AN: Alright here it is kids; the whole bag of hedonistic tricks. This chapter written while listening to the whole Kid Cudi catalogue. Love him! BTW I updated my playlist. Check it out; there are good gems in there. AND Check out the OFFICIAL TRAILER for The Vampire and the Socialite. (Youtube link on profile- Thanks Seph Meadows)
Special Hollers:
Seven Secrets: kudos for calling everyone on their double standards. We all know they would be just as unfair in the GossipShowverse. Sigh… Colin and Blair DO make a cute high society couple. Oh somebody write a fic for them please. Even a short! Marc, police, Colin… more to that later.
Lisa Levine : Bass "the ho" is my new favorite name for him next to Basstard. Lol! Oh yes, Chuck can be so harsh but that's only because he's emotionally retarded (in the literal sense). But we still love him anyway… especially when he's making that face he makes (You know the one!)
Chaos-and-Insanity: Coincidences happen in Twilight…right? Oh I guess not lol. Interesting guess. Thanks for your consistent feedback Chaos!
Inspiration:
Hot Like Wow – Nadia Oh
Pursuit of Happiness – Kid Cudi
Memories – Kid Cudi
Yay Review= Preview (Once again! Previews are back!)
I'm in the Pursuit of Happiness
I know everything that shines aint always gonna be gold
But hey, I'll be fine once I get it
I'll be good.
Dear Edward,
I'd like to preface this e-mail by informing you that I'm writing this very much under the influence of various substances and my friends. They inform me that drunkenly telling you off is a right I now hold. Also, apparently I complain about you. A lot. But don't allow yourself to be flattered. I know there's no way you'll read this. If I thought you would I certainly wouldn't send it. But if you do, I still hate you. Just putting it out there.
I don't know what I'm supposed to write. I have nothing to say to you. Literally nothing. You're gone and I can't blame you. I know now that I'm unlovable beyond repair. You don't want me and I hate you with the fire of a thousand suns. So I guess it's a good deal. Hating you gets me through the day when I'm not doing other things to fill my time. But your ghost still haunts my every move.
No. I'm not being poetic. I would never use such a trite line. I mean your ghost; the hazy, floating, even more judgmental version of you that stalks my every move. There's a good chance that you think I'm crazy right now. So let me rewind. Since you left your ghost- you know, like Casper- won't stop judging me. Figment of my mind or not, it's very real and it's you and quite frankly I'd like it to stop. You're ghost is even more overprotective than you ever were. It yells at me while I smoke. It tries to tell me not to take prescriptive drugs. Judges me while I drink. And… yesterday it even told me not get the Baconator from Wendy's. Obviously I would never go to such a plebian place but it was late and I had the munchies and even Wendy's seems less common when you're in limo filled champagne and models on a binge. I digress. Essentially, I hate you and your stupid ghost. You promised me it would be as if you never existed. I don't recall having a ghost with judgy honey eyes following me around before I met you.
Ghost aside I want to reiterate the fact that I loath you. I hope your life is miserable and pointless without me. My life is en rose. I want you to know that I'm having a fabulous time without you. You once said you thought it was important for me to experience a human life. Well for the first ever I'm doing just that- being alive. I've spent my life as the, and I quote Dan, "soulless living doll". Now, I do whatever and whomever I please. Shall I tell how awkward it was making love to a British lord or the French viscount with your ghost in the room? Very much so. I cannot stress how much I abhor your ghost… and you. Always you. Oh and there were the affairs with the Saudi oil tycoon's son, the married broker, the Lacrosse team, the…oh I'm sorry. I do seem to remember you having a possessive streak…The Italian artist, the lead singer of Cobra Starship... Where was I? Oh yes- They're calling me the new Serena around here which amuses me since apparently I've become a bad influence on her- Which has dubbed me the fine title of, "Serena noir". I am having what people call a downward spiral. I call it fun.
In sum, I hope this e-mail is more coherent than a drunken dial. I hope wherever you are is dark and your nights are filled with the thoughts of a thousand suicidal people. I'm smiling now. I'm vein enough to know that although you never loved me I'm anything but forgettable. Good luck trying to forget me with that photographic memory of yours. I hope it gives you hell. I never think of you. I'm lying and apparently currently telling that I'm lying with no plans of deleting that fact. Maybe it's because I know if you were here right now you'd easily read my mind and know the truth. The truth is that I'm so glad I can hate you so arduously. If I didn't have my overwhelming hatred for you I honestly don't know how I would've survived those first months after you left. It keeps me alive today. It keeps me moving, living, trying to prove to you- to everyone- that I am someone worth loving. I won't sit around crying over you. I won't be still. I won't let myself come down from this high to mourn us…
Well I must go. I'm going off to do something reckless.
