A/N: Hello everyone! A lot has changed over the past month hasn't it? I hope you and your families are staying safe and healthy during this unprecedented time. Whether you are on the front lines providing essential services or in mandatory quarantine, we can all get through this by doing our part.
Who's ready for a much needed escape from all of that? I think this chapter will deliver a much needed one. Enjoy!
Chapter 49: It's A Wonderful Lie
You know what I love about Christmas? Gifts. Giving gifts. Receiving gifts. Watching salesclerks wrap up Jimmy Choo boxes that will glean under the Christmas tree, begging to be opened. But while gifts under the Christmas tree are nice, some of the best gifts are the ones that are intangible. These are the gifts we can't live without. Like love, family, our cellphones. It may be the most giving time of the year, but what is given can just as easily be taken away.
The kitchen in the Bass household bustled on a snowy December morning. Ina was busy preparing lunches for Eric and Evelyn. Lily was on the phone with her mother Cece. Eric and Evelyn ate their breakfast while Bart listened to their chatter as he skimmed through the newspaper.
Despite the hustling nature of weekday mornings, there was a tranquility to their family's routine. Everyone had their morning rituals which resulted in all of them eating breakfast together at the kitchen table. It had grown to be Bart's favourite part of the day.
Lily hung up the phone. "Everything's confirmed. My mother is expecting us on Saturday, and she's very excited."
By us, she meant herself, Eric, and possibly Serena. While the Basses were also invited to the Rhodes Christmas reunion in Miami, Aunt Kim had also extended an invite for all of the Basses to join her for Christmas. Initially surprised, Bart accepted the invitation before Cece extended hers. It would be the first Christmas the Bass family spent together.
Bart folded up his newspaper. "Did you send our regrets?"
"I did. She sends you all her holiday wishes."
"I also talked to Aunt Kim last night," Evelyn said. "She's looking forward to seeing us."
There really was a first for everything. Kim was happy to see him? Perhaps the holidays could spread good cheer after all.
"Well, I'll be sure to have Ina wrap up some cookies to send with you since we can't make it," Lily said. "Don't forget that we'll be having our Christmas dinner on Friday then."
"And what exactly are you planning on contributing to that meal, Mom?" Eric said. Evelyn supressed a grin.
"My ideas. Which are all very good, I'll have you know."
"I think our proposed thanksgiving duck and raw pumpkin from two thousand and eight would disagree," Eric said.
"Now, Eric. It's always best to let your mother make these decisions. Ahead of time of course," Bart said.
"Fine, laugh at me all you want, but with that attitude, it will be you three who won't be eating the delicious foie gras that I ordered on Friday."
"Wait why am I roped in on this threat? I didn't say anything," Evelyn said.
"It's often the ones that are silent that are the most guilty," Lily said. Her cellphone rang, and she answered it.
"Well then. I guess I'm guilty for being at the right place at the wrong time," Evelyn said. She popped the last piece of bacon in her mouth. "Ready Eric?"
Bart checked his watch. He had to get going himself. He appreciated the simplicity of these mornings. When he pictured what success looked like, it always was him in his own office at on the highest floor of his office building. Now, he realized that there were more types of success than monetary achievement.
"Bye Dad," Evelyn waved. "I'm working on a school project after school with Ozzy, so I'll be back by dinner."
"Thanks for reminding me," Bart said.
See? And now the channels of communication have opened with Evelyn again. She was back to being honest and trustworthy again.
Things were falling into place.
"I think I have an idea," Ozzy said later in the afternoon.
"Well thank God one of us does. We have until the end of the week to finish this," Evelyn said.
It was the last week before winter break, and aside from her last chemistry test, her remaining assignment was the Hamlet essay project for English class. Evelyn and Ozzy sat in the library after school for the second day in a row.
"Hey, don't worry about it. We already have done the work for outlining the ideas for the essay itself. We just need to think of a way to present them," Ozzy said.
"That's the hard part," Evelyn said.
"True, but I was googling last night for ideas, and I found something. It's called a visual essay. It's a short video where we present our essay with pictures, maybe some video clips, while we voice over our argument. It's like tying the images together to show how they relate. That's a non-traditional way to make an essay, don't you think?"
"Well yes. But I don't understand. How could we do that?"
"Come on. Let me show you."
Evelyn followed Ozzy to one of the computer terminals and logged on. He googled a texting and driving video essay on YouTube. Ozzy shuffled his chair to the side, so Evelyn had a better view of the screen.
"See? We're trying to prove our point, right? What better way to do that then with a picture?"
"A picture does say a thousand words," Evelyn said.
"Exactly. What do you think?"
Evelyn leaned back in her chair. "Well, I do think it's inventive. I'm just wondering how we're going to do this. I've never edited a video in my life."
"Me neither."
"And we have less than a week to put it together."
Ozzy started typing.
"You have a MacBook, right?" He asked.
"Yes."
"It looks like we could just use iMovie. We can add pictures, video, sound clips. It can be short too. I would say no more than five minutes." Ozzy turned to her. "You don't look convinced."
"I don't know. I mean, what if it doesn't work? What if we do this and then it doesn't play correctly when we have to present it in class?"
"That could happen," Ozzy said. "But it could also not happen."
Evelyn sighed. "Why can't we just write a standard, six to ten-page essay like they've been drilling us to do our whole high school careers? What was the point of learning that if we aren't going to use it when needed?"
"For the same reason we learn calculus but probably won't use it in real life." He grinned.
"Ozzy, I'm serious. A lot could go wrong with this, and I don't want to be reckless and tank my grades especially after I submitted my college applications a couple weeks ago."
"Where did you apply?"
"Let's see. NYU, Columbia, Yale, Penn State, University of Chicago, Stanford, MIT, Harvard, Cornell even. It was a long list."
"I don't think you have anything to worry about," Ozzy said. "Look, why don't we try it and if it's not working out by tomorrow, we scrap it?"
"We could try it."
Ozzy started looking up images, as Evelyn watched him work. Something was different about him. He was more focused, present, and confident. All of the best parts of him that she hadn't seen since the summer were returning. New parts of him that he'd kept hidden were beginning to reveal themselves. She couldn't look away.
Evelyn dragged her chair closer to his. She leaned closer to the screen, her shoulder brushing his. She stole another glance, and he was looking back at her. She had grown used to aversion, a guarded gaze that refused to reveal anything he felt. This time, he looked right at her with a smiled, a small smile that reminded her of all the happier memories they shared.
"You're giving me a hard time now, but just wait," Ozzy said. "You'll never want to write a boring old ten-page essay again."
Ozzy returned home that afternoon to find his mother sitting in the kitchen booth with her laptop open. She squinted at the screen; her hand hovered over her wireless mouse. The kitchen smelled like pot roast.
"Hey there. How was school?"
"Alright."
It had been a better day. He had begun to notice a difference. He felt more grounded than he ever had in a long time. He had fewer bad days than good.
He took a seat across from her.
"Is something bothering you?"
He clenched his fists under the table. His gaze dropped to his fists, and he released them.
"Yeah."
"Would you like to talk about it?"
Ozzy nodded. If only he could find the words.
"You know how Dash and I were fighting?"
"Yes."
"He made me promise something, and I can't keep it, and I don't think I should have to."
"What did he make you promise?"
"If we were to move on from our fight…then neither of us should have any sort of relationship with Evelyn."
"Okay. So, is this a problem because you still want to be friends with Evelyn?"
"I can't be friends with her."
"Can't or don't want to?"
"Both."
His mom nodded. "So, you feel stuck?"
"Yeah. I mean, I don't want to hurt Dash, I really don't, but I can't hold back what I want just because he doesn't like it or maybe he doesn't want to accept it. I don't know."
