Disclaimer: All characters that you recognise belong to the wonderful Cecily von Ziegesar. The rest are Chloe's and mine! The idea of Web page entries is featured in the Gossip girl books; we have borrowed it for the sole purpose of entertainment! Chloe and I own the plot! Please don't steal it!
A/N: This fic is being co-written by Chloe and I. Her penname is "Words of Wonder". There is some swearing and vulgar language, but no ruder than the language written in the Gossip girl series. If you can handle that I'm sure you can handle this. Please don't flame! We both speak British English but since the Gossip girl books are American, we'll try to use American English. Enjoy!
s & a…
"Serena van der Woodsen what have you got yourself into now?" Serena asked herself wearily as she surveyed the room of her two-story apartment. She looked down at her elegant baby blue Versace on Cornich watch with a quartz medallion clasp enclosing the famous head of the Medusa, a valentines' gift from Aaron, Aaron should be home any minute. Her apartment was extravagant, yet seemed cold and unlived in. For she mostly divided her time between restoring a large manor house in Connecticut, in the style of Edwardian Britain and travelling due to her job as a model. This apartment was nothing compared to what she envisioned her Edwardian style house in Connecticut would be like. In her hand she was holding a pamphlet with a post it note stuck to it. Clicking through her answering machine, barely listening ……"Hey Serena, Becky here, I'll be in town on Thursday, want to meet up? Long beach rocks!! Brooks college is superb, you would have loved it……" …… "Ser, I'm heading to Michelangelo's with the guys, don't wait up, love you, Aaron" ……. "You biiitchhhh…Red Sea summer tenth grade…you're nothing but a good for nothing slutty ho! You think you can have any guy but we all know what you've been up to, there are no secrets. But you like that don't you, you liked knowing that people are talking about you, perfect, goddess like, super poised, every guy's dream…but the truth is…. no guy would everrrr…" Beeeeeep
That last message, though being heavily slurred, Serena could never misplace that voice. Blair. Things were always hot and cold with that girl. She didn't even need to finish that last sentence, but somehow to Serena it was a small triumph to know that Blair was cut off, no one ever cuts Blair Waldorf off in the middle of her speeches. Had she found her Cary Grant to be with her whilst she was Audrey Hepburn? Serena wondered. Her life was always a movie; she would be oblivious of what is going on around her. She would be the star and I would be the director. I would yell "Cut" and sit in a chair marked "DIRECTOR", bossing people around, Serena thought, no wait, Blair could do that, she was always good at that, she could make a whole fucking movie, starring herself, directed, written and produced by herself! That last line…maybe it bore a small ounce of truth, well it certainly seemed true, Serena thought bitterly to herself. Aaron was constantly out. She glanced down at the post-it - damn it Aaron, why can't you give me some prior notice?
She glanced, with no small amount of satisfaction, at the glimmering 24-karat 112 facet Tiffany diamond engagement ring Aaron had bought her for their 3 years of being together anniversary last week. It was cut lengthways and so the superiority of the rock was clearly shown, glimmering with blues and greens and even a hint of violet. Serena loved it because it matched any outfit she wore.
Now, though, the diamond looked lonely on its base of white gold, muted, reflecting the grey of the sky outside and the cool white marble of her apartment's floor. Sighing, Serena tried to brush off her gloom – she was a happy go lucky person by nature and hated all this introspective depression shit that Aaron seemed to cultivate for his moody rock songs. What she needed was a good stiff drink.
She poured herself a glass of '49 Merlot, sipping deeply, and switched on the radio. She wasn't surprised when a song by Aaron's recently formed band, Hemp Tangle, came on. It was written about her, Aaron said, and was called Tears of the Moon.
Tears of the moon my baby girl she wears around her neckIgnoring the plight of millions dancing away on a moonbeam
Yeah she wears tears of the moon and cries herself to sleep
Tears of the moon, silver and moonshine...
As usual Serena frowned a little at the lines – she sounded like some kind of spoilt debutante – which of course she was – who didn't care about the plight of the world. Well, usually she was having too much fun to pay attention to all those boring fashion-victim groups blaring on the TV about their latest 'cause' – but that didn't mean that she wasn't aware. She drove an electric car and on Aaron's insistence the fridge was stocked with dolphin friendly tuna.
Serena sighed and flipped through her organizer – under today's date a giant DINNER WITH AARON was scrawled in red felt tip, with tiny sparkly purple hearts surrounding those words. But underneath in her agent's cramped hand was 'Opening of New African Collection at the Met, invite in your safe'.
Well, at least she wouldn't be bored tonight.
****************************
"You know you're the most inspirational person I've ever met," Aaron said dreamily to the girl in front of him, ignoring the babble of his friends. He was aware of being slightly drunk. And unfaithful. "Really I mean I could write a song about you right now."
The girl looked slightly bored
"So go on then," she said irritably
Aaron cleared his throat and began to sing in his herbal cigarette ragged baritone;
"Blood red lips reflect the carmine state of this world,
Don't you know you're driving me crazy girl,
Can't be with you can't be alone..."
He got up suddenly and spent the rest of the night in the bathroom, writing what was sure to be his next hit 'Blood Red Lips'.
When Aaron emerged the club he and the guys had moved on to after Michelangelo's was empty. His head was buzzing and he walked over to the abandoned bar, leaning over to nicked a Peach Breezer. Leaving a few crumpled bills on the bar counter. Ah, very righteous as always. As he swallowed it he felt his head clear.
He flipped through his notepad. All his songs were based on his life – 'Herbal Cigarettes', 'Junk Food and a Motel Room', 'Step-sister', 'Taboo Affection', 'Interview', 'Vegan Lifestyle' and 'Death of a Dog', which was about his beloved Mookie, who had passed away six months ago. Now he had 'Blood Red Lips', a haunting song about meeting the angel of death, to add to them. He couldn't wait to get to work recording his new CD.
You know the drill, please R/R ! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. I'm not happy with the current title; please leave suggestions in your reviews! The next chapter has been written; it's in the process of being edited. Kate & Chloe xx
