“So, you’re saying you perform nude? That sounds great,” Hugh Moore said loudly from a few feet away, where he was in the midst of a conversation with one of Edie’s yoga-toned performance artist friends.
“Hugh’s making friends already.” Rhys shook his head. “See what I was dealing with?” Avery squeezed Rhys’s hand. She was so glad he wasn’t like that.
Remington clapped his arm around Avery’s back. He was holding Edie’s hand as if afraid to let go. “You did a great job planning this.” Avery smiled. She’d never seen her mom so vibrant and happy.
“And to think, we’ve been waiting for over twenty years to do this,” Edie murmured.
“I’d have waited another twenty!” Remington roared.
Rhys cleared his throat. “Congratulations, sir!” he announced, holding out his hand.
“Thanks, son!” Remington shook his hand. “Oh good Lord, it looks like Susan is resurrecting her nude performance art.” He frowned over in Hugh’s general direction. “I’ll put a stop to that. After all, we’re not twenty anymore!” He laughed.
Avery quickly looked away, since she really didn’t want to see Hugh’s attempt at performance art. She saw Jack coming from the bar, two glasses of champagne in her hand.
“Hey,” Jack called. “I brought you a drink. Oh, you have one,” she noted as she got closer. “Can I borrow Avery for a second?” she asked Rhys.
“I’ll be back,” Avery murmured, letting her fingers brush against his. She wasn’t mad at Jack, not anymore. But she should probably tell her that.
They made their way through milling guests and waiters over to the small wood gazebo that overlooked the ocean. Avery sat down on the glider swing in the center, pushing it back and forth with her foot. “I’m sorry I was sort of a bitch last night,” she said finally.
“One of us has to be. That’s kind of how we’re friends, right?” Jack said with a wry smile. She settled next to her on the swing.
“True,” Avery allowed. She took one of the glasses of champagne. It was weird how she and Jack could go from enemies to friends and back again. Still, it felt right.
“I broke up with J.P.,” Jack said finally.
“Oh.” Avery wasn’t sure what else to say. Now it seemed Jack and Owen were free to date. Well, good. Avery didn’t know why she’d been so bent out of shape about it before—maybe it was just the idea of her friend and her brother having fun without her. The idea that they didn’t need her. But really, she just wanted everyone to be as happy as she was. “So, you want to go out with Owen?” Avery asked, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
Jack blushed, gazing down at her ecru Calvin Klein sheath dress. “Would you be mad if I did?” she asked, her pretty face twisted in concern.
“You don’t need my permission. If you like him, tell him!” Avery pronounced, downing the rest of her champagne. Love had made her more generous than ever.
“Thanks,” Jack said, and by the look in her green eyes, she meant it. “Now, you have to get back to your guy,” she added, half-sternly.
“I know, I should have told you, but—”
“No details!” Jack held up a manicured hand. “Just go for it.”
After Avery left, Jack sat for a couple more minutes on the swing, watching as the other revelers ate, drank, laughed, and enjoyed the cool Caribbean breeze. It was a magical night, and Jack was just glad to be a part of it. Still, there was one thing missing. She wanted to talk to Owen, maybe even tell him how she felt, if he didn’t know already. Thinking about it made her stomach flip-flop. It was strange and scary and wasn’t easy. And Jack liked things to be easy.
In fact, she preferred things to be as easy as pulling out her black AmEx.
She stood up and headed over to the bar. She’d have one more glass of champagne and think through exactly what to say.
Beside her stood a super-skinny blond girl wearing what appeared to be a red latex dress that hit mid-thigh. Next to her was a brunette wearing far too much gold jewelry. Jack stared at them, trying to figure out how she knew them. And then it hit her: They were the girls she’d seen talking to Owen and Rhys the day she’d first arrived. Jack had actually been jealous of them at the time. How long ago that seemed now.
Almost instantly Hugh, one of Owen’s lame swim team friends, sidled up to the girls.
Directed by skank sonar?
“My fair ladies.” Hugh leered at the two girls as he stroked his full blond beard lasciviously. “Might I say you look lovely?”
