The Curious Case of Misty Bass

by EZ11

Living a life full of secrets, Bart Bass' mysterious past is one he'd like to forget. But when Chuck stumbles upon his biggest secret of all, the Basses will never be the same again. If having two Basses is company, then three is definitely a crowd. R&R!

34. How to Succeed in Bassness

A/N: Hey everyone! As promised, I am back with another update. As you may have read from my author page, I've been participating in NANOWRIMO this month with this story. I was doing so well until this weekend happened. I was writing consistently for the first two weeks, but the past few days have been brutal. It's quite the challenge! The good news is that I have half of the month to makeup my lack of writing to reach the 50k goal. Wish me luck?

Rating: There is one scene that is rated M in this chapter.

Anyway, happy reading!

---

Chapter 33: How to Succeed in Bassness

---

They say the clothes make a man, but who makes the clothes? On the Upper East Side, it's Eleanor Waldorf, and we hear her clothes are to die for…suburban kids? Fashion may be on hard times, but we hear that times are even harder for Blair Waldorf. Who is a fallen queen without her minions? She may have C by her side, but we hear she is currying no favour with her dorm mates. Looks like this ex-queen is no more than a commoner herself.

The last remnants of snow disappeared from the sidewalks, curbs, and parks of Manhattan when April arrived. Fresh green leaves grew on tress, and the patches of grass, mostly in Central Park, gave its first exhale. It rained often, and when it didn't, leaky eaves troughs dripped on the most unassuming pedestrians on the street.

Chuck and Blair were seated in one of the best off-campus restaurants, Max Soha, for lunch. Rain clicked against the window overlooking their table, and Blair focused on the menu with great concentration. Chuck, who already knew what he wanted, closed the menu.

He felt Blair hook her leg with his under the table. She rubbed the top of her foot along his calf slowly and back down again. Blair looked at him with the same concentration she had with her menu.

"Is there something you want to ask me?" He said.

"It's been awhile."

"Do you have a suggestion on what we can do about it?"

The waitress appeared to take their order. Chuck ordered a club sandwich, and Blair ordered a salad. The waitress asked several times to confirm the order. Blair couldn't control the annoyed scowl that crossed her face when the waitress asked to repeat her order.

When the waitress finally walked away, Blair said, "Does anything inspire you here?"

Chuck looked around the place. It was well lit, lacked any hallways or nooks, and was busy with the lunch time rush. "Our options seem a bit limited here. Maybe we could take a ride in the limo before your next class? For old time's sake?"

"I can't. I have to go to the atelier after lunch," Blair said. "I've been meaning to tell you, but you've been busy working with your Uncle lately."

"I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be," Blair put her hand over his. "I've never seen you so passionate about something. Not to mention, this will look good on your resume."

Of course, Blair would think of this opportunity as a way to leap to another opportunity. Her resume was full when she was applying to colleges. "I never thought I'd be interested in taking over the company," Chuck said.

"It never crossed your mind?"

"No. My dad never said I'd take over. He never really involved me with any business matter until Victrola, but that's its own investment. It's small really in comparison to everything other property in the Bass Industries portfolio."

"Well I think as long as you like it and you're happy, then this might be your calling. Don't be too hard on your dad. Running Bass Industries is a lot and he's quite busy. I think it's great that your Uncle has been there for you the past few months."

"Me too. He says, if this deal goes through, I can oversee the construction of the building in the summer."

"Chuck, that's amazing!"

"Don't celebrate just yet. The deal hasn't been signed yet."

"It will. You've worked so hard on this. It's going to work out."

The waitress returned with their meals. Blair grimaced when the plate thumped against the wooden table, almost knocing over her glass of water in the process.

"So why do you have to go to the Atelier?"

"My mom's been working on this new junior clothing line for big box department stores, and she's having a fashion show this weekend. I don't know all the details, but I assume all of the prospective buyers will be there. I'm helping out managing backstage, the seating chart, the usual."

"Will Serena be waiting with you in the wings?"

Blair sighed. "She can't. She has two term papers due on Monday. It'll be just me."

"And me. I'll come of course."

Blair smiled. "Thank you. I just don't understand why she would want to make this jump. My mom has done only high fashion, I mean why would you want to do anything else?"

"I'm sure she has many business reasons."

"Still. It's an insult to fashion. Waldorf women are not JC Penny material."

He chuckled. "This isn't a tragedy Blair."

"It is! The minute she goes public and appeals to department stores, the prestige of our brand will tank. We'll be the next Coach."

Blair's phone rang. "It's Mother. I have to go."

She kissed him goodbye and left her salad untouched.

---

Evelyn found Jenny without her minions in the courtyard during lunch. Jenny had her head resting on her folded arms. Her eyes were closed, revealing dark grey lids, artfully blended. Most people tend to look peaceful when they slept, but Jenny appeared more stressed in her sleep from her clenched jaw and furrowed brows.

Evelyn swept Jenny's hair away from her face. Jenny's eyes opened wide, and she sat up.

"Sorry to disturb your slumber," Evelyn said. She set her lunch on the table.

Jenny rubbed her face, careful to avoid her eye makeup. "I can't believe I fell asleep." She checked her watch and twisted from side to side. Any Gossip Girl sighting in her state was not good for her Queen reputation.

"Are you okay?" Without thinking, Evelyn had her fingers around her locket.

"Yeah," Jenny sighed. "I've just been so busy this week. You know, Eleanor invited me to help with her new fashion line which is great—"

"Um yes! But didn't she fire you?"

"Well yes, but she was so stuck for inspiration that she rehired me."

For someone who believed that the world was against her because she was from a different borough, she sure knew how to climb her way to the top. Evelyn realized how lucky she was to have her father. He was one of the most important yet persuasive people in New York. She saw that same quality in Jenny and admired her for it.

"Do you go afterschool to help then?"

"Yes. Sorry for not responding to your text last night, but this whole week I've been going straight to the atelier after school. I don't know if I'm going to make it through the week because I'm so exhausted."

"Do you need me to do anything to help?"

"No. I sent the minions away to do all of my homework and errands. Just come to the show on Saturday. It would mean a lot for you to be there."

"Of course, I'll be there," Evelyn said. "I wouldn't miss it."

Jenny's phone vibrated on the table. She snatched it quickly, but not quick enough for Evelyn to see the name 'THOM' on the phone. Evelyn dropped her necklace and leaned forward over Jenny's shoulder. Jenny quickly pocked the phone with a blank expression on her face.

'What?"

"Since when do you speak with Thom Taylor?"

She shrugged. "Sera thought it would be funny to give him my number. All he does is send me dick picks. It's disgusting really."

"Why would Sera do that?"

"I don't know. Thought it would be a way to undermine me with Catherine I guess? She's currently at the bottom of the minion totem pole, so we're even now."

Evelyn opened her lunch and they began to eat and catch up. It was like old times where they talked about nothing and everything all at once. Evelyn did her best to cheer Jenny up with her stories from Connecticut. Those stories from her embarrassed youth usually guaranteed a laugh, but the small smile Jenny gave her was enough to know she was feeling better.

Evelyn felt a gust of wind beside her when someone said, "Ladies."

Dash looped his one leg over the bench and faced Evelyn sidways. His arms snaked around Evelyn's waist, and he kissed her. Evelyn kissed him back briefly before remembering that Jenny was there.

Evelyn's cheeks flushed, as she turned to Jenny. "Sorry," she said. Jenny, who had turned to look away shrugged again.

"So what are we talking about?"

Evelyn turned to Dash, feeling his hand rub circles on her lower back. "Jenny just invited me to a fashion show this weekend. She's helping with the designs alongside Eleanor Waldorf."

"I thought fashion week was in February?"

"Eleanor is starting a new line for big retailers like Conwells," Jenny said. "The big reveal is this weekend."

"She's going commercial?" Dash asked.

Jenny nodded. "It's going to be great," her voice perked up for the first time.

Evelyn hooked her arm around Dash's waist and asked, "Do you want to go with me?"

"Yeah, of course," Dash said. "I'll come after Ozzy's meet in the afternoon."

"He has a meet this weekend?"

"Regionals."

Evelyn frowned. "You never told me." Ever since Valentine's Day, she had barely seen Ozzy around school. She wanted to speak with him in private, but there never seemed to be an opportunity.

"Well, why don't we go to the meet and then fashion show after dinner?"

Dash pulled her closer to him. "I would, but Ozzy would rather have less spectators at this thing above anything else. I'm only going because his mom wants us to go as a family."

"Okay," Evelyn said, but she didn't feel okay at all. The longer it had been since Valentine's Day, the more she wondered how Ozzy was doing. She just needed proof with her own eyes that he was okay "He's okay, right?"

He dropped his hand from her back. "Yes, Evelyn," Dash exhaled. "Everything's back to normal. Stop worrying."

Evelyn didn't miss the exasperated tone in his voice. The bell rang and Jenny scurried off leaving mumbling something about tulle and fabrics. Evelyn and Dash still sat at the table, wordless. Evelyn packed her lunch away, and Dash waited for her to finish. He tried to touch her again, hold her by the waist, but Evelyn pushed his hand away.

"Fine," Evelyn said. "You're right. It's no big deal." The words felt heavy on her tongue. She believed that he thought Ozzy was okay, but she just had to know for herself. Was that so much of a problem?

"Good." He leaned forward and kissed her deeply. When they parted, he leaned his forehead against hers. "Are we still on afterschool?"

Evelyn swallowed. This wasn't worth fighting about. Instead, she pushed her feelings down and away like she did when she left Connecticut.

"Yes."

---

Coach Rodgers blew his whistle three times and said, "Alright boys. That's enough practice today. Come on in."

Ozzy climbed up the pool ladder, his muscles burning. For the past few weeks he dreaded going to practice. The lightness he felt when his body cut through the water didn't give him relief anymore. He didn't feel any sense of accomplishment when he touched the slick tile at the end of a race. His times had been slower than usual too. Most of all, he just felt indifferent to swimming. An emptiness filled him, he felt hollow, light enough to float in the water, but he didn't feel like moving in any direction.

He'd never felt this way about swimming before. He'd felt indifferent to many other responsibilities before, school especially, but this was different. Swimming was his method to avoid his problems, but now it had become a problem.

Ozzy trailed his teammates and grabbed a St. Jude's monogrammed towel.

"Alright, boys. You've all worked very hard for the past few months, and this weekend is our big meet. I know for some of you, this means college scouts will be watching. I know that you all have a great chance to do well this weekend. I'm not just saying this to make you feel good, but this is the best team St. Jude's has had in decades. Please don't forget to rest up tonight. Go to bed early, drink plenty of fluids and don't eat anything two hours before your first race. We'll be meeting up tomorrow at nine, so don't be late." Coach Rodgers put his hand in the circle of boys and said, "Alright, bring it in."

