Chapter Two
Thank you for your reviews! They really mean a lot, especially as I've never really written anything before and was expecting dead silence. You have no idea how happy I was to read your lovely lovely comments!
Anyhoo, I wrote some more today before watching the episode – hope you like it!
Queen Of Diamonds, by Daniel R Humphrey - an excerpt
People often use comparisons to diamonds as an insult. The plethora of associations with coldness, capitalism and cruelty.
Even perfection can be held up as an imperfection. She made perfection into an accomplishment, similarly composure and the sort of damning self-assurance that leaves everybody trembling in her wake, feeling hopelessly inferior by default.
For years, he'd been more than a little afraid. She swept through life – taking ambition to the furthest degree, taking no prisoners and exhibiting a strength that rivalled any diamond.
And yet, he began to suspect that she might share further qualities with these funny little rocks. She has as many facets, and even at her worst is more brilliant than any diamond. Those who know her are captivated, obsessed, bewildered. The pursuit is one that induces madness, and even possession doesn't guarantee happiness. These were the lessons he would learn.
If anything, it was slightly embarrassing. But then, many great women had tributes such as this – writing, painting, sculpture. It was just that it was Humphrey. This was the crux of the matter – anybody else and she'd been unreservedly thrilled, and free to preen – sweeping through life and the UES just as he said. But it was Dan. It made everything both hollow, and somehow far, far more meaningful. She hadn't even thought of anybody else reading it. She pulled out her phone, and then ignored the impulse. No doubt he was busy being serenaded by New Yorks literary scenesters. They'd catch up later, and she'd give him no mean piece of her mind. This was going to have some ripples, not least with her best friend.
Speaking of whom, Serena hadn't come home the previous night...
"Dorota! We're going out! Now!"
Hiding was never an option for a Waldorf.
Chuck settled into the upholstery, and glanced out of the window for a minute or two before retrieving the magazine. Humphrey's story. No doubt another mooning ode to Serena. His mouth curved into a smirk as he read the title. Queen of Diamonds?
He folded the magazine over and checked his emails before beginning to read, the amused smile lingering on his face.
The smile began to fade, almost immediately. This was not about Serena.
Dorota's copy had been purchased surreptitiously on the way to pick up Blair's dry cleaning. She read it voraciously as Anastasia slept, and although a couple of the more Hipster Humphrey references were all but lost on her, it was clear that here was someone who knew Miss Blair almost as well as she did.
She smiled with the smug satisfaction of one who could claim to have seen this coming, and clucked at sleeping Anastasia. If any worry crossed her mind, it was of the reactions of Miss Serena and Mr Chuck, not to mention everybody else.
For a moment, Serena didn't know quite what to make of it. She texted Dan almost immediately, a knee-jerk praise reaction.
It's not like your other stories, but its good! Well done, I'm proud of you. S xoxo
She glanced over the story again, with mild pride and comprehension suddenly dawned. Something she had either missed earlier, or ignored. None of this was about her. None of the things had ever happened to her. But Dan always wrote about her. He wrote about when they were together, when they were apart, when she was with other people and he thought of her, when he was with other people and he thought of her. This story – arguably his best – was nothing to do with her. When had she been replaced as his muse?
She read again, this time much more avidly. Each reference fell into place in a particularly resonant puzzle. It was incredibly obvious – her name was Holly, for crying out loud. She knew that Eleanor still called Blair "your highness" when she was either mad or particularly proud. She knew that Blair did have two laughs – a public and a private, and had to admire how Dan had likened Blair's facets to linguistic formality – tu and vous demonstrated through the tone of her laugh. Dan Similarly, she knew that Blair held her breath when she started to cry, and spoke French in her sleep.
The problem was, how did Dan find this out? Surely she'd noticed if they'd been spending any amount of time together?
She picked up her phone again and sent another text, this time to Blair.
We really need to talk. Call me. S
