“Hey. It’s Vanessa.”
“Hey.”
“Listen, I have to make it quick. I just wanted you to know that I told Marjorie she has the part,” Vanessa said quickly.
“You mean Serena,” Dan said, flicking his ash and taking another puff of his cigarette.
“No, I mean Marjorie.”
Dan exhaled and clenched the phone tightly. “Wait. What are you talking about? Marjorie, with the red hair and the gum?”
“Yes, that’s right. I haven’t got their names mixed up,” Vanessa said patiently.
“But Marjorie stank, you can’t use her!” Dan insisted.
“Yeah, well, I kind of like that she stank. She’s sort of rough around the edges. I think it will make it feel edgier, you know? Like, not what you’d expect,” said Vanessa.
“Yeah, definitely not,” Dan sneered. “Look, I really think this is a mistake. Serena totally ruled. I don’t know why you wouldn’t want her. She was awesome.”
“Yeah, well, I’m the director, so it’s my choice. And I chose Marjorie. Okay?” Vanessa really didn’t want to hear about how awesome Serena had been. “Besides, I keep hearing all these stories about Serena. I don’t think she’s all that reliable.”
Vanessa was pretty sure that everything she’d heard was completely bogus, but it couldn’t hurt to mention it to Dan.
“What do you mean?” Dan said. “What kind of stories?”
“Like she manufactures her own drug called S, and she has some pretty bad STDs,” Vanessa said. “I really don’t want to deal with that.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Dan said.
“I have my sources,” she said.
A bus roared up Madison on its way to the Cloisters. On the side of it was a massive photograph of a belly button. Or was it a gunshot wound? Scrawled in blue girly writing on the side of the poster was the name “Serena.”
Vanessa stared after the bus. Was she losing her mind? Or was Serena really and truly everywhere? Every last bit of her?
“I just don’t think she’s right for us,” Vanessa said, hoping Dan would come around if she used the word “us.” It was their movie, not hers.
“Fine,” Dan said coldly.
“So, are you coming out with me and Ruby in Brooklyn on Friday?” Vanessa asked, eager to change the subject.
“Nah. I don’t think so,” Dan said. “See ya.” He clicked off and tossed the phone angrily into his black courier bag.
That morning his sister Jenny had stumbled into his room, her eyes all bloodshot and her hands covered in black ink, and dropped an invitation to that stupid falcon party on the floor beside his bed. He’d actually dared to think that since he was going to be Serena’s costar, he might actually take her to the goddamned party. Now, that little dream was all shot to hell.
Dan couldn’t believe it. His one chance to get to know Serena was gone because Vanessa wanted to exercise her artistic license to make the worst film ever made. It was unbelievable. More unbelievable still was that Vanessa, queen of the alterna-rebel scene, had actually stooped to spreading rumors about a girl she barely knew. Maybe Constance was finally rubbing off on her.
Oh, don’t be a spoilsport. Gossip is sexy. Gossip is good. Not everybody does it, but everybody should!
A bus stopped at a light right in front of him. First Dan noticed Serena’s name. It was scrawled in blue, in messy girl’s handwriting on a giant black-and-white poster of what looked like a rosebud. It was beautiful.
a fan meets her idol
Jenny was a zombie on Thursday from missing a whole night’s sleep, but she’d gotten the Kiss on the Lips invitations done, and now she and Dan each had an invitation of their very own.
She was starving, too, having consumed only a banana and an orange for dinner the night before. She’d even skipped her morning chocolate-chip scone. So, at lunch, Jenny wrangled two grilled cheese sandwiches and two coffee yogurts out of the Constance lunch ladies and carried her feast out into the cafeteria, hunting for a seat at a quiet table. While she ate, she had to make up the homework she’d skipped last night.
Jenny chose a table in front of the wall of mirrors on the far side of the cafeteria. None of the older girls liked to eat lunch by the mirrors because it made them feel fat, so that table was always empty. Jenny put her tray down, and was about to start stuffing her face when she noticed a sign-up sheet taped to the mirror.