"That's true. Have you talked to Dash about this?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"He'd be angry. Blame me, I guess."
"Blame you?"
"He blames me for why things didn't work out with Evelyn. In his mind, I was apparently trying to lure her away from him when I was running away." Ozzy shook his head. "I wasn't in the right frame of mind then. Hurting Dash was the last thing to cross my mind."
His mom nodded, and a look of understanding crossed her face. "Just like you have your own demons to work through, so does Dash."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Let me explain." His mom paused. "Sometimes we say things to others to…reassure ourselves and our insecurities. Clearly, Dash has an insecurity that this issue of Evelyn shines a light on."
"How is that my fault?"
"I didn't say it was your fault. I'm saying that his response, that promise he made with you, was probably meant to make him feel better."
"So, you think I can't break it?"
"It depends. Do you really want this?"
Ozzy looked down at his hands. His fingers were beginning to curl. Deep down, he knew this was his last chance. If he didn't finally allow himself to indulge with what he wanted, he would always regret it.
He locked eyes with his mother and definitively replied, "Yes."
"Okay. This isn't going to be fixed overnight. Let me talk to Dash first. Then, it'll be up to the two of you to hash this out."
"You talk to Dash?"
"Of course, I do. I know it's hard to believe, but you're not the only one who's been going to therapy. I've been learning too. Listening. Well, I'm working on that one. Anyway, Dash is your brother, and I won't let him be forgotten. Not again."
Again? Ozzy didn't pick up on the implication that there was more to Dash's story that his mother was privy to.
"Thanks, mom."
She shook her head. "No. Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being you. I've missed it."
He would admit later that night that he missed himself too. It felt good to be back, almost normal even. Even if it was temporary, or more setbacks were ahead, he would remember what it felt like to be at peace with himself. This feeling of calm certainty would be his anchor that would guide him back home again.
Later that evening, Blair sat in the basement of St. Anthony Hall for the second last formal meeting of term. Unlike most other meetings, which ran smoothly and succinctly, the decorum for tonight's meeting was paramount. All of the members were seated in alphabetical order according to pledge class with the most recent members sitting in the back. Blair, the last member of her class, was seated near the end of their row, onlooking the selection committee at the front of the room.
The selection committee consisted of five members. Each member represented a different pledge class. They had spent the past couple days putting together a list of candidates that they deemed were best suited for each role. Now, they went through the list one by one, starting off with the smaller roles before moving on to the Vice President roles.
Blair tapped her pen on her notebook, as she waited for her name to be called. She had filled out a form listing the positions she felt she was qualified for and wanted. She also had to explain why she was suited for the role she wanted. The selections committee took these answers into consideration.
"Next up is Vice President Organization. The selection committee has chosen… Zara Amiri for the role. Zara exhibits the qualities required for the important role of Vice President Organization. She is both organized and timely and is able to manage many responsibilities simultaneously. Zara's experience working at the White House last summer demonstrates her ability to be agile and work with strict deadlines. She has the strategic vision to keep Locke and Key running efficiently while ensuring that the master calendar is complete while making adjustments as needed."
Zara? Over her? Really?
Blair noticed Valentina, who sat at the other end of the row, wink at Zara. Of course. She probably helped her get the position. Her campaigning only fell on deaf ears.
What was she going to do now? She ranked VPO as her number one position choice. The only other positions that remained were Vice President Standards and President. Neither of which she listed as positions she was interested in on her form.
"We now open the floor for any more nominations."
What was she thinking? These people still thought she was the crazy ex who tied Chuck up to a chair and hazed him. They hadn't forgotten. Her reputation was far too infamous to trust. They would probably always think that about her. They would never give her a chance to lead, to be a part of their group, nothing. It was so unfair.
Heather, who sat in the front row, raised her hand. "I nominate Blair Waldorf."
Julian, who also sat at the front of the room behind a desk, looked out at all the members, excluding Blair's gaze. "Anyone willing to second the motion so we can open the floor?"
Blair heard someone yelp in the back row. One of the new members, who sat on Chuck's left, raised his arm while rubbing his ribs.
"I second the motion," He sputtered.
"The floor is now open," Julian said. "Heather, make your case."
Heather stood and turned to face the crowd. "I nominated Blair because she is one of the most diligent, conscientious, and committed members of our society. Not only is she able to multitask, she is able to meet every deadline while completing her deliverable with time and care. She will challenge us to go above and beyond convention, and she can take a big undertaking and see it through the end. She has gone out of her way to make our events and fundraisers more effective, and I do think she can be the steady hand of leadership that this position requires."
Heather sat down. Julian then turned his attention to Blair for the first time.
"Blair. Do you accept the nomination?"
Blair was still processing Heather's praises as she said, "I accept."
They moved on to the last two positions to which Blair didn't pay much attention to. She was nominated, and it was Heather of all people who nominated her for VPO. She looked to Julian. Did he influence her? Did someone else? Or did she herself convince Heather of her capacities?
Two other people were nominated for President, thus concluding nominations.
"The floor is now closed for nominations," Julian said. "We will let the nominations sit for the rest of the week. Then, we will vote during our last meeting of the term. Our holiday party will follow. Any questions?"
A few questions were asked, but Blair was already busy thinking about how she could use this last week to convince people to vote for her. She got the nomination she wanted; now she needed the votes.
A couple days later, Bart sat at his desk, reviewing financial statements when his phone rang. He looked at the screen and noticed an unknown number.
He reached for the 'Accept Call' button but paused. He'd been receiving so many spammed messages over the past few weeks that his first instinct was to ignore it.
But what if he didn't? What was the worst thing that could happen? He'd get another threat? The threats he'd been receiving were so routine that they became idle.
"Hello?"
"Bart? It's Philip."
Bart's shoulders lowered. "Philip. Good to hear from you. I thought you were someone else calling with this number."
"I'm glad you picked up then. I was going to call you with my cell, but I thought this was safer."
"Good thinking."
"I did some digging, and I may have found something."
Bart sat up. "What?"
"I went into Jack's office after he flew out to Singapore for the weekend. I looked into his work emails, files, and IMs, and didn't find anything out of the ordinary there. I wondered if he had any of his personal emails open, so I check on his web browser. He uses Chrome, so he was already logged into his Gmail account and did some more digging. Something odd stood out to me. He had a folder labeled Black Diamond where there were all of these email correspondences with a company with the same name."
"What's Black Diamond?"
"I wondered the same thing. It's a private intelligence agency in London. They focus on litigation support."
"Litigation support?"
"Yes. They mine evidence and provide advisory services to support multi-jurisdictional legal and white-collar crime cases. They specialize in asset tracing."
Bart's mind started spinning. Litigation support? Intelligence? Asset tracing? And here he thought he was using the most sophisticated techniques to stay a few steps ahead of his competition.
"What did the emails say?"
"Many of them were status reports although the data was hard to decipher. I didn't understand what it was they were looking for though."
"How long has Jack been in contact with Black Diamond?"
"I couldn't say. There were lots of emails. I didn't go through them all. But I did print a few of them for evidence purposes. They should be arriving at your place this afternoon."
"Good. That's really good Philip. Thank you."
"No problem. I'd recommend you read through the emails I printed to see if maybe you're able to decipher them. Or even look up Black Diamond to learn more about their techniques. They're very sophisticated, and many of their employees are former Israeli intelligence agents."
"Former Israeli intelligence agents?"
"You heard that right. There seems to be an untapped market for surveillance these days."
"You don't say," Bart said.
"Anyway, I have to go now. Let me know if you figure it out."
