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serious？？ Blair crushed out the cigarette beneath the heel of her leopard…print Repetto ballet
flats。 ？She gave me this whole sob story about how poor baby Yale needed to be raised in a place
that had abackyard。 ？ ？We didn？t have backyards and we turned out okay；？ Serena replied； her
normally smooth brow wrinkled in thought。Had they turned out okay？ Another group of kids ran
up the massive steps； screaming at the top of their lungs。
？That？s whatI said。？ Blair threw up her hands in exasperation。 ？I mean； we had the wholecity to
play in。 Like those kids。They don？t look unhappy。？ She gestured toward the group of
five…year…olds； who were giggling as they raced each other up the giant stone steps。 Blair
straightened with a sudden thought。 ？But actually； maybe I won？t have to kill my family now。
Maybe an earthquake will just swallow them up。 Except my baby sister； of course。 She can stay。？
She tried to laugh but couldn？t。 Nothing was funny right now。
If picturing her family dead doesn？t make her happy； maybe she should try something less
violent； like meditation。
？Wow；？ Serena observed glumly； twirling a long piece of golden hair around one finger； suddenly
feeling sad and serious。 She looked out to Fifth Avenue again； just as a bus with theBreakfast at
Fred？s ad rolled by。 She quickly turned away； not sure why seeing it made her feel jittery and
unsettled。 ？I can？t imagine you anywhere else but right here。 I mean； we？ve lived； like； ten blocks
away from each other our wholelives。 ？ Blairhad always been here in the city； right by her side。
Even when they weren？t getting along？which was a lot of the time？it had made her feel better to
know that Blair was just half a mile away； sleeping in the room Serena knew so well。 What would
Thanksgiving or Christmas break be like now with her in California？ Or the summers； for that
matter？ Serena had always thought they？d be together forever； and now she wasn？t so sure。 She
looked over at Blair； who was deep in thought。
？So； I told you about how the release date of my movie got pushed up； right？ I？m totally stressed
about the premiere；？ Serena said； deciding to change the subject for both their sakes。 She pushed
her mass of hair over her shoulder。 ？There？s a press conference at the Soho House on Tuesday；
and I？m really nervous。？ Blair turned to her friend and took another swig of cold sweet coffee。
Serena certainlyhadn？t told her the release date had been moved up； but that explained why she？d
seen her face and the words ？True Love Never Lies？ pass by on three different buses since they？d
sat down。 Serena was staring straight ahead； and Blair couldn？t tear her gaze away from her
perfect profile。 Even though her face was flushed and a little bit sweaty from the sun overhead； it
should？ve been etched in glass and then minted onto a fucking coin。 But however jealous she
might be of the fact that Serena was going to be an overnight sensation； she had to admit she felt
kind of proud； too。 The only thing better than having fame and fortune happen to you was to have
it happen to your best friend。
Excuse me； but what happened to the Blair we all know and love？
？Don？t worry。？ Blair turned and gave Serena？s knee a squeeze。 ？You？re going to be
fine。？ ？Thanks。 That means a lot to me；？ Serena replied slowly； her voice soft。 ？Oh； and will you
e shopping with me for the Met party？？ ？Of course。？ Blair nodded。 She remembered how
much fun they used to have playing dress…up when they were little； trying on clothes in her room
all afternoon and drinking Campari and sodas with lime； giggling together in the bathroom mirror
as Serena expertly painted Blair？s lids with black liner； or lacquered her nails with ballet slipper
pink Essie polish。
Even if Serena had written Nate that stupid love letter； Blair was the one who was with him now。
There really wasn？t any reason they couldn？t still be best friends。 Serena would be the famous one
and Blair would be 。 。 。 the happy one。
Right。
all n needs now is a peg leg
Nate crossed West Forty…fourth Street and headed toward the imposing beaux…arts limestone
building that housed the New York Yacht Club。 The large bay windows resembled the sterns of
ships and made Nate wish desperately that he was still out at sea with Blair； her wet； sandy hair
tickling his skin； nothing in the distance but blue sky and endless horizons。 He only felt like
himself when he was on board theCharlotte ； far away from the city and the pressures of real life。