Jenny lunged for her backpack to find a pen. She scribbled her name at the top of the list—she was the first one to sign up!—and then sat down in front of her heaping tray of food, her heart pounding. Life was full of miracles. It just got better and better.
More miraculous still, Serena van der Woodsen herself was coming out of the lunch line and making a beeline for Jenny, carrying her tray. Was Serena actually going to sit with her? In person?
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
“Hi,” Serena said, beaming at Jenny and setting her tray down.
God, she was beautiful. Her hair was the pale gold color some of the other Constance girls tried to achieve by spending four hours in the hair salon on the top floor of Bergdorf Goodman getting their highlights done. But Serena’s was natural, you could tell.
“Did I just see you sign up to help with my movie?” Serena asked.
Jenny nodded, speechless in the presence of such greatness.
“Well, you’re the only one so far,” Serena sighed, sitting down across from Jenny, facing the wall of mirrors. She didn’t have to worry about feeling fat when she ate. She didn’t have any fat. She raised her golden eyebrows at Jenny. “So, what can you do?”
Jenny poked at her grilled cheese. She couldn’t believe she’d gotten two sandwiches. Serena probably thought she was a disgusting pig.
“Well, I’m pretty artistic. I did the school hymnals, you know, in calligraphy? And I’ve got some photographs in Rancor this year, and a short story,” Jenny explained.
Rancor was Constance’s student-run arts magazine. Vanessa Abrams was the editor.
“Oh, and I just did the invitations for that big party next week that everyone’s going to,” Jenny said, eager to impress. “Blair Waldorf asked me to do them. Actually . . .” Jenny reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope with Serena’s name printed on it in ornate calligraphy. “The guest list Blair gave me still had your boarding school address. I was going to put it in your locker or something,” Jenny said, blushing. “But now that you’re here . . .” She handed the envelope to Serena.
Do I sound like a stalker? Jenny wondered.
“Thanks,” Serena said, taking the envelope. She opened it and read the invitation inside, her eyes dark, her forehead creased in a frown.
Oh, God. She thinks it’s ugly! Jenny thought, panicking.
Serena put the invitation in her bag and picked up her fork again, looking distracted. She took a bite of lettuce and chewed on it.
Jenny was taking mental notes on how to act as mysterious, poised, and cool as Serena was acting at that very moment. If only she could have heard the livid thoughts in Serena’s head, railing against Blair.
She didn’t want me to come to the party. She didn’t even tell me there was a party.
“Wow,” Serena said finally, still munching her lettuce. “Okay, you’re hired.” She held out her hand and smiled sweetly at Jenny. “I’m Serena,” she said.
“I know,” Jenny said, blushing even redder. “I’m Jenny.”
Disclaimer: All the real names of places, people, and events have been altered or abbreviated to protect the innocent. Namely, me.
hey people!
S AND B: HOT IN THE HOT TUB!
This just in from an anonymous source: Apparently, back when they were still tight, S and B shared a hot hot-tub moment together in C’s suite in the Tribeca Star. Was the kiss an expression of their true feelings for each other? Or were they just messing around like two silly drunk girls? Either way, it definitely adds a little tension to the mix. What fun!
br /> And in case you haven’t seen the poster plastered on all the buses, taxis, and subways all over town, the original photo of S can still be seen at the Whitehot Gallery in Chelsea, amidst portraits of other notorious scenesters, myself included. That’s right! The Remi brothers were just too sexy to resist. The fabulous are fabulous for a reason, people.
Your E-mail
Dear Gossip Girl,
I won’t tell you who I am, but I’m in the Remi brothers show too. I really love their work, and I love the picture they took of me, but no way would I let them put it on the side of a bus. If you ask me, S is asking for whatever she gets. And from what I’m hearing, she’s getting it.
—Anonomy
Dear Anonomy,
It’s cool to be modest, but personally, if you wanted to put any bit of me on the side of a bus, I’d be willing. I’m a fame whore.
