A/N: So, here's the first chapter to MAYHEM! As I said in the intro, I'm planning to update weekly since I have other stuff going on (I do have hobbies, you know) but if not please don't kill me! (Just kidding.) Anyway, about the story. I know The Clique is kinda shallow and stuff, and this is really just a fanfic for fun and because I had the idea about it. Honestly, the characters kinda fascinate me … so I decided to write this! All characters (except Louis and some which will appear in future chapters) are Lisi Harrison's of course, but the plot is mine. I hope you enjoy and if you have any questions or comments feel free to write a review! :) - jojo-smile


John F. Kennedy Airport

Arrivals Hall

Tuesday, September 12th

2:40 PM

"Flight 729 from Paris has arrived."

Kendra Block nervously wrung her hands together as she rose to her tiptoes, trying to see above the crowds that surrounded the exit from the baggage claim area. Her shoulder-length hair, which she had re-dyed at Bliss to its original chestnut color, was in a ponytail and swaying energetically as she jumped up and down in quick succession, trying to catch a view of the glazed glass door.

"Kendra," William Block hissed. "Compose yourself. They've only just arrived, and they still have to get their luggage."

Kendra twisted around to where William was, a few paces behind her, leaning against a railing, checking his e-mails for the hundredth time on his BlackBerry. "Aren't you excited to see Massie again? The last time we saw her was …"

"Four months, ten days and three hours ago, Kendra, I know," William sighed. He rubbed his eyes with an expression of utter exhaustion. "I have a meeting to go to, you know, and time is slipping away …"

"Oh, stop being so poetic," Kendra muttered waspishly. "And anyway, the meeting's at five—you have over two hours left!" She craned her neck further, still attempting to catch a glimpse of the door. In a few strides, she was at the railing and picked up the sign she had Inez make—a whiteboard with the words "Welcome Back, Massie!" written in thick purple Sharpie. A small golden crown was drawn next to the exclamation mark. In Kendra's opinion, the sign had turned out very well.

"Kendra, don't you think your sign is a bit … over-the-top?" William asked finally from behind his wife.

Kendra whipped around at him again, dangling the sign from her left hand. "I just want to make Massie feel at home. I want her to stay, William, and I think if she feels at home …"

"She'll just park her bones in one of your armchairs and make herself comfortable?" William snorted derisively. "She's young, just got a degree, and feels invincible. She won't stay in one place for too long. Not until she's married. At the very least. And even then, she might feel a strong temptation to go somewhere else, explore new places, do the things she's always dreamed about …"

"We settled down in Westchester before we even got married," Kendra pointed out with a pout.

"Yes, honey," William agreed, threading an arm around the waist of his wife. "But we're an exception. And it wasn't like we lived in the house we live in now. All I'm saying is that Massie staying put in one place for more than half a year—a year at the most—is just a pipe dream. That's the truth."

Kendra bit her lip, unconsciously smearing her Lancôme lipstick on her left front tooth. "You sure?"

"Positive, honey. I'm sorry. I know you really want to be close to your—our—girl again. It's just … she needs to find her spot in the world. And I don't think it's Westchester, either."

Kendra closed her eyes for a few moments to gather herself. "Either way, I want her to feel welcome for as long as she stays, no matter how short—or long—that time period may be." With that, she gripped the whiteboard with both knuckles and held it up in the air, standing on tiptoes again to see the door.

Whoosh. Was that her? Kendra held her breath in apprehension, and let it out in a flat swoosh when she saw the middle-aged blonde businesswoman wheeling her small Rimowa with her briefcase along behind her.

Whoosh. That was surely Massie! Again, air escaped Kendra's nose like one would expect with a deflated tire when she saw the gangly, pimply teenage boy come out, scratching a zit and dragging a beat-up backpack along the floor.

"You know, maybe you're right," Kendra told William, twisting around to look at him and dropping her board until she was only holding it in her right hand. Whoosh.

"Mom?" Kendra heard a too-familiar voice call. "Dad?"

Kendra gasped, spun around and held up her sign for the entire world to see. "Massie!" she exclaimed, charging towards the source of the voice. She stopped short in front of the young woman who had just come out of the door. "Massie?" she asked tentatively, all excitement having disappeared from her voice. "Is that … you?"

The woman in front of her still had chestnut-colored hair, but it wasn't long and luscious anymore—it was in a long bob and with peanut-butter highlights. Her eyes were still amber, but surrounded by thick black eyeliner that ended in the outside corners of her eyes with a small tick, like a cat-eye. But most surprisingly was not her hair or her different makeup. It was the accessory she carried on her arm—a tall young man with curly black hair, startling blue eyes and long, curly eyelashes. He was carrying a monogram Louis Vuitton duffel ("at least he has style," Kendra told her sub-conscious mind) and a pair of Hugo Boss shades were tucked in the neckline of his loose grey shirt.

"Massie Block? Is that you really you?" Kendra asked, somewhat in awe.