Ozzy rolled his eyes and was the last to put his hand in the circle. His lifted his arm limply along with everyone else and followed to the showers. He closed the curtain and stood under the hot water for minutes. He stared at the wall, that same hollowness encompassing his body to remain still.

A loud belch of laughter woke him and he washed up. When he walked to the locker room, only Dusty remained.

"Hey," Dusty said. "Excited for the meet tomorrow?"

Ozzy shrugged. "Trying not to think about it too much."

"Good thinking. Less pressure that way huh?" Dusty looked at his tied shoelace, his lips pursued. He untied the knot.

"Hopefully," Ozzy said. Once he finished drying himself off, he slipped on a fresh pair of boxers. "You feeling good about tomorrow?"

Dusty smiled, satisfied with his retied shoelace. He put his other foot on the bench and methodically tied the laces together. "I don't know. It's kind of a big deal for me. As much as I want to play it cool like you, this is my only chance to appeal to college scouts."

"You're the fastest person on the team," Ozzy said. He slipped a t-shirt over his head. "You'll do fine."

"I better," Dusty mumbled. His one laced bow was twice the size of the other. Dusty cursed and untied the laces.

Ozzy paused and watched Dusty hunch over his shoe, his clumsy hands attempting to retie the laces. "A swim scholarship is good, but it's not the end of the world if you don't get it right?"

Dusty stood up, his shoes now tied tightly. "Not exactly," he huffed. "Unlike you, I'm here on scholarship."

"Oh," Ozzy said. Although he was attending St. Jude's through full tuition, he knew his mom and him didn't always have an affluent lifestyle. In fact, this was the first time they were living an affluent life that he could remember. His mom never spoke finances to him, but she always found a way to make ends meet. Before they moved to Connecticut, he never thought he'd attend college, let along consider a scholarship to be possible.

"Yeah. If I don't get a scholarship, then that really limits my college options. Not to mention I'll be in hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt," Dusty said. "But you don't have to worry about that."

Ozzy didn't know what to say. He faced his locker, pulled on his loose track pants and packed his bag. "Where do you want to go for school?"

"I'm pretty indifferent honestly. So long as it's in the top NCAA division, I'll take it. South Carolina, Virginia Tech, Texas, Alabama…those kinds of schools."

"You'll totally get in. You can do the one hundred breast in just under a minute. Your time is competitive."

"On a good day," Dusty said. "The relay is important. I need to show how I can finish a longer race for the team. That'll distinguish me."

Ozzy shut his locker and looped his bag over his shoulder. "You got this." He patted Dusty's shoulder.

"Thanks man. You're not too bad yourself. You're the best at the five-hundred free style. You're coming up behind me."

"I dunno," Ozzy shrugged. "We'll see if tomorrow's a good day."

Dusty lifted his bulging backpack and hooked the straps on his shoulders. "Let's pray that happens. Anyway, I gotta go. Catch you tomorrow." As Dusty pushed through the locker room doors, he said, "Don't be late!"

Ozzy nodded, and slowly meandered out of the locker room. He wished he had one tenth of Dusty's drive and passion for swimming. He loved it as a recreational past time, but he never made it a goal to make something of it. The way Dusty always talked during practice made Ozzy believe that he would be successful. He cared, his future depended on this. For Ozzy, he just had to show up and support.

He walked through the empty halls, hearing his own footsteps echo behind him. In that moment, he realized that he was beginning to no longer give a damn about anything.

---

Chuck stopped by the penthouse for the first time in weeks. Nothing had changed since he left, or rather, Lily hadn't had any inclination to redecorate since he left. It still felt eerie coming home to a place that he felt like used to belong in. It was a more diluted feeling that he'd have if he went back to St. Jude's. He no longer was a student there, and going back as an adult would feel off-putting, like he no longer made up that place any more. It was just a place.

These fleeting thoughts were brushed away when Evelyn arrived. Her head was bowed to her phone, and she texted away to what he could only assume was her boyfriend.

"Feel free to give Dash my love too." He smirked.

Evelyn looked up and her face broke out into a smile. "Chuck! You're here." She ran over and tackled him with a bear hug. "I haven't seen you in forever."

"Likewise. Seems like you've been a bit…distracted." He pointed to her phone.

"Oh please." She rolled her eyes and put her phone on the table, facedown. "It's nothing. Really."

Chuck nodded.

"I'm serious!"

"I'm not disputing you." Chuck moved to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of scotch. "So. What have I missed since the last time we spoke?"

"School's whatever," Evelyn said. She sat on the sofa, and Chuck joined her. "Things are going well with Dash for the most part. Jenny and I are friends again. Dad and I had the boyfriend talk with a surprise guest from our Aunt Kim. It's been pretty uneventful. Really."

"Evidently," Chuck said. "So did Bart give you the talk, talk?"

Evelyn's eyes widen. "Oh my God. No! I already got it several times from Aunt Kim. Especially last week when she called me. But with dad, he and I acknowledged that Dash is a part of my life, and certain rules exist with him in it."

Chuck took a sip from his glass. "Interesting. Seems things have gotten stricter here since I left."

"What do you mean?"

He unbuttoned his suit jacket and leaned back in the sofa. "I suppose the standard is different for you since you are a girl, but I got to go as I pleased whenever, wherever."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "That's hardly surprising."

"It's only for your safety," Chuck said. "I doubt Bart's rules were that outrageous—unless he is trying to impress a new buyer?"

"Wrong. There was no ulterior motive."

"Well, there's a first for everything apparently." He took another swig of his scotch.

Evelyn tucked her legs under her. "You mean he's done this before?"

"Well, he tried to set some rules with Serena when we were beginning senior year. Tried to play the part of the big wholesome family. I guess no acting is required anymore."

"I see," Evelyn said. She pursed her lips and focused her gaze on a particular spot on the dark blue rug.

Chuck never took it offensively anymore that Bart always put the business first. It's just what Bass men do. Financial success trumped all other priorities as it provides every other necessity.

"So what have you been up to?" Evelyn asked, her attention snapping back to Chuck.

"Trying to get back on track with school. Things are going well with Blair too," Chuck said.

"I still can't believe you take school seriously now," Evelyn scoffed.

"It's college. It's completely different than high school. You'll see."

"So you're telling me that all your life consists of is schoolwork and Blair?"

Chuck smirked. "Please. Don't forget who you're talking too. I still go out with Nate multiple times a week, and I've been apprenticing with Jack on a new Bass Industries project when I can."

"Our Uncle Jack?"

"The one and only."

"Oh. I didn't even realize he was still in town. What's the project you're working on?"

"It's a new investment in Thailand. There's a beautiful building right in the centre of Bangkok that we want to buy and completely upgrade to add another hotel to the Bass brand. It's an up and coming economy, so we hope to break ground by the summer."

"Wow, that's a big deal."

"It is."

"What about Victrola?"

He shrugged. "I oversee it. It's a passion project of course, but this is on another level."

"Are you hoping to take this on as another project?" Evelyn asked.

"I'm still in school, and barely twenty, so that's impossible, but the experience of being a part of the decision process for every step is invaluable."

"I'm so proud of you, Chuck. I didn't know you were this interested in real estate development."

"I didn't either," Chuck said. "It snuck up on me."

Chuck drained his glass and felt his phone buzz in his pocket. It was Jack.

"This is Jack actually. I have to take this."

"No problem. Will I see you at Eleanor Waldorf's fashion show tomorrow?"

"You're going to that?"

She nodded.

"Definitely." He brought the phone up to his ear and answered. "Hello?"

"Chuck. We have a meeting with two Thai diplomats in a half an hour. How fast can you get to the Palace?"

Chuck checked his watch and waved to Evelyn over his shoulder. He was on Park Avenue. It wouldn't take him very long. "I'll be there right away."

---

"I have some very exciting news," Eleanor said as Blair arrived to the Waldorf penthouse that afternoon. It was the typical eve before the fashion show scene. Models were getting measured everywhere, and dressmakers made adjustments on sewing machines. Managers went around ordering people around. It was a snow globe flurry of activity.

"Mr. Conwell is flying in from Salt Lake City to see the show tonight," Eleanor said as she circled the room, waiting to point out any error she might find.

"Mr. Conwell?" Blair had never heard of him.

"He is the CEO of Conwells Department stores?"

Blair stared at her blankly.

"Blair," Eleanor dropped her hands to her sides. "It's the biggest retailer in the entire country and my first choice to carry the junior line."

Blair was stultified. "What about Barneys or Saks, or…Bloomingdales?"

"No my dear, high fashion has fallen on hard times. Mr. Conwell can put my line in over five thousand retail locations."

Blair was more repulsed by the minute. "Where Bristol Pailin shops?"

Eleanor moved to check one of the seamstresses. "Feed the masses, eat with the classes." She checked the stitching, pointing out an error before saying, "But you do raise a good point. My usual crowd of uptown socialites and boho fashionistas might give Mr. Conwell the wrong message. We need to surround him with wholesome American girls. The kind of girl he wants to shop at Conwells." Eleanor clapped her hands together. "I just had the most inspired idea."

"Dessert at Moma Foko after the show?"

"No." Eleanor shook her head fervently. "You should invite all of your college girlfriends to see the show tomorrow night."

"Mother.. it's-it's very last minute."

"But I need a gaggle of pink, tweed, college freshmen. Just bring ten or twenty. No more than thirty. Tell them how important it is to me. I need Mr. Conwell to say yes."

Blair smiled as her mother walked away to find another person to criticize. Blair turned to find Dorota watching by the side. She quickly scampered to Blair.

"But Miss Blair, you have no friends," Dorota said.

It wasn't entirely true. She did have her society, which was about seventy-five percent dominated by men. The handful of other women in the society either didn't like her, or were not wholesome. Not to mention the girls on her floor despised her, no matter how many times Joy has tried to change their minds.

Blair felt the gears getting into motion. "Actually," Blair said. "I think I know one person at Columbia who could help."

Blair would have never predicted months ago that she would be dialing the number of the only person who could help her in her time of need. Joy.

---

Bart arrived at the Penthouse after six that evening. It had been a busy day at work, packed with meetings, and the only thing he wanted was a scotch. The first thing he noticed on his arrival was Evelyn lying down on the couch, a Chemistry textbook propped up on her lap.

"You don't find your desk to be an optimal study spot?"

Evelyn peeked over her textbook. "I needed a change of scene. I wasn't feeling very motivated in my room."

Bart set his briefcase on the nearby chair and moved to the bar. "How was school today?"

"Not too eventful. Two of my teachers were sick today, so we didn't do much."

Bart poured himself a scotch. "And you don't have plans tonight?"

"Nope. I mean, I talked to Eric and we might watch a movie later, but I'm trying to keep up with everything since I'll be busy tomorrow." She shut her textbook and cleaned up her pens sprawled on the coffee table and closed her notebook. "Oh, you missed Chuck earlier. He came by."

"What for?"

