Part 7
Blair sighed as she looked at her watch, then at the door. She screwed her lips, then glanced at Chuck Bass who was watching her in amusement. They were seated on her bed, above the covers because that's what her daddy told her even though at nine years old it wasn't like they would do anything, with their books and pads scattered around them.
"Blair," Chuck told her, "I don't know why you just won't start your homework without them. You don't need Serena or Nate to help you with anything. You're smarter than both of them combined."
The compliment pleased her, and she gave him a small smile of gratitude. "Nate promised he's coming by to study," she insisted. "It's a shame to work on this and have to explain it over to Nate later."
"Blair, you're not his keeper. He's probably got a family thing."
She sighed, then read through the problem in front of her. "Darren is four years older than Mike. If Mike is eighteen, and Darren is twice the age of Reub—" she stopped. Chuck looked at her in question. "What about Serena? She can't do this alone. This is algebra! She missed most of the lessons because we discussed this in class when her parents were splitting up!"
"Look, Blair, if you need to teach someone so badly, teach me," Chuck offered.
She regarded him silently, as if assessing if he was worth the effort. "Why not? You look smart. Sort of."
Chuck gave a hearty laugh. "Well thank you. I think."
Blair smiled and carefully piled the scattered books one of top of each other. She then placed them on the side table to make room for herself on the bed. Had it been Chuck, he would have pushed the books off the bed, but that was just his style. He watched as Blair Waldorf neatly arranged herself and her dress so that she looked like a pretty little flower as she lay down on her stomach with her notebook. She turned towards him, and cocked a finger.
Obediently, Chuck lay down on his stomach beside her.
"You start with the given," she said, her voice in control. "When you read the problem, can you tell me what the given clues are?"
"We're talking about Darren, Mike and Reuben," Chuck answered smoothly. "Darren is Mike plus four. Mike is eighteen. Darren is Reuben times two." He looked up at Blair. "Right?"
She broke into a big smile. "That was amazing, Chuck!" she exclaimed. "And on your first try. You might be worth something someday," she teased.
"I'm worth billions now," he responded easily.
"Our parents are worth money," she corrected him. "Not us. Not yet."
Chuck shrugged. "By the time I turn eighteen I'm hoping to be worth some good amount of money."
"Time savings?" she inquired.
He shook his head. "I'm putting up my own business—maybe manage a club or a restaurant. You know I can do it."
Blair grinned, her eyes sparkling at the sheer arrogance in Chuck's voice. "I believe you." He smiled with such pride that her heart went out to him. That was what it must be like to be so proud of your parent. "Now back to work. This is the hard part," she warned him. "We need to make an algebraic equation."
Chuck continued smiling, looking at her. Without glancing back at her notes, he said, "Reuben is eleven."
Blair gasped, then frowned. "Did you look at the answers at the back of the book, Chuck Bass?" she demanded.
"I swear I didn't," he denied.
"Prove it." Blair thrust a pen out at Chuck, then pushed the paper over to him. "Show me how to get to that answer."
Chuck sighed, then scribbled his thoughts. "You said Darren is four years older than Mike, who's eighteen. That makes Darren twenty two." On the paper, he wrote, 'Darren = 18 + 4.' "Then you said Darren is twice as old as Reuben." Again, he scribbled, '22 = Reuben x 2.' "What number multiplied by two comes out to twenty two? Eleven." He wrote again, for effect, '11.'
Blair stared at the mess on the paper. "Oh my God." She looked at Chuck, wide eyed. "It's not the best equation there is," she said. "It would probably get marked wrong in a test, but you came up with the right logic in your head," she continued, surprised. "Why, Chuck Bass, this is a revelation! The way they talk about you you'd think you were a complete moron."
Chuck shook his head, oddly pleased with the statement that was laced with insult.
"There might be hope for you yet, Chuck Bass."
"Credit it to a great instructor," he offered generously.
Blair grimaced, looked down at the equations that weren't really equations in the academic sense of the word, then shook her head. "Oh no. I couldn't do that. This was all you," she told him firmly. "You do have hope," she decided. "And I'm taking it upon myself to sharpen your mediocre but thankfully existent brain and make sure you get at least an A minus."
"Don't you have enough projects, Waldorf?"
"This will be my first philanthropic undertaking," she told him.
"Don't give me that," Chuck said. "I know you have a semester long project. You need to tutor someone. So if I need to extend myself so your first outing into the volunteering world will be a success, I expect something wonderful as a reward."