-Blair Cornelia Waldorf
~XoXo~
The school bell rang and young heiresses of Constance poured neatly from their classrooms all clad in Navy blazers and plaid skirts. Blair Waldorf shrugged her tote bag over her shoulders and sauntered into the halls, languidly pulling out a pair of oversized sunglasses and dimming her world.
Everyone was shooting her furtive glances and no one would look at her directly but she heard them as they whispered.
They called her a slut.
They called her out of control.
They called her a murderer.
The exit doors at the end of the hallway drew closer and she felt Serena flank her side. She stuck close to her silently and somberly. She was Blair's rock and when Blair opened the door, she felt Chuck flank her right and Nate stepped protectively in front of her.
And it was because of them that the ambush of swarming photographers and reporters became a short lived skirmish. And the winner was undecided. Someone stuck a camera in her face and Nate swatted it away. Serena stepped out beside him boldly as if trying to deflect them with her Serena-ness and Chuck wrapped his arm around her waist and herded her forward.
All the while she stared out at the small mob through her vintage Dior shades.
The Dior shades remained on her face. Though she was safe in Chuck's limo she had no solace from Chuck, Nate and Serena's prying eyes.
Colin Forester, last seen, photographed with Blair Waldorf was discovered by his housekeeper on Sunday Morning in his bathroom lying in a pool of his own blood. Though the police suspects foul play, the locked front door and the lack of any entrance to his place other than his balcony on the 30th floor, did not rule out suicide. There are signs of struggle.
Blair shut her eyes and buried her face in her knees and no one dared stop her. Hopelessness boxed her in at every turn. Anguish outflanked her.
Suddenly Colin comes around and threatens to, no awakens something deep and dangerous in her; a need to be loved and he has to die.
Why?
Did the universe sense that she was getting comfortable?
But now. Dead.
No no! This was supposed to be her happy days. Her time to shine and be frivolous and carefree. But it seemed like every time she got a grasp of contentment something came along and slapped in out of her hands. She felt tethered to eternal darkness, every time she got comfortable frolicking in the light, it snapped her back.
Well Blair was tired of rebuilding, loosing, gaining and rebuilding again. Something had to give. She had only been alive for 18 years for Gods sake and her short life should not be so miserable! Granted she knew there were people in Africa somewhere who had it worse… or Brooklyn, but it wasn't about that. This was about Colin. She let him in, or at least she was planning to, had they ever had that dinner. She let him give her hope for something more and now he was dead.
She'd let Marc touch her and turn her into something.
Now he was forever undead.
She would never make these mistakes again.
Chuck was sitting across from her and leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on her knee, his fingers caressed his slightly. Surprised at his warmth she glanced up into his hazel eyes and for a moment she felt that he was truly with her. Her friends, Serena and Nate were stoically sitting by her. They were only around her for they existed on ground level and walked in the sun. But Chuck- wherever Blair, whatever layer of hell she'd fallen too- she felt a presence with her and that presence was him. It was a powerful feeling. Her heart lunged out of her chest forward and she held it in her hands awkwardly with no place to put it. And so she glanced over at Nate, hoping to break their unsettling connection and found he was taking his self appointed position of bodyguard too seriously. His face was grim, his back was straightened, and all he was missing was black coat with a revolver in its breast pocket. It made her smile mirthlessly. What a trio of friends she had.
Chuck trailed her eyes to Nate and sighed in quiet frustration. Chuck's limo stopped in front of her townhouse and Blair counted a least twenty pressmen loitering the sidewalk. Aggravation filled the limo. Blair only felt numbness.
Colin was dead.
Apparently everyone in the press thought she had some statement to make about this event. Like she was going to announce the release of her memoir, "My night with Colin Forester; The Official Tell-all," or something.
They were all jolted by the noise when Chuck's driver opened the door. Nate rashly jumped out first like he was going to do something to make them flee but he only stood in front of the limo gazing steely at the press. Serena and Chuck climbed out a bit reluctant to face the frantic media again and Blair sighed, knowing it was her turn.
