happened so far?buying a wedding gown, leaving Lord Marcus, getting hired by Bailey Winter,
and now moving in with Serena?wasn?t planned. If someone had told her just a week before that
she?d have to get a job for the summer, she?d have screamed and protested? working for the
summer was definitely not part of the story of her life?but Blair didn?t feel like screaming. She
felt . . . happy. Maybe there was a lesson here; maybe instead of trying to always live according to
a plan, she should just go with the flow? Maybe things really did always work out in the end.
Just like in the movies.
Bounding down the last flight of steps to retrieve her very last bag?a crocodile Paul Smith duffel
she?d picked up in London only a couple of days before?Blair was startled by the lanky,
dark-haired guy wearing a crisp blue Hugo Boss suit, stepping out of the parlor-floor apartment.
She froze in her tracks.
Isn?t there a handsome downstairs neighbor inBreakfast at Tiffany?s ?
?Hello there,? Blair called out in her best vaguely Eastern European,
Audrey-Hepburn-as-Holly-Golightly accent.
?Hey,? the guy responded shyly. His tousled brown hair hung down in front of his blue eyes. He
tucked his hands in the pockets of his suit pants and pulled himself up to full height.
?Good evening,? Blair replied, strolling down the stairs primly through the narrow, badly lit
space that passed for a lobby. She squeezed past the smiling stranger and bent to pick up her
bag. ?Excuse me,? she continued, heaving the bag full of shoes onto her shoulder.
?Of course,? he said, leaning his back against the door to his apartment. ?Can I help you with
that
?I can manage it,? Blair told him stoically. She flashed her most charming smile. ?Have we
met
?I?m Jason.? He extended his hand. ?You visiting for the weekend
?Oh,? she explained, ?I?m moving in with my dear old friend Serena. On the fifth floor
?Oh, I know Serena.? Jason paused. ?We hung out the other night, drank some beers on the stoop.
She never mentioned anything about her beautiful roommate, though.?
And she?d never mentioned her handsome new neighbor either.
Typical.
?It was a bit spur of the moment,? Blair explained. ?It?s a long story.?
?I?ve got time.? His lips spread into a cute, flirtatious little grin. He tucked his long fingers into
his back pockets. ?And I?m a great listener.?
?Is that so Blair shifted the bag from one shoulder to the other. Itwas sort of heavy.
?Not only that,? Jason continued, ?I was just on my way out to pick up a nice cold bottle of ros?.
Have you been up to the roof yet? Maybe you?d like to join me for a welcome-to-the-building
drink
?I didn?t know we could get up there!? A cool glass of pink wine with a broad-shouldered,
blue-eyed stranger sounded like the perfect way to celebrate the end of a milestone of a day: new
job, new house . . .
New romance?
Serena was busy memorizing her lines for tomorrow. A drink with Jason would keep Blair out of
her hair.
?I know a way,? he said, winking. ?I?ll meet you in fifteen minutes
Under normal circumstances that would hardly have been enough time for Blair Waldorf to
prepare herself for an evening t?te-?-t?te, but this was the new and improved, girl-with-a-job,
ever-fashion-ready, easygoing summertime Blair Waldorf.
?I?ll give you ten.? She skipped up the stairs slowly turning back to smile at him. ?By the way,
I?m Blair.?
After throwing on a casual pink floral Lilly Pulitzer tunic top and some white shell-embellished
flip-flops, Blair headed upstairs. Jason was already waiting for her with a blanket slung over his
shoulder and a bottle clutched in his hand. He scaled the rusty ladder and pushed open the black
steel trapdoor. Then he reached down to help Blair up with more studly grace than Marcus had
ever shown. Blair grabbed his hand eagerly and let him pull her up to the rooftop.
?I hope it doesn?t rain tonight,? she remarked as she twirled around, taking in three hundred and
sixty degrees of Manhattan skyline view. ?Because I?m never goingdown that ladder.? She was
only half-kidding.
?I told you the view was great,? Jason teased, digging a wine key into the cork and pulling it out
with a satisfying pop.
It wasn?t as commanding as the view of Central Park from the high-up terrace of Blair?s Fifth
Avenue penthouse, but there was something magical about the hot summer haze lin-gering over
the neighborhood?s bland apartment towers. The trees weren?t as perfectly pruned as the oaks and
elms that surrounded the park, but the spindly branches that peeked above the roofline were lush
and green. The Upper East Side, Blair realized, was just like Bailey Winter?s line: from Fifth to
Park Avenues was Bailey Winter Couture, everything from the Park to Lexington was like Bailey
Winter Collection, and everything between there and the river was Bailey by Bailey Winter.
