisper.
“What on earth is she wearing?” her neighbor whispered back.
“What about him?” the first woman replied.
“And the bridesmaids’ dresses. They’re pornographic!”
Dan didn’t know what they were talking about. Everyone in the wedding party looked pretty spectacular to him, particularly Serena. Dan had tried to clean himself up as best he could, but his scuffed black loafers were all wrong and his shirt wasn’t even ironed properly. He’d never felt more out of place in his life.
But she’d wanted him there and there he was. A lamb ready for slaughter.
“And now, you may kiss the bride,” announced the minister.
Cyrus grabbed Eleanor around the waist. Blair clutched her bouquet against her stomach to keep from puking.
It wasn’t a very long kiss, but any public display of affection between people your parents’ age is enough to make you gag.
Cyrus stamped on a wineglass wrapped in a napkin and the piano player pounded out congratulatory chords.
At last, they were married!
The wedding party followed the couple down the aisle and through the chapel doors.
Out on the sidewalk on First Avenue, across from the UN, Blair tiptoed up behind Nate and breathed into his ear. “I missed you,” she purred.
Nate spun around and did his best to smile. “Hey. Congratulations, Blair,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.
Blair frowned. “What for? This is like, the worst day of my life.” She stepped closer to him. “Unless you make it better.”