Hey All you Upper East Siders
So quick question for all of my favorite people- what's with the recent outbreak of lying? Sure it's always great to add a little spice to your life, but there's just been so much of it. I know you guys well though, despite how perfectly clean and cute we look in our Salt and Pepper skirts and Bailey Winter tops or Thomas Pink oxfords and Versace jeans, you guys are a little messy on the inside. I can always count on you all crawling (or in S's case, strutting) back for more. Let's see what you had to say about that.
QHey Gossip Girl!
Did you hear the news? One more week and renovations are up for St. Jude's! I wonder what that's gonna mean for some people…
unInformed source
ADear unInformed source-
Uh oh N. Better get back in B's good graces quickly. Never mind what T tells you…
QDear GG,
My sister is a receptionist at LucasFilms production, and she told me that totally weird fat senior V got a role in one of the upcoming films. And here's the big news: they actually passed over S for it!
HollywoodHottie
ADear HollywoodHottie
There are several things wrong with your email. First, V, fat?! Second, what if our lovely blonde just wasn't right for the role? If they were casting for a bald chick, then of course it would make sense to pass up S. If not…. Is our favorite boarding school drop out losing her charm?! What's happened to our sparkling S? Did she make a big mistake by choosing not to go to Yale? All the same, this is verrrrry interesting…
QDear GG,
Are you ever gonna tell us who you are?
Jdwack
ADear Jdwack,
Nice try, hon.
Sightings
B stumbling out of her apartment followed by a groggy looking but still oh-so delectable T. Rise and shine and wakey-wakey for that early morning lecture, you two lovebirds! N taking a cab to St. Jude's where he picked up all of his lax stuff and stuffing it into a Brine travel carrying case. I think that N might be counting his chickens before they're hatched….whose to say B will finally draw the line and not come through for him this time? Don’t worry darling, I'll always be there for you. S sitting at the bar of the LA Ritz alone, and forlorn, completely oblivious to the cat calls and whistles behind her. Why so sad, S? And why are you all alone? No job? V exiting Lucas Films late at night, with a very large, self-satisfied smile, with her black leather tote significantly more filled than it was before she entered the building. What are you keeping in there V? More secrets? You know I'll dig them out.
After the classes, we'll be able to concentrate on the most important part of our college experience: the nights. For our favorite Yalies that might mean a quick flirtation with her 1000 count Egyptian cotton bed sheets. For our favorite Waspoid, that might mean calling a certain number over and over, hoping that her macho boyfriend doesn't pick up. And lastly, but never least, for our favorite Cali girls, that might mean…. Well actually, for once I have no idea. Those two always managed to pull the most surprises. But believe it when I say it: I'll be there when the shi hits, and I'll be reporting to you guys as soon as possible. What would you do with out me?
You Know You Love Me,
Gossip Girl.
~~~
Blair stretched from beneath the covers of her bed, and rubbed her eyebrows messily. Going to bed at 4 in the morning and waking up at eight was not the best way to prepare for an early morning Pre-Law lecture.
She turned over, and smiled at the cause of her distraction. Tom lay there, still snoring gently, his bare chest glistening from the morning sunlight that was filtered through the window.
Blair pressed her lips to his. "Waaaake up," she murmured.
His brilliant green eyes opened, and he smiled. "Best wake up call of my life," he said.
Blair stood up, and pulled a robe around her. "Our lecture starts in an hour, we have to get ready." She turned to Tom, who lay in her bed, smiling at her smugly. "Ugghhh, Tom!" she exclaimed laughingly, stomping over to his side of the bed. She grasped his muscular biceps, and tried to pull him out of bed. "We need to get up!"
"Mmmm," Tom moaned. He easily pulled Blair on top of him. "I don't want to."
"Later," she told him firmly. As she got up and made her way to the shower, she thought about how once again, Tom was everything Nate wasn't. Back to the important details, though. Was she going to try and help Nate? After a humiliating stand-up at Grand Central Station?
She showered, and finally came to the conclusion that she would. After all, they had been friends since kindergarten. She slipped into a red cashmere cardigan, her favorite Blue Cults, and bright yellow Chanel flats. "SEE YOU IN CLASS, BABE!" she yelled, grabbing a carton of yogurt and slamming the door to her apartment. Yes, it would be all together better if Tom did not know what she was doing.
She checked her Rolex. 8:40. Well, she had twenty or so minutes. She entered the administration building, and smiled confidently at the receptionist. "Blair Waldorf," she said. "I'd like to see the dean of admissions, please."
~~~
Nate opened his Mac laptop, clicked on the Safari web icon, and drummed his fingers restlessly against the smooth wood of his antique roll-top desk. He quickly typed "www.gossipgirl.net" into the browser and waited as the pink website began to load. He scanned the newsletter quickly, but halted when he got to the letters. One more week of renovations?
He pressed his forehead to the smooth wood of the desk, feeling a combination of nausea, anxiety, and fear. What if Blair didn't manage to come through for him, just like she'd always had? Would he loose his trust fund? Would he be doomed to actually taking a job?!
Poor baby. As if there aren’t 7 other billion people in the world who actually have to work for their money. What a concept.
Nate had never worried about money, but then again, he had never been a big worrier. But suddenly, all the worries in the world seemed pile on his lap. He could see it now.