"Thanks Philip. Really. I appreciate you sticking your neck out for me."
"What are friends for?"
Bart hung up and opened his web browser. He searched Black Diamond. Sure enough, the website was at the top of his search results. He clicked on it, and the page opened with a black diamond. The home page was a suited man crossing his arms with the caption: A select group of veterans from the Israeli elite intelligence units that specialises in tailored solutions to complex litigation challenges.
Along the menu bar, the range in their services was expansive. Litigation, corporate, investment, cyber services were listed and explained in depth. Was this how his brother was able to find enough evidence to push him out of Bass Industries? Why was he still using their services? Most importantly, how long had Jack been building his case?
Bart kept reading, hoping the emails Philip printed would finally have some answers.
Chuck stopped by Camila's Café after writing his last exam of the term. He finished a half hour early, but still had more pressing work to do. Now that Blair had been nominated for the position she wanted; Chuck needed to find a way to convince enough people to vote for her. There was no way he could tamper the vote. That would be too overt. It was going to take a greater coup effort to convince these people to vote for Blair.
Chuck carried his espresso to one of the tables along the bank of windows where Julian's head was bowed, his pen scribbling in his notebook. Julian had spread out his textbooks and notebooks across two tables, and his extra-large coffee had spilled on his furled pages. His laptop was open yet asleep.
"Was the library full this afternoon?"
Julian looked up from his work. "Oh, hi Chuck. No, I just prefer working in cafes. I like the noise. It helps me focus. Are you done finals?"
"Almost. I just have one paper due at the end of the week."
Julian put his pen down and massaged his hand. "Lucky you. I'd kill to be a sophomore again. Life was a lot less stressful. Would you like to sit?"
Julian began to close up his law textbooks, making space for Chuck to set down his espresso.
"Are you sure I wouldn't be disturbing you?"
"Not at all. I needed a study break. I take it there's something you want to talk to me about."
"Perhaps. Something that is…off record."
"It will stay in confidence," Julian said.
"I have some questions about the election."
"I'm not surprised since you're a new member and all. It's a confusing process. I remember just going through the motions when I was freshman."
"So you agree that it is a confusing process? It truly is democratic then," Chuck said.
Julian chuckled. "What do you need clarification on?"
"All of the nominations can't campaign this week, right?"
"Right."
"But people still talk about the election."
"Free speech is valid, so that's also, right."
"What do you do if you feel very strongly about a candidate who you're unsure will get enough votes?"
"On record? You don't talk and let everyone vote. Off record? You plant ideas in people's heads that the candidate you want in would be a good choice. You don't tell them to vote for them because that's against the rules, but you persuade them. Changing perceptions is key."
"Did you change perceptions to become president?"
"Maybe intentionally…maybe unintentionally. The two aren't mutually exclusive."
"Sometimes they are. For some people at least."
"Chuck. I know what we're really talking about here. This is about Blair isn't it?"
"I'm just taking my democratic duties seriously."
"Right. Look, you don't have to convince me to vote for Blair. That's a given. So will Heather. You. Simon I would think. If you want to ensure that Blair wins, you've got to find a base of people who can be swayed to vote for her. I think the younger girls are immovable, but I'm sure there are other angles to explore."
"And what are you going to do?"
"Trust democracy to dictate that the best candidate wins."
Chuck was starting to see how Julian became president in the first place. He was slippery. He was able to express ideas in a way that made you feel confident in him, supported. It didn't feel like each word he used was with intention, that he was manipulating you to react in a certain way or reach a particular conclusion even. If law didn't work out for him, he could really consider a career in politics.
"Well, you better be doing something on your end. You're her mentor after all."
"I am supporting her. I have the whole way. Now let's say that if you are able to do your job, and I do mine, then Blair won't have much to worry about will she?"
"No, she won't," Chuck said. "Is this a deal, then?"
While Julian could talk politics, he was more well versed in the language of business. What Julian was suggesting was an offer. A business proposition. If they joined forces, they could reach their shared goal of helping Blair become Vice President.
"I suppose it is. Off the record of course."
Chuck offered his hand. "Then, it's a pleasure doing business with you."
Bart examined the Purolator package that was waiting for him at the penthouse that evening. He took the package upstairs, shut his office door, and tore it open. Inside, there were many documents of email correspondences between Jack and the Black Diamond team, as well as mined data sheets.
Bart examined the data sheets closely. They data dated a couple years back, and it confirmed one thing: Jack has been following his every move well before he took over Bass Industries. He knew everything from what business meeting he had and with whom, to where he'd pick up a coffee, to even recording every vacation he'd taken.
He sat back in his chair, trying to put the pieces together. Jack had been plotting for years, and with the help of Black Diamond, he finally found enough evidence to push Bart out of Bass Industries. This he knew. However, since when did he have the discipline to see this all through? His brother had never shown such discipline in the past. He had underestimated his brother, and now he was paying the price.
Bart read through the most recent correspondences. They were filled with Jack asking for particulars regarding certain data spreadsheets, but it was all coded. How could he decipher these emails? Only two words made a bit of sense to Bart. Russell Thorpe.
What did Russell have to do with this?
Bart sifted through more papers. Perhaps his brother didn't want him working for Russell. He made it clear that he didn't want him working in Manhattan, which forced him into early retirement. Why would Jack be threatened that he was working for Russell? He accepted a lower ranking position, and Thorpe Industries was a distant competitor to Bass Industries.
Unless Russell was working with Jack? It was possible. Russell's offer came at a time when no one wanted anything to do with him. They had spent lots of time together over the past few months. Bart shared much of his expertise with Russell even. Was Russell playing both sides by using him for work while providing Jack information about him since they were working close together?
Friendship in the business world was a fickle, fickle thing.
He couldn't be sure that Russell was involved. He didn't have enough evidence to prove it. But he would remain cautious. Perhaps, he should resign, because he couldn't go any longer on this path.
This all had to stop. He vowed to win back Bass Industries, and if he couldn't trust anyone to do the work for him, then he would have to do it himself. Just like the old days.
Bart collected the papers and placed them back in the Purolator package. He then took the package to his safe where he changed the locker combination for extra precaution.
The only way he was going to win back Bass Industries is if he eliminated the leverage Jack had on him. It had to be done as soon as possible, and there was little room for error. If he knew his brother like he thought he did, he would have to think like him to find where he kept all of the evidence of the fire. He would have to do it while being watched.
Inside the safe, Bart picked up an extra set of keys to Bass Industries he had kept for posterity. It was time to get to work.
On Friday morning, Evelyn stood at the front of her English classroom as the last few seconds of their visual essay played on the projector. Evelyn held her breath when Ozzy initially connected the USB to the computer, waiting for the video file to not run, or for it to be incompatible, or for the whole system to crash.
None of that happened. The file played without hiccups, as the screen faded to black. Evelyn felt relief wash over her as their classmates applauded.
"Thank you, Evelyn and Oscar, for embracing a digital platform to talk about Hamlet's descent into madness. Well done!"
Evelyn smiled, as she made her way back to her desk. Ozzy removed the USB from the computer and logged off. He cleared any remaining papers off of Mr. Lawrence's desk.
Mr. Lawrence made a few more notes on his rubric and gathered his marking materials.
"Alright then. Thank you everyone for your unique presentations on Hamlet. You all took different and creative approaches and provided some subversive takes on my favourite Shakespearean play. Now, we only have a couple minutes left, so let's discuss your assigned readings over the break…"
Some people groaned. More work? Over break? What was he, their Christmas scrooge?
"I know, I know, but exams are coming up in January, and this will help prepare you for your final exam in this course."