What would Audrey do?
No.
Audrey was definitely too tasteful to find herself in this situation. But Elizabeth Taylor wasn't. And so while the door hung open with her friends waiting, she reached into her bag for her crimson lipstick and took her time in applying it neatly to her lips with the aid of her compact mirror. She smocked her lips twice and smiled and dimpled smile. Nate poked his head back into the limo to his shock to find Blair was undoing her hair and fixing it in the mirror. When she was done making herself presentable she held her hand out and Nate assisted her in getting out while the usually quite uptown street was assaulted with flashing cameras and shouting. To the shock of everyone the young socialite emerged from the limo slowly. Her caramel dipped chocolate hair tumbled in curls over her Oxford blue vest. She patted her pleated skirt when she stood and peered out at them through her oversized Dior shades with a coy smile on her blood stained lips.
X
The following weeks were like a reverse E-true Hollywood story special. With Colin's death Blair found herself in a new arena of fame and notoriety. But first, she became infamous. Despite her parent's and their lawyers constant pouncing on magazines for retractions, Blair was published work wide as the speculated murderer of Colin Forester.
No matter how ridiculous this claim was or how the police was appeased with her alibi, the public saw what they wanted to and what they wanted was for Blair to somehow have magically killed Colin through her poisonous feminine wiles from across Manhattan. Blair was hounded by paparazzi and the press for statements. Her name was dragged through the gutters of the NY streets and while this happened Blair resigned herself to showing NY and the World that she was Blair Waldorf and she didn't give a damn what anyone thought of her.
She partied and she drank and she was published as the, "Wiley and rebellious teen daughter of designer Eleanor Waldorf who, while Colin Forester's family pray for answers of his death and grieve, unrepentantly flaunts herself to media and is photographed with a new beau nightly."
And then like a light switch, one week the magazines beat the story of Colin's death into the ground and everyone had their fill of reading speculatives about Blair and murder and their forced retractions. And the next, the Forster story was dead and it was like the magazines forgot to stop running stories of Blair.
At first they were all overglorifed Gossip Girl posts and pictures about her wild ways. Then apparently they got tired of aligning her with malevolence altogether and just unbiasly posted photos and articles of where she was, what she was wearing and with whom.
But she still couldn't shake her nick name. At school they'd taken to calling her "Serena Noire"; the dark Serena. The brunette only rolled her eyes when she heard this and mumbled something along the lines of, "Serena wishes". Blair was no Serena, she wasn't bubbly or aimless. She had a goal. She just kept the truth of that goal tucked away so nobody could see and she let them see what they wanted to.
XoXo
Blair sat languidly atop the lunch table, idly browsing through Gossip Girl. Not that she needed to browse GG for news of herself but GG was feeling quite full of herself for being the first to leak pictures of Blair and a certain married millionaire broker.
She tossed her maple locks to the wind and sighed, setting her blackberry atop her pleated skirt. It was lunchtime and the courtyard was lush with gossip and male rowdiness. B flattened her palms on the polished table and leaned back, letting the faint spring sunshine kiss her yearning porcelain skin.
Serena read the post too and she was giving her one of Blair's recycled reproaching looks. Blair battered her eyes at her blonde friend and S rolled hers. Isobel, Penelope, and Nelly's eyes ziz-zagged between the two as they observed their standoff, wondering if anyone was going to speak up. No one did. As usual, Blair still held them in fear of her tyrannical rein.
Blair released an exasperated snort.
"Fine! For the record I did not know he was married before I went out on his yacht. Jeez, you guys are so judgy lately."
Blair stared them down icily as if challenging them to say more on the matter and Isobel and Penelope's gazes flitted to one another uncomfortably. Finally, Penelope piped up to change the subject.
"Blair," she looked at Isobel again, "We were just wondering, since you're acting student president and Prom is almost a month away if you've thought of any theme ideas yet," she said blandly.
Oh that was right. She was school president. She smiled fondly as she remembered retaking that position from Nelly the moment she reenrolled at Constance. It was nice to know that she still ruled things in her little world.
"Well of course," Blair snapped at them, despotically. "I have several perfect ideas I just have to narrow them down."
"Sounds like somebody's been remiss on their SP duties," S muttered sardonically, "What with all the parties and torrid affairs…"
"Oh Serena you know Sarcasm doesn't go with you outfit" Blair mused sweetly, "And may I remind you, I 'clutch' you 'luggage'."