Her daughter shook her head. "Massie—yes. Block—not quite." She turned to her friend. "Mom, Dad … meet Louis Deveraux—my husband!"

Kendra dropped her sign in sheer surprise. "You're … you're married?" she asked incredulously, enunciating the last word in shock.

Massie beamed, nodding. "Louis," she said, pronouncing his name Lou-ee, like Louis Vuitton and gesturing towards her parents, "these are Kendra and William Block."

Louis smiled and extended his hand. He had a dimple in his right cheek, Kendra noticed. "Very nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Block." He only had a slight French accent.

William was the first to get over the shock. "Nice to meet you, Louis." He shook Louis' hand. "But Mass … why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you invite us?" He looked from Louis to Massie and back again.

Massie smiled. "Don't get angry, Daddy, but it was all so whirlwind! We met at the Christmas party last year, and then Louis wasn't there for my graduation and I didn't tell you about him, because … well, I didn't know whether you'd approve!" She looked at him beseechingly. "What with you wanting me to concentrate on my academics and everything, I thought you would think it inappropriate for me to have a boyfriend…" She trailed off, looking at her parents with big eyes. William nodded in encouragement. Kendra, however, seemed to have lost all conscious control of her limbs—she had sagged against the railing William had leaned against only a few minutes against. The thought of a party she had not been invited to—whether it be a wedding or a cocktail dinner—rendered Kendra Block speechless.

"Anyway, the day after you guys left, Louis proposed, and I said yes, and we married only two weeks later because we wanted to be together so bad!" She gave Louis a squeeze around his midriff and continued, literally glowing: "Then we went on our honeymoon, and we didn't want to tell you because we wanted it to be a surprise. So … surprise!" she squealed.

William grinned half-heartedly. "Well … congratulations, I guess," he said finally. "But I always thought you wanted your wedding to be a huge event with five hundred guests and pavilions in the garden and everything … what happened to that dream?"

Massie looked up at Louis for encouragement, who nodded, smiling. "We-ell, Louis and I thought we could have another celebration of our wedding," she burst out finally. "At your house, with pavilions in the garden and hors d'œuvres and cocktails and a big dinner, you know? I mean, it would be perfect! I'm here anyway for the reunion, and so we can just organize the party, too." She looked at her parents, excitement written across her features.

"I think … Mom and I need to talk about it," he said finally. "We'll be sure to consider it, though." Decades of being a businessman had taught William Block well when it came to acting in a diplomatic fashion. "Speaking of your mother, I think we had best get going." He strode over to where Kendra was leaning heavily on the railing, taking deep breaths. "Kendra, sweetie, we need to get home," he announced. "Let's go."

"So, you got all my other luggage, right?" Massie asked William as the party of four made their way across the Arrivals Hall.

William nodded. "Came just yesterday. I put it in the guesthouse—that's where Mom and I figured you could stay until you find your own place. How long are you planning to stay in Westchester?"

Massie shrugged and poked Louis in the ribs. "What do you think, Louis? How long will we be staying in Westchester?"

Louis pursed his lips. "Oh, I don't know. We just thought it would be a perfect place to start our new life together." He smiled at Massie. "After all, Massie grew up here, and I can't wait to meet all her friends, she's told me so much about them! And when she mentioned the reunion—well, I couldn't resist." He smiled and his dimple reappeared.

Massie giggled and gave him a peck on the cheek. "And I love you for it!"

Louis grinned and the two rubbed noses.

With a nearly inaudible sigh, William turned away. These next weeks would be difficult. Very difficult.


Upper West Side, NYC

Dylan's Penthouse

Tuesday, September 12th

4:45 PM

"Hi, you've reached Dylan Marvil. I'm not here at the moment, but feel free to leave me a message after the beep, or not. Whatever strikes your fancy." Beep.

"Hey, Dyl! This is Alicia speaking. As if you hadn't already noticed by my Spanish accent! Just kidding. Anyway, as you know, our annual reunion is coming up. Yay, so excited! And we're kind of still looking for a venue. I mean, technically we could do it in the Blocks' barn for old times' sake … but that is so seventh grade. That's a direct quote from Kris, by the way. So anyway, since you have connections and everything, we were thinking maybe you could organize something? I know you're in the city right now, but it would be awesome if it could be in Westchester. And that is not so seventh grade. So, I need to go, but call me back once you get this message. You know how to reach me. Kisses!"

Dylan groaned and rolled over onto her other side. But there was no use—she was awake now anyway. Blinking groggily, she wiped the sleep from her eyes and checked her leather Cartier wristwatch.

"Shit," she muttered. It was quarter to five, and her meeting with Devon Mallory, her TMZ gossip news co-anchor, started in fifteen minutes. It was ten blocks away, and there was no way Dylan would be able to walk that in time in her heels.