As soon as Mr. Lawrence listed the final essay reading from their textbook, the bell rang.
"So, I think that went well," Ozzy said while Evelyn packed up her things.
"Fine, I'll admit it. It did. You were right. I had nothing to worry about."
"Would you mind saying that again?"
Evelyn sighed. "You were right."
"That sounds so good. I don't hear that often. Especially from you."
Evelyn rolled her eyes. "That's not true."
"Well…"
"Whatever. The project's over."
"Yeah. And winter break is almost here. When are you going to your Aunt's?"
"This weekend. Tonight, we're having our Christmas dinner all together before we go to Connecticut. Are you all packed up for St. Bart's?"
"Haven't started."
"Some things don't change."
"We aren't leaving until tomorrow morning," Ozzy said. "I still have time."
"Always last minute about everything."
"Can't we just go back to you telling me I'm right again?"
"That moment has passed," Evelyn said. "Besides, I thought we were more interested in moving forward?"
They hadn't talked about it since they first met up in the library a couple weeks ago. But now that they finished their project, Evelyn was left wondering if they would take that next step or if it was just talk. She had been skeptical the whole time waiting for him to retreat, and now felt like the perfect opportunity to fall back into old habits.
"Yeah," Ozzy said. He reached for her hand. "We are."
Evelyn felt something stir in her stomach when his warm hand touched hers. She didn't know how to describe it, what it meant even, but it was different. Comforting yet exciting. Something fluttering.
"So…what now?" Evelyn said.
"Evelyn!" Sera's voice called from the other side of the hallway. Lila and Kate snickered behind Sera.
"Sorry to interrupt," Sera said. "But we have to go if we want to make our lunch reservation."
Right. Their last lunch of the year. They booked it weeks ago at this exclusive bistro on Lawrence Avenue.
"Just wait outside for me. I'll be there in a minute," Evelyn said.
They shuffled away while speculating about what was happening between them. Evelyn returned her attention to Ozzy.
"Sorry about that. We planned this lunch weeks ago and—"
"It's okay. They're waiting for you, and you have to go. We can talk about this later."
Evelyn felt herself deflate. Later? When was later? Later often meant never when someone didn't want to prioritize doing something.
Evelyn let go of his hand. "Have a nice trip then."
Later that afternoon, Blair sat on one of the bar stools in her kitchen. It was the first time she sat down without the intention to study all week. When Blair wasn't studying, she was currying favor at St. Anthony Hall. She was the lead planner who organized and delegated every detail of their holiday party from food to music to cleanup. When she wasn't planning the party, she attended study sessions with members she wasn't as close to in hopes of earning their votes.
The week had gone by too fast with little sleep. And once the election was over, she still had to finish up her preparations for Christmas.
Joy stood on the other side of the counter with a mixing bowl in her hands. Racks of sugar cookies had cooled, and she was filling up multiple pipping bags with different coloured icing.
Blair took one of the candy cane shaped cookies and bit into it. "Mmh. Thanks again for making these, Joy."
"Are you kidding? I'm glad that my stress baking can be put to good use."
Joy used the spatula to scrape the remaining icing from the mixing bowl into the last piping bag. Aside from icing, Joy had a wide assortment of sprinkles to decorate the cookies. She took a seat beside Blair and cut open the piping bags.
Blair couldn't remember the last time she iced cookies. Thanksgiving was her favourite holiday, and they made pie. She may have made cookies with Dorota when she was twelve, but she hadn't decorated cookies since.
"Just dig right in!" Joy said. She picked up the blue piping bag along with a snowflake shaped cookie.
Blair picked up a Christmas tree cookie and began icing it.
"So, elections are tonight, huh?" Joy said.
"They are. I have to say, I'll be happy when it's over."
"I don't blame you. You haven't stopped all week. I was starting to worry."
"Trust me. This is nothing. I can plan a party in my sleep at this point."
"Now there's a skill to have," Joy said. "So, how are you feeling about it?"
"Okay. I mean, what else could I do to show these people how good of a candidate I am?"
"That you can bake! Don't underestimate the power of free homemade food in college especially during exams. These will sweeten your competition before they vote."
Blair sighed. "I hope so."
"What's the worst that can happen? You don't win. Then what?"
Blair hadn't considered it. She was so focused on winning VPO, that she didn't ponder an alternative. She needed to be VPO next year in order to become the most qualified and uncontested candidate for her senior year. But if that fell through, what was next?
"I suppose there are other ways to get involved on campus," Blair said.
"Have you considered running for Columbia's Student Union?"
"And have to pretend to like people and listen to their problems for an entire election cycle? No thank you."
Joy chuckled. "It definitely isn't for everyone."
"I prefer skill-based appointments. Not endless handshakes, kissing babies, and rally shouting democracy."
"That's fair. I just got to thinking. There was a town hall at the Student Service Center where the university's president was answering questions. It was moderated by the student representative on the university's board of governors. I saw the representative, a senior named Edith, and well, I just thought of you."
"Why would you think of me?"
Joy shrugged. "I could really see you doing something like that."
Board of Governors? Most of her leadership aspirations resided within social circles. She didn't think of elevating that aspiration to institutions, at least, not at this age.
"I don't know. Just something to think about," Joy said.
It was more than something to think about. Whether or not she won VPO tonight didn't seem so paramount anymore. Locke and Key had its value, a lifetime value, but there were other paths that could accomplish her goal of attaining power. She now made inroads with the law society from securing a recording secretary position that she could easily manage. She was a part of Locke and Key. Where else could she funnel her other interests? Fashion. The arts. Film perhaps. Campus was big, and she still had yet to scratch beneath the surface of it.
Suddenly a vague memory from her dubious girl's night came back to her. Heather had mentioned she knew of a fashion columnist named Liz. Maybe she could reach out to her
to see if she could get involved with the student newspaper. Blair picked up her phone and made a note of it.
Blair always thought that power was most potent when centralized. Perhaps that wasn't true the older that she became. Being VPO for Locke and Key would be a good experience, but it wouldn't be her only leadership experience during her undergrad.
Blair picked up the piping bag and continued frosting.
Later.
Who said later?
He'd been asking himself this question over and over again as he walked home. It wasn't difficult. He knew what he needed to say, but something else came shooting out.
Later.
As if what they were talking about wasn't important. That it didn't take precedent. That is was to be dismissed. He was ready to feel the spiral set in, the endless obsessing over things within and out of his control.
He had to do something, and he had to do it soon.
Ozzy could see the glow of light from Dash's room, and he found his way upstairs towards the light.
"Hey," Dash rolled off his bed. "Where were you afterschool? I waited for like twenty minutes and you didn't show."
"I had a lot on my mind, so I walked home."
"You okay?"
"Yeah. It'll be okay. Just my own stupid mouth getting me in trouble again."
"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think it is."
If only he knew.
"Dash. I need to tell you something."
Dash sat up.
"You know that promise we made?"
Dash nodded.
"I can't keep it."
Dash crossed his arms, his gaze lowered. "I know."
Wait, he knew? Then why force him to agree to it in the first place?
"How did you know?"
"I knew it was only a matter of time before something happened. I…may have proposed that promise for my benefit," Dash said.
"I'm sorry," Ozzy said.
"No, I'm sorry," Dash said. "It's not your fault. None of it was. It just felt better to say that it was, you know?"
"Yeah."
"I don't want this to be awkward," Dash said. "And I don't want to make this difficult for you anymore, so just…I don't know…do what you have to do."
Ozzy didn't feel like he needed Dash's blessing, but it still felt good to have it. It felt good to know that everyone was moving forward. He didn't have to sacrifice his relationship with Dash for his relationship with Evelyn and vice versa. Maybe…maybe this could actually work.