—GG
Sightings
Little J buying a huge book on filmmaking at Shakespeare and Co. on Broadway. N hanging out with C at a bar over on First Avenue. Guess N wants to keep his eye on C so C doesn’t spill the beans, huh? And B buying lots of candles in a shop on Lex for her big night with N.
That’s all for now. Have fun this weekend—I definitely will.
You know you love me,
tribeca star
The Star Lounge in the Tribeca Star Hotel was big and swanky, filled with comfy armchairs and ottomans and circular banquettes, so that the guests could feel like they were having their own private party at each table. One wall was lit with dozens of black candles, flickering in the dimly lit room, and a DJ was playing mellow lounge beats on a turntable. It was only eight o’clock, but the bar was already jammed with people, dressed in the hippest fashions and sipping pastel-colored cocktails.
Blair didn’t care what time it was—she needed a drink.
She was sitting in an armchair right near the bar, but the stupid cocktail waitress was ignoring her, probably because Blair hadn’t bothered to dress up. She had worn her faded Earl jeans and a boring black sweater because she was only meeting Serena for a quick drink before she went home to prepare for her night of wild sex with Nate. And she wasn’t going to dress up for that, either. Blair had decided to meet Nate at the door naked.
Her face grew hot just thinking about it, and she looked around the room self-consciously. She felt like a loser sitting there all by herself without even a drink. Where was Serena, anyway? She didn’t have all goddamned night.
Blair lit a cigarette. If Serena doesn’t come by the time I’m done with this cigarette, I’m leaving, she told herself sulkily.
“Look at her,” Blair heard a woman say to her friend. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
Blair turned to look. Of course it was Serena.
She was wearing blue suede knee-high boots and a real Pucci dress. Long sleeved with a high neck and a crystal beaded belt, in blues, oranges, and greens. It was super fantastic. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail on top of her head and she was wearing pale blue eye shadow and creamy pink lipstick. She smiled and waved at Blair from across the room, weaving her way through the crowd. Blair watched the heads turn as she passed, and her stomach churned. She was already sick of Serena, and she hadn’t even spoken to her yet.
“Hi,” Serena said, plunking herself down on a square ottoman beside Blair’s chair.
Immediately, the cocktail waitress appeared.
“Hey Serena, long time no see. How’s your brother?” the waitress said.
“Hey Missy. Erik’s good. He’s too busy to call me ever. I think he must have like, eight different girlfriends up there,” Serena laughed. “How are you doing?”
“I’m great,” Missy said. “Hey listen, my sister works for a caterer, you know, and she said she saw you a few days ago at a party she was working at a gallery in Chelsea. She said that’s you in that picture on all the buses. Is that true?”
“Yeah,” Serena said. “Pretty crazy, huh?”
“You are so rad!” Missy squealed. She glanced at Blair who was glaring at her. “Anyway, what can I get you girls?”
“Ketel One and tonic,” Blair told her, looking her straight in the eye, daring her to card them. “Extra limes.”
But Missy would rather lose her job than hassle Serena van der Woodsen for being underage.
That’s the whole reason for going to hotel bars in the first place: no one ever cards.
“And for you, sweetie?” Missy asked Serena.
“Oh, I better start with a Cosmo,” Serena said, and laughed. “I need something pink to go with my dress.”
Missy hurried away to fetch the drinks, eager to tell the bartender that the girl in the Remi brothers’ photo that was all over town was sitting in their bar and they were pals!
“Sorry I’m late,” Serena told Blair, looking around. “I thought everyone else would be here with you.”
Blair shrugged her shoulders and took a long drag on her dwindling cigarette. “I thought we could hang out by ourselves for a while,” she said. “No one really comes out until later, anyway.”
“Okay,” Serena said. She smoothed out her dress and dug around in her little red purse for her own pack of cigarettes. Gauloises, from France. She tapped one out and stuck it in her mouth. “Want one?” she offered Blair.
Blair shook her head no.
