Sorry Charlie
Mr. Bass. Mr. Bass! A word please? Is it true that you sexually exploited guests, female guests, that were staying in your hotel?
Mr. Bass?! I heard from a reliable source that you even attempted to seduce a man in your hotel lobby on the night of its grand opening! Is this true or false?
Mr. Bass!?
Chuck Bass pushed his way through a rambunctious crowd of prying reporters and ducked into the open door of a black Sedan. As soon as his driver shut his door, the car sped off, leaving the buzzing mob in a blanket of dust.
"Take me to the Van Der Woodsen residency. I've got to pack up and escape upper Manhattan as soon as possible." Chuck spoke with poise. His voice was cool and collected, no hint of panic in it whatsoever. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a silver flask. On it was engraved the initials J.B. Chuck twisted off the cap and took a swig, swishing the liquid around in his mouth before painfully swallowing.
Scotch or Brandy, sir?
Chuck jeered. "Both. My own little concoction. I like to call it A-Cure-For-Despair."
Sighing, he looked out the car window and thought about how nice it'd be to escape the hell hole he was in. At least for a little bit, until this controversy died down. Before he could get too comfortable, something hard hit the rear windshield of the Sedan, leaving a small crack in the glass.
The car halted to a stop, drawing many obnoxious honks and screams from angry by-standers.
"Keep driving." Chuck said through clenched teeth.
Sir?
"I said keep driving." Chuck took another drink from his flask before returning it to his coat pocket. "You know what? I think I'm going to have to get out of New York altogether." Chuck closed his eyes and stared at the back of his eye lids, mentally preparing himself for the next nosy mob he'd soon encounter…
**********
Sir? Um, Mr. Bass? We've arrived.
Chuck opened his eyes and felt around for his briefcase before stepping out of the Sedan. Surprisingly, there were no flashing lights, no protests, no questions. He scanned the area. There were no crowds or cameras. Nothing but the wind whistling through the trees.
Charles?
Chuck heard a familiar female voice. He whipped around to find Lily standing under the awning outside of her apartment.
"Lily, what are you doing here?" Chuck spoke in a low whisper, scared that his voice might stir up any commotion and draw the reporters to him, erasing his short built solitude.
I'm here to help you Charles. What else?
"What do you mean? You shouldn't be seen with me. It could be bad for your repertoire."
Look Charles, I did not accept you as my son-in-law just so I could leave you to rot. I'm no stranger to scandal, trust me. Now please, follow me. We'll talk over drinks.
***********
What can I get for you Charles?
"A glass would be fine. I've already got my poison picked and tucked away safely in my pocket, right here." Chuck patted the slight lump that showed through his Armani jacket and smirked.
Very well Charles. Just like Bart, always carrying around a bit of liquid courage.
Chuck snorted arrogantly. "This isn't liquid courage, Lily; I drink this to… forget."
He pulled out the flask once more and emptied its contents into the glass that sat before him. "Cheers."
Chuck and Lily clanked glasses and downed their drinks in a matter of seconds.
What exactly did we just toast to Charles? Things don't seem all too… good for you at the moment. You aren't worried?
Chuck sat back in his fathers old leather chair and placed his arms behind his neck.
"We are celebrating, Lily. Celebrating my decision to leave New York."
Lily gasped.
Leave New York?! But Charles, you can't leave now. Manhattan is your home. You've got a crisis on your hands. If you run away, things will only get worse. I mean–
–"Look, Lily, I know what I'm doing. I have nothing left here. Nothing and no one. My purpose is… elsewhere.
But what about Blair? You have here, don't you?
Chuck gave a cynical laugh and rolled his eyes.
Well?
"No… Blair is dead to me. Just a distant memory that I wish I could run out of my mind. Thinking about here now, it makes me sick to my stomach."
Lily frowned.
What do you mean she's 'dead to you'? I thought you two loved each other… if that's what you called it.
"Yes Lily, people like her and I were capable of loving. That's what it was, love. Now it is nothing. We're over. This conversation… is over."
Chuck stood up and began to pace back and forth, shaking his head and mumbling to himself.
I'm so sorry Charles, I didn't realize… It's just that Serena never mentioned anything to me. That's so unlike her. I had no idea things were this horrible. I sincerely apologize. Do you mind if I ask you something personal?
Chuck leaned on a window and peered outside. He looked down at the people below. They were as tiny as ants, small, weak and powerless. He could've controlled them. He could've been as great as his father. But he had to let love get the best of him. He had to grow a heart and learn to let people in. Where did that get him? In a whole lot of shit.
Charles?
"Yes? Oh, right, a personal question. Go on ahead…"
How did all of this start? I've heard bits and pieces of the story, but it's hard to put two and two together. Besides, I'm not one to listen to gossip. I want to know the truth, and you're the only one who seems to know what really happened. How did you get to this point?
Chuck took his place on the leather recliner and made himself comfortable.
"It all began exactly one week ago, when I met her."
He nodded to the newspaper laying inches away from Lily on the glass coffee table that separated them. Lily picked up the paper and stared intently at the picture of a young woman, who was if not younger, near Charles' age. The girl had a soft, innocent expression, a face full of golden freckles. But there was a darkness in her hazel eyes, a darkness that troubled Lily deeply.
"Don't let looks deceive you Lily. That was my mistake." Chuck said amusedly. "She's the devil in disguise."
Chuck closed his eyes and took his mind to the first time he'd met her in his hotel. "Like I was saying, it started with her…"