"Thanks, Dash."
He nodded. "But just to be clear, you better keep your PDA to a minimum because it might make me want to throw up."
"Got it," Ozzy said. "Anything else?"
"Yeah. I don't want to make this something that we pretend doesn't exist. There should be boundaries, but like if Evelyn becomes a part of your life, you shouldn't have to hide that from me."
"If she becomes a part of it," Ozzy muttered.
"I think we're beyond this. No need to go humble on me."
"I'm not humble. I still have to dig myself out of the hole I put myself in this afternoon."
"What did you say exactly?"
"She asked me what's next, one of her friends interrupted, and she had to go, and I said we'd talk later even though we're leaving tomorrow and she's leaving for Connecticut, and she wasn't happy."
Dash was contemplative. "You really need to get out of your own way sometimes."
"Tell me about it."
"No. I mean in life. You need to stop retreating and just go for it. So, you said something you didn't mean when you were on the spot, it happens, but what are you going to do about it?"
Ozzy gazed at Dash's desk where a couple notebooks were stacked atop of each other. He wasn't good with words. This he knew. But there had to be something he could do to help fill in the blanks.
Ozzy darted to his room and opened the top right drawer of his desk. Inside were the since smoothed out pages of his journal that he ripped out weeks ago. He scanned the pages, picked out the relevant entries as Dash watched.
"Tell mom I'll be back," Ozzy said while brushing past Dash.
Ozzy gripped the railing and jumped down the steps two at a time. He felt a fire ignite inside him that he hadn't felt in a long time.
"Good luck," Dash called from the top step.
Ozzy dialled Evelyn's phone number while opening the door. "I don't need it."
Everyone had left the Bass Industries offices after lunch that Friday afternoon. It was tradition that on each last day before the holiday break that everyone worked a half day. A company-wide holiday party followed.
Bart's return to Bass Industries felt like a private homecoming. As he walked through the rows of desks, cleaned up, and silent from the usual clicking and chatter, he felt like a ghost roaming the halls.
His feet traced the familiar path toward his old office like an adult did when returning to their hometown. As Bart neared the door, he fished for his office key out of his pocket. The key glided into the lock with ease.
Inside, his office remained tranquil and esteemed. He couldn't calculate how many hours he'd spent in this room, but all of those hours ceased to have mattered. As he studied the abstract artwork on the walls, the tchotchkes that crowded his old desk, to the rearrangement of furniture, his office felt like it was never even his. The history that he wrote in this room had been erased.
Bart put on his leather gloves and stepped toward the desk. A pile of envelopes, Christmas cards perhaps, remained sealed. He checked the return address on each of them. None were from Black Diamond.
Bart sat on his chair and started opening the drawers of his old desk. He sifted through file folders, sticky notes, check books, and spare tangled headphones.
Bart leaned back in his chair. Where would Jack hide something of value?
Jack had rearranged the desk to face the large bay window. Two leather club chairs faced the desk, where a black briefcase gleaned under a winter coat. Bart picked up the briefcase, which was surprisingly heavy, and set it down on the desk. He inspected the three-digit locks on either side of the case.
Bart inspected the numbers. They could be anything from a birthday to a random set of numbers. He could be here all night trying to crack the code. Bart considered trying each combination one at a time but abandoned the idea. That would take too long, and he didn't have the patience for such a tedious task.
He just had to think. What is something numerically significant from Jack's life? He tried Jack's birthday. It didn't work. Then, he tried the six digits of the day, month, and year that Jack moved to Australia in the nineties. That didn't work either. He tried their parent's birthdays, their wedding anniversaries, and neither were the combination.
Bart entered combination after combination, and he still couldn't figure out the code. He checked the sticky notes in his desk again, hoping for a sign, or some significant number, but nothing could be found.
Bart was ready to give up after almost an hour of inputting codes when he started rhyming off different numbers from their childhood. It was a long shot, but perhaps Jack's long-term memory was stronger than he gave him credit for.
He tried their old home phone number. He tried their house number, which wasn't long enough at four digits. He then tried their street number, which was also not long enough. He tried their school number, his childhood friend, Joey's, phone number even. Nothing worked.
Just when Bart was ready to give up, he had one last idea. What if it was their house number and street number in Astoria? Their semi-detached house number was three thousand, two hundred and forty-seven, while they lived on forty fourth street. All of those numbers made a six-digit code.
Bart inputted the numbers, and the briefcase popped open. Bart sighed with relief and opened the suitcase. Jack's computer took up all of the space on the bottom, while the top half was full of file folders. The smaller pockets were filled with pens, paper clips, and smaller notepads.
Bart leafed through the file folders, noting new leases that have been signed. He put them back and picked up his computer. He felt around underneath, well aware that most briefcases he owned had a secret compartment. He felt his finger latch the corner of the bottom of the briefcase, where it flipped up, revealing more papers underneath.
There was a used check book from Jack's personal account for Black Diamond. Bingo. He folded up the check book and slid it into his breast pocket.
But there was more. There were scraps of paper, notes Jack had made to himself that Bart couldn't decipher. And then there was something else. An old picture.
The picture was yellowed, the edges crinkled, but the image had far from faded. It was a picture of Jack and Misty. He had his arm around her as they posed for the photo, her hand on her swollen belly.
He also recognized where this photo was taken. It was taken at the first apartment he ever bought. The same one he moved in with Misty after they married.
After all these years, it all came back to this.
Bart held the photo so tight that he indented the picture with his thumb. After all of these years, Jack still hadn't forgiven him. Taking over Bass Industries wasn't just for the fortune of it; but more importantly revenge.
He didn't want to think back to those times. He never allowed himself to. It never did anything good. It just led to regret and doubts. Thinking about what happened would require him to face hard truths. One of them reflected back on him with this photo.
He took a deep breath and let go of the photo. He wasn't going to go there. Not today. Not ever.
Bart closed the compartment and placed Jack's computer back in the briefcase. He was about to open the laptop until he heard the sound of voices in the hallway. Laughter.
Bart closed the briefcase, and put it back where he found it, underneath Jack's coat. The voices grew louder and louder until Bart could see the shadows underneath the door. Bart looked in vain for an escape, but he knew perfectly well that there wasn't one in his office. He settled for sitting in the desk chair—his chair and waited.
Jack opened the door, with a young raven-haired woman on his arm.
Jack's brows shot up to his hairline. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm just glad this is the last time I have to vote for elections," Colton said. "It's bullshit."
"Agreed. Just let the keeners fight it out. They can do the work, and we can party. It's a good deal," Ed said.
"Expect for the fact that I was done exams on Tuesday, and I've had to stay here for a few extra days because tonight's meeting is mandatory," Colton said.
Most of the members arrived early before their last meeting of the year. They were all dressed formally, and some were busy setting up for the holiday party that would follow afterwards. Chuck sat with Colton and Ed listening to their plight. They were seniors, and he couldn't relate to their annoyance. He remained patient and listened, as he had been targeting older members and his pledge class all week.
"As bothersome as they are," Chuck said. "I have a few ahead of me. Any advice?"
"Go by who the selection committee picked," Colton said. "They typically win every time."
"I've been thinking about a few of the positions with multiple options, and I'm not so sure the selections committee always picks the right people," Chuck said.
"Don't think too much about it," Ed said. "Save it for studying."
"Good thing I'm done studying," Chuck mused.
He was able to plant little seeds into every other person's heads. Why were Colton and Ed so difficult to convince? How was he going to get these guys to vote for Blair?
Blair arrived carrying a large tupper of cookies. Her chestnut curls bounced along the collar of her coat. She removed her boots in the hall and approached them.
