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actually going to miss these people； freak shows that they were； and she wondered for their sake if
there was any way to make them sound more intelligent and less insane。
Probably not。 And what would be the fun of that anyway？
As she worked； she couldn？t help feeling distracted by the knowledge that just over the
Williamsburg Bridge； the indie film director Ken Mogul was casting his first moneymaking
blockbuster venture；Breakfast at Fred？s； which would be filmed at Fred？s restaurant in Barneys
department store on Sixtieth and Madison。 Months before； Ken Mogul had spotted a piece of
Vanessa？s film footage that had accidentally been leaked on the Internet and tried to hire her to
work with him。 He？d wanted her to quit school and postpone college。 Of course； Vanessa had said
no。 But now Ken Mogul was in New York； making a movie right under her nose。 She was
supposed to be driving around the country with Aaron this summer anyway； but？
It？s kind of tempting； huh？
Someone knocked on the front door。 ？Yeah？？ Vanessa called out before getting up to see who it
was。 Aaron was supposed to e over after band practice and had promised to bring Thai food
for dinner and help her study for her math exam。 He was due any minute； but he had a key。 She
got up and peered through the little glass peephole in the door。 There was no one there。
Hearing faint footsteps echoing on the stairs； she shifted her gaze and squinted； just making out
Dan？s skinny； navy…blue…board…shorts…clad ass as it disappeared up the grubby black steps on his
way to the roof。 She？d forgotten he still had a key； too。
Already Vanessa could feel the adrenaline rush she？d felt the last time Dan had e over。 Was it
being with him that made her feel this way； or was it the notion that Aaron could walk through the
door at any moment and catch them？ Did it even matter？
Hell no。
She scribbled a hasty note to Aaron？Went to get laundry？even though she？d already picked up
her laundry at the Wash ？n？ Fold that morning before school。 Then she threw open the front door
and dashed upstairs。
Dan was lying on his back on the futon underneath the water tower； wearing only his black
cotton boxer briefs； leafing through a glossy…pink…covered collection of Pablo Neruda love poems。
Beside him on a tinfoil tray were four bluepoint oysters from Zabar？s and an open bottle of red
Merlot with two Styrofoam cups。 When he saw Vanessa； he immediately sat up and began to read
aloud。
Don？t go far off； not even for a day； because？
Because？I don？t know how to say it： a day is long。
？Do you think maybe you could call first before you e over？？ Vanessa demanded； pretending
to be furious； because she knew it turned Dan on to see her mad。 ？Aaron？s ing over； like； right
now。？
？That？s from a poem called ？I Crave Your Mouth； Your Voice； Your Hair；？？ Dan explained；
gazing at her sweetly。 He poured a little wine into a cup and held it out。 ？Want some？？
Vanessa rolled her eyes and went over to the futon。 ？I think I know what you crave。？ She sat
down and took off her shirt； the adrenaline pumping even harder now。 ？Hurry up；？ she
ordered。 ？Aaron？s bringing my dinner and then I have studying to do。？
Neighbors in the surrounding apartments adjusted their telescopes。 They？d moved to the area
because the rent was cheap。 Who knew there was also going to be built…in； live entertainment？！
The bossier and pissier Vanessa was； the more hot and bothered Dan grew； and the more he loved
her。 His hands shook and sweat formed on his freshly shaved upper lip。 He was entirely at her
mercy。
Down on Broadway； Aaron ignored the group of bystanders on the other side of the street； all
staring up at the roof of Vanessa？s building。 He was carrying two orders of hot and spicy pad Thai
in a paper bag under his arm； he had to pee； the freaking L train was insanely crowded； and he was
sweating his ass off。 All he wanted was to get inside and take a nice cool shower。 Preferably with
Vanessa。
He found her note and scribbled over it；I？m in the tub。 Then he left the front door standing open
to make it easier for her to bring her basket of clean laundry inside and turned on the stereo；
blasting that Raves song Dan Humphrey had recorded with them？the only one that was any good。
？Crack me like an egg！？Aaron sang along in the shower。
Three floors up； Dan was already ramming his feet back into his socks。 The music was faint but
unmistakable。
？Do you think he saw us？？ A little thrill ran through Vanessa？s body at the thought。 God； was she