"Just came by to say hi I think. He's been really busy with school, but also with helping Uncle Jack."

Bart set the crystal glass on the counter soundlessly. "Why is he helping your Uncle?"

"I don't know if I understood it exactly. He was talking about helping him with this deal in Thailand, potential expansion for Bass Industries, and that it's been pretty hands on."

"I see." His mind sped up, looping and curving at the possible thoughts and explanations as to why Jack would include Chuck in the business. Sure, he'd slowly been teaching Chuck the ropes, but he was still in school. He was very young. He had plenty of time ahead of him to get experience. There had to be an ulterior motive. There always was.

"Did Chuck say anything else?"

"Not really. He did define the work he did as apprenticeship though."

Bart turned away from her and took a drink. Chuck? Apprenticeship? Bart knew a classic Jack Bass scheme when he heard one. He was clearly using Chuck as free labour to get this deal off the ground, and to give him more leverage and a better reputation to the board. What Bart didn't understand was what he thought he'd achieve from this. He'd still be CEO. He didn't have any evidence that could create a non-confidence vote with the board members.

Still, the thought that Chuck had grown close to Jack unsettled him. He knew that his son was in danger of getting hurt, so what could he do about it? What could he do if Evelyn was the next target?

"Evelyn?"

"Yes?"

"If your Uncle approaches you to help with anything business related or for anything period, do not consent."

Evelyn furrowed her brows. "Why?"

"Because my brother—your uncle—is a person who always acts on his own interests. He's not always…trustworthy."

"But he's your brother."

"I know," Bart said. "It might be difficult for you to understand, but there is a reason why we live far apart. Just focus on school, your extracurriculars, and your friends. There's nothing to worry about, but just stay out of it."

Evelyn nodded vigorously. "I will."

"Good," Bart said.

If only Chuck could be as easily persuaded.

---

Blair walked as fast as her heels would allow through the hallways of Hartley Hall. She sighed when anyone obstructed her path, and even shouted at a couple of girls on their floor to move.

Since her mother asked her to invite her 'friends' at Columbia, she called Joy and agreed for a classified meeting in their dorm room immediately. While she hurried back to campus, she dreamed up different ways she could threaten the girls to attend the fashion show. It was one thing to scheme and plot for your own amusement, but it was completely different when you needed to scheme and plot to help someone. Her mom needed to impress whatever his name was to lock in the deal with Conwells. The last thing she wanted was to let her down.

Blair swung the door open, unaware that she opened it with such force that it slammed into the wall. Joy visibly jumped while her hand held up her cellphone.

"I'll call you later, Simon. Blair's here."

Joy hung up, and witnessed Blair begin to pace the length of her twin bed. Her hands were rooted on her hips, her Chanel purse pinned to her hip.

"You said you needed my help," Joy said. "What's going on?"

Blair abruptly stopped pacing. "My mom is staging a pop-up shop fashion show tomorrow for her new junior line. She hopes it'll appear in stores like…Conwells? Have you heard of it?"

"Of course. My mom loves shopping there."

"Great," Blair said in a monotone voice. "You are their target market then?" Blair gave her a once over, her teeth clenching. Joy wore a baggy dark purple sweater dress over argyle patterned black stockings.

Blair shook her head. "Anyway, my mom suggested inviting my closest friends from Columbia to attend the show tomorrow."

"Okay," Joy said. "So you're going to invite your society members?"

Blair blanched. "You know?"

She shrugged. "Simon told me."

"Is anything sacred anymore?" She mumbled to herself. "Those friends… aren't the target market for this line, you know?"

"And I am?"

Blair smiled. "See? I'm glad you're keeping up."

"Me, at a fashion show?"

Blair swallowed hard and winced. "Yes."

"Even though you always look at me like I'm a fashion disaster?"

"It could give you inspiration. And it wouldn't be just you," Blair said. "My mom suggested that I invite…twenty, maybe thirty girls."

Joy's eyes widened. "Ohhh," she said in one long breath. "That's why you need me."

"I was going to invite you regardless," Blair said.

"You don't have to lie Blair. You need twenty, maybe thirty girls to attend, and you want to invite the girls in our building, right?"

Blair picked a piece of lint off her skirt. "That was the general idea."

"And you need me because no one will go if you ask?"

"Maybe they would," Blair said. "But they might be more swayed to come if you ask them."

"Why don't we ask them together?"

Blair scoffed. "That won't go over well. Maybe we could bribe them? What do you think they wouldn't be able to say no to?"

"We are not going to try to bribe them!" Joy said. "We will ask nicely. We'll package it like it's a bonding night."

"An exclusive bonding night," Blair added.

"Sure. We can do that too. We'll call a meeting in the movie theatre in an hour. Sound good?"

Blair nodded. They sent out messages on their Facebook group, sent texts, and knocked on doors. Well, Joy did all of that, but Blair brainstormed arguments she could make during the meeting that might incentivize them to come.

Soon, Blair followed Joy to the movie theatre room. It was packed with almost all of the girls they lived with. The room was already hot from all of the chatter, and many girls glared as Blair passed.

Joy held her arms above her head and clapped three times. Many of the girls started to catch on, and the hushed whispers and laughter receded. Blair watched in astonishment how Joy was able to silence a room like that.

"Thank you everyone for coming on such short notice," Joy said. "My roommate Blair and I came across this opportunity tomorrow night that we wanted to share with all of you. Blair, since you found this opportunity, why don't you tell us what it's about?"

Blair's eyes widened. She could feel the burning rage and disgust radiate from the bodies in front of her. "Hi everyone. As some of you may know, my mom is a clothing designer. Tomorrow, she is launching a new junior line, and you are all invited to the fashion show."

There was no emphatic reaction. No squealing. Just blank stares and whispers.

"This is really important for Blair's mom, and she'd really appreciate if we all could go together. You know, in solidarity," Joy said.

"Why should we go?" One girl asked in the back. "She's been nothing but a bitch to us from the start."

'She insulted my shoes!"

"She said my hair was flat!"

More instances were voiced in the room. Blair felt heat rise in her cheeks and her gaze found the floor, shoulders slumped.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Joy said. "I know you all have your…reasons for not getting along with Blair, but you have to understand that a critical deal is on the horizon. If tomorrow goes well, her mother's clothes would be in Conwells."

"More of a reason to boycott!" Another voice said.

"Wait!" Joy said. "I know the year's almost over, and there is clearly a lot of drama and tension in this room, but remember what we all said we wanted when we started school this year? We said that this was our time to start a new chapter in our lives. We all wanted to try new things, find ourselves, all of that stuff. We wanted to take every opportunity that was presented to us. So let me ask you something. When else will you have the opportunity to attend a fashion show in the front row? When else will you be able to meet the CEO of Conwells? When else will you be able to look from left to right at all your friends who are going to share such a glamorous night with you? Pettiness aside, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for all of us in this room. I think we can't waste that."

The room was quiet. Some girls smiled, those who Blair didn't know were close with Joy.

"So are you coming?"

The room whooped and cheered for the first time.

"We'll even arrange transportation," Joy added. She turned to Blair for confirmation that this was okay.

Blair nodded. "Yes. We'll rent a…bus to take us to and from."

"And alcohol?"

"There's an open bar at the after party," Blair said.

Everyone cheered even louder.

"Alright!" Joy said. "We'll send out a google doc tonight to organize this, but we'll meet at the front foyer tomorrow at five. See you then!"

The girls clapped and then began to leave the theatre. Blair watched them all resume their chatter, but then looked at Blair with amazement.

"How'd you do that?"

Joy grinned. "You don't always have to argue with fear. You can argue to cater to people's emotions and more importantly values. It's basic rhetoric."

Whenever Blair tried that approach, she always came across as inauthentic and insincere. When Joy did it, she was able to move a crowd to do what she wanted them to do. It was almost magical. Blair always thought rhetoric was only useful for evil. It always served her well in every scheme, but now she wondered if rhetoric could be used for good. Had it ever been used for those purposes in the past?

Regardless of its use, Blair recognized a strength in Joy that couldn't be replicated. When Joy first told her she wanted to be a lawyer, she almost laughed. It was inconceivable to her that Joy could ever command a crowd, or ever convince them to take action. Now, Joy's future as a lawyer was looking brighter and not merely possible, but probable.

"Come on," Blair said. "We need to find you something to wear tomorrow."

---

After the eighth ring, Ozzy mustered the strength to roll over and snooze his alarm clock the next morning. He set his alarm for seven, his usual wake-up time for school, and rolled back over.

It was meet day, and Ozzy was completely apathetic to it. He was scheduled to run three races over the course of the day: the one hundred back stroke, one hundred breast stroke, and the five hundred freestyle. Nothing excited him about competing. Instead, he'd rather stay swaddled in his comforter.

Ozzy's door squeaked open. Great. He knew who was supposed to wake him if he slept in. The wooden floors creaked as the person approached his bed, footsteps silencing once on the rug, and his alarm went off again. He pretended not to hear it and kept his eyes firmly shut.

"I swear, you sleep like you're dead," Dash mumbled.

Dash threw off his comforter, a woosh sound echoing in his room. He felt the air prickle his bare torso and tensed. He rolled over and sat up immediately.

"What the fuck?" He spat.

"Dude, relax. I'm waking you up. Apparently, I'm better at it then your own alarm," Dash said.

Ozzy rubbed his eyes and got ready. He continued through his usual routine: brushed his teeth, washed his face and got changed. When he slung his bag over his shoulder and descended the staircase, he was surprised to find the kitchen light on. Inside, his mom was making breakfast, something she hadn't done in years. Philip was using his phone and sipping a tea, and Dash hovered over the bacon and eggs that sizzled on the cooktop.

It was a sight that he only dreamed of in his most absurd fantasies. It appeared that a full functioning family was getting ready for the day. The mom cooked the meal, the father waited to be fed, an older brother lingered, ready to noogie him. Ozzy felt like he stepped outside himself and into another life, a life he didn't think he deserved.

His mother smiled when she noticed him. "How's our swimmer feeling this morning?"

"Fine," he said. He looked past her, at the eggs, whole grain toast and yogurt parfaits that were lined up on the counters.

"You are going to be better than fine after breakfast. I'm following exactly what Coach Rodgers instructed would be the best thing to eat before your first race just before eleven."

His mom handed Dash a plate full of bacon and sausages to put on the table. She then filled another plate with scrambled eggs and carried another plate of buttered toast to the table. Ozzy took a seat in the booth, half mesmerized, half confused at the behaviour of those around him.

When everything was set on the table, they began eating. It was a quiet affair. He was asked a few questions, but his mom swatted them away with the excuse that he was waking up. Dash carried the conversation with his father, and Ozzy continued to eat. He listened but didn't contribute to the conversation, as if he were a passenger at the table. Instead, his thoughts meandered through self-loathing thoughts.