Again, Serena rolled her eyes and resumed eating her pita chips.
School was a strange affair. If she thought that being the center of media controversy and respectably famous granted her amnesty from the young Manhattan elites, she would be a fool. Only tall blondes have that luck. The standard was indeed a double one.
The young brunette lost quite a bit of clout in Constance. She was regarded warily as a strange fascination by the young elites. Her vassals deflected to Serena and though they still followed Blair's orders out of fear she didn't pretend not to notice their tenuous glances to Serena first.
Blair pretended this didn't bother her, though it did. She liked to put on an impervious front as if her new scandalous life was more important to her than her that of a queen B.
And now, she thought, as she walked home from school, she would have to come up with a prom theme over her already booked weekend just to prove that she was still competently in charge.
She punched in her new door code; a security measure added to her black door of her townhouse and entered the foyer with a laden sigh. She trudged passed the drawing room and saw her mother and Laurel sitting side by side.
Her mother greeted her with a pronounced frown. Looking up at her over her half moon glasses she sighed and said, "Good- I'm glad you've graced us with your presence."
Blair's mouth opened and then soundly shut. She was not expecting her mother to be home and in a meeting no less with her marketing agent. And since unlike Lilly, Eleanor actually inspired fear in her daughter, Blair had just enough respect to look abashed. She forced her mouth into a tight lipped smile and waved at Laurel.
"Stay," her mother commanded when she tried to make a bee line for the stairs and Blair trudged over to them begrudgingly. "Yes. You should hear this. Laurel, please continue telling me how the brand is doing since Blair went off gallivanting with dead billionaires and god knows who else. It's all over the papers and the internet you know. You don't think I know what you're out there doing with those friends of yours… partying and flaunting yourself around the paparazzi and making a fool of me and my elegant clothing line. Go ahead, Laurel, tell me what immense damage my daughter has done to the brand."
Laurel's eyelids fluttered for a moment and she looked back and forth between the Waldorf women in a flustered state. "Um… Well, actually, Eleanor things have been great for the brand."
"Ever since, forgive me, ever since Colin Forester's death, not only has our website traffic increased 100% but so has Google's searches for the name Waldorf, Blair, and the clothing line. People are very fascinated by your family and that intrigue is reflected by our sudden burst young clientele."
Blair's penitent smile took a smug turn as she watched her mother face pale, awash with alarm, as Laurel produced a folder full of what Blair presumed was hard evidence to back her statements up.
As if she couldn't believe it, Eleanor held on to her reading glasses and held the papers up to her face. After putting on a show of scanning the documents she glanced up at Blair with slight concession and then sighed with reluctance. But apparently Laurel wasn't finished.
"That's not all, I've been talking to marketing about our billboard campaign and we wanted to know how you would feel… that is, how both of you would feel about using Blair for the scheduled photo shoot."
Blair gasped. Her mother was silent and in the distance Dorota fumbled with the china and it clattered.
"Moi?" She fluttered her eyelids winsomely and touched her chest. "Ohmigosh… yes… I mean… oh mother, please say yes. This is …"
Eleanor was clearly unhappy with the unsavory turn of evens. She had hoped this would be an intervention for her daughter's wild and rebellious ways but now she was stuck in a tough spot. The mother in her wanted to say no but the business women say the merit in using Blair as her muse. She gave a resigned sigh and smiled at Blair concession.
"Yes, Blair, fine but…"
Blair had already tuned her mother out. She was ecstatic. She just knew she was due for a win in her parade of kicks to the groin from the universe. This was it- she made it! She has breached barrier between wealthy schoolgirl and famous socialite. She had gone from public disgrace and now she was a designer's muse. The face of a campaign!
Laurel continued. "And keeping with the feel of your clothing line the theme we're going for is elegance and refinement meets a little rebellion and intrigue.
X
Blair spent all of sixteen minutes thinking about plans for prom until Lexi phoned her and informed her that she should get her rich girl ass ready because they were on the list of one of Manhattan's most trendy electo clubs.
Not long after Blair, Lexi and Lourdes arrived by limo to Space where they breezed past the line into pulsating club. Lourdes was wearing a purple, one shoulder dress with a thick studded belt that cinched her waist and she led them upstairs into the upper rooms. Lexi had straightened her thick dark hair and wore short red sleeveless dress and of course Giuseppe Zanotti shoes.