“They’re kind of strong, but the box is too cool, I don’t care.” Serena laughed. She was about to light up with a pack of bar matches, when the bartender swooped in with a lighter.
“Thanks,” she said, raising her eyes to look at him. The bartender winked at her and swiftly stepped back behind the bar. Missy brought them their drinks.
“To old times,” Serena said, clinking her glass against Blair’s and taking a long sip on her pink Cosmopolitan. She sat back on her stool and sighed with pleasure. “Don’t you just love hotels?” she said. “They’re so full of secrets.”
Blair raised her eyebrows at Serena in silent response, sure that Serena was about to tell her all the wild and crazy things that had happened to her in hotels while she was in Europe or wherever, as if Blair cared.
“I mean, don’t you always think about what everyone’s doing in their rooms? Like, they could be watching pornos and eating cheese doodles, or they could be having kinky sex in the bathroom. Or maybe they’re just asleep.”
“Uh-huh,” said Blair disinterestedly, gulping her drink. She would have to get a little drunk if she were going to make it through the night, especially the naked part. “So what’s this about your picture being all over buses and stuff?” Blair said. “I haven’t seen it.”
Serena giggled and leaned toward Blair confidentially. “Even if you saw it, you probably wouldn’t recognize me. It has my name on it, but it’s not a picture of my face.”
Blair frowned. “I don’t get it,” she said.
“It’s art,” Serena said mysteriously, and giggled again. She took a sip of her drink.
The two girls’ faces were only inches apart, and Blair could smell the musky essential-oil mixture Serena had started wearing.
“I still don’t get it. Is it something dirty?” Blair said, confused.
“Not really,” Serena answered with a sly smile. “Lots of people have had theirs done too. You know—celebrities.”
“Like who?” Blair said.
“Like Madonna, and Eminem, and Christina Aguilera.”
“Oh,” Blair said, sounding unimpressed.
Serena’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
Blair lifted her chin and tucked her straight brown hair behind her ears. “I don’t know, it’s like you’re willing to do anything just to shock people. Don’t you have any pride?”
Serena shook her head, still staring at Blair. “Like what? What have I done?” she said, frantically gnawing on her fingernails.
“Like getting kicked out of boarding school,” Blair said vaguely.
Serena snorted. “What’s so bad about that?
Tons of people get kicked out every year. They have so many stupid rules, it’s almost impossible not to get kicked out.”
Blair pressed her lips together, measuring her words carefully. “I don’t mean that, I mean why you got kicked out.” There. She had done it. She had committed herself now. She was going to have to sit and listen to Serena tell her all about the cults she had joined, and the boys she’d had sex with, and the drugs she had done. Shit.
Don’t believe for a minute that she wasn’t curious, though.
Blair fiddled with the ruby ring on her finger, turning it round and round. Serena raised her glass at Missy, asking for another drink.
“Blair,” Serena said. “The only reason I got kicked out was because I didn’t show up at the beginning of school. I stayed in France. My parents didn’t even know. I was supposed to fly back at the end of August, but I stayed until the third week in September. I was living in this amazing chateau outside of Cannes, and it was like, a constant party. I don’t think I slept a whole night the entire time I was there. It was like those parties in that house in The Great Gatsby.
“There were these two boys, an older brother and a younger one, and I was totally in love with both of them. Actually,” she laughed, “I was even more in love with their father, but he was married.”
The Star Lounge DJ switched vibes and began to play a funky acid jazz song with a cool beat. The lights dimmed and the candles flickered. Serena jiggled her foot to the music and glanced at Blair, whose eyes were glazing over.
Serena lit another cigarette and inhaled deeply.
“Anyway, of course I partied a lot at school, but so did everyone else. What the school couldn’t deal with was that I didn’t even bother to show up at the beginning of the year. I don’t blame them, I guess. But to tell you the truth, I really didn’t care about going back to school. I was having way too much fun.”
Blair rolled her eyes again. She honestly didn’t care what the truth was.