Why didn't he care to try today? He wasn't good enough, surely that was evident. He would only waste their time. He would waste his mom's time, who wanted him to get into Harvard. Why the hell would these people care about his performance? He wasn't good enough to get into Harvard. He couldn't think of a reason why they'd want him. No one seemed to these days.

He followed his family to the waiting limo. They drove to the pool where hundreds of boys and their families congregated. His mom gave him a hug, and wished him luck. Then Philip and Dash did the same. He nodded, eyes avoiding their gazes.

His mom lingered. She told Philip and Dash to find seats in the bleachers. She grabbed on to Ozzy's arm. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. It's fine."

"You said that earlier today," She said. "You don't seem like yourself."

Like she knew who he was. He shrugged.

"Don't shrug," His mom said. "Are you nervous?"

"I'm indifferent."

"Indifferent? You trained for months and now you're indifferent?"

"Yes."

"Ozzy. That can't be true."

"Well, it is."

She stared at him, trying to diagnose what was wrong with him. Her vision was not certified to identify such ailments. "No matter what happens, I love you."

"I love you too." He replied. The words tumbled together, like a Jenga tower collapsing on itself.

She kissed his cheek and then gave him another hug. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

He proceeded to prepare for his first race, watched earlier heats, saw Dusty compete and win his heat for the one hundred breast stroke. He stretched, listened to music, and eventually changed.

When it was time for his first race, the one-hundred-meter breast stroke, he lined up behind his competitors, some taller, some shorter. He looked into the crowd of people, some carried signs, other hollered. He wasn't looking for his family, but his eyes happened to find them. Dash waved, and his mother watched him intently while gripping the handles of her purple purse on her lap.

Ozzy stepped up on the platform and adjusted his cap and goggles. He took a deep breath and shook out his arms and legs. When he looked into the water, it's depths bewitched him. He remembered why he liked it so much. He liked the feeling of being weightless that water provides. The waves always dulled the impact of any pain.

Now, as he waited for the countdown, he reimagined what the water meant to him. Instead of floating, he wondered what it would feel like to sink. He wondered what it felt like to feel a weight pull him down further and further until he hit the bottom of the pool. How long would it take? How deep would it be? Water was just as much of a burden as the solids surrounding the pool. It's lightness and weight were one, not equal, but a battle, in which an individual decides which will win.

The announcer called the swimmers to take their position. He hunched over his feet, shaking these odd thoughts away and waited for the buzz sound. He didn't look at his competition, or the people in the stands, or the clock mounted on the wall ahead of them. He drowned them all out and decided to swim as fast as he could. If he didn't, he knew he'd sink. Possibly drown.

The buzzer went off, and he dove in the pool.

---

Chuck stood up to shake hands with the last board member of Bass Industries. His name was Bruce Caplan, and he was Business Manager of the Bass Corporation. He was an older man, no younger than sixty, his hair suspiciously dark yet receding. He'd been one of the few board members to welcome Victrola into the Bass portfolio, and he was just as welcoming of their new building investment in Thailand.

Bruce shook hands with Jack first and then Chuck. He'd grown up with the man attending all of the holiday parties and social functions. Chuck remembered that he and his wife were quite the philanthropists, but he couldn't recall which foundation they supported.

They waited for Bruce to leave the bar before Jack collapsed back into the booth. "That's the last one," he said. He rubbed his tied eyes and yawned.

All week they'd been meeting up with board members with a soft sell pitch for the building investment. It was better to know where each board member stood, as they were more willing to discuss their reservations one on one before the formal meeting. Most had been on board, and their only concerns could be debated with the backings of thorough research. It had been grueling, and Chuck did miss most of his classes that week, but if everything went through, it would be worth it.

Chuck leaned against the booth. Unlike his Uncle, he felt energized. He was exploding with ideas lately for Bass Industries, and he couldn't wait for this deal to pass to share it with Jack.

"We can add Bruce to the support column," Chuck added. They had been keeping a tally of who was in favor or against the project, but there were a handful of board members who were undecided.

"Bruce is a risk taker. That helps," Jack said.

"You okay?"

Jack shook himself awake. "Yup. I didn't sleep last night, but I'll survive. Want to celebrate our hard work with drinks tonight?"

"I would, but I can't. Blair's mom is hosting a fashion show, and I said I'd go support."

"Wow. How dutiful."

"Another time?"

"I guess. But that's the second time you've blown me off. You now owe me twice."

"Hey why don't you come tonight?" Chuck. "There will be lots of models and socialites that would probably be interested in an after party?"

Jack was pensive for a moment. "What the hell. Why not? I probably shouldn't go to the strip club anyway. I think I'm one weekend away from being a regular."

-/

Evelyn arrived at the Waldorf Penthouse after lunch on Saturday. Around her, models stood still for last-minute fittings. But it was the first time Evelyn had been to the Waldorf Penthouse. Its size didn't overwhelm her like it would have last year, but it's marble pillars, spiralling staircase, and antique furniture that was clearly passed down from generations did.

Evelyn weaved through the working people, looking for Jenny. Everything was a flurry of fabrics, measuring tapes, and safety pins. The first person Evelyn recognized was Blair approaching her.

"Blair."

"Bass," she sounded tickled, curious why she would be in her own family home. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Jenny. Have you seen her?"

"Yes," Blair said. "She's with my mom right now." She pointed to where Eleanor Waldorf and Jenny spoke in hushed tones.

"Are you coming to the show tonight?" Blair said. "I'm in charge of the seating chart and I didn't come across your name."

"I am, but Jenny wanted me to be backstage with her."

"Oh. I didn't realize Jenny got to make special requests," Blair said.

Jenny appeared with Eleanor who exclaimed, "Blair! Stop distracting everyone. Let's talk about the seating chart."

Blair smirked and followed her mother while Jenny approached her. "This is exactly how you described it," Evelyn said.

Jenny massaged the back of her neck. "You should have seen it last night. It was even worse."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I slept here last night," Jenny said. "It wasn't as comfortable as you think."

"Do you need a coffee or anything?"

"Oh my God. A coffee would be great."

"And I will get that for you from the kitchen. If you need anything else, let me know," Evelyn said. "Today, I am here to help you."

Jenny collapsed into her. "Thank you," she said. "You have no idea how tired I am."

"I know, but all of your hard work will be worth it!"

"Jenny!" Eleanor called. "This model has been waiting ten minutes to be fitted. Can you please."

"Of course, Eleanor."

Jenny huffed and approached the model. Evelyn followed her, momentarily forgetting about the coffee she promised.

The model turned, her thin brown hair moved over her shoulder like a silk curtain. "Hey, bitch."

Evelyn looked between the two, and back to Jenny for her reaction. She looked unfazed, even though she recognized the model before her.

"Agnes," She said curtly. "What are you doing here?"

Looks like J has seen a ghost fitted in Eleanor Waldorf designs. Better be armed with pins, J, because who knows if this doll is coming after you.

---

"What are you doing here?" Jenny repeated. Jenny's eyes were wide, her hands on her hips.

"Didn't Eleanor tell you?" She's a big believer in second chances, and she rehired me."

"Oh," Jenny said. "That's, um, that's great. How-how've you been?"

She flashed a circular red chip attached to a keychain. "I'm ninety days sober with AA."

"Good. That's good to hear," Eleanor said as she breezed past them. "Now Jenny, please get Agnes fitted. I like to see my elves busy. Clock's ticking!"

Evelyn watched Jenny's reaction. So far, she struggled to play it cool like she'd seen her do effortlessly on the steps. Her hands weren't on her hips anymore, but rather crossed across her chest, and she tried to smile.

"Why don't you go put on the dress you'll be wearing for the show, and then we'll get started?"

Agnes agreed and left to change.

Once Agnes's back was facing them, Evelyn grabbed Jenny by the arm. "Agnes? Why does that name ring a bell?"

"It's because I told you about her," Jenny said, dazed. "She was the model I staged a gorilla fashion show with—"

"Oh my God, and the one that torched your dresses? That crazy person?"

Jenny sighed. "The one and only."

"Oh my God. What are you going to do?"

"I-I guess I have to fit her."

"Fit her?" Evelyn said. "She's unstable at best, unhinged at worst. Aren't you a little nervous that she might flip out again?"

"Look, maybe I'll just talk to her, apologize, and set things straight."

"Why should you be the one to apologize? You didn't do anything wrong."

"That's not entirely true. I tried to cut her out of our business when I approached different buyers alone. Besides, if I want to be a professional, I need to act professional."

Agnes soon appeared wearing a short plaid dress.

"Okay, I'll be over by those finished dresses if you need help," Evelyn whispered.

"Actually, I do need a coffee—"

"Right! Coffee. Coming right up."

Evelyn darted away, but watched as Jenny picked up a measuring tape from her toolbox. She hesitated, her eyes on the floor before she spoke. Evelyn lingered. The coffee could wait. A chance at new information could not.

"Look, Agnes. I'm sorry for how everything went down. I shouldn't have gone behind your back and tried to cut you out of the fashion line."

Agnes cocked her head to the side. "Nah. I was gonna quit anyway. Those dresses were lame."

"Agnes, I'm trying to apologize. You trusted me and I betrayed you…I was wrong and I'm sorry."

Agnes was quite for a moment. "I'm sorry I torched your dresses. Truth is, they were amazing."

"So are we over it?" Jenny asked.

Agnes stretched her arms out. "I missed you bitch!"

Evelyn rolled her eyes as they embraced like nothing ever happened. Jenny didn't think that crazy person was serious, did she? There is no way someone that unpredictable could ever be trusted again. She turned and moved to the kitchen where several coffee machines were lined up on the counter, ready for anyone who needed a fresh brew.

There was something she didn't trust about Agnes. She seemed cold and distant at first, but was quick to warm up as soon as Jenny apologized. If anything, she needed to keep an extra close watch on her. What made Evelyn uneasy was knowing that she wasn't fully sure of what Agnes was capable of or if she truly had forgiven Jenny.

Evelyn returned to Jenny's side with a coffee cup in her hand. She waited as the two laughed together after Agnes said, "We're total bitches!"

Jenny noticed Evelyn and smiled. "Your coffee. Like you asked like forever ago," Evelyn said.

"Thanks. Oh, Agnes? This is my friend Evelyn. Evelyn this is Agnes."

Evelyn offered her hand and noticed that Agnes's hand was limp in hers. It slithered through her grip.

"Bass right? I remember hearing about you last spring in the tabloids."

"That would be me. Jenny and I go to the same school."

"You are so lucky to go to the same school as Jenny. She's a really cool bitch," Agnes said.

"I know." Evelyn turned to Jenny. "Should I just meet you backstage at five so you can finish up here?"

"Oh yeah, that would be a good idea. I've still got a lot of things to do here. Thanks again for the coffee."

"Anytime. Nice to meet you, Agnes."