Blair rolled her eyes. "Your first A!" she cried, as if it made the utmost sense. "Isn't that reward enough?"
Chuck slowly shook his head. "A day without any mention of Nathaniel."
"Oh, you're torturing me!" she screeched.
"You will get the honor of claiming that you helped Chuck Bass get his first A; I get the pleasure of at least eighteen hours without you asking for, looking for, or talking about Nate Archibald." He extended his hand.
Reluctantly, Blair reached for the proffered hand and shook it. "You better make it an A+."
Chuck smirked. "That's right," he exclaimed, remembering. "My grade is gonna be your grade. Let's make it forty eight hours."
Blair's eyes narrowed and she growled. She tightened her hold on his hand, trying to make it hurt.
"Blair," Chuck said softly, "it just feels nicer the tighter you go." She snatched her hand away.
Chuck gritted his teeth and rapped on the door. "Nathaniel, you're burning daylight!" he yelled over the sound of running water. He slammed his fist on the door repeatedly. "Come on, man." Chuck glanced at his watch. "We're almost late. If you don't come out of there right now, I'm leaving without you."
The door swung open to reveal a wet-faced Nate Archibald, already fully dressed, staring at Chuck in confusion. "What is your issue, man?"
"I just don't think you need twenty extra minutes to primp with the way Constance Billard girls swoon when they see you," Chuck told him.
An image of his ex-girlfriend looking murderous appeared in his mind's eye, and Nate shook his head. "Don't remind me." He followed Chuck out the door. "Blair always did complain I take almost as long as she does to get ready."
Chuck's lips curved and he regarded Nate from the corner of his eye. He knew he should not make too big a deal out of it, but it was the first time that Nate felt comfortable enough to refer to his previous relationship with Blair while in his company. "She had to have known it takes a long time to fix your hair to get that right level of mussed and unkempt."
He made his way to the limousine waiting outside. He slid into the spacious seating and waited for Nate to sit. Chuck tossed a hand towel from the limo minibar at him. "Dab; don't rub."
Nate caught the towel and chuckled. "Don't pretend that you don't primp either."
Chuck shook his head with a laugh. He then picked up a notebook that Nate did not notice was sitting between them. Nate watched in sick captivation—like the one people got in the scene of an accident when they knew it was horrible to look at but they can't look away—as Chuck opened the notebook to a page half full of scribbles and drawings, pushed the end of an expensive pen, and started writing.
"What are you doing?" Nate demanded to know.
Chuck arched an eyebrow at his best friend. "What do you think?"
Still not satisfied, or fraught with disbelief, Nate craned his neck to catch a glimpse of what Chuck was writing. "It's our Trig homework. For a second I'd hoped you were diagramming diabolical schemes but no, you're calculating bearing."
"Don't sound so shocked, Nathaniel," Chuck drawled.
Nate was silent, marveling at how quickly Chuck seemed to be writing down numbers. There wasn't a pause between equations, like what Nate would normally have when unfamiliar with a solution. For all intents and purposes, Chuck was appearing like some newly discovered Mathlete. Nate was careful not to brand him that though. He didn't want a black eye and to get tossed out of a free ride to school.
Not five minutes later, the limo slowed to a halt. Chuck looked up. "We're here." He opened his door, although it was on the wrong side of the street, then made his way to the gates.
"Can I have a few seconds to smoke?" Nate asked.
Chuck sighed, looked at Nate as if torn, then glanced at his watch. Then, he said, "Sorry, man. Not today. I gotta go in." At Nate's nod, Chuck jogged towards the doors of St Jude's with Nate watching him in wonder.
It was a few minutes later that Nate walked into the classroom with the teacher right behind him. He settled into the seat beside his best friend, which was right at the front of the class. He glanced at Chuck, who seemed to be looking through the formula he used on the homework one last time. In the years he'd spent sitting next to Chuck, and it was many since Archibald and Bass often got called together during alphabetical seating assignments, he had never seen Chuck so intent on getting homework right.
"I need a volunteer to present us the solution for the first lighthouse problem."
Nate's jaw almost fell to his desk when Chuck lazily raised his hand.
"Mr Bass," the teacher greeted, with a voice filled with shock and pleasure. "Go ahead."
Chuck strolled to the front of the class, picked up a chalk and drew the vertical line that represented the lighthouse. He picked up a different colored chalk and placed a symbol for the first location of the boat, and another chalk for the next location of the boat. Nate watched in fascination as Chuck created his triangle and calculated the degree bearing of the boat. Chuck tossed the chalk back to the container, turned around to face the class, then bowed.