That?s one way to think of it.
?It?s really nice,? she agreed, taking a plastic cup of chilled wine and settling onto the worn navy
blue cotton blanket Jason had spread on the warm tar roof. It wasn?t as soft as her favorite
cashmere Asprey picnic throw, but she had on the per-fect summer outfit, a gorgeous man was
sitting next to her, and her career in fashion was about to explode. Who needed minor British
royalty? She was a New Yorker and this was a classic summer-in-New-York moment. London was
a damp and smelly slum by comparison.
?So, how come Serena never mentioned you before Jason asked.
?Maybe she wanted you all to herself,? Blair replied mischievously and probably accurately. ?To
a crazy summer.? Blair clinked her plastic cup of wine with Jason?s. ?So far,? she added giddily.
?To a crazy summer,? he echoed, taking a sip. ?Anyway, I don?t think Serena?s interested in me.
We hung out the other night and she seemed sort of spoken for, if you know what I mean.?
?You mean Thaddeus Smith Blair and Serena hadn?t had much time to catch up but she knew,
justknew , that there had to be something going on between Serena and Thaddeus.
Since she and everyone else believe everything they read.
?The one and only,? Jason affirmed. ?But you know, Blair,? Jason continued, fixing his blue eyes
on hers. ?I?m not really into hanging out with movie stars. I like regular girls.?
Was he calling her?Blair Waldorf?regular? How wrong he was.
?Wait, you?re not in the movies, are you He eyed her suspiciously. ?Because you look like you
could be.?
?I?m more of a behind-the-scenes kind of girl,? she murmured, batting her
Chanel-mascara-blackened eyelashes mysteriously.
?I don?t have anything against it,? Jason backtracked. ?Don?t get me wrong. It?s just that I?m
interested in different things. Like the law. That?s my main focus, you know
?I was thinking of studying law when I start at Yale in the fall.? She could always be a lawyerand
a fashion muse at the same time. She could wear couture under her Supreme Court gown.
?Beautiful and smart,? Jason said. ?You?re almost too good to be true.?
Blair sipped her wine hungrily. Serena could have the movie star. Jason was exactly the kind of
guy a Yale womanshould be involved with.
At least, the kind of woman a Yale woman should be involved with this week.
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ABC Amber LIT Converter v2.02
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Disclaimer: All the real names of places, people, and events have been altered or abbreviated to
protect the innocent. Namely, me.
hey people!
I?m not ashamed to admit that ?Summer Lovin (from our secretfavorite
I?m-staying-in-Friday-night movie,Grease ) is one of thebest songs I?ve ever heard. Not only is it
catchy, it?s true:summer is all about love and gettin? some lovin?, right? Butthere seems to be a
shortage this summer.
It?s been almost three weeks and our friend S is still a solo performer! What gives? Sure, she?s
been spotted around townwith T, but there?s no law that friends can?t have dinner together,now is
there? Besides, we think T might have his eye on someone else. You heard it here first.
Meanwhile, B is throwing herself into her work?word is she?salready the second?most feared
person on that movie set. Wehaven?t gotten close enough to verify the rumors that she?ssporting
an engagement ring on her right hand?to throw offthe paparazzi, just like the stars. Word also has
it that B?slooking a little rosy in the cheeks: mother-to-be flush, secretlove, or great new facialist?
Break out your camera phones,people: we need evidence!
More summer-lovin? updates: it seems D and V are definitely on the outs, and again, you heard it
here first. He?s looking surprisingly tan and toned. Swearsies! And what about N andhis summer
lover? How long till he shows his true city-boy colors? He might say he?s not like the rest of the
city crowd,but N can only forsake creature comforts like nightclub bottleservice, black-tie
fundraisers on Lilypond Lane, and private helicopter rides back to the city for so long....
trouble brewing
My spies at Michael?s have tipped me off about a very tense meeting between a certain highly
respected photographer-turned-filmmaker and the Hollywood heavyweights (literally a pair of
rotund brothers) who are bankrolling his latest venture. It seems that the deep-pocketed producers
are less than thrilled with the dailies and want to rethink the casting. Could this mean that V won?t
be the only one to get canned? Stay tuned.
sightings
B, Frappuccino and clipboard in hand, desperately trying to hail a cab on Park Avenue. Whatever
happened to that graduation present? Is it true that she doesn?t actually have her license? Oops! N
at the Amagansett farmer?s market, deliberating over the wildflowers. We knew he was a closet
romantic! T showing an unidentified special guest around the set?we hear the private tour included
a lengthy visit to the star?s trailer. V at Forbidden Planet, stocking up on comic books?but
definitely not visiting D at the Strand, which is, after all, just right across the street. Interesting . . .
and they call it puppy love . . .