Blair moved behind them in Black. The dusty black bondage dress clung to Blair like a second skin. She had boobs in it. She had an amazing ass in it. That dress was working for her like it had a sub prime mortgage to pay.
They walked along the filled sitting rooms in search of a private area and Blair gasped when her eyes locked on a familiar face.
"Carter Basin! Last I heard you were in Dubai?" She yelled over the threading electo beat.
Carter Basin, who was once a beloved heir with a prosperous future, was now a persona non grata amongst respectable New York society ever since his father disinherited him for being such a gambling, money laundering, moral less, hellion.
Carter grinned and gave a dismissive, "Meh," then turned to his exotically handsome friend. "Ladies, this is my friend Tariq."
Tariq. Blair said his name to herself silently and bit back a gasp. It meant warrior in Arabic. He was more than beautiful, he was absolutely lovely. Tariq looked like an exotic, racially ambiguous, male model. He skin was the color of aged alabaster. And his eyes were most magnificent pale green speckled with honey gold and encased by lush black lashes that no amount of mascara could replicate. His eyes were so pale yet they were stark and blazing through his black lashes. His sideburns were long the way Blair liked and his hair was a thick and curly black contrast to his alabaster skin. Though he was sitting Blair could tell he was very tall by way he sat, taking up almost all the leg and knee room in front of him
Blair thought he looked like a glorious Bedouin god!
He had an elegant mouth surrounded by a scruffy five a clock shadow that suited him and he smiled sending a wave of giggles through Yolexi and Lourdes.
"Please, feel free to stand there drooling." Carter laughed throatily.
"Ladies, join us." Tariq motioned for them to sit down with a gesture and Lexi and Lourdes were at his side in an instant, forcing Blair to take the edge, which wasn't so bad. The giant cushioned seat was shaped like a C and so she didn't need to angle herself to face Carter and Tariq. Better to ogle Bedouin hottie with!
Carter seemed mildly annoyed to have his, no doubt future scam, intruded upon by the tittering ladies but he seemed to shake himself out of it quickly.
"How do you two know each other?" Blair asked.
Carter shrugged. "Friend of a friend. Tariq's family is in oil."
"Oh?" Suddenly the nature of Carter and Tariq's relationship became quite clear. It seemed Carter had found another rich heir to mooch off of for the awhile.
"I'm pretty shocked to see you here," he said and then he turned to Tariq and added, "This isn't usually Blair's thing. She'd more of a brunch and ballet kind of girl."
"Ha, shows how long you've been out of town." Yolexi chortled.
"Oh that's where I've seen you…" The beautiful Bedouin's examining eyes flashed with recognition. "Didn't you kill Colin Forester?"
Lourdes bust out laughing and soon everyone joined her. Blair was about to protest but then she cut in with, "Yeah, this is the one."
"What? You killed Forester? Damn Blair I didn't know you had it in you. I'm impressed," Carter said and Blair rolled her eyes dolefully.
Blair just crossed her arms and pursed her lips while everyone had their fill of laughing at her expense. When they were all quite through, Tariq looked at her with those dark shaded green eyes and asked, "Do you want some?"
"Yes," she said eagerly before she even knew what "some" was because frankly if he was offering, she did want some. He chuckled to himself and passed the spout of the long pipe to his side. Lexi took it first and took a puff, then Lourdes, who monopolized it for awhile while she attempted to blow perfect circles.
"What's in it?" Blair asked when finally got the nozzle.
"Hashish, Blair," Carter answered with exasperation in his tone.
Sheesh. SORRY If I didn't read the Opiate handbook!
"Oh," she said dumbly and took a puff. Tariq watched her with marked interest as she did.
"Here lean over," he instructed as me moved forward in his seat, "Let me show you how to do it."
"Please, if there's anything Blair doesn't need help with its sucking," Carter huffed, probably jealous that nobody was paying his insolent self any attention.
He took the pipe from her and took an indulgent inhale and blew out perfect smoke rings. The ladies were impressed and Blair was eager to try.
She gave it a go a few times and finally relinquished the spout to Carter who waved it off to Tariq and so the cycle went for awhile while they were all getting to know each other.
The DJ started ladling out a strange beat; it was a spastic mix of techno and Egyptian belly dancing music and Lourdes was the first to shoot up with a suggestion of dancing.