perverse！
Dan hastily slurped down the last oyster。 ？What do you want me to do？？ he asked； sounding just
as excited as she did。See how perfect we are for each other？ he thought。 They were both totally
getting off on the fact that Aaron had no clue。 Of course； cheating was bad and wrong； but it was
totally fun when you were pletely； madly in love with the person you were doing it with！
？I？ll go downstairs and distract him；？ Vanessa whispered； even though the traffic on the
Williamsburg Bridge was so loud no one could possibly have heard her。 ？While you leave。？
Dan shoved the cork into the half…drunk bottle of Merlot and tried to prop it up inside his black
Manhattan Transfer messenger bag。 ？You want me to leave？？ he responded； baffled。 He？d
imagined scaling the outside of the building like Spider…Man with Vanessa clinging to his neck
like Kirsten Dunst。
Like that would ever happen； Mr。 Spaghetti Arms。
？You can leave that here。？ Vanessa pointed at the wine。 ？We？ll drink it later。？
Wemeaning she and Dan； or she and Aaron？
？Fine；？ Dan replied； catching on to the fact that Vanessa was about to go downstairs and pretend
he？d never even been there。 God； she was smart。 And so tough and cool under pressure。 ？Good
luck studying this weekend。？
Vanessa gave his butt a little slap。 ？I？ll call you；？ she promised before hurrying downstairs。 The
door to the apartment was open and Aaron was in the shower。
Vanessa undressed for the second time in fifteen minutes。
？Hi；？ she greeted him； yanking back the shower curtain。
？Hey。？ Aaron grinned and held out a soap…flecked hand to help her in。
Dan tiptoed slowly downstairs； reading Neruda aloud to himself； his hands sweating as he tried
to figure out if what had just happened was either insanely exciting or insanely insulting。
？ In this part of the story I am the one who dies。 ？
The problem with poets like him is they always err on the negative side。
Guess who？s ing to breakfast at fred？s？
Saturday morning； the line of gorgeous girls wound its way out Barneys？ front doors； up
Madison to Sixty…first Street； and around the corner to Fifth Avenue。 Most of them were wearing
black sleeveless cocktail dresses； pointy black flats； and black Jackie Onassis？big sunglasses。
Serena was wearing her favorite new pair of True Religion jeans。
Typical。
Somehow； she？d managed to be one of the first girls in line。 Maybe it was because she and Nate
had never really gone to sleep last night？thanks to the little bottle of pills he kept popping？？and
she？d still been awake at fiveA。M 。 She？d just grabbed a double latte at the deli and headed over；
lugging her French textbook with her； as if she？d really get any studying done。
Blairwas first in line。 And； surprise； surprise； shewas Audrey Hepburn。 Same black vintage
Givenchy dress； same pearl choker； same French…twist hairstyle？with the help of a little faux
hair？same oversize Chanel sunglasses； same black elbow…length gloves。 Lord Marcus； being the
sweet and charming hunk that he was； had helped her get dressed and even had e up with the
idea of spending the night in a hired town car； parked right in front of Barneys； so she？d be sure to
be first in line for the open call。 Of course； they hadn？t been able to do much for fear of messing
up her costume； but it was still fun to hold hands in the backseat and talk about the very near
future； when Blair would be a famous Hollywood star。
？I？ll be your pool lad；？ Lord Marcus offered in his adorable English accent。 ？I？ll fan you with
palm fronds and pour your cocktails。？ Of course he wouldn？t mind giving up his spot in the
graduate business program at the London School of Economics； where he was starting in the fall。
He？d do anything for Blair？anything！
？And I？ll have the best designers making clothes for me in every city in the world；？ Blair
fantasized over her stomach？s nervous rumblings。 She wanted this part so badly； she hadn？t eaten
all day； but it was nearly midnight and she was famished。 ？Or maybe I？ll ask Uncle Oscar to make
all my clothes。？
A hot dog vendor was packing up for the night on the corner of Sixty…first and Madison。 Would
Lord Marcus be perfectly horrified if she ate one； standing on the curb in front of Barneys？
It would be no worse than Audrey Hepburn eating a Danish out of a paper bag in front of
Tiffany？s。
？Look； darling； dinner！？ Lord Marcus cried； noticing the vendor and literally reading Blair？s
mind。 ？You sit tight and I？ll go fetch us some。？
Darling。 She was his darling； and he