Evelyn picked up her things and left the Waldorf penthouse. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw Agnes bent over what looked like her purse. She picked out a clear bag of something. To Evelyn, it looked like colourful candies. Evelyn turned around before she could see Agnes stuff the clear bag of candies into another bigger purse. All of this happened when Jenny wasn't looking.

---

"I still can't believe you came in first by two tenths of a second. It was like, watching the Olympics," Dash said.

Ozzy couldn't believe it either. He placed first in the five-hundred-meter free style, and placed third and fourth in his other races. When it was time to perform, the water helped drown out all of the voices, self-loathing, and worries that continued to swirl in his head.

"I got lucky," Ozzy shrugged.

"No. You have a freakish ability to hold your breath underwater for over two minutes. That's what made the difference," Dusty said from across the table.

After such an impressive performance that day, Coach Rodgers called the whole team to go out for dinner. Parents and family members were invited as well. It was the first time he spent time outside practice with his team mates. Fortunately, there was no competition or rivalries between members. They all got along well and were civil to each other. Some were closer to others. It was the way it usually went.

"Well you did well too," Ozzy said. "You won all three of your races today."

Dusty nodded. "Thanks. Let's hope it's enough. I mean, it's good that we both won today, but there are so many other's competing in different states. Nationals is going to be intense."

Nationals. Ozzy hadn't really thought about that. Now that he won the five-hundred-meter freestyle in his year, he would have to go on and compete against the best of the best in the country. He couldn't imagine what kind of training that would involve. Nationals would take place in a matter of weeks.

"Where is it this year?"

"I think Los Angeles. They tend to pick cities that have the best facilities. LA is good for that."

He didn't hate the idea of returning to Los Angeles. Out of all the places he lived, he quite liked it. Well, he didn't particularly enjoy the traffic, but he enjoyed the sunny weather and laid-back lifestyle.

Ozzy set down his utensils on his empty plate. He was famished when they got to the restaurant after competing and waiting for his races all day. Now, he was so full he wanted to lie down and sleep.

He looked down the table and saw his Mom seated across from Coach Rodgers. All of the parents sat together while the boys sat on the other end of the table. It was still weird for Ozzy to see his mother, present at this event. She was so excited when he won the five-hundred, she stood up and gave him an ovation. He didn't see it, but Dash told him it happened.

It all was too good to be true. He wanted to believe things had changed with his mother, but he was just waiting for something else get her attention. Something else would inevitably be more important. He never thought he would ever capture her importance once again. It was too premature to assume that her change in behaviour would be permanent, so Ozzy waited for the tide to turn.

Ozzy's phone buzzed in his pocket. As Dusty and Dash talked, he checked it under the table.

Congrats on winning your race today! If you want to celebrate tonight, come over. I'm home alone, and I can offer you two types of dessert ;)

Although she didn't say it, Ozzy was surprised that Catherine was also there to cheer him on. He didn't see her in the stands, which relieved him, but he only mentioned the meet once. He was beginning to believe that people didn't actually listen when you talked to them. They would only hear what they wanted to hear, like Dash, while the rest of the information was purged. Maybe he didn't have to think that way about everyone. Maybe there were other people out there who paid attention, but he didn't always notice.

He re-read her message. Dessert? He knew what she meant by that and he was intrigued. Sure, he was tired and had to wake up early the next day, but maybe he could sneak out and see her when they got home? He hadn't seen her that week, he had practice before and after school alternating every day.

Besides. Now that he did well today, he did feel pressure to perform the relay tomorrow morning. Dusty was counting on him to perform at his best, so he got get a full-ride scholarship. That expectation was almost too much to bear. Why was Dusty's fate suddenly in his hands? The idea that he had that much power and influence unnerved him. He didn't want it. He didn't want anyone depending on him. Maybe it would be a good thing to go see Catherine, to let loose, decompress and forget about these expectations. The less he thought about them the better.

He typed under the table, careful that Dash wouldn't see who he was texting. He wrote:

Thanks. At dinner with the team. Will find a way to visit you after.

---

Evelyn found Jenny backstage in the early evening. Jenny was busy adjusting the collar of one of the girl's dresses. She checked each of the girls to ensure that they were ready for the show.

"Come on people! The show will be starting in an hour."

Jenny turned to Evelyn who was mesmerized with the bustling activity and energy backstage. It was different than being backstage for the 'Age of Innocence' play. Julian's leadership was more of a dictatorship, and everyone was apathetic to be there. This was completely different. Everyone was getting ready, talking and laughing together like a family.

"So what do you think?" Jenny motioned to the room behind the scenes.

"It's really exciting," Evelyn said. Evelyn couldn't help but think of her mom. She thought back to the pictures she'd seen of her modeling days, and she felt strangely closer to her

Jenny smiled and reached for her glass of water by her personal table. "I know right? No matter how tired I am, I always get a thrill before show time." She drank the entire glass and set it back down.

Evelyn turned again to see the flurry of activity. Her eyes landed on Agnes. Instead of sitting at her makeup table, she had a purse slung over her shoulder. She opened it, and seemed to be giving every model something.

"What's Agnes doing?" Evelyn wondered.

Jenny turned, and her eyes widened. "Oh my God." She raced to Agnes and pulled her by the arm. "Agnes. Where did you get that?"

"What? It's not like you're going to do anything with it. It's just a little party," Agnes said.

"What about your ninety days?" Evelyn added. She looked inside her purse and saw hundreds of bags of different coloured pills. Were those Jenny's? Why on Earth would Jenny have those pills?

Agnes rolled her eyes and turned to Jenny. "Look, I need the Waldorf's of the world to think that I'm working in programs to get jobs."

"Yeah, but I'm not going to risk you ruining the show."

"What are you going to do? Tell Eleanor that her models are high on your stash?"

"I will tell her exactly what happened," Jenny said, her voice low. "You know, this is my second chance and you might not want to change your life, but I certainly want to change mine."

"We'll see if you can even think straight enough to tell her," Agnes said. She pointed to the water empty water glass.

"You didn't…"

"My hand slipped. I just wanted you to join the party too."

Eleanor appeared at the curtain and said, "Jenny? Is everything alright?" Blair appeared behind her. A girl Evelyn hadn't seen before was at her side. Agnes scampered away, the pills still in her purse.

"Yes. Everything's great."

Eleanor disappeared behind the curtain. "Jenny." Evelyn said. "Why do you have a stash of pills?"

"Evelyn, they aren't mine I swear. I have no idea where she got them from." Jenny began to sway slightly. She put her hand on her forehead and said, "I'm starting not to feel well."

Evelyn gripped Jenny's arm and turned to Blair. "Blair! Blair!"

With an irritated look on her face, Blair approached. "What do you want?"

"We have a situation," Evelyn said. Jenny began taking big breaths. "One of the models may have snuck in a stash of pills and distributed them to everyone."

"What!" Blair shrieked. "Everyone's high? Even Jenny?"

Jenny began to sway even more. Evelyn carried her to her chair and held her up. "Jenny?" Evelyn said. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," Jenny said. "I-I"

The models had gotten rowdier. Some began dancing in their seats, others twirling in their dresses. Soon enough, they wouldn't be able to walk straight down the catwalk.

"Blair. These models can't go out there. We need to do something."

"First, we have to get the rest of the stash so we can possibly salvage some of the models. Then, we need to kick these models out. I'll make some calls, but you are going to need to get fitted immediately."

"Me?" Evelyn said. "Why?"

"You're sober. You're tall enough. You're going to model one of my mom's dresses."

"Me?" Evelyn echoed.

"Evelyn, we do not have time for repetition. Get fitted, and I'll get the girl who has the pills right now! Joy, can you please watch over Jenny?"

"Of course," the girl said. It was odd to see Blair speak with someone so wholesome.

"Now everyone, let's go! We don't have time to waste!"

Just as the show is about to start, It looks like Eleanor's line is going to bring a whole new meaning to high fashion.

---

Bart and Lily arrived twenty minutes before the show was scheduled to begin. Long before he learned that Evelyn would be helping support the show backstage, Lily had already committed their attendance since Eleanor and Lily were good friends. It wasn't Bart's typical scene, but it was the rare evening that he didn't have anything planned.

They found their seats in the second row, surrounded by other socialites and their husbands. They all greeted each other like they knew one another, in a grand façade that Bart learned how to navigate well. He thought of Misty when he saw the stage. She modeled in dozens of fashion shows, he'd attended many of them, and it struck him that he wouldn't see her in this one. Ever since she died, he'd never been to another. No girlfriend could convince him otherwise, but this time was different. Lily could and his daughter was behind stage.

He was surprised that Evelyn hadn't considered modelling. She had the build for it, but the thought never crossed her mind. It was better this way; modelling was a difficult industry to be in, he witnessed it through Misty, and Evelyn had set her sights in something else.

Bart spoke with Kenneth Alderson, an heir to a multi-million-dollar golf club just outside the city. They got along fine even though it was common knowledge that Kenneth was known to always be having an affair. They caught up on the equestrian expansion Kenneth was working on, until Bart noticed Chuck appear.

He excused himself and called, "Chuck."

"Father," Chuck said with a curt nod. "I didn't know you were going to be here tonight."

"Lily wouldn't miss Eleanor's show," Bart said. "Evelyn's here too."

"I'm here because of Blair. I'm sure she's busy helping backstage."

"Chuck," Bart said. "It's come to my attention that you've been working with your Uncle Jack on the Thailand project."

"Who told you?"

"It doesn't matter. That project is between my brother and I, do you understand? I'm certainly pleased that you've volunteered your time to work on this, but I would like it better if you stayed out of it. Focus on school, Blair, Nate. Leave the adults to work on this."

"Why? So you can get all the credit?" Chuck said. "I'm not a kid anymore. I'm eighteen, and I don't have to listen to you anymore."

"Chuck please be reasonable. I'm not saying I don't want you to ever work for Bass Industries. It's quite the opposite. Right now, I want you to focus on school, and once you're done we can talk about your next steps. I didn't even realize you cared for Bass Industries."

"You don't seem to know much about me," Chuck said.

Bart's gaze hardened. "I know enough that you can be easily swayed by the wrong person."

"What are you talking about? Uncle Jack?"

"I know you think you know him, but I know him better. Whatever he seems to be appealing to you about is for his own gain."

"What are you talking about?" Chuck said. "Jack has been nothing but good to me. He's been a mentor."

"Chuck—"

"I didn't realize I was going to get the third degree tonight. What's your problem with Uncle Jack anyway?"

Bart was silent. It was a long story. It was a story he didn't want to burden Chuck with. He was better off not knowing about it.

"So you want me to stay away from him?"

"I know I can't make you do that," Bart said. "But I'm warning you. Your Uncle is a very selfish person. He's only interested in himself. Do not trust him."

"I'll give that some consideration," Chuck said. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go find Blair."