"Gentlemen," Blair said. She then wrinkled her nose. "Chuck."
Colton and Ed chuckled while Chuck smirked. At least she was in a good mood today.
"Waldorf. Always a pleasure. What kind of treats have you brought with you?"
"Yeah, what are you hiding there Blair?" Colton asked.
Blair set down the tupper on the nearest armchair. She removed her leather gloves and her coat revealing an emerald green dress paired with lacy stockings. Colton and Ed both checked her out, as did many other men in the room.
"I'm not hiding anything. I just brought along some holiday spirit."
"We have plenty of spirits in the house," Colton said.
"But I doubt you have this kind of spirit just lying about. Would you like one?" Blair opened the tupper and revealed colourful and artfully iced Christmas cookies.
"I guess someone has to try one," Colton said while picking up a Christmas tree cookie. "For quality assurance purposes."
Blair grinned. "I assure you I try everything I make before I offer it. Ed, would you like one?"
Chuck rolled his eyes at Ed who was busy studying Blair's chest. "Sure."
Blair's grin turned into a grimace when she faced Chuck.
"What is it? No cookie for me?"
"Cookies are reserved for members on the nice list. Last time I checked; you've never made that list."
Chuck smirked. "I'm sure you can make an exception."
"The question is, should I? What do you guys think? Has Chuck been naughty or nice?"
"Definitely naughty," Ed said, and Colton snorted.
Way to have back up. They were too busy enjoying Blair's jabs at his expense. So long as it convinced them to vote for her, he would endure it.
"Well, in the spirit of Christmas then, here," Blair said.
Blair lowered the tupper so Chuck could choose a cookie. He picked a snowflake and bit into the sweet moist texture.
"These are really good, Blair," Colton said. Ed nodded in agreement.
"I'm glad you enjoyed them. There's plenty more where they came from."
It was subtle, but the message was there. She was using food to bribe people's vote. Simple, and effective. And with Colton and Ed, it just might work.
Julian appeared. "Blair. Great. You're here. Simon's been looking for you. He had some questions about the mulled wine? I assume you know what that's about."
Blair sighed. "Yes, Julian. I do. Here." She gave him the tupper. "Have a cookie. I'll be back."
Julian looked at the cookies with a questioning look. He looked up at Chuck who simply nodded.
"Those are really good. Do you think she'd bring cookies like that to every formal meeting?" Ed said.
"If she's elected as VPO, I wouldn't doubt it," Chuck said.
When Evelyn received a call from Ozzy, she wasn't sure she wanted to answer it. She was initially surprised. She didn't expect him to call so soon, and she was wary about what he wanted to talk about.
Evelyn climbed the final steps of the New York Public library main branch while carrying their order of cookies from Magnolia Bakery. The library was close to closing.
The grand foyer was decorated with garland on the marble bannisters, and holly was wrapped around the candle sticks. A large Christmas tree was at the centre of the room decked out in gold ornaments and Christmas lights with a sparkling star on top.
Evelyn looked around and finally spotted Ozzy standing on the second-floor balcony above the Christmas tree. He was intently reading a lined paper in his hand, until he looked up and caught Evelyn's eye.
"Wait there," Ozzy said.
Evelyn stepped closer to the tree to avoid getting in the way of library patrons looking to pick up their holds and leave for the holidays.
Ozzy jumped down the steps. He had to side stepping a few people to get to Evelyn.
"Thanks for meeting me," he said, his cheeks flushed.
"You're lucky I was in the neighbourhood."
"Look, I'm sorry for what I said earlier today. I didn't mean it. I just can't always find the right way to say what I want to say, and I end up making a mess of things. I don't want to just leave this later; I want this now."
Ozzy took a step closer to her, his eyes falling on his papers. He folded them in half, creasing the middle, and offered it to her.
"This is for you."
"What is it?"
His kept his gaze on her while his cheeks flushed. "How I feel about you. In words."
Evelyn unfolded the papers. Papers. This wasn't a short letter, an affirmation, or a short-doctored poem. It was Ozzy's most personal thoughts from the journal entries he'd been writing since the summer. They were about her.
"It might be a bit all over the place, but I think everything you need to know is in there."
"Ozzy…"
She was speechless. Here it was. Ozzy giving her his heart in words. Evelyn thought she'd know what to do when it happened. She thought she'd know what to say, but her mind was drawing a blank.
"Look who's at a loss for words now," Ozzy said.
"I'm sorry. I'm just… are you sure you want me to have this?"
"Yes. When I was staying at the Ostroff Centre this summer, one of the things I was suggested to write about on the bad days was something that made me happy. Most of the time, I found myself writing about you."
Evelyn smiled. "Really?"
He shrugged. "Read for yourself."
"Wait. What about Dash?"
"I already talked to him. It's all good."
"And your mom?"
Ozzy looked puzzled. "I'm not sure what she has to do with this—"
"Wait, what about your dad?"
"Who knows about him? Do you have any other…lingering concerns?"
Evelyn grinned and let out a nervous laugh. She covered her face with his papers. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure that nothing was standing in the way. There always was something before."
"Nothing but ourselves this time," Ozzy said.
Ozzy took another step towards her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "What do you say?"
Evelyn rested her forehead against his. "Yes. A thousand times over."
Ozzy leaned in and kissed her, and it brought Evelyn back to the front steps of Aunt Kim's house in Connecticut. It brought back the feeling of the cold air and delicate sprinkle of falling snowflakes, and the taste of peppermint on his breath.
His cold lips warmed against hers as they kissed with no interruption, no ulterior motive, nothing, for the first time. There was no politeness or timid uncertainty with the kiss. Ozzy's grip on her was firm not fragile, his kiss was tender yet persistent. Although her eyes were closed, Evelyn felt herself wake up. The spark she had felt before, that yearning she used to feel in her lower belly, had returned with an intensity that only grew with each kiss, like a wave crashing onto shore. Over and over again.
The intercom system came alive and made the announcement, "The library will be closing in ten minutes."
Ozzy groaned. "So much for no interruptions."
This time, an interruption didn't concern Evelyn. Interruptions were a part of life. The real concerns had been addressed. There was nothing more she needed to worry about.
"For once, we finally were on time," Evelyn said. She wrapped her arms around Ozzy's neck and leaned into him, hungry for another kiss. "That's all that matters."
Spotted: E and O finally getting what they wanted most for Christmas this year. Each other.
"Now we'll be moving on to voting for Vice President Organization."
Blair's heartbeat quickened. This was it. The moment she'd been working towards for the past month. As much as she gained perspective as she iced cookies with Joy earlier that afternoon, she couldn't disregard her anxious anticipation.
The youngest member of the selections committee, a freshman named Madison, distributed paper ballots.
"Remember to write either Zara or Blair down on your ballot and initial it on the back. If you don't, then your vote will become void," Julian said.
Blair picked up her ballot and wrote her own name on the paper. She initialed the back, folded up the paper, and passed the ballot to the end of her row. Madison picked up the ballots and delivered them to the eldest members of the selection committee who counted the votes in the back of the room.
Blair looked back and watched them tally the votes. Chuck, who sat in the back row, caught her eye and smirked. He sat back in his chair seemingly bored by the whole procedure. Typical. Knowing Chuck, he probably wrote another name on the ballot that he wasn't supposed to, resulting in a nullified vote.
Madison was handed one of the ballots, and she brought it to the front of the room where Julian sat. She handed him the ballot and read the name on it.
"Our Vice President Organization for next year is…Blair Waldorf."