“It’s true, innit,” the blond girl said as she elbowed her friend, giggling. Jack rolled her eyes, glad these three soul mates had found each other, when she felt someone come up beside her.
“I have an idea,” Owen whispered as his arm gently brushed hers. Jack’s heart thumped wildly just at the sight of his deep blue eyes and adorable white-blond hair. Owen nodded at Hugh and the two girls. “What do you say we make this a pool party?” he asked, a devilish grin on his face. “I’ll be in charge of Hugh— you’re in charge of them.” He raised an eyebrow at Jack.
Jack stared. One of the girls teetered just inches from the edge on her unstable, glittering heels. It was almost too easy. She didn’t really know why they were doing this, but Jack wasn’t one to choose decorum over fun. Especially not when Owen was the one offering.
Who would?
“Fine!” In one moment, she shoved the blond girl in, while Owen pushed Hugh. The two of them flopped messily into the water with a huge splash. The brunette girl, not knowing what else to do, shrugged and jumped in after them.
“Everybody get in the pool!” she cried as soon as she touched down, her drink still in hand. In an instant, her red dress was floating on the top of the water as she, Hugh, and the blond girl splashed each other in the shallow end.
“That was kind of dumb,” Jack admitted, even though secretly it was the most fun she’d had all night.
“Yeah, but at least now we can’t hear them.” Owen grinned.
Jack stared at Owen’s tanned, happy face, glad to see him smiling—especially at her. So did this mean he didn’t think she was a scheming would-be cheater? “I broke up with J.P. I just wanted you to know,” she blurted. It wasn’t exactly how she’d planned on telling him, but then, nothing this week had gone as she’d planned.
“Oh?” Owen looked surprised. And, Jack hoped, a little pleased.
“Yeah.” She shrugged. She didn’t want to think about what would happen next or what it would be like when they got back to New York. This was still her vacation, at least for tonight, and she wanted to have fun. “Want to go swimming?” Not waiting for an answer, she dove in, still wearing her dress, enjoying the heavy feel of the now-ruined silk around her body.
“I’m coming in too!” Baby appeared by the side of the pool, her brown curls bouncing wildly around her pretty face. She slid off her flip-flops and did a perfect swan dive into the pool, splashing Jack.
“Bitch!” Jack yelled good-naturedly, splashing Baby right back.
“Remy, let’s jump in!” Edie called from the other end of the pool. There, she carefully slid in feetfirst, still in her wedding dress.
Avery shook her head at the ridiculous scene—of course her mother’s beach-chic wedding had turned into one giant pool party, seventh-grade style. The thing was, it looked fun. She glanced at Rhys, her eyes wide with excitement.
“I’ll jump if you jump,” she said, already kicking off her Christian Louboutin slingbacks. Rhys grinned right back.
“Miss Carlyle?” Avery felt a pointy finger tapping her shoulder. She whirled around to see Yvette, the wedding planner. Her skinny, angular face was pinched and she looked like she was about to have a heart attack. “I can assure you, this is not what I was expecting when we were discussing the party details. This is not typical.”
“Sorry.” Avery shrugged. “This family isn’t typical.” She jumped in, making sure to splash Yvette and her pink Chanel suit. Rhys cannonballed in next and swam up to her.
He was shirtless, but still wearing his dress pants. He pushed Avery’s hair out of her eyes.
“Fireworks!” Someone yelled at the other end of the pool. Avery looked up. The night sky was splashed with reds and blues. But instead she looked into Rhys’s brown eyes and kissed him.
It may have taken sixteen years of waiting, but it looks like somebody finally found her prince.
hey people!
In honor of the hippie-tastic wedding of the century, please forgive me while I quote some Bob Dylan and say, the times they are a changin’. Who’d have thought the triplets’ bohemian, anything-goes mom would actually get married? Certainly not the Sunday Styles section, whose editor was so surprised that the paper crashed an announcement into this weekend’s edition—complete with a photo of the pool-soaked wedding party. Can’t wait to see what A will do when she sees that… unless she’s learned by now that infamy is better than anonymity. With her track record, she should have!