Bart watched his son walk off, his one hand in his pocket and shook his head. He was stubborn, just like him, and he wasn't going to listen. He warned him. He was concerned for him. And no matter how many ways Bart wondered how he could get through to him, he knew that the only way that Chuck was going to get it was when he got hurt.

Don't you hate it when a common saying is actually true? Looks like C and Big Bad Bart are too similar to see eye to eye. Don't say your dad didn't warn you, C.

---

After the makeup artist finished her makeup, Evelyn turned to look at herself in the mirror. Her cheekbones were more pronounced than they ever were and her face was pale, probably to counter the lighting. She looked fresh faced and innocent, an all-American girl look that was fitting for a national junior line.

Her locket was on the makeup table. Blair demanded that she took it off because it was not apart of the collection. Evelyn picked it up and opened it. Inside there was a picture of her mother in a hospital gown. She cradled a newborn in her arms. She always wanted to believe that she got to hold her, even for a few moments, but she knew that was probably impossible. She didn't know the exact details of that night. All of the adults around her omitted the details, but she knew the gist of what happened that night.

Evelyn wondered what her mom looked like when she walked down the catwalk. She must have been confident, striking. She imagined that she had poise, an elegance that she often believed she lacked. When Evelyn walked down the catwalk, she wanted to be just like her. She wasn't sure if she even believed in anything, but she wanted to believe that her mother would be watching.

"Evelyn! The show starts in two minutes!" Blair called from the stage curtain.

"I'm coming," Evelyn said. She closed the locket and put it in her purse for safe keeping.

Jenny was lying on the only sofa backstage. Blair's roommate Joy returned to Jenny's side and checked her forehead, throat and wrist.

"How's she doing?" Evelyn asked.

"She'll be okay," Joy said. "Sluggish, but she's safe back here. I'll watch her throughout the whole show."

There was something calming about Joy's voice that made her feel better about her friend. Jenny groaned and shook. Her eyes were closed, but it seemed like she was experiencing a nightmare.

Joy pushed her long blonde hair out of her face. She stroked the hair back repeatedly like a mother. "Don't worry. Go get in line,' Joy said.

She got in place in line, second to last. Blair completed one last check of each girl, one by one, before the show was to start. Evelyn looked ahead and wondered where these girls came from.

Blair eventually stopped in front of Evelyn and her eyes ran over her outfit. Then hair. Then face. "Where did you find all of these girls to replace the models?"

"I have friends at school," she said and moved on.

Once Blair checked the last girl, she hurried up the steps. "Alright ladies. It's show time. Now, do what I told you. Back straight, walk in a straight line to the beat of the music, and stop at the end of the catwalk. Do not smile. You are not posing for a picture on page six."

The announcer began to introduce the show and Blair pulled the curtain back. The first girl disappeared behind it and began the show. You could hear woops and cheers from the other side and Evelyn's heart began to beat quicker.

With each girl disappearing through the curtain, the line moved up. What if she fell? What if she couldn't coordinate her walk to the music? Blair would kill her. Blair's mom would kill her. Jenny would kill her. Her palms began to feel cold yet moist.

Now she waited on the staircase portion just before the curtain. Three girls to go before her. How did her mom do this? She was nothing like her, really. Why the hell did she even think she could be one tenth of her? This whole scenario was a worst-case scenario. That's the only reason she was in this fashion show.

Two girls to go. Wait. She couldn't think like that. If she did, then she would fail. She would embarrass herself. Evelyn thought of the night at Victrola. While the memories were blurry, she clearly remembered how she felt. Powerful. How was this any different? It was even better since she was keeping her clothes on this time.

One girl to go. Blair appeared through the curtain. "Well done so far ladies," She said. "Evelyn, are you ready?"

She exhaled, releasing all of the worries she felt. She had to do this. There was no turning back. "Yes."

Evelyn passed through the black curtain and saw a girl turn off stage. She felt Blair's arm around her forearm, guiding her to the stage. "The lights will be bright once you turn right and walk straight down, so I suggest you look straight ahead. Find someone and stick with it. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Go." Blair gave her a slight push and she was off. She heard the beat backstage, and it was easy to walk to. She walked with purpose, her hips swaying, and she turned. The walkway was long and white, and the lights were indeed blinding. She couldn't find any face to focus on because the crowd was so dark, so she focused straight ahead on the spot beneath the projector.

She began to walk, each step more confident than the last. Her shoulders were back, her lips straight, and she had that same feeling in Victrola. People were cheering and clapping, but any sound was completely blocked out. She felt everyone's gaze on her, hanging on to her every move.

Evelyn stopped at the end of the catwalk and lingered. She put all of her weight on her right leg, her left bent slightly. She counted to five, with Mississippi's, and then turned. The last girl was already halfway down the runway, and Evelyn made her way back. The journey back seemed to pass much faster than the walk down the stage. Once Evelyn turned off stage, she continued to walk with the same posture. Sure, no one saw it, but she wasn't ready to walk normally again.

Evelyn gripped the rail as she descended down the steps. Shortly after the last model appeared behind her. It was over.

The models gathered in small circles as they waited for the show to end. Evelyn was sure she heard one girl say, "We may not like her, but who could have guessed we not only got to go to a New York Fashion show, but actually be in one?"

Evelyn found herself smiling. It was pretty incredible, wasn't it? She still felt all of the adrenalin coursing through her veins. So this is what it felt like. It comforted Evelyn to now share this experience with her mother. Even though she could never be physically here, this is what it felt like to share an experience with a mother. It was as close as she could get to that feeling.

Blair appeared through the curtain. "All right girls, the show is over! Thank you so much for volunteering your time on such short notice."

Evelyn wanted to argue that she was more or less volun-told, but it wasn't necessary. Besides, she found it so off-putting that Blair was actually being kind of…nice to them. Sure she was tough when it came to ensuring all of the details were perfect, but she actually thanked them.

"You are now free to get changed. The after party will be held in the hall next to the catwalk."

Evelyn gathered her clothes to change into. She looked in the mirror and when she smiled, she realized that she also shared that with her mother.

Spotted: E walking the catwalk at Eleanor Waldorf's fashion show. Is this the same wholesome girl from Connecticut we met a year ago? Looks like that certain looks go out of fashion, don't they?

---

After the models had been dealt with for the evening, Blair returned to the stage area where Mr. Conwell stood. He was a tall man, with greying hair, and wore glasses. He looked like a suburban dad who commuted to work every day in the Midwest.

"Mr. Conwell? Blair Waldorf. Such a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise. Say, have you seen your mother around?

"Yes. I think she just passed by the drinks table. Let me take you to her."

Blair walked side by side with Mr. Conwell, making polite conversation. Although she thought her mother's line was amazing as usual, she had a good feeling Mr. Conwell wanted to do business with her.

"Mother!" Blair called. "I have good news."

"Eleanor."

"Mr. Conwell," Eleanor said offering her hand.

"I just wanted to tell you that Conwells would be honoured to call itself your exclusive retailer."

Blair smiled. Sure, she may not have this interest, but she knew her mother did, and her mother worked so hard on the new line.

"That is marvelous news isn't it Blair?" Eleanor said, smiling.

"Congratulations," Blair said.

"Of course," Mr. Conwell began, "We'll have to make a few alterations with the hemlines and necklines…you understand?"

"We can certainly discuss it. Is that all?"

"And we'd have to change the name," Mr. Conwell added. "Eleanor Waldorf sounds a bit uppity, New York-ish."

Eleanor paused. "Excuse me. For the last twenty-eight years, every piece of clothing I've sold has carried the name Eleanor Waldorf designs. My clothes are me."

"My store is me. Manhattan is an island in more ways than one. What works for you in yours doesn't nearly translate into mine—"

"Mr. Conwell," Blair interjected. "Surely the name would add a prestige to the brand. That's something Conwells could benefit from, no?"

"Blair," Eleanor said, raising her hand. "I want to thank you for your time, but I do not think I will be doing business with Conwells. Enjoy your flight back to Salt Lake."

Mr. Conwell gave a curt nod and walked away.

"Mother," Blair watched Mr. Conwell's figure disappear from backstage. "What are you doing? We can close this."

"No," Eleanor said. "It's a stupid idea to begin with. I don't know what I was thinking." She paused and exhaled. "I'd rather lose the deal than lose myself. Never hide who you are. Remember that. That shouldn't be too hard with all your friends at Columbia."

Blair swallowed, her eyes finding the floor. "They're not my friends. Well, not all of them anyway."

"What?"

"I don't have minions anymore, and the only person who tolerates me is my roommate. I have friends from a club I joined, but most of them are boys."

"I don't understand. They all seemed so happy to be here."

"They weren't this afternoon when we called a floor meeting. They only came because my roommate convinced them. They told me to my face that they hate me."

"That's ridiculous," Eleanor said. "Listen, it doesn't matter how many people like you, Blair. It's the kind of people that like you for you who matter."

"I guess."

"No, you don't guess, it just is. Besides, If I'm not mistaken, I saw Joy, your roommate, helping backstage all night. That doesn't seem like someone who hates you."

Despite the way she treated her, it struck Blair that Joy still respected her. "She might be the exception," Blair said.

"She's not an exception Blair, just like Serena wasn't either. They are the rule. The rule of who a real friend really is. Now come here."

Blair felt her mother's arms wrap around her in a way that felt like she tried to will any pain or sadness away from her. It didn't happen often, not since she was fourteen, but it did make her feel better.

Eleanor grabbed both of Blair's hands and squeezed. "One of the things that makes Waldorf women so special is that we aren't liked by everyone. We are revered and respected by those who matter to us."

"But I don't feel like I'm revered in the dorms."

"That's the last place you need to care about respect. You won't see half of those girls beyond first year. It's those you care about who matter."

She let go and walked away to continue to thank everyone for attending her show. Blair smiled, thinking of her mother's words. Joy may be a very religious girl from a middle-class home in California, who's innocence and caring nature extended to even her worst enemy. She may bake when she procrastinates, read the Bible before bed, obsess over Harry Potter, and wear the most hideous clothes imaginable, but all of that didn't matter. Joy wasn't just a roommate she was randomly paired with.

She was a friend.

---

Once everyone called it an early night, Ozzy was able to slip out of the house undetected. He ignored the option of getting a ride with their car, and instead hailed the first cab he saw.

It was a mild night, damp from an evening of rain. He pressed his forehead against the window and at every stoplight he watched all kinds of people carrying on with their lives. That's what he found so interesting and different about New York. Every kind of person you can think of lived on the island. It didn't make him feel like he belonged any more or less, but it was a place you could just exist and no one would object.

Catherine was lounging on an ornate French inspired couch when he arrived at the Penthouse. She wore a tight green dress with a heart shaped neckline. She wore black stockings with an intricate design. It was an outfit that was carefully selected and accentuated all of her best features.

She sprang to her feet when she heard the elevator door ping. Catherine ran over to him with a smile on her face. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks."