There was no gasp or applause at the announcement. There hadn't been for any of the previous votes. This wasn't a political arena with opponents jousting for power. It would be bad form to do what Blair wanted to do in that moment: to jump up from her chair and start bouncing on her feet while looking up at the ceiling and thanking God.
But she did it! She won!
Blair took a deep breath and saw Julian give the slightest nod to her. She looked down her row where Zara looked bemused. Valentina patted her back while whispering to her.
She felt many emotions in that moment. Relief. Joy. Astonishment. Powerful.
Blair rode the high long after the elections concluded, and their last meeting of the year ended. Everyone began celebrating upstairs, and Blair returned to the kitchen where two pots of mulled wine and apple cider sangria were the drinks of choice that evening. Appetizers and cookies were spread out on a dressed table with bits of holly and pinecones as table decorations. Some members thought she went too overboard with the decorations, but this was a modest decorating job by Blair's standards.
"I think a congratulations are in order," Julian said, his arms wide.
Blair smiled and gave him a hug. "Thank you. I still can't believe it actually happened."
"Really? Because I can."
Blair poured a cup of mulled wine and offered it to Julian. "How?"
"The best candidates always have the most influential people backing them."
Blair finished pouring herself a cup of mulled wine. "I guess having the President as your mentor helps."
"I wasn't talking about me although I may have kept the ship on course so to speak."
"Oh. Then who are you talking about?"
"I think you know, Blair. Here's a hint. Don't think too hard about it."
Blair followed Julian's gaze to the living room where Chuck stood with Colton and a few of the older members.
"Chuck…helped me? Wait—how, why?"
"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Julian said.
Blair studied Chuck knocking his cup with Colton's.
"Are you sure it was Chuck?"
Julian chuckled. "Positive."
Blair took a drink. What could this mean? What did Chuck want? It may have seemed obvious to Julian, but it wasn't to her. There had been far too many deceptions in their past. Blair couldn't help but feel doubtful.
Chuck excused himself from the boys, and they started hugging him goodbye. He was leaving. Already.
"It's usually best to talk about these things before it's too late."
Blair finished her wine and set down the cup. "Thanks again, Julian. Really. I owe you one."
"You owe me nothing. Go."
Sometimes the greatest gifts are the ones we never ask for.
Jack turned to the raven-haired woman and said, "Can you give us a moment, Jessica? I'll meet you outside."
Jessica looked uneasily between the two brothers and slinked away.
Jack stalked toward the desk and slapped his hands on the wooden desk. "You didn't answer my question, brother. What are you doing here?"
Bart's face was cemented. "I forgot something."
"Really?" Jack scoffed. "You've had how many months to reclaim your things from the lost and found bin, and now you need something? I expected a better excuse from you."
"Well, with your orders of staying away, I couldn't just come when I felt like it now could I?"
"It was," Jack sneered.
It was their past agreement. Was. Past tense. As in over.
"Was? Well that's a relief to hear, Jack, because I was growing tired of your obsession over me."
"Don't even flatter yourself," Jack said. "I'm just glad you finally got my messages. It took you awhile to figure it out."
"Your work with Black Diamond?" Bart said. "I could charge you for espionage for that."
Jack put a hand to his heart. "Oh, so you're here to threaten me?"
"It's a serious crime."
"Huh. You would be very knowledgeable about that," Jack said. "If you're so concerned about espionage, you may want to talk to your friend Philip. Remember him? I know he went snooping through my things and printed off some things for you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Look, you can lie and delude yourself all you want, God knows you've been doing it for years, but you can't lie to me. I know you. I know your little playbook, and this is straight out of it. Have your friend do the dirty work for you? Find something to blackmail me so you can worm your way back to Bass Industries? Decent plan, but poor execution. Too bad for you, your friend got caught."
"Don't forget that I know your playbook too. You can be traced back to the people you hired from Black Diamond to track my every move, send me all this useless spam to give you my password credentials, and even send me threats. My lawyers know all about it."
"And my lawyers know all about you. They know about how you set the fire to your own building to collect the insurance money from it. They know that you used that money as the base to build Bass Industries, something you would have never been able to achieve without it, and that someone I loved died from it. And you've sat here every day for the past fifteen years profiting off of it. You gave away the last living part of Misty away, you let your son grow up without his mother, and none of that probably matters to you. What matters most is Bass Industries, and it's what I will make sure you will never have again."
Bart entire body was rigid. "That's enough conjecture."
"It always is with you, isn't it? When are you ever going to accept responsibility for all of the pain you've caused? This whole time I was trying to show you mercy by not starting a lawsuit, but if you're just trying to scavenge your way back to Bass Industries, I will have to reconsider. For once, I'm the smarter one. I'm the one with the leverage. Not you. When I'm done with you, you will have nothing."
"Jack. I think you need to calm down."
"Calm down? I am calm. It's you who won't be," Jack said.
"Jack, come on.? Do you really think it's going to be worth it?"
Jack sighed. "I've been waiting seventeen years, Bart. You better believe it's worth it."
"Jack—"
Jack picked up his coat and briefcase. "You better lawyer up, brother. Because I'm not just content with taking Bass Industries away from you. I'm going to take everything. Now get out of my office."
Most times, the worst gifts are ones we fear receiving the most.
Chuck was supposed to be home for their family Christmas dinner a half hour ago. He didn't expect elections to run as long as they did, and by the time he wished everyone a good Christmas break, he realized he was late. If he left now, and the traffic wasn't too bad, he'd get there in another half hour.
Chuck finished buttoning his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck. He was about to reach for the door when he heard someone call his name.
"Chuck, wait."
Blair appeared; her cheeks flushed. "Where are you going? The party just started."
"We're having our family Christmas dinner tonight. I said I'd be there, and I'm already late."
"Oh. Before you go, can I talk to you?"
Chuck stuffed his hands in his coat pockets.
"I just wanted to say thank you."
Chuck smirked. "Thank me? It seems like you couldn't wait to throw your next insult at me for the past few weeks Waldorf."
"I mean it. Thank you. For helping with the election."
"Campaigning is against the bylaws and standing rules."
"Did you…read the bylaws and standing rules?"
"I may have skimmed it."
"Thank you for helping. Unofficially."
"You're welcome."
"I just have to ask…why?"
"You know why."
"I need to hear you say it."
"Are you sure this is a good time? You said you were figuring things out. You were busy finding a life without me."
"I did figure things out."
Chuck felt that weird feeling inside his stomach again. Fluttering.
"Chuck!" Valentina shrieked. "You can't be leaving so soon! We're about to do our secret Santa exchange!"
Blair's nose wrinkled at the shrillness of Valentina's voice.
"Can't. I have to go to my family's Christmas dinner."
"That's too bad," Valentina said and approached Chuck to say goodbye.
Blair obstructed Valentina's path to Chuck.
"Excuse me," Valentina said.
Blair didn't budge. She flashed her bitchy smile, and Chuck smirked. He knew what was coming next.
"What's your problem?" Valentina huffed.
"Right now, you."
"Me?"
"Yes. Stop throwing yourself around like a rag doll. It's…unbecoming."
"What are you talking about?"
"Let me make myself very clear. You may throw yourself at Chuck, but I can assure you that you will never be the first one he calls. I always will be. So do yourself a favour, and pick up what's left of your dignity and make a graceful exit."
"You are crazy!" Valentina said, walking away.
Blair waved at her. "Merry Christmas to you too!"
Blair turned to Chuck, her bitchy smile flashing at him. "Chuck."
"Yes?"
"I have only one more question for you. Did you sleep with her?"
Chuck cleared his throat. "I was…very dedicated to the cause."
Blair scoffed while rolling her eyes. "A noble sacrifice I'm sure."