"Blair? Oh I'd like to see this." Carter grinned wickedly.
"I've got moves," Blair asserted indignantly.
"Do you now?" Tariq said with a subdued smirk.
Blair rolled her eyes and stood with Lourdes and Lexi who wasted no time in making their way out from the sitting area. She followed them down the stairs and felt Tariq grab her hand lightly from behind her and whisper in her ear,
"Let's see some of these moves."
And all my friends they tell me… you know they think I'm crazy…
The say they don't believe me but I know they're just jealous.
The freaky things we do are Hot Like Wow
Blair felt her friend brush against her lightly as she let the music and various substances fuel her movements. The music was like Jell-O, fire, and acid in her veins but Blair felt effects of the hashish mellowing her. So she swiveled her hips languidly while the dance floor thrashed and raved around her. She looked up at Tariq who, on top of being a spiffy dresser was an amazing dancer. She'd never seem a man dance so well. He moved so well in front of her, rolling his hips and stepping closer to her. He put his hands in the air and she smiled and mirrored his movements. She might have moves but his were way better. Mirroring his movements she raised her hands and rocked her hips a little faster from side to side. Pretty soon she was thrashing her hair from side to side, her brown locks flying over her face as she synced up with the dance floor. They moved in tandem like they were all pulsating down a giant drain and she was glad to go down with them.
Another song began to play- a headier and more constant thumping beat. She was all for busting her moves to it until she heard the haunting lyrics.
All the crazy shit I did tonight. Those will be the best memories.
I just wanna let it go for tonight. That will be the best therapy for me…
She frowned. How dare this DJ put her plans on stereo blast like this? Tariq, still dancing and still sexy, cocked his head and examined her enticingly.
Well alright…
She rocked her hips to the house beat and smiled flirtatiously. Yolexi and Lourdes were seducing each other and every male with a pulse on the dance floor, leaving Mr. Desert Rose all to her self.
The song was true. She didn't want to think of anything and or anyone. Nobody understood her anyway or what she was doing here. But what did they know? What did they know of stalwart kisses and midnight promises? What did they know of being hunted, of nightmares and night terrors?
They stumbled out of the downtown club with the cameras flashing on them. It was blinding, Blair winced and grabbed Tariq's hand. Lexi and Lourdes cat walked ahead of them and they breezed past a long line of people waiting outside. Carter and Tariq led the tiny harem to waiting limo. Carter allowed Lexi and Lourdes to climb in first and bounded in after them enthusiastically leaving B and Tariq. Tariq made a grand "After you" gesture with his hand and Blair nodded curtly, a cheeky smile at her lips.
A photographer called to her before she got in and she whipped her face towards the voice and smiled and though easy breezy thoughts just as the lights flashed in her eyes. Tariq cocked an eyebrow but said nothing. She mirrored him and climbed into the limo, brazenly tugging him by his shirt in after her.
The limo bounded through city. Tall twinkling buildings hovered over them like jungle trees in the night sky through the tinted windows. Where they were headed, who cared? Lexi popped open a bottle of champagne and started taking turns pouring it down everybody's mouths and giggling uproariously. Carter sleepily swatted the bottle away from his face when she offered and produced a small pouch of cocaine from his breast pocket. He splayed the powder on a makeshift surface and divvied it up neatly with into two lines and he and Lourdes took their turns. Meanwhile Blair was vibing to mellow the hip hop playing. Lexi, who was her own natural stimulant, kept snatching her face away to pour champagne down it which made a mess of Blair's dress but she couldn't help but to laugh, which provided a nice intermission to Blair and Tariq's make out session.
The night fair ebbed and flowered smoothly like sensory lava lamp until about 5AM when everything took a nose dive and they all came down rather abruptly. Somehow they all ended up at the W hotel being naughty and particularly sleazy by Blair's standards and it wasn't until Carter and the beautiful Bedouin left that she felt her inner being sag to the floor.
What was wrong with her? Not here!
A tear rolled down her cheek but she felt too numb to brush it away. Lourdes and Lexi, coming down from their respective highs eyed her in concern.
"Blair you okay?"
No.
"Do you want something?"
Edward.
She attempted to laugh bitterly but chocked on a heavy sob.
Not here!
