A/N: Firstly - thank you to my awesome reviewers - merrimint, kauraREX, livelovelaugh9704, and RauhlPrincess! If I could hug you over the internet, I totally would!
Also, I'm just going to go ahead and tell you that I absolutely despise Raina. Hated her with Chuck, hated her with Nate. And I don't understand why she looked at least five years older than both of them, yet they acknowledged that she was the same age... Can you tell it bugged me? Anyhow, I am throwing her into the story despite my resentment (at least in here I can take creative liberties with her age), so I hope with that admission that you will trust me with this? Yes? Okay, then let's go...
Chapter 16: New Beginning
The pressure is building; I want to break away
Motivation is lacking; the point starts to fade
I look to the bottom still empty still the same
I'm waiting for something to show me the way
To the path that I should take; it's just too real to go ahead and fake
-"New Beginning" Trapt
Chuck straightened his necktie, opting for a more mature look rather than his signature bowtie. He was young, yes, but he wanted to appear as intimidating as his callous, steely father had during his countless years of entrepreneurship, and a brightly colored bowtie just wasn't going to cut it. After one last look in the mirror, Chuck exited his limo and entered the small restaurant where Lily had planned to meet Russell and his daughter for dinner. Immediately spotting the father-daughter duo, clad in similar shades of gray – hers a dove gray sheath, his a slightly darker suit, he walked swiftly to the front of their table in a way that would be sure to attract their attention. Russell's obsidian eyes immediately found his, and Chuck knew that not only was he noticed, but also, he was recognized.
"Chuck Bass, such a pleasure to finally meet the late, great Bart Bass's son," he greeted, extending a hand. Chuck shook it politely but found himself wanting to snatch his hand away from the iron shackle that Russell's larger one created.
"I can assure you, Mr. Thorpe, the pleasure is all mine. It's not often I get to meet a real estate mogul as successful as you, after all."
"Well, I don't know about that. I heard about the project you did with Sebastian Lewis in Brazil last year, and he's been known as the Realtor of Rio for quite some time now."
"Yes, that deal was impressive, though you certainly had your struggles with the construction workers' strike," the younger Thorpe put in, inserting herself into the conversation.
"That we luckily resolved in record time," replied Chuck, shaking another hand that was cool and hard as metal to the touch.
"I'm – "
"Raina Thorpe," he said for her. "Your father isn't the only Thorpe known in the business world."
"Well, my father and I try as best we can to keep our names connected in all the business we conduct. Now, please sit." She gestured to the table, where a third chair was already placed. "Should we be expecting Lily as well?"
"Actually, Lily is unable to make it tonight. She offers her sincerest apologies."
"It happens," Russell said, swatting a hand in nonchalance that Chuck couldn't distinguish as genuine or false. The trio soon ordered drinks – white wine for Raina, vodka-tonic for Russell, and an unsurprising choice of scotch for Chuck. Chuck listened carefully as Russell launched into a series of anecdotes about his greatest achievements in the real estate industry of Chicago, while Raina nodded and smiled along, engrossed in every word that came out of her father's mouth, despite the likelihood that she had heard the stories many times over. Chuck didn't even have to try to keep the conversation flowing; he had scarcely spoken ten words throughout the entirety of the meal, but he realized that it was most likely a tactic by Russell to keep the discussion in safe harbors – preventing any voyages into the murky waters of his past with Bart and Bass Industries. Internally chastising himself for acting like a neophyte rather than the seasoned schemer, Chuck attempted to coax the ship out of its dock and into the ocean, where with any luck, a maelstrom would be waiting to bring Russell down to its dark, swirling depths.
"So, Russell, Lily mentioned you knew my father," Chuck began, treading lightly.
"Ah, yes. Your father and I were involved in lots of business together back in the days when I had hair," Russell said with a laugh that didn't reach his still glacial eyes.
"And why did you decide to make the move to Chicago?" asked Chuck, taking a drink of his scotch and observing the way Russell's face flickered with bitterness before settling back into impassiveness.
"I just grew tired of Manhattan," he answered in a way that indicated he wanted a subject change. Chuck wasn't going to let him off that easily.
"I didn't think it was possible to grow tired of New York City. It must have been more than that."
"Some of us need a change in scenery every once in a while," he remarked tersely. "And besides," he continued, generating an artificial, abnormal lightness to his tone. "It was getting awkward to have everyone commenting on my loss of hair." Raina burst into shouts of laughter; Chuck endeavored to give him a lackadaisical smirk.