"Not really. Mediocre sex is just so…"
Blair folded her arms across her chest, expecting a pithy remark.
"Mediocre?"
"I don't have mediocre sex, so I wouldn't know," Blair said.
Chuck took a step closer to her, his voice lowering. "And I hope you never do."
Blair looked up at him, her doe brown eyes wide. "Shouldn't you be going?"
"Yeah." He took a couple steps back and opened the front door. Blair hovered in the doorway.
"Merry Christmas, Blair."
"Merry Christmas, Chuck."
Chuck was about to turn away when Blair tugged his arm. "I think you're forgetting something."
She pointed to the door frame where a mistletoe hung above them. Chuck smirked.
"You really think of everything, don't you?" Chuck said.
"Always."
He caressed her cheek and guided her lips to his.
And sometimes the greatest gifts are the ones worth waiting for.
Ozzy picked out all of his swimming trunks and dropped them on the pile of clothes that amassed on his bed. He moved back to his dresser and picked out a couple more t-shirts and added them to the sliding pile of clothes.
After dropping off Evelyn, he returned home to pack for their family trip to St. Bart's. They were leaving early tomorrow morning, and Ozzy had yet to pack because he found it hard to focus. His thoughts would drift from beachwear to Evelyn to what Evelyn would look like in her swimsuit to what she'd look like without it and then—
"How's the packing going?" His mom asked from the door waking him up from his daydream.
"It's mounting," Ozzy said. The pile of clothes crumbled like an avalanche and most of the pile fell to the floor.
"Was mounting," Ozzy said. He bent down and picked up the clothes.
"Don't forget your toiletries. Last time, you forgot your deodorant."
Right. Deodorant. Important stuff. Focus.
"I have to say, this is a vast improvement from you packing the morning of last year," his mom said.
A year ago, his mother had just married Philip, and they spent Christmas as a new family in St. Bart's. So much had changed since then. A year ago, he had invited his grandparents to the wedding and almost ruined the entire thing. Dash began dating Evelyn. He hadn't met his father even.
Speaking of grandparents, he hadn't heard from them since. Ozzy wasn't surprised, but it was still disappointing.
"A lot of things were different a year ago," Ozzy said.
"That they were. Were you able to talk to Dash?"
"Yeah. We figured it out."
"Good." His mom looked visibly relieved. "I'm glad to hear it."
Ozzy started pilling his clothes into his duffle bag. He caught his mom starring.
"What is it?"
"Something's different. You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to, but you're happier. Centered."
For the first time in a long time, he had to agree with his mom. He was in a better place. Not perfect, but better. More stable and self-assured. While working things out with Dash and Evelyn respectively helped, he felt more like himself then he had felt in a long time.
"I've been feeling better for some time now."
His mom's eyes became glassy. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. He had grown taller than her long ago, and her head nestled on his shoulder.
"I'm just so proud of you."
"For what?"
"I know it hasn't been easy, but it takes a lot of courage to face the demons you've been facing head on."
It was hard. It would continue to be hard, but it was something he would always be working at.
"Thank you," Ozzy said. "For giving me the resources and space to figure it out."
He and his mom had their ups and downs. They didn't always see eye to eye on many things. They both had made many mistakes. But they persevered. Grown. Learned. He felt closer to his mom now then he had in years. Maybe things could be different between them. The only constant was change.
"Before I forget, there's something I need to tell you. I just learned about this news today."
Ozzy was puzzled. News? What could possibly be new now?
"What is it?"
"Your father's moving to New York."
Evelyn sat on her bed re-reading the crinkled pages Ozzy gave her in her lap. Her heart felt so full. She didn't think her heart would ever feel this full again. She held the papers close to her chest and smiled. She hadn't been able to stop smiling since she got home.
"Hey, there." Eric poked his head in her room. "Chuck just arrived, so we're ready for dinner now."
Evelyn folded up the pages and tucked them away in her tote. She'd already packed up everything she needed to bring to Aunt Kim's. She packed most of the presents that she needed to bring to Connecticut as well as her overnight toiletries and clothes.
"So Miami, huh? Are you going to save the manatees when you get there?" Evelyn asked.
"Hardly. We'll be having our grand Rhodes reunion which includes my mom and her sister Carol, so I'll be the one who needs saving," Eric said.
The table was set with the usual assortment of foods that defined a holiday mean: turkey, stuffing, gravy, potatoes, vegetables, cranberry sauce, and Lily's special addition of foie gras. Ina had stayed behind to make sure the turkey was carved and ready to eat.
Chuck was at the bar cart, pouring himself a glass of scotch.
"Well, well, well. Look who decided to finally grace us with his presence," Evelyn said.
Chuck smirked. "You should all be honoured."
Evelyn rolled her eyes. "What took so long?"
"I had to give everyone my well wishes for the holidays."
"Even Blair?"
"Perhaps."
While Evelyn had last spoken to Blair last weekend, Blair rarely brought Chuck up in conversation. Evelyn naturally wondered if that meant she and her brother had parted ways, or if there was something still there that had yet to rebloom.
"Take a seat everyone while the turkey's still warm," Lily said.
Evelyn took a seat in between Chuck and Eric. Her father sat across from her, his face contemplative. His cold blue eyes were focused on his glass of scotch.
"Serena's not joining us?" Chuck asked, noticing her absence.
"No. She's flying to Miami tomorrow morning, so we'll be meeting up with her there," Lily said. "She sends her best to everyone."
Everyone filled their plates and passed each platter around in a clockwise direction.
"Alright," Lily said while raising her champagne flute. "Let's have a toast."
"To family," Evelyn said raising her glass of water.
Everyone clinked glasses and began eating. Knives scratched plates, and voices rumbled around the table. They talked and talked, catching up on Chuck's adventures at Columbia, and Evelyn and Eric's updates from Constance and St. Jude's.
They were so immersed in their conversation that they ignored the phone that rang from the kitchen. They didn't hear the elevator ping. With her back to the foyer, Evelyn didn't hear the thumping of boots against the tile floors or see two officers approach the table. She only saw Lily's frown as she stood to address the two men.
"Excuse me, officers," Lily said. "Can we help you?"
Evelyn turned to see two officers with their NYPD badges gleaning under the pot lights.
What were they doing here?
"Yes actually," the one with a moustache said. "We are looking for a Mr. Bartholomew Bass."
Evelyn turned to her father who remained seated. He wore the same stern look where his lips disappeared, and his blue eyes were piercing. His face was less ruddy than usual, almost pallid.
"That's me," Bart said in a low, dull voice.
"I don't understand, officer. Why are you looking for my husband? I don't think you've noticed, but we're in the middle of our Christmas dinner."
"I'm sorry ma'am. We're just doing our job," the other officer said. He reached into his pocket and unfurled a piece of paper. It looked like a formal letter. A warrant? A subpoena? These were vague legal terms she heard in passing headlines, their words empty vessels of meaning.
"What's going on here?" Evelyn said.
Chuck put his hand on Evelyn's arm, willing her to stay out of it.
"Bartholomew Bass, you're under arrest for first degree arson that resulted in the death of Misty Bass."
But you know which gifts are the greatest to receive? The gifts that we never meant to give. They can bring everyone together. Or they can tear everything apart. I guess the truth doesn't always set you free after all.
You Know You Love Me,
XOXO Gossip Girl
A/N: And there you have it! Blair won the election with Chuck's help, Evelyn and Ozzy are finally together, and Bart's past has come back to haunt him.
So what's happening next? Lots. The next chapter is titled "Dead Bass Walking."
Now what did you think? Stave off a few minutes of boredom by leaving a review!
Till next time,
EZ11