She was lying on the leather couch in her living room. Clearly, she had been completely wiped out after the business lunch with her boss, a certain Mr. Daniel Denley. How somebody with such a … mediocre name could run one of the most influential news shows was a mystery to her, but there it was. That was life.

Swinging her legs around and over the edge of the sofa, she set them onto the tiled floor. Her penthouse was furnished Mediterranean-style, with beige tiles and ocean-themed mosaics on the ceilings. Alicia had once said that she felt like she was in a grotto when she came here. Which wasn't quite what Dylan had hoped for—she didn't like the concept of a grotto, which seemed something like an underwater cave to her. But that was beside the point.

Her blue suede Ferragamo heels, which matched her chiffon Dolce & Gabbana blouse, had been discarded underneath the coffee table. Now, Dylan retrieved them, brushing a strand of flaming red hair behind her ear, and slipped her aching feet into them.

Standing up carefully so as not to fall down again—she was seriously lacking sleep—Dylan teetered over to where she had dropped her clutch at the far end of the couch, and retrieved her compact, checking her hair. Nothing a few brush strokes couldn't tame.

She checked her watch again. Only twelve minutes left.

Now upping the ante somewhat, Dylan made her way across the living room to the bathroom, where she grabbed her boar-bristle brush and dragged it a few times through her frizzy curls. There—that would do. Her shirt was barely crinkled, and she smoothed away the worst parts. Not even her mascara was smudged.

Leaning in towards the bathroom mirror, she checked her eyeliner, filled out the worst parts and stood back again, mustering her reflection. That would have to do.

Ten minutes left.

She left the bathroom and went back into her living room, where her black trench coat had been carelessly thrown over the back of a leather armchair. Holding her clutch between her knees, Dylan slipped into her coat and tucked her clutch under arm. She checked her reflection one last time in the floor-length foyer mirror, applied a layer of her favorite clear lip gloss and pushed the button for the elevator.

A few moments later, the elevator arrived. With a small bing, the doors opened and Dylan stepped inside, fervently pushing the button for the ground floor. Just as the elevator doors closed, she remembered Alicia's call.

Ever since the girls had all graduated from high school eight years ago, they had been organizing annual Pretty Committee Reunions so that they didn't get out of touch. Claire, most of all, emphasized the importance of it. "We've been best friends since seventh grade—even longer for you guys," she would always say, and Dylan, Kristen, Alicia and Massie would roll their eyes in exasperation and change the topic, until the third Friday in September rolled around every year and they celebrated their reunion. Even though she would mock Claire for her sentimentality, Dylan secretly loved the reunions. When Massie had still been living in Paris and studying, and the rest had been spread across the country, it had always been lots of fun to meet up again for the weekend and spend quality time together with the others. Even if they sometimes had fights, and Alicia was eternally jealous of Massie, they were like sisters, and nothing could tear them apart.

The elevator's resounding bing as it reached the ground floor tore Dylan from her reverie. Sweeping her curls out of her face, she stepped out of the elevator and swept out of the entrance foyer, past Alexei, the doorman—he tipped his hat politely—and out into the late afternoon sun.

Squinting in the sun, Dylan raised her right arm eagerly to hail a cab. Immediately, two pulled up in front of her. Alexei hurried over to open the door, and Dylan accepted his help thankfully. True gentlemen were rare in New York City—and the majority was uniform-wearing doormen. Alexei slammed the door behind Dylan and hurried back to his spot next to the door.

"Café Fleur, please," Dylan told the cab driver, careful not to touch anything but her clutch and her seatbelt. She unclasped her clutch and pulled out her iPhone, dialing Alicia's number.

"Dyl." Alicia picked up after the first ring. "So nice to hear from you. Did you get my message?"

"Yeah. About your request … I'll try to look into it, but I'm all for the Block barn. After all, the reunion is supposed to be like one of our Friday night sleepovers, isn't it? So it would be the perfect place." She absent-mindedly checked her nails. Her matte black polish had chipped on her left pinky. Without thinking, Dylan started peeling off the rest.

Alicia paused, thinking for a minute. "I'll run it by Kris and Claire. By the way, did you hear? Massie's back in town. She's staying with her parents for now, but she's already arranged a date with me." She squealed with excitement.

"Leesh. Concentrate. I need to go in a sec, I have a meeting with my colleague."

"Okay, so I'll ask Kris and Claire what they think about doing the reunion in Westchester and then I'll send you a text by this evening, so that you can pull some strings in the city if necessary."

"Awesome. Gotta go, bye."

"See you! Oh, and by the way—when will you be coming to Westchester?"

"Not until the twenty-second," Dylan replied, signaling the driver that they had arrived at the café. "Look, I really need to go. Bye!"

"Kisses!"

"Yeah, see you." Dylan handed the driver a five-dollar bill and slipped her phone back into her clutch. The driver had gotten out and was opening the door for her. Nodding thanks to him, she stepped out onto the curb and made her way across the sidewalk to Café Fleur.