Chapter Eight: Too Easy

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so... I kind of had writer's block for a bit. This isn't really a drama-filled chapter, and it doesn't address the issues from the last couple of chapters. I just... couldn't think of anything else to write without adding some more character developments.
I got the idea for this chapter from a dream, except it was different a bit and in the middle of the dream Blair transformed in to Jenny...
Anyways, I hope you enjoy. Sorry that it took so long to update.

Numerous hard knocks were made on the door to Chuck's room, while the one responsible for them stood outside and waited to be let in. The one knocking was no one other than Blair Waldorf, and she looked quite upset. The reason she was upset? Well, just that Nate had just broken up with her the day before. Or rather, the night before. He had shown up at around midnight, was visibly drunk and stammered something about how he couldn't believe that Blair was 'such a slut' that she'd lose her virginity to 'some jackass who didn't deserve it.' Blair just assumed that when Nate said she lost her virginity to a jackass, he was referring to Chuck, especially since he added after that Chuck told him everything.

"May I help you?" asked a tall woman who answered Chuck's door. She looked older, at least in her late 40s. Her hair was obviously dyed blonde, and her skin was smooth, most likely thanks to botox. Blair wrinkled up her nose, trying not to imagine what Chuck had been doing with this woman. Jesus Christ, she thought that he had standards! How could he go from teenaged girls to women who were double his age?

"Uh, yeah. Is Chuck Bass here?" Blair asked, holding one hand on her hip.

"Oh, yes. Come on in. He'll be out in a minute," the woman said, opening the door fully and standing to the side so Blair could walk in. "Charles!" she called out as she closed the door once Blair was inside.

"Charles? Are you sure you want to call him that?" Blair scoffed. She moved over to the couch and sat down, glancing around the room. It seemed... clean. Usually, in the morning whenever she came over, it was an absolute mess until Chuck got a maid to come in and clean it for him.

"I can call him whatever I wish. He is my son," she responded from behind the bar, where she was examining the many half-empty bottles. "I'm Misty Bass, in case you didn't recognize me. I wouldn't blame you- I haven't been in New York for quite some time."

Blair wasn't sure about whether her first thoughts should be 'Oh shit' or 'Thank fucking God''. She was pretty glad to know that Chuck wasn't hooking up with this woman, but she felt guilty for mocking the way that she called him Charles and that she couldn't remember what she looked like.

"Ms. Bass? No wonder I didn't recognize you. You must just get younger by the second," Blair quickly stated. It didn't hurt to kiss someone's ass, especially when the someone was a powerful person and the mother of your former friend with benefits. "I'm Blair Waldorf. We met a couple of years back. Everyone was just devastated when you left."

"Blair? My, have you changed. Though, you still have the same adorable headbands... and a flat chest. Oh, don't worry about that. I'm sure your mother and father can fix it," Misty assured her, the same little smirk on her lips that Blair had seen on Chuck's so many times. Blair didn't think her chest was all that flat. It was a normal size, and it was fine with her. She just had to bite her tongue from snapping back with something about how Misty's son seemed to like them the way that they were.

Speak of the devil (or rather think). Chuck came out of the bathroom wearing a pair of boxers, his hair sticking up at odd angles and he had a look of pure misery on his face. Blair would have had that look too if she knew all she had to look forward to all day was being stuck with Misty. He rubbed at his eyes and yawned, not noticing that Blair was on his couch yet.

"Charles, put on some clothes. You have a visitor," Misty told him, running her finger along the bottles as she counted them.

He grumbled something that resembled a couple of swear words, both in English and French. There were already clothes set out for him on his bed, which was something that most mothers only did for their eight year olds on Picture Day. He moved to the bed and glanced up to shoot a confused look in the direction of Blair, and then pulled on his clothes.

"Say hello to Blair," Misty urged him.

"I'm not five years old," he hissed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and rubbing his eyes some more. "Hello, Blair. Get out of my suite," he said bitterly.

"No need to listen to him, dear. I own this suite more than he does," she insisted, offering a fake smile to Blair.

"Correction- Dad owns this suite. You used to before you fuck--" he started, just to be cut off by his mother.

"Watch what you're saying, Charles. You may regret it."

Blair couldn't wipe the amused smile from her lips. It was great to watch Chuck being whipped by his own mother; being pushed around by a woman that he couldn't push back without facing serious consequences. Not to mention that Blair could talk to him and he'd listen, since Misty wouldn't let him make her leave.

"What do you want, Blair?" he asked, laying back and shutting his eyes.

"I was going to ask if we could get breakfast, but since your mother is here, I suppose that we can't," she sighed as she got up from the couch.

"Well, we have plans for breakfast with Bart and Lily, but how about dinner? Perhaps your mother could come? We've lost touch in the past couple of years, and it would be great to catch up," Misty said, the fake smile being replaced by a seemingly genuine one.

"That sounds fine with me. Text me the time and name of the restaurant, and we'll be there. Bye, Chuck. It was such a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Bass," Blair told her, letting herself out the door.