"So why have you decided to come back now? Why Bass Industries?" Chuck dug.
"After years of running in the same circles with your father, I came to greatly respect his work, and I know that Bass Industries is an extremely desirable company to own because of what he accomplished," Russell stated stoically, his words seemingly computed. Chuck could imagine him typing them out on a keyboard and reciting them until he could deliver all of it emotionless and without a single syllable out of place. "I have decided that it provides a good opportunity to get reacquainted with New York and at the same time expand Thorpe Enterprises."
"And what do you plan to do with my company if you acquire it?"
"You have no need to worry about your company, Chuck; of that I can assure you. It will be in very good hands." Iron hands, Chuck thought. Cold, metallic, hard hands that squeezed the life out of the ones they held. Untrustworthy hands.
"Well, that is reassuring," he lied smoothly, because he was sure that Russell was hiding something, and it had to do with his real reason for leaving Manhattan. "I will certainly be considering your offer, Mr. Thorpe."
"With all due respect, Chuck," said Russell dryly. "I'm afraid you'll have to do more than just consider. You don't have any other options."
"Did Lily give you that impression?"
"Was she mistaken?"
"Yes, but not to worry, Mr. Thorpe. Your offer is on the table and is being given our utmost attention." Dark eyes met each other from across the table, one pair ice and the other fire.
"Thank you," Russell choked out, visibly agitated. "Now, Raina, I think it's time for us to head out. We have a big meeting tomorrow morning."
"Actually, Dad, I think I'll stay for a bit longer. I need one more glass of this wine." Russell looked at his daughter skeptically before catching onto a private smirk and nod that Chuck missed in his relentless examination of her father.
"Okay. See you bright and early, then?"
"Of course. Good night, Dad." She waved him off before flagging down a waiter and requesting refills for both her and Chuck. They drank in silence for a few minutes before Raina spoke.
"You know, you seem much older than you are. I can't believe you're only nineteen."
"Yes, well appearances can always be deceiving, can't they?" Chuck asked cryptically.
"But it's not just your looks. It's your demeanor too."
"And you think it's difficult to fake behavior? It's easier than faking looks."
"I guess you have a point," she said, raising an eyebrow and taking a long drink from her glass. "But you're missing mine."
"And what is yours?"
"That while I don't usually go for younger men, for you I'd make an exception." She grinned in a way that eerily reminded Chuck of the magenta Cheshire cat that had so disturbed him when he'd watched Alice and Wonderland in school. He'd been close to sprinting away when a classmate had brought in his cat for show and tell the following week, and it was only Nate's reassuring looks that kept him planted in his seat. But in the case of Raina's bleach-white, toothy leer, he couldn't help but recoil a bit. "Something wrong?" she asked, a pout taking the place of her feline smile. "Don't tell me you've given up your infamous ways. The stories have spread all the way to The Windy City."
"Have you heard this one? I'm not one to mix business with pleasure. Sorry," he told her apathetically, implying that he was not at all sorry.
"So I'll make an exception to my rule, and you make one to yours." She was inching closer and closer, constricting Chuck's breathing in his discomfort, and he was suddenly in elementary school again, contemplating running far, far away from the cunning cat in front of him. Raina began toying with the lapels on his jacket, and it was then he drew the line.
"Raina," he snapped. "Stop. Now." At first, Raina appeared taken aback, but after a moment of silence during which she grasped his seriousness, she looked livid.
"What the hell, Chuck?"
"I told you my opinion, and you ignored it."
"Sorry for thinking you would change your mind," she sneered.
"In five seconds?" Chuck questioned her, aghast.
"It's only going to take five seconds for me to get the hell out of here." She snatched her purse and jacket and kept true to her claim, not bothering to slip it on before storming out of the tiny restaurant. Chuck held back and continued to sit, letting his forehead hit the table in frustration. After a few deep breaths, he called the waiter back over and handed him two crisp hundred-dollar bills for a tip.
"I never thought I'd be saying this to a waiter, but I actually envy you. The world of big business doesn't live up to the hype." He slapped the stunned man's shoulder and took off in his limo, allowing himself to get swallowed by the blaring lights and sounds of the city.