Blair wouldn't come through for him, and he'd loose his trust fund. He'd become drowned in weed, trying shut out reality. His addiction would completely overtake him, and he'd end up like one of those shitty looking dime-bag sellers that sat on the benches of Central park. He would be busted by an undercover narcotic agent, just like he had been back Novemeber, and he would be convicted to jail. He'd go to jail, get in a fight, and probably have his balls chopped off or something. Then he'd be decapitated and when Blair came to his funeral, all she would see would be a ball-less, decapitated drug addict.
Oh please. And we thought Blair was overdramatic.
He dialed Blair's number again. "Blair? Hi, it's Nate. Please tell me what's going on with Yale. St. Jude's starts in a week. If I'm not at Yale by the time St. Jude's starts …. I'll be in big trouble. Let me know." He paused, and said quickly, "Iloveyou."
He tossed his phone on the bed, and shrugged into his Hugo Boss sailor-type jacket. It was time for stuff to happen. What stuff? Well . . . he figured he'd find out later.
His cell phone chirped. His heart leapt, thinking it was Blair. He checked the screen, which flashed the letters, "SERENA."
"Hello?" he asked, gloomy.
"Hey love!" Serena said cheerfully. She never was one for holding grudges. She seemed to have completely blocked out the train incident.
"Hey, what's up?" he asked perfunctorily.
"I'm relaxing on the beach here in Los Angeles with Vanessa," Serena sang into the phone. She paused. "I might drop into see Mrs. Waldorf later. Just calling to see how you were doing."
Nate's throat dried up. What was that, the thing Chips had said to him so many days ago? Think with your balls, Archibald. Not your dick. "Serena?" he began nervously. "I don't know how to tell you, but I'm going to Yale." He cleared his throat, and quickly corrected himself. "Well, I'm getting Blair to get me back in."
Serena was quiet. "Hello?" Nate asked. "You there?"
"Yeah." She said quietly. "I was just calling to tell you, that if like, this thing with the movies didn't work out, I was going to come down to New York City and live with you. I mean, forever."
Nate's forehead bunched in surprise. Marriage? Serena certainly was very surprising. Then again . . . this would solve his trust fund problem.
Uh oh. Yet another incident where Nate is stuck choosing between our two lovely Manhattan beauties . . . I wonder how this will end up.
~~~
Ashley, the drunk girl, was immediately shooed out of the meeting room. Meldon and Mr. Lucas quickly shooed Vanessa into a separate, gaudy office.
"Lucas films prides itself on family values, and movies that everyone can enjoy," George began with a grimace. "If this tape gets out . . . everything would be ruined. I am prepared to offer you anything. ANYTHING, that you want, if you will give me that tape."
Vanessa quietly put a blank tape in the second holder and pressed "Copy."
"Anything?" she asked.
"You name it." George jumped up, excited she had shown interest in his offer. "A job! A part in my next movie! Recommendations to all my colleagues! Money! Anything!"
Vanessa popped the copy out of the camera and surreptiously dropped it in her Fossil bag. "I want," she said directly. "A job. Something that would really impress NYU when I come back to finish the year, after this whole thing is over with."
"Done." George Lucas held out his hand.
"No." Vanessa said. "Draw up a contract, and I'll have my lawyer look over it." Lawyer? She didn’t even have a lawyer.
"Alright," George said. "I'll draw up the contract, and we'll sign you on, under the condition you do not distribute, copy, or sell that tape."
"Sure," Vanessa said. She had copied it before he said that, so it was a good agreement, for her at least.
Ten minutes later, Vanessa was being driven back to the LA Ritz in a chauffeured limo, enjoyed getting drunk on some bubbly champagne she found in the mini bar. She thanked the driver, and stumbled into the bar, where Serena was sitting on a leather stool, in a bright blue Pucci dress with pink boots, pink lipstick, and her hair in a high ponytail.
"Serena!" Vanessa stumbled towards her gorgeous friend. "I got a job!"
Serena's large, lovely, navy blue eyes blinked. She hiccupped, and giggled. "NICE! Doing what?!"
"Working for Lucas films," Vanessa said smugly. She threw her arm around Serena's bony shoulders. "Look at us," she murmured to herself quietly. "We're so gorgeous. I love us."
Serena threw her head back and gave a throaty laugh. "We are, aren't we?!" She grabbed another shot glass the bartender slid her and tossed it down her throat. After that disturbing conversation with Nate, she needed to get lost.
"What have you been up to?" Vanessa murmured, her voice heavy with alcohol. Her arm shot out and she grabbed Serena's wrist, and checked her Rolex. Midnight.
Serena shrugged impassively, kicking her feet against the bar stool. She really didn't want to get in with the thing with Nate. She couldn't believe she had actually said that to him, anyway. She loved him? Well, yes. Forever? She supposed so. She shook her head to clear it. Things were so uncertain. It was best to leave things as they were.
"Nothing?" Vanessa asked. "Serena Caroline van der Woodson did NOTHING?!"
Serena was growing more and more uncomfortable with this conversation. And she was feeling seriously buzzed.
"Come on!" She yelled to Vanessa. "Take off your party-pooper pants and lets DANCE!"
She turned, her hair slapping Vanessa in the face, and grabbed arms of her nearest admirer, a tall producer who was working on the latest Kate Hudson movie. "Dance with me!" she yelled. Closing her eyes, she put his hands around her waist, and threw her arms into the air, shimmying in time to the music. The producer blushed, but Serena didn't notice.
Vanessa gave a droll chuckle and wiped a trickle of sweat that was coming down her temple. She grabbed her bag, finished off Serena's shot, and walked upstairs. Nighty night.