Catherine grabbed both of his hands. "You don't sound excited about it."

He shrugged. Ozzy didn't have the energy or ability to fake enthusiasm. "I am. I'm just a bit tired."

"You did have an early morning," Catherine said. "Do you have to get up early tomorrow? If you do, maybe you should just sleep?"

"No," Ozzy said. "I'm not that tired. Not now anyway."

"Really? She smiled and guided his hands around her waist.

He kissed her. It was comfortable with Catherine. He liked her enough, and she certainly liked him. She opened her mouth and sighed when he deepened the kiss. They hooked up, no strings attached. Catherine was easily pleased with this arrangement, and it worked for Ozzy too. He didn't have the pressure or expectation that their relationship had in the fall.

Catherine broke the kiss and smiled up at him. "Come." She guided him up the stairs to her room, a familiar path that he knew well now. The room was dark, only her bedside lamps lit. Catherine closed the door and pushed him up against it. She kissed him roughly. Her hands fisted his light sweater, and he responded by pulling her against him, flush, his hands under her dress, cupping her bottom.

He pulled away, his breath ragged. "Aren't we gonna…"

"After." She unbuttoned his pants quickly and pulled them down along with his boxers. He straightened up when she grabbed him, stroked his length, whispered what she'd do to him. Suddenly, he couldn't think of anything. He just felt. He felt good for the first time that day. And after Catherine's hot mouth had done its work, he knew he was going to feel even better.

Catherine was on her knees, her tongue teasing his tip. He groaned and told her to stop teasing him. She put her mouth around him and pulled away and toward him achingly slow.

"Catherine," he moaned. He threw his head back, his eyes closed. "Faster."

She complied until he came shortly after. When it was over, he collapsed against the door, panting. He ran his hand through his hair and then looked down at Catherine who wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

She stood and said, "Sated?"

There was a relieved grin on his face. "Yes."

Her lips curled into a satisfied smile. "Good. Now come. It's time for a second dessert."

Ozzy bent down to pull up his pants.

"No. Clothing is prohibited in this room. Take it off."

He was going to protest, but he quickly realized that he was in no position to after what she just did for him. He stepped out of his pants and boxers, peeled off his socks and then his t-shirt. Catherine eyed him appreciatively.

"You aren't exempt from the rule are you?" He said when she was completely clothed in front of him.

"I'm not, but I was going to give you a bit of a show in a bit. Sit." She ruffled through her drawers and picked up two bags of white powder. She then picked up her laptop desk holder and a hundred dollar bill. Catherine jumped on the bed and offered him a bag.

"Where do you get this from?" Ozzy asked. It was something he had been wondering for a while. Sure, it was nice to know that he could control how much coke he had access to through Catherine, but what if he wanted a little stash of his own? Just in case.

"Thom," Catherine said.

"And who does he get it from?" Ozzy asked.

"I don't know how it works for dealers, but he must have a supplier somewhere."

Dealer? Thom was a dealer? It made sense how he was always prepared with the right drug for the right situation.

"I didn't know he was a dealer," Ozzy said.

Catherine lined up the white powder on her laptop desk. "He's been dealing for two years now. I'm pretty sure he's become the best dealer for all of the prep schools on the island."

Ozzy watched her steady hand form perfect lines. He could ask Thom for more. He had his number. He was family. He could even give him a discount—wait, that didn't matter much anymore. His family actually had money.

Did their grandfather know? Given how highly he spoke of Thom, he doubted it. It was another secret that added to his family's growing closet. For once, it was a secret that he actually knew.

Catherine offered him the rolled up bill, and he pushed these thoughts away. He inhaled sharply, and waited for his fear and worries to fade and for his body to feel weightless again.

---

Once Evelyn changed, she immediately returned to Jenny's side. Her friend was sitting up now, her head in her hands.

"How are you feeling?"

Jenny shook her head. "Stupid."

"You're not stupid. How were you supposed to know that Agnes was going to drug you?"

"Still," Jenny said. "I should have known better than to trust her."

"Well, now you know," Evelyn said. "How did she get the drugs anyway? Didn't she say they were yours?"

Jenny shrugged. "She's a pathological liar. Who knows which dealer she got it from."

Evelyn kept her gaze on Jenny. Something wasn't adding up. How did Agnes mysteriously get a big stash of pills? Evelyn wanted to press further, but she knew in Jenny's current state it would be useless.

"Well, you'll be happy to know that the fashion show went on and was a success. You can strangely thank Blair Waldorf for that."

"I never thought I'd be saying that," Jenny said. "Thanks for modelling. I was coming to by the end of the show, and I saw you walk. You did great."

Evelyn lightly bumped her shoulder with Jenny's. "If all else fails, I'll just go into modelling. My mother did it you know."

"Like mother, like daughter."

Evelyn wasn't quite sure how true that sentiment was. She would never know her mother well enough to agree with that statement.

Evelyn looked up and saw Dash appear from behind the curtain. "I'll be right back," Evelyn said.

She jumped up and jogged to him. She completely forgot that he was in the audience watching the show. He had a shocked expression on his face, his arms open. Evelyn collapsed into him, her cheek resting against his shoulder blade.

When she pulled back, he smiled at her. "You never told me you were going to be modeling in this fashion show."

They still had their arms wrapped around each other. "That wasn't exactly the plan, trust me. I was just a good backup. Did you enjoy the show?"

"Of course. You were my favourite part," he said.

Evelyn's cheeks flushed. "You're obligated to say that."

"I mean it!" He said. "It was just like watching you on stage at Victrola, wait that's not the same because you were taking your clothes off as opposed to showing them off."

She leaned forward, her chin tilted up, and kissed him. His hands stayed on her waist, but she felt his need for more.

Evelyn pulled away, breathless. "How was the meet?"

"Good," Dash said. "Ozzy won the five-hundred-meter freestyle."

"That's amazing!" She said. Evelyn made a mental note to message him later. "Is it done for the weekend?"

"No, he has more races tomorrow. The relay is tomorrow morning."

"We should go and support," Evelyn said.

"It's really early in the morning…on a Sunday."

"So?" Evelyn said.

"I dunno. I think it's more of a family thing."

Evelyn let go of their embrace. "Okay." Why would a public swim meet be only reserved for family?

"Jenny must be glad that the show went well," Dash said.

"Well, it almost didn't happen. It turns out that her old business partner decided to have a drug party with all the models and got everyone high. We were able to do some damage control, but Jenny was also drugged."

"Does this always happen at fashion shows?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Evelyn said.

Jenny appeared behind her with her coat on. "I think I'm going to call it a night," she said.

"Wait, you're going?" Evelyn said.

"I'm really not feeling well," Jenny said.

"You can't go home alone," Evelyn said.

"It's okay really."

"Evelyn's right," Dash said. "Brooklyn's far."

"I'll have our driver take you home," Evelyn said.

"I saw your dad," Dash said. "I think you're going home in the same car."

Evelyn frowned.

"It's okay, really. I can take care of myself."

"No, you're not in your best state of mind," Dash said. "I can take you home if you want."

"That's a good idea," Evelyn said. "Dash will make sure you get home safe."

Jenny looked between the two of them. "Okay, fine. I'll go get my bag."

When Jenny disappeared in search of her bag, Evelyn turned to Dash. "Thank you."

"It's no problem. I don't feel comfortable with her going home on her own either."

"Text me when you get home?" Evelyn said.

"For you, yes." He cupped her cheek and kissed her.

Jenny reappeared with a bag slung over her shoulder. "I'm ready when you are."

"Jenny!" Eleanor Waldorf called. "Where are you going?""

"I'm sorry Eleanor. I'm not really feeling well, so I think it's best if I go home."

"That's such a shame. We still need to discuss a more permanent position for you at Waldorf Designs. How about we have breakfast soon? If you feel better after a long night's sleep, maybe tomorrow? Brunch?"

"I'll call you tomorrow morning if I feel better."

"Good. Excellent work today, Jenny."

Evelyn waggled her brows when Eleanor left. "Well...all that hard work was worth it, wasn't it?"

Jenny gave a tired smile. "It was. Finally."

"Let's go," Dash said. He offered his arm in the case that she didn't feel steady enough to walk.

"That's okay. I think I'm okay to walk," Jenny said.

Evelyn watched them go and saw Blair's roommate pass in front of her.

"Hey, Joy?"

The girl turned and smiled.

"Thanks for looking after my friend."

"Oh, it was the least I could do," she said.

"Joy." Blair appeared and linked arms with her. "It's time for the after party. I'm sorry you missed out on the show, but the after party is just as important." Blair turned to Evelyn. "Oh, and your father's looking for you."

"Thanks."

Evelyn excused herself and went to search for her father. He was standing with Lily and they spoke to another couple. Evelyn waited for her father to notice her and when he did, he excused himself with Lily.

"Hey," Evelyn said. "Did you both enjoy the show?"

"Absolutely," Lily said. "The clothes were marvelous, but I didn't realize you were going to be wearing them."

"Neither did I," Evelyn said. "Blair asked me because something happened last minute."

A reporter appeared and asked if Lily would comment on the show. She excused herself leaving Evelyn with her father.

"Your mother would be proud you know," her father said, tucking his hands in his pockets.

"You think?"

"I know."

Evelyn had a small smile on her face. "I thought of her you know, before I went out there."

"I had to do a double take when you walked on stage. You looked like her."

"Really?"

"Yes. Was like seeing a ghost really," Bart said.

Evelyn never really thought she looked too much like her mom, she always thought Chuck resembled her more, but perhaps there was something eerily familiar in the way that she carried herself down the catwalk. Perhaps it is not only the physical presence that reminds anyone about the departed, but the intangible presence instead.

"Did you have fun?" Her father asked.

"I did," Evelyn said. "But I don't know if it's something I'd want to do for a living."

"Now that I can support," Bart said. "You are far too capable to limit yourself to a profession that has an expiration date."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, I'm not losing sight of school or anything."

"Good."

---

Chuck finished his second glass of scotch. He signaled the bartender for another round. After all the work he put in for the company, he couldn't believe his father wanted him out of it. The more Chuck thought about it, he wondered what his father disliked about his own brother. His instincts told him that there was a story behind this, but hiring a P.I. wouldn't do anything to tell him what happened. It was a story shared with two brothers, and his father didn't feel compelled to tell him.

Blair approached him with a smile on her face. "Hey." She kissed him. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"Always. You did a marvelous job as usual."

"Thanks. Believe it or not, it almost didn't happen. One of the models brought her stash and decided to dish out party favours right before the show."

"So that's why all of the girls from your floor were in the show."

"And your sister, thank God. Whatever. Even if it didn't work out, my mom still wasn't going to agree to the deal at Conwells. Whatever." She put her hands on his shoulder blades. 'You're tense. Is anything wrong?"

"Nothing really. My dad just gave me a warning."

"A warning?"

"To stay away from Jack."