The rowdy St Jude's boys, who only knew one face of Chuck Bass, applauded and hooted at the answer on the board.
"Mr Bass," the teacher said, "I didn't know you had this hidden talent." Chuck grinned in self satisfaction. "And I just have an opening in the Mathemagicians club."
Chuck's grin evaporated. "No." He walked back to his seat and collapsed into it.
"What's gotten into you, man?" Nate whispered to Chuck. Chuck kept looking at the board, ignoring Nate. "Something's up. You're freaked out about maybe being a few minutes late; you're doing your homework; you're volunteering to recite—"
"Mr Archibald, Mr Bass, is there something interesting that you'd like to share with the class?"
"No, sir," Chuck responded immediately. He turned to Nate and glared.
They remained silent for the entire length of the class. When the bell rang, Chuck picked up his notebook and grabbed Nate's upper arm. "Do me a favor, Nathaniel," Chuck said in his smooth voice. "Help me get through this entire day without incident. I don't need detention. Not today." Speechless, Nate could only nod in response. Chuck let go of his arm and patted his sleeve. "We can't have you walking rumpled." Chuck walked towards the corridors to the Science lab. "Coming, Nate?" he prodded. Nate jogged towards him.
"What's with the math wizard?" Dan asked, falling into step beside Nate. "It was an impressive show he pulled."
Nate shrugged his shoulders. "Just don't you cause any trouble for Chuck," he admonished.
Dan stopped in his tracks and watched as Nate Archibald and Chuck Bass half ran to the classroom, then chuckled. 'They're worried about Dan causing trouble?' Rich kids were eccentric.
A little birdie asked me something that I think you might have the answer to. How does a model student with no record of drug or alcohol abuse end up overdosing on E and slamming his car into traffic? Figure in the fact that A had only been hanging out with a certain queen B whose ex is known to do little on the side. Am I really implying that B had anything to do with A's untimely death? As Adam Freedman is laid to rest, we might never know. Feel free to speculate. You know you love me. XOXO Gossip Girl
Chuck stormed out of St Jude's to find Nate and Serena already waiting for him outside. He met Serena's angry gaze and nodded in recognition of her feelings. Dan saw them and made his way towards them.
"Everyone's talking about it!" Serena exploded. "This is unfair."
Nate shook his head, then reached out to squeeze her shoulder. "Look, Serena, everyone knows that everything they wrote there about Adam is true for Blair too. She's a model student with no drug or alcohol abuse problem. They can't—"
"But I do," Serena retorted. "And so do you, Nate. They will link this to Blair no matter what."
"The police will never believe there was a connection," Dan added.
Chuck's eyes narrowed. "This is Georgina we're talking about. She's insane, but not insane enough to set up Blair Waldorf for murder."
Serena nodded in realization, and agreed. "You're right. She goes after what's important. With me, it was the life I was trying to rebuild. And then when she couldn't completely break me then—"
"—she went after me," Dan finished for her.
"Now if she's trying to ruin Blair, then that means she's going for status, her reputation. Nobody can prove she gave him drugs, but nobody can prove she didn't," Nate said. "A simple text to Gossip Girl can ruin everything." His eyes went to Chuck.
Chuck took a deep breath, then looked at each of the three pairs of eyes looking back at him. "Today Blair is coming home from the hospital. I've offered to pick her up and take her home. If any of you are coming, you are not—I repeat—are not allowed to mention Georgina to her."
"Chuck," Serena protested, "she's probably got the text already."
"What she knows is Gossip Girl idly speculating about why Adam crashed. She doesn't know that Georgina's involved. The less she knows about Georgina, the better. I'll deal with the bitch this time, just like what I should've done last year."
"Alright," Dan agreed. After finding out what Georgina was really like, he couldn't think of anyone better equipped to deal with her than Chuck Bass. "I assume last year would be child's play compared to what you're going to do."
Chuck's lips curved. "Let me put it this way, Humphrey. Blair tries to be evil and scheming and manipulative, but underneath it all, she's still the little princess who just wants the people who love to love her back." Nate dropped his gaze to his shoes. "I don't care about people either way, so I can look ugly destroying G." Dan almost shivered at the sight. It seemed like the only things missing were hors sprouting out of Chuck's head. And then Chuck's stormy eyes cleared, and he glanced at his watch. "Time to go, sis."
Dan's eyebrows rose at the quick turnabout. "Go where?"
Serena flashed him a small smile. "We're supposed to go to the hospital to pick up Blair. Chuck promised her that he'd be there by four thirty."