The Shakespearean comedies all end happily: with a wedding. Because really, what’s more promising than love? We all like to turn up our noses and pretend to be cheesed out, but the promise of a happily-ever-after gets everyone… including me. So bask in the glory of this happy day, and enjoy the fairy-tale ending. But don’t get too comfortable. Because I’m always watching.
See you back in Manhattan!
You know you love me,
gossip girl
Blair Waldorf, Serena van der Woodsen, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, and Vanessa Abrams went off to live their lives. Now, they’re coming home for the holidays. A lot can change in a few months… but some things never do.
Turn the page for a sneak peek of
I will always love you
a new gossip girl hardcover featuring the original cast
Hey people!
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
For years, New York City—the center of the universe, the place where anything can happen—was our home. But we’ve moved beyond our uniform-required, single sex schools and into bastions of higher education around the country. Yes, it finally happened: We went to college. For the past few months, we’ve been surrounded by people who don’t know whom we’ve hooked up with, who don’t remember the time we wet our pants on the playground in kindergarten. We’ve learned new things and made new friends and maybe even met the loves our lives. We’ve changed.
Or at least, some of us have. Others are just as fabulous as always. Take B, heading to Vermont to spend a perfect holiday with her perfect Yale boyfriend and his perfect family. That girl always had her eye on the prize…. And speaking of prizes, what’s rumored SAG nominee S doing these days? Formerly worshipped by her Constance Billard classmates, she’s now followed by paparazzi and a posse of fellow movie starlets. No matter where she is or what she does, S will always be the center of attention.
Then there are the people who’ve tried their hardest to change: N is on a sailing trip around the world. But as we all know from reading Kant in our freshman seminars, no man is an island. He’ll be back. Then there’s D, scratching out poetry in his Moleskine notebook in the Pacific Northwest. It may look like a total lifestyle change, but he still insists on Folgers instead of French press in the coffee capital of the US. He also spends every waking moment attempting to Skype his shaven-headed, ultra independent filmmaker girlfriend, V, who’s at NYU and seems to almost… have hair. And friends. Lastly there’s C, last seen with a pack of flannel-wearing, very rugged boys. Is he into a new type, or has he gone through yet another reinvention? That man puts Madonna to shame.
Everyone’s back in town for the holidays, and this winter break is guaranteed to be filled with makeups, breakups, and shakeups. Lucky for you, I’m going to report everything worth reporting. Let the reunion begin.
sightings
B on a train from New Haven to Montpelier, VT, looking very out of place in a sea of flannel… S with three identical girls, on the red carpet for a premiere…. V and some friends from NYU, including her very young, very cute teaching assistant, at a film-screening party in Bushwick. Is someone trying to get extra credit?… D and his little sister, J, splitting a plate of chocolate-chip pancakes at one of those curiously packed diners on upper Broadway…. C and a group of cowboy-boot clad guys ordering sodas at the lounge at the Tribeca Star. Ride ’em, cowboy!
break the rules
Remember, you don’t technically live under your parents’ roof anymore. You’ve already indulged them in holiday merry-making: Scrabble with the siblings, kissing Grandma, and decorating cookies that nobody’s going to eat. Which means now is the time to use all your pent-up energy to party. Remember, you can always reform after January 1—that’s what resolutions are for. So go out, have fun, and most of all, show your former besties and former flames just how much better you’ve become.
Besides, now that you know I’m watching, aren’t you just dying to put on a show? Thought so.
You know you love me,
gossip girl
all b wants for christmas
“You awake, Scout?”
Blair Waldorf awoke from a nap to the sight of her boyfriend, Pete Carlson, gazing down at her. Pete smiled his adorable, lopsided smile. His eyes were a yellowish brown and reminded Blair of her cat, Kitty Minky.
She threw the plaid Black Watch duvet to the foot of the couch and discreetly checked for drool with her index finger. She loved being woken up by Pete, especially when he called her by an adorable nickname. Currently, it was Scout because she’d directed him and his three older brothers to the best Douglas fir Christmas tree, deep in the woods of the Carlsons’ expansive Woodstock, Vermont, estate.