Everything was all wrong. This was all wrong. She felt her life suddenly go down the drain. How could she tell them how she felt? Sullied, tarnished, rejected. Ashamed. She felt like tonight she'd just shoved an entire holiday pie down her mouth but only this time she couldn't throw it up. These feelings of shame and iniquity anchored heavily in her gut but there was nothing she could do to purge them away.
Never in her entire life had she wanted for Edward's presence more. All the things she could not have, she suddenly felt a wave of longing for. She just wanted her boyfriend back. She just missed him, his lies. She just wanted him to appear in a jealous rage and grab her and hold her until she melted all around him. And tell her he loved her and she was his alone.
She must have been blubbering out her thoughts because suddenly Lexi let out a hissing breath of exasperation and shoved her blackberry in her face.
"Why don't you just wake this dick ex of your up with a drunk call and tell his ass off."
Ha. She wished he still had his same number! Not that she ever called it to find out. That's desperate…
Lourdes, the patron of all things dramatic and excessive nodded in sound agreement. "Um hmm, call him. Bitch him out. Hand up and lets go to bed," was her methodological instruction.
Blair shook her head. Though she wasn't going to listen she grabbed the phone just to get it out of her face and ran her palm under her sniffling nose.
"No it's not that serious guys… I'm just really… tired or something…"
Lexi shrugged and threw herself on the large bed but Lourdes deflated. She was obviously looking forward to one more thrill before bedtime. Blair rose from the bed and padded over to the bathroom suite.
"You sure you're fine?" Lexi asked after she lay on her side and yanked the duvet over her.
"Yes I'm just going to go…"
Purge.
"Hey," Lourdes called to her before B shut the bathroom door. "Can you shut off the light?"
She did and entered the giant bathroom and turned on the dimmest light over the roman tub. She didn't want to look at herself in the mirror. Afraid to find some dark and salacious creature inside. She padded towards the toilet and kicked the seat down then sat atop of it. With her hands to her knees, she stared down at the blackberry in her hand.
She felt her thumbs twitching. Her emotions were banging at the door, demanding release. Hopelessness became power. The Id broke free and before her ego could kick in she was in her email account drafting a new message.
Dear Edward,
I'd like to preface this e-mail by informing you that I'm writing this very much under the influence of various substances and my friends.
XoXo
"Blair wake up!" a frantic voice called to her. Someone shook her, hard. "Blair!"
She opened her eyes groggily to find Lourdes was practically straddling her. Her eyes were bleary and filled with panic and she had been shaking for forcibly. Blair swatted her away belatedly and sat up.
The hotel room was still dark except for a TV flickering in small sitting area and Blair rolled to her side to check the time. Lexi was sprawled out next to her fast asleep. It was only 8:15 in the morning which meant she had only been asleep less than two hours. And yet an ominous feeling weighed heavily on the room.
"Your phone Blair, it been…no! Come look at this. It's all over!" Blair sighed sleepily and thought this was exactly why she never did cocaine. Lourdes was much too intense and high strung for her taste. She ignored her beeping phone for a minute only when she heard the name Bass on the TV.
Then suddenly it all came to a halt. All the room seemed to cut away, all her senses dulled and it was only Blair and talking head on CNN.
Bass dead.
Oh God. Uh no no no no…Which Bass!
Head of Bass Industries.
Oh thank heavens!
Found in his limo this morning's in a result of what seems to be a ghastly and bloody murder attempt. Bartholomew Bass was rushed to St Vincent's trauma hospital where severe attempts are being made to save his life. More on this now is our…
She disconnected from the TV and stared at her phone and saw the many missed calls; Nate, Serena, her mother and an unknown number with a strange area code.
XoXo
AN: Happy Thanksgiving guys. I am so thankful for all you readers and your wonderful and insightful reviews. Next up, EDWARD! (Releases balloons and confetti). Don't forget to review for your preview! Don't be tardy for the preview party!
Food for Reviews:
Yeah that's right, I updated. Take that suckas! Lol. Yeah, I know… I needed to step it up with that.
Thumbs up (in this case, reviews up!) for drunken e-mails! What did you think reading it the 2nd time around? Do you think Edward read it?
The injustice of the Upper East Side- Cant a brunette cut a break at Constance? What do we think of Blair new tenuous status among the young elite?
Chuck and his caressing touches in limos. Self explanatory
Calls from unknown numbers?
The accruing body count on the UES!