Nate's brow cleared. "That's why you've been busting your ass all day!"
"Well aren't you the bright one," Chuck drawled. "You didn't really think I was trying for A's, did you?"
"No, Bass," Nate laughed, "you're the bright one. Model student."
Chuck made a face of disgust, as if Nate had just insulted him. "Lay off. Come on, sis." Chuck made his way towards the limo with Serena following close behind him.
"Wait a minute. If you're picking up Blair, then why did Eleanor call me and ask me to go to the hospital now? I assumed I was supposed to bring them home."
Chuck sneered. "It took me two hours to get Blair to agree to my picking her up." He shrugged. "If you want, you can pick up Eleanor. Blair rides me with me and Serena."
Nate sighed in frustration, then walked towards the limo. "I'll call and cancel the town car."
It's Homecoming, of Queen B that is. Everyone in her little court seems really happy. That is, until they find out the little investigation being conducted now. Seems Queen B might be innocent after all.
Dan was the first to read the Gossip Girl entry, his eyebrows furrowed. He had thought that signing up for Gossip Girl updates was going to give him a better understanding of the world that Serena moved in, but getting cryptic updates such as this only served to confuse him more. He was about to call out to Nate, but he had already gotten into the limo with the Chuck and Serena.
"You coming?" Nate asked.
Dan waved him away. "I'll drop by the penthouse later."
"Suit yourself," Nate called back at him.
When the limo sped away, Dan glanced down at his phone again. Right under the message was a photograph of Chuck Bass. He could not connect the dots. He and Chuck were in several classes together, as was Adam Freedman. He never saw Chuck speak with or hang out with Adam. True, he had seen Chuck glaring at Adam when he thought no one was looking.
His phone rang, and he was taken aback. Dan was not expecting anyone to call him. Since he broke up with Serena, no one called him especially at his hour. His dad was busy with his tour; Jenny was still off at fashion school; Vanessa was dating… He read the name on the caller ID, and he almost choked. He pressed the answer button.
"Georgina?"
The female voice on the other end of the line cracked, as if she had been crying. "Dan, can you pick me up please?" There was a sniffle.
"What?"
"Pick me up."
Carefully, he asked, "Where are you?"
"At the police station."
"What are you doing, Georgina?" he asked, easily putting the puzzle pieces together. He had to give it to her. She was cunning and heartless, but she was always right. She picked the perfect way to get back at Blair. It was even more perfect than when she kissed him for Serena's eyes.
"I can't keep it bottled up inside me anymore," she cried into the phone. Dan could imagine the crocodile tears streaking her cheeks. Georgina was a lovely little witch. "I had to tell, Dan! I really had to."
"Georgina, don't do this." Dan took a deep breath. "You know he never went near that guy."
She continued crying, and Dan knew there was an audience. "—I had to tell the truth. They have to know what I saw. I saw Chuck Bass slipping E into Adam Freedman's soda."
And then all the air in Dan's body just got sucked out, and he was left gaping, deflated, right in front of school.
"I'm sorry, Dan. I know he's your friend." Her voice dropped an octave. "They're going to find him and they'll take him to the station."
Dan gripped the phone to his ear. He gritted out, "You hate Chuck Bass that much that you're willing to set him up?"
"I don't hate Chuck," she denied, her voice dropping to a whisper, careful that people at the police station would not hear her. "He was a very enjoyable little virgin, so eager if a bit sloppy." Georgina hummed throatily. "But I do hate that goody two shoes who thinks she's better than everyone else."
Dan hung up the phone.
Eleanor opened the hospital door. She smiled at Nate and Serena, then saw Chuck standing behind them. Her eyebrow arched, then she stepped aside to allow them in.
"Blair, Charles Bass is here with Nate and Serena," she called out. Blair looked up with a smile.
Dorota walked over to the new arrivals and extended her arms for their coats.
"Dorota, you look absolutely ecstatic," Chuck commented, as he handed his coat to her.
"Happy to see Ms Blair going home," Dorota answered.
Chuck grinned back at Blair's maid, then turned to Blair. To his surprise, she held her arms open at him. Behind him, Dorota scurried back to her task of packing back Blair's bag. He knew that Nate had probably made his way to Eleanor to inform her about the change in plans, and that they would now be riding with Chuck. "Hello," he greeted.
"I'm so glad to see you!" she gasped. He leaned down into her arms and she hugged him. "Get me out of here!" she whispered into his ear. "I feel so stifled. I miss my beautiful clothes."