Speaking of love, I?ve finally met someone. Actually, two some-ones: they?re both irresistibly
adorable and neither can stop showering me with kisses. I know it?s wrong to come between
brothers, but I could never choose between my dear Luke and Owen.
You might have seen that big story about them in last week?s Sunday Styles: they?re puggles, the
only hybrid for me: half beagle, half pug, but 100 percent love. And mine just happen to have
come from the shelter. I?m a sucker for strays with impeccable breeding. It?s the new couture for
a cause, so don?t waste your time with some haughty Chihuahua or a slobbery French bulldog.
your e-mail
Q:
Dear GG,
I?m a paralegal at a law firm in Midtown and I?ve been dying over one of my coworkers for
weeks. He used to come out with us for happy hour, but suddenly he?s turned totally
homebody?he practically runs back to his apartment after work. Do you think it?s something
embarrassing, like a porn addiction?
?Crushed
A:
Dear Crushed,
Sounds like he?s definitely addicted to something?or someone?at home. But there?s only one
good reason a happy-hour hottie turns stay-at-home stud: a girl. Here?s my advice: offer to tie him
up with his new mallard-print tie and see what he says. Yes = porn addiction. No, thanks =
girlfriend. Good luck!
?GG
What else is happening out there, people? Send me the scoop: hot gossip, the latest sample sales,
the location of that new secret As Four boutique, the dirt on the set. And can someone please tell
me the date and location of the totally top-secretBreakfast at Fred?s wrap party? I?ll need to
reserve a preparty coiffing with Mr. Fekkai himself, of course. So spill!
You know you love me.
gossip girl
n hits the town
?Fuck you all very much!? The British-born lead singer of the jokingly named Sunshine
Experience wiped a hand across his brow and flung his sweat into the crowd. Bare-chested and
clad only in tight black leather pants, the scrawny singer, who was better known for squiring
models and actresses than actually singing, spat angrily onto the stage and stormed off,
disappearing into the thick crowd of revelers.
?God, I love them!? Tawny cried, squeezing Nate?s upper thigh and inadvertently spilling half of
her Smirnoff sea breeze on the Ultrasuede banquette and her faux-Pucci print XOXO capri pants.
What a pity.
Nate nodded and took a swig of his third pint of Newcastle brown ale of the night. He glanced
around the packed main room of Resort, the East Hampton nightclub: the dance floor was teeming
with blond girls in Diane von Furstenberg dresses and perfectly groomed stockbroker types in
khakis and Thomas Pink shirts?not exactly the type of crowd you?d nor-mally see at a Sunshine
Experience show.
The Hamptons had been abuzz with word of this ?surprise? show by the English punk band for a
week now, and when Tawny suggested they go, Nate?s enthusiasm surprised even him. He hadn?t
made it out to Resort yet that summer? in fact, he hadn?t really done much of anything besides
clean out gutters, cut grass, fix shingles, and smoke weed with Tawny. It felt good to get out, to be
where the action was, with a cold beer and a hot blonde and nothing to worry about.
?Archibald!?
Tawny nudged Nate gently with her elbow. ?Is that a friend of yours
Anthony Avuldsen wove through the crowd, lifting his whiskey and soda high into the air to
avoid a spill. He?d shaved his blond hair close to his head and had a deep summertime tan that
made his smile seem even brighter than usual. The bouncer?a burly guy with no discernible neck?
gave him a quick nod, allowing him to step up onto the platform that doubled as the club?s VIP
room.
?Archibald, you son of a bitch,? Anthony said, knocking his glass against Nate?s bottle in
greeting. ?Where the hell have you been keeping yourself
?Hey,? Nate greeted him.
?Coach working you Anthony plopped next to Nate on the banquette, nodding his head in time
to the thumping bass line.
?Something like that,? Nate admitted.