"Why?"

"Because he says he can't be trusted." Chuck took a sip of his scotch.

"On what grounds?"

"He didn't say. I don't know. Jack has been nothing but nice to me. No motives, just doing the best for the company. I invited him tonight."

"Maybe your dad has a point?" Blair said. "I'm sure he has his reservations."

"It would be a lot easier if he would just tell me them."

"I know, but he probably has a good reason why."

"Still. It's not like I can cut Jack out of my life."

"You don't have to. Just be cautious moving forward."

"Is this the happy couple?" Jack appeared with a tumbler of scotch in hand. "Great show, Blair."

"Thank you, Jack." Blair smiled politely.

"Nephew." Jack put his arm around Chuck's shoulder. "Thanks for the invite."

"No problem."

Blair watched Chuck for a clue, a reaction of some kind to know how to play the situation. Chuck didn't look at either of them. He wasn't sure about his Uncle any more. How could he be after what his father said? Was his father the one that was trying to manipulate him?

"I just want to say that I wouldn't have gotten through this week without Chuck," Jack said. "This kid's devotion to Bass Industries is what will keep it going for many years to come, you'll see."

Blair smiled and looked at Chuck. "That's very kind Jack."

"It's true. I haven't seen anything like it over the many years I've worked for the company. Old man better watch out."

Chuck smirked. "One day."

Jack nodded. "Absolutely. Say, would you both be interested in going out for drinks? Pablo's down the street is a new bar I'd like to try. You might be interested, Chuck. It's an up and coming bar."

"I don't—" Chuck began.

"That's a great idea," Blair interrupted. "We'd love to."

"Excellent," Jack smiled. "I'll get my coat, and we'll meet in the lobby."

Once Chuck walked away, he turned to Blair. "What the hell was that about?"

"An opportunity. We can see for ourselves if Jack is anything we need to worry about. Play it cool, Bass. You now have four eyes watching his every move."

Blair took his hand and pulled him through the crowd and to the coat check.

---

When Ozzy woke up the next morning, he was momentarily disoriented by the purple walls and makeup desk ahead of the bed he slept in. He rolled over and saw Catherine sleeping, curled up in a ball facing him.

He could tell through the closed shutters that it wasn't early. Too much sun was blocked out. Ozzy sat up, and peeked over Catherine's body to her clock and read the time. It was five after ten in the morning.

"Fuck."

He threw off the covers and ran to her door where he clothes were in a heap. He shoved his arms through his sleeves and pulled his boxers on when Catherine stirred, groggy.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to go. Brunch."

Once he was dressed, he fished out his phone from his pocket. Dozens of messages and calls were listed on the home screen. Fuck. The race was going to start in twenty minutes.

If he caught a cab quick, he might be able to make it. It was possible. Sunday mornings in New York were one of the best times to get around the city.

"I'll text you later. I gotta go."

He ran down the steps, two at a time. He picked up his coat from the couch Catherine was lounging on last night and jammed the elevator button with his thumb hard. He pushed it several more times, knowing that this would be the time the elevator was not readily available.

Once in the lobby, he ran through the front doors, through the courtyard and hailed the first cab in sight. He told the driver the directions, and it seemed like every red light was going to slow down the trip. Unable to look up at the sea of red anymore, Ozzy looked at his phone. He avoided his voicemail box, and opted to open his text messages.

The first one was from Dash:

WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? Your mom is freaking out!

Then another:

Seriously, where the fuck did you go? You better be home soon.

And another:

Going to the pool to tell your coach you are missing. You're dead.

There was also a message from Dusty that was sent an hour ago:

Where are you? Race is in an hour! I don't care where you are, but get your ass to the pool!

His other teammates tried messaging him, and he couldn't bear to open any of them. There were a couple messages from his mom too. He then found one message that was sent late last night:

Hey Ozzy! I know it's been awhile since we've talked. It seems like we keep missing each other you know? Anyway, I just waited to say CONGRATULATIONS on your win today! I wish I could have been there to support you, but I was thinking of you. Good luck tomorrow on the relay! If I can get myself up that early, I'll try to be there. I hope we can catch up soon

Ozzy dropped his phone in his lap. How the fuck did he mess up, again? He looked at the time next to the increasing fare. There was no way he was going to make it in time. No way in hell.

What the fuck was he thinking? Just because he didn't care about swim team didn't mean no one else did. He didn't realize that until the messages kept flooding his phone. He rubbed his face and picked up his phone again.

Jesus, he was a fuckup. He had one job today: show up, and he couldn't quite manage to do that. His teammates were counting on him. Dusty was counting on him. His mother and Dash believed in him. Even Evelyn seemed to believe in him (she was an eternal optimist after all).

Maybe everyone was better off without him around? He clearly wasn't accountable or remotely reliable. He was around for a good time, a high that he was always chasing, but he had no viable use beyond that. It was no wonder his father didn't want anything to do with him. Soon, he was sure nobody would want anything to do with him.

Maybe that's what he wanted. If no one cared, they wouldn't notice him drifting away. They wouldn't swerve to keep him on course. He could lie in the ditch, roll around in the mud and finally lie still in one place.

The cab pulled up to the pool entrance. Ozzy paid the fare and ran up the steps. He felt a tightness in his stomach, and his heart beat faster. He pushed through the double doors to the bleachers where everyone was in the stands. The race was over, and he saw his whole team on the tile floor, just below the barrier where the stands were and the pool area began. They listened to Coach Rodgers intently and none of them noticed him.

He stopped running. Ozzy watched them for a moment, watching what his life could be from the outside. Is this who he had become? Was he this prep who was an athlete with prestigious scholarships ahead of him?

That wasn't him. He was the same kid who was quiet in a loud room full of people. He latched onto whoever gave him their hand, no matter where it came from, and he didn't have goals or expectations with his life. He thought he was going to have a life like his mother's. He'd mooch off any girl who'd be charmed by him, until they'd had enough. Forced to move on to another, he'd continue this cycle, always moving, until his body stopped.

He considered leaving. It would be cleaner if he just left. He wouldn't have to deal with the fallout, or provide any excuses. He could claim that he was ill. His phone died. But he waited too long, as Dusty noticed him. He shook his head at him, disgusted. Dusty turned to tell the others what he saw. Then, all eyes were on him, and Ozzy had never truly felt what it was like to be a disappointment until that moment.

And he wouldn't forget it.

You know what doesn't go out of fashion? Disappointment. Some fashion trends can be disappointing, but nothing is more disappointing than having your peers shun your fashion choices.

---

As Blair predicted, drinks with Jack was nothing to worry about. In fact, they didn't speak about business at all. Instead, Chuck learned about Jack's life in Australia, and Jack learned about how Chuck and Blair became a couple. It was casual, relaxed, and Jack revealed a couple anecdotes of his father from their childhood. Bart was always driven, even from a young age, as he had his own soda business he operated from his locker in the seventh grade, to selling new football jacket designs in high school. It was interesting for Chuck to learn about his father from another source, and by the way Jack spoke of his brother, they were close.

Chuck's phone ring woke him. "Hello?"

"Good morning sleepy head. Are you up?"

"I am now," Chuck rubbed his eyes.

"Mother had invited me home for brunch this morning, and has asked for your attendance. Are you coming?"

"A date with two Waldorf women? How could I say no?"

"That's the right answer. Come by my room when you're ready."

After a quick shower, Chuck returned to his room where he noticed his briefcase on this desk. He smirked when he saw it. His father could say whatever he wanted regarding his assistance to Jack. It didn't mean that Chuck would listen. He was intrigued with a summer in Thailand and getting hands on experience with Jack. He was an adult now, legally. He couldn't say anything to persuade him otherwise.

Chuck opened the briefcase he on his desk. Inside, he saw pages of handwritten notes, and beneath that it was the revised version of the contract. In his haste, Chuck didn't realize that he picked up the document that Jack needed for tomorrow's meeting.

Chuck closed the briefcase and carried it down to Blair's floor. He knocked on her door where she was just finishing up putting on her lipstick. Joy was awake, but burrowed under her covers with a book propped up in her hands.

"Are you ready?"

Blair reapplied her lipstick and checked herself front to back. "Now I am." She took his arm and said, "Bye Joy."

"Have fun at your brunch!" She called back.

Blair took Chuck's arm and they walked to the waiting limo.

"You both seem… friendly," Chuck said.

Blair shoved his arm. "I've finally seen a use for her."

"Or—"

"Or what, Bass?"

"You could just say that I was right."

"But then I'd be lying."

Chuck opened the door for her and got in. Blair didn't have to admit that he was right. It wasn't in her nature, but Chuck knew that Blair might actually consider Joy as a friend after all. Knowing that she wasn't the most well-liked girl in their residence, it made him feel better that she had a friend like he had Nate whom she could count on.

"Do you mind if we stop at the Palace first? I didn't realize I packed up Jack's copy of the revised contract with my things."

"Of course," Blair said. "You know, you've been working really hard with him on that. Do you think the deal is going to go through?"

"I can't say. We've done everything that we can now."

Blair took his hand. "That's all you can ask of yourself."

The arrived at the Palace and Chuck excused himself. He walked through reception, his master key always on him, and went to the twenty third floor. He knocked twice on the door, but he didn't hear an answer. Chuck considered pushing the contract under the door, but decided against it. It was too confidential and valuable to leave for that. Instead, he used his key and opened the door.

"Jack?" Chuck called.

No answer.

He took two cautious steps inside. The doors that separated the bedroom from the living room area were closed. Chuck approached the coffee table where all of Jack's documents were lying around. He figured he could just leave them here, for his Uncle usually kept his most important documents visible when he was working.

As he placed the contract on the table, he saw a glint of gold in the clean ashtray. He picked up the gold chain, curious why it would be there, and raised it close to his face. It was half of a locket with a picture inside. Chuck flipped the locket to its front side. He looked closer to see it was a picture of his mother holding a baby. Behind her, his Uncle embraced them.

If you are what you wear, you better dress the part that you want. Most people on the Upper East Side can do no wrong. Their looks: perfection, and they've got the accessories to match. But there always comes a time that a person can get tired of the same old look, and they'll do anything to get the hot new piece on their arm. And then there are those with no vision of their own. Thieves of fashion who will steal the shirt off your back. Appearances can be deceiving, but every look always has intention.

You know you love me,

XOXO Gossip Girl

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A/N: And there you have it! Evelyn modelled in a fashion show, Agnes returned and drugged all the models, while Blair saved the day with the unexpected help from Joy. Ozzy turned his back on one of his favourite passions, and Chuck found...a family heirloom?

The story is picking up speed, and I can promise you it won't let up until the end of part two. I am so excited!

So what's next? The next chapter is titled: "The Bass with the Golden Locket". All I can promise is more mystery, intrigue, and drama are on the way!

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I can't wait to hear what you think.

Till next time,

XOXO EZ11