"It's probably just these cheap white hospital gowns," Chuck told her, "which I can help you get rid of by the way."
Blair blushed, and Chuck smirked. "Serena, you're here!"
Serena waved at her best friend. "Where else would I be?" She gave Chuck a wicked grin. "My stepbrother has been texting me all day through school reminding me that we had to get here on time."
Eleanor placed a hand on Nate's arm, then checked her watch."We should be going."
"Mom's on her way to Tokyo," Blair announced.
"Oh Mrs Waldorf, congratulations!" Serena exclaimed, remembering Eleanor having mentioned the possibility if her line expansion pushed through. "I'm so happy for you; but I'll be sad to know you're going to leave again."
Eleanor nodded her head. "And this is going to be for at least two months." She looked at Blair with concern. "But my daughter tells me she'll be perfectly fine. And her father is going to visit her every other weekend to check up on her."
"By the time you get back with your amazing new line, the cast will be gone and I'll be perfect," Blair promised. "The clothes will look so wonderful on me."
Chuck looked back at Blair in surprise. It always took him aback whenever he heard sentiments like those from her, no matter how many times it happened. He couldn't get used to it. Before he could speak, Nate was already beside them, squeezing her arm. "You've always been perfect, Blair," Nate offered with a smile.
The door opened again, and he glanced back to see Eleanor Waldorf waving in an orderly pushing a wheelchair.
"Nathaniel, darling, will you help Blair into the chair?"
Before Nate could move, Chuck straightened. "Allow me, Mrs Waldorf." Chuck picked up Blair in his arms, then spun her around once making her giggle. Nate had to duck to avoid the cast on her leg from hitting his face.
"Chuck, put me down!" she gasped, laughing.
He placed her gingerly in the wheelchair. "Does this mean I get to push you around everywhere now? I can get used to this. I'll be tagging along in all of your dates."
"You wish," she retorted. "My dad and Roman sent lovely crutches for my use. You'll see them at home."
Blair's doctor walked into the room. Chuck recognized him as the same one who spoke with Eleanor that night at the ER. He nodded at Blair, and then spoke to Eleanor about his tips regarding Blair's cast.
"Smoking and drinking will slow down the healing process," he told them. "Keep it propped up and don't get the cast wet." Eleanor raised a finger at Dorota, who nodded and started typing the tips into the cellphone that Blair gave her for Christmas. "Exercise the exposed parts, like the toes and the knees."
While the doctor was giving the discharge reminders, Eleanor's gaze drifted over to Nate, who was listening intently to the doctor, and Chuck, who had Blair's cast on his knee now while she tried to wiggle her toes. The doctor saw the exercise. "Just like that." He looked at Chuck.
Serena grinned at Chuck. "How'd you know?"
Chuck shrugged. "I looked it up in the internet."
Blair reached out and patted his cheek. Serena chuckled. "You googled it?" she asked in disbelief.
"It's not hard, sis." At the look on everyone's faces, Chuck cleared his throat. "Why is it such a big deal. It barely took ten minutes."
"Oh Chuck," Blair murmured. "You bothered."
He shook his head, for that moment giving up on trying to convince her of something she just wouldn't believe in. He had plenty of time to do that later when they were alone.
"Shall we?"
The doctor held up his hand. "It's hospital policy that the patient needs to be wheeled out by a nurse or an orderly." He pointed to the young man who brought the wheelchair in, then left the room.
Chuck glanced at the young man and extended his hand. When the orderly took it, Chuck pulled him close. "Listen, man, can you do me this favor? I'm trying to get with this girl here."
The orderly looked at Blair in the wheelchair. Feeling someone's eyes on her, she glanced up and smiled. The orderly smirked, then looked back at Chuck. "Yeah I can see it. But no."
Chuck exhaled. "I've been hearing that word a lot lately." His hand slipped into his pocket, where there was always a ready way to convince people. He took it out and placed it in the orderly's hand, almost as if he was clasping with both hands.
The orderly grinned. "Have a nice life," he told Chuck, then walked out of the room.
Chuck gave Blair a bright smile, then placed his hands on the wheelchair handles. Blair rolled her eyes. "How much?"
Chuck winked at her. "Not nearly enough," was his answer.
Blair took a deep breath, then turned to face ahead as they moved through the hustle and bustle of the hospital. They emerged at the front entrance where Chuck's limo was waiting. Blair frowned at the sight of a couple of reporters that immediately approached them. There was no way they were here for her—unrealistic dreams and all, but she was still grounded enough to recognize that. Her hand immediately reached up and closed over Chuck's hand gripping the handle. He turned his hand palm up and laced his fingers through hers.