Why did real life always have to be soplicated ？ He？d been back on dry land for one day； and
he was already in serious trouble。
Story of his life。
He pushed open the front door and stepped inside the opulent interior of the old club。 The
paneling was all deep； rich mahogany； and everything in sight was gilded in gold。 He pushed his
shoulders back and tried to stand up a little straighter as he climbed the ornate； winding marble
staircase toward an impeccably dressed attendant。
？I？m here to see 。 。 。 uh 。 。 。 Captain Chips；？ Nate said stupidly； realizing he couldn？t even
remember Chips？s last name。 ？I？m Nate； um； Nathaniel Archibald。？ The attendant looked down at
his metal clipboard and quickly found his name； placing a neat check mark right beside it。
？Right this way； Mr。 Archibald。 CaptainWhite is expecting you in the Grill Room。？ The attendant
emphasized the name White； as if implying that Nate ought to remember it。 Nate gulped and
followed him down the wooden stairs to a set of heavy oak doors。
The gracefully curved ceiling of the Grill Room was fashioned out of planks of oak； the floors
and walls paneled in the dark wood。 Round tables covered in white linen tablecloths were
scattered around the cozy； underground space。 It was like being in the belly of a tall ship； and Nate
instantly felt a thousand times more fortable。 He could almost hear the wood creaking under
his feet as he was led toward a man dressed in full navy uniform； gold medals shining on his lapels。
His white hair was neatly bed back from a deeply tanned； severely lined face。 A gold wedding
band winked from his wrinkled； leathery hand。 As Nate approached； the man stood and gripped
Nate？s palm。
？Nate Archibald。 You？re the spitting image of your father；？ Chips growled with a Scottish accent。
He looked at Nate with crinkly…lidded blue eyes beneath bushy white brows； and motioned to the
leather…cushioned chair across from his。 ？Sit。 Have a drink。？ Chips sat back down and gestured to
the waiter； a man in his forties with neatly bed sandy hair falling over a wide forehead。 Chips
pointed at his glassful of amber…colored liquid and held up two wizened fingers。 ？You like scotch？？
He cocked an eyebrow at Nate。
？Sure。？ Nate shuffled his legs under the table。 ？Anything？s fine。？ The waiter leaned in； speaking
softly。 ？I？m sorry； sir；？ he whispered apologetically。 ？I？m going to need to see some ID。？ Nate
paused for a second； feeling like he？d been trapped。 He？d already agreed to have scotch； but now
he？d have to show his fake ID。 Was Chips setting him up？ He gulped and reached into the back
pocket of his cargo shorts； retrieving the battered brown leather wallet his dad had given him for
his sixteenth birthday。 He pulled out the fake ID he？d gotten off the Internet。 It looked pretty good；
and it usually worked？except for the fact they？d mixed up the hair and eyes categories； so if you
read it closely it said ？brown eyes； green hair。？ The waiter peered at the ID for a long moment and
Nate shifted in his chair guiltily。 When the waiter looked up； he shot him a wry smile。 ？Very
good；sir ；？ he added； handing Nate back the laminated card。
？I always say；？ Chips declared； ？that all it takes to cure life？s woes is a bottle of good scotch and
the open sea。？ He chuckled and slapped the tabletop with one hand as if to punctuate his speech。
Nate nodded lamely as he leaned back in his chair； trying to get fortable。 He glanced around
the room。 He was the youngest person there by at least forty years？clusters of wizened old men
were gathered at every single oak table； each man gruffer and stonier than the next。 One of them
had an actual eye patch。 The old cyclops squinted in Nate？s direction with his one good eye。
Before Nate could start to muse on what terrible sailing accident had caused him to lose his
eyeball； the white…jacketed waiter returned and placed a glass of scotch in front of him。
？Thank you；？ he mumbled。
？Cheers； my boy。？ Chips lifted his tumbler and then took a huge swig。 Nate quickly followed suit；
gagging on the fiery amber liquid。 The scotch was freaking strong？stronger than anything he？d
ever had？and Chips was drinking it like lemonade。Whowas this guy？
？You？re nothing like what I thought；？ Nate blurted out； turning red and taking another small；
tentative nip。 From everything his dad had told him about Chips； Nate had thought he would be a
total hard…ass who？d give him lecture on getting his shit together the second he sat down。 But so
far Chips couldn？t have beenless like Nate？s father。 He seemed almostmellow。
？Ha！？ Chips laughed； sla