“Of course I am,” Blair lied, sitting up and yawning. Why sleep when her waking life was so much better?
“Good.” Pete settled next to her on the couch, pushing Blair’s long bangs tenderly off her small, foxlike face. Her hair was a little shaggier than she’d like, but she simply didn’t trust any of the hair salons in New Haven. Besides, what were unkempt bangs when she was with a guy who loved her?
“Have any dreams? You were making these little growls in your sleep. It was cute.” Pete pulled the blanket off the floor and draped it over their legs.
“Oh.” Blair frowned. She was growling?
In truth, she’d been having a lot of weird dreams lately. Last night, she’d woken up and thought she was at a sleepover at her old best friend Serena van der Woodsen’s house, only to find herself all alone in the guest bedroom of the Carlsons’.
Maybe it was just homesickness. After all, she hadn’t seen Serena since August, she didn’t have a home in New York anymore, and no one in her family was even in the United States this week. Her father, Harold, was celebrating Christmas in France with his boyfriend and their adopted twins. Her stepbrother Aaron was spending the break on a kibbutz in Israel. Her mother, stepfather, brother Tyler, and baby sister Yale had moved to LA back in August, to a gigantic, tacky Pacific Palisades mansion that they were making even bigger and more tacky. While the renovations were taking place, they were spending the holidays in the South Pacific, visiting the islands that Eleanor Rose, in a fit of pregnancy-induced mania last spring, had bought for each member of the family. Blair had been somewhat tempted to tag along, if only to see her baby sister, the least fucked-up member of her tragically absurd family.
Not to mention pay a visit to Blair Island.
But once she’d been invited to spend Christmas with the Carlsons, she felt it was her duty as a girlfriend to go.
“I was just dreaming about you. Us. I’m just so happy.” Blair sighed contentedly as she gazed into the orange fire roaring in the wood-burning stove across the room. Outside, a thin blanket of snow covered the ground.
“Me too.” Pete ruffled her hair and pulled her face into his for a kiss.
“You taste nice,” Blair breathed, letting her body relax into Pete’s muscular arms.
It was funny how things worked out. When she arrive
d at Yale, Blair discovered that her roommate, Alana Hoffman, sang a cappella all the time. Blair would wake up to Alana singing “Son of a Preacher Man” to her collection of teddy bears. Avoiding her room, Blair spent a lot of time in the library, where Pete was writing a paper for his Magical Realism in the Caribbean class. They’d exchanged flirty glances, and finally Pete invited her for coffee.
It was amazing how easy everything could be with Pete. For the first time in Blair’s nineteen years, her life felt like it made sense. She loved her classes, had an adoring, handsome boyfriend, and had even found a surrogate family in the Carlsons.
For the past few days, they’d spent every waking hour with the family: his former US senator dad, Chappy; his Boston debutante mom, Jane; his three older brothers, their wives, and assorted nephews and nieces Blair couldn’t even try to keep straight. It sounded like a nightmare, but it was great. His dad was barrel-chested and red-faced and told bad jokes in a way that made everyone crack up, and his mom would randomly recite poetry at the dinner table without being drunk. The brothers were friendly and smart, their wives were nice, and even the kids were polite. So far, it had been a perfect holiday.
And it was about to get even better. To celebrate the New Year, Chappy had booked the entire family at an exclusive resort in Costa Rica. Obviously, Blair could do without the rainforest adventure part, but she’d heard the beaches were pristine, the sun was hot, and the villas had the most incredible mattresses.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. “You kids decent?” Pete’s brother Jason called as he entered. He had the same lanky frame as Pete. Tall, blond, and handsome, all four of the Carlson brothers—Everett, Randy, Jason, and Pete—looked like they could be quadruplets, even though there was a two-year age difference between each of them. A second-year law student at UPenn, Jason was the second youngest of the Carlson brothers. He was adorable, and Blair would’ve had a crush on him if she wasn’t dating Pete.