"Charles Bass." She looked up and saw a man flash a badge at Chuck. Blair's hand tightened on Chuck's.
Eleanor stepped forward and shielded both Blair and Chuck from the cameras. "What's the problem, officer?"
"We have a few questions for Mr Bass."
"Have you contacted his father? Charles is a minor. He's not turning eighteen for a few more months. If you have questions or an invitation for him, you should call Bart Bass."
The officer shook his head. "These are just questions, ma'am. Nothing to be worried about."
"Then it won't be a problem to go through his father first," she replied pointedly. "Now if you'll excuse us. My daughter is tired and we would really like to go home."
The officers looked at each other, then turned to Eleanor. "We're very sorry for the delay." They turned to Blair and smiled sadly. "Sorry for your loss, Ms Waldorf." Then to Chuck, "Mr Bass."
Chuck did not acknowledge that he heard them. Instead, he wheeled the chair closer to the limo and helped Blair in. He held the door open for Eleanor, then climbed in himself. Serena and Nate followed suit. The moment they were inside, Serena flipped open her phone and went to Gossip Girl's website. Nate called his mother and asked for the phone number of their lawyer. Chuck sighed and kneaded his forehead with his fingers. Blair threw herself on her mother and embraced her tightly. "Thank you so much, mom!"
Eleanor's eyes drifted to the other passengers, then patted Blair's back lightly. "It was nothing, Blair. Sit down."
Blair settled herself into the seat and leaned her head on Chuck's shoulder. He nodded to Eleanor. "She's right, Mrs Waldorf. I don't know how to thank you."
"You and I need to speak privately when we get home, Charles."
"Yes, ma'am," he murmured. Chuck took Blair's hand in his and whispered, "Don't worry about anything. Everything will turn out fine."
Chuck turned to Nate and Serena. "Do either of you know what's going on?"
Serena frowned as she scanned through her phone. "There's nothing on Gossip Girl's website."
Nate's phone beeped. He read the message. "She arrived two days ago," he said addressing Chuck. "We weren't flagged immediately because she got in using an alias—Sarah. Whatever this is, it's all about her, Chuck."
Blair straightened and asked Nate, "Georgina's back?" She turned to Chuck with angry eyes and extricated her fingers from his. "Chuck!"
"I just didn't want you to worry!" he responded, already missing the warmth of her body pressed against his.
Blair's eyes narrowed. "Dorota," she called to the front, where Dorota sat beside the driver, "my phone."
"Miss Blair, your battery's dead. I'm so sorry. I didn't think to bring your charger."
Blair sighed. "It's okay, Dorota." She extended her hand to Serena, who obediently handed her phone over. Blair searched for the name on her contacts, then pressed the call button. "I assume you're involved in this huge secret that my so-called friends have decided to keep from me." A pause. "Well enough is enough. I want to know everything. Come to my house. Now." Blair handed the phone back to Serena.
Serena looked at the call log. "You called Dan?" she demanded.
Blair glared from one friend to the other, then said, "I'm so mad at all of you." Then she settled back to her place against Chuck, and rested her head on his arm.
Eleanor watched her daughter with veiled eyes. She arched her eyebrows at Chuck, who seemed decidedly uncomfortable with her scrutiny. "Charles, make sure you're in town in two weeks."
"Of course, Mrs Waldorf."
"I'll be out of the country then, but I want you to have dinner at the penthouse. I'd like you to meet Blair's father."
Chuck's heart hammered in his chest. Blair was not protesting as he expected. He would have thought that at her mother's proposal, she would blurt out that they were not at the stage in their relationship where formal introductions have to be made. "With all due respect, Mrs Waldorf, I've met Mr Waldorf several times."
Eleanor's lips curved. "Do it for Harold," she told him. "I don't think he's met this particular Charles Bass."
Finally, Blair spoke. "Mom, stop." Chuck prepared himself for the onslaught of denials that would come from Blair's mouth—about how they were just friends and that her dad didn't need to waste time on Chuck. Instead, he was shocked as she continued, "Charles sounds so old. That's what his dad calls him when he's pissed off. It's Chuck."
"Chuck," Eleanor tried out. Blair grinned. "Now Chuck, would anyone care to tell me what this business with the police is all about?"
Before Chuck could speak, Blair placed a hand on his chest. "I think it's better if we wait until we're home. Dan Humphrey has something to say about all this."