…
Blair didn't let herself hope when she heard the dinging of the elevator. She couldn't allow it, because all it ever gave her was disappointment, and she'd had enough of that to last her the rest of her life. Well, she supposed she would be disappointed again eventually; no doubt her minions would mess up their duties, her mother would say something hurtful, her father would forget to call on a holiday, or Serena would give her a reason to get angry, but she was done with the big disappointments. And so she couldn't hope to see Chuck. Blair convinced herself of this as she went to speak to the occupant of the foyer, but she felt her gut wrench with a searing feeling of…what was it? Disappointment. And it was all because the man in her hall had blond hair in place of brown, cerulean eyes where burnt honey ones should have been.
"Nate, what are you doing here?" Blair asked, praying her voice wouldn't betray the (she might as well admit it) disappointment that it was he instead of his best friend standing in her penthouse.
"I, uh, thought I might see Serena."
"Might see her?" She smirked as she echoed his words.
"I mean I want to see Serena. It's pretty important."
"Pretty important?" Blair parroted.
"Enough, Blair, please! I've been walking circles around your lobby for an hour trying to build up the courage to come up here, and I would appreciate some sympathy," Nate whispered caustically.
"And I would appreciate an apology," said Blair haughtily. "But we can't always get what we want."
"For what?" Nate moaned. "What did I do to you now?"
"Not to me, you idiot, to Serena!"
"Serena?"
"Yes, my best friend, Serena. Tall, blond, drop dead gorgeous, the girl who makes all the boys drool when she walks by…"
"Got it, thank you, Blair."
"No problem. So tell me – why do want to talk to S and what's your apology speech?"
"My apology speech?" he repeated confusedly.
"Yes! You have one, don't you?" He stayed silent. "Oh my God, Archibald, have I taught you nothing?" she squealed, slapping his arm.
"It's not like that, Blair. I'm here about business."
"What business?" Two voices said at once, one with brown, narrowed eyes and the other with wide, concerned ones. Blair immediately excused herself and went upstairs. Well, halfway up the stairs. She had no qualms about eavesdropping, even if these were her best friends.
"Nate, what business?" It was Serena.
"It's The Spectator. It's about to go under unless we can do a complete overhaul and attract enough readers to pull in new investors, and I need your help."
"I don't know anything about newspapers," Serena said, a bit perplexed.
"I know you don't."
"Then what are you asking?" inquired Serena, still bemused and slightly incensed.
"You may not know a thing about newspapers or business, but you know about people. And you know a lot about the people I want to read The Spectator, people who know what it's like to be a part of the Upper East Side and those who crave a taste of it. Serena, I want you to have a column in the paper."
"You want me to write?"
"Yeah, a weekly column where you write about your life, whatever the upcoming fashions are, the galas you're attending, the clubs you're dying to go to, anything you want – a lifestyle blog I guess you could say."
"I still don't understand why," she said, her light brows furrowed.
"Because you're Serena van der Woodsen, It-Girl of Manhattan, the girl every girl wants to be and every guy wants."
"Every guy except you," mumbled Serena.
"Serena, please. I know that we're not exactly BFFLs right now, but –"
"Oh my God, did you just say BFFLs?" she jumped in, cackling hysterically.
"No!" Nate yelled in denial as Serena continued to snicker.
"Yes you did! You did!" The last of her chuckles died down and she sucked in a deep breath of air. "You know, Nate, as long as you promise to continue to use the embarrassing acronyms of pre-pubescent girls, I think I can agree to write this column for The Spectator."
"OMG!" shouted Nate, a genuine smile lighting his face. "This is going to be so fetch!"
"That's from Mean Girls," Serena laughed riotously, her eyes tearing at Nate's impersonation of a bratty tween. "But that's allowed too."
"Thank you, Serena, seriously. You just saved my ass."
"FFN?" she asked him, offering a hand.
"You have to give me a hint on that one," admitted Nate coyly.
"Friends for now," Serena explained as he took her hand. "If we're going to be coworkers, then it only makes sense that we get along, right?"
"Yes, you're right about that. I don't need any more drama at work than I already have."
"Perfect! This is going to be so fetch!"
Sitting on a painful marble staircase, a petite brunette smiled wistfully and for a moment, forgot her disappointment. But only for a moment.
What do I want? I have nothing to say
Whatever it is I want it today
Do we choose our own ground; do we choose to stay?
Well I've seen too many throw it away
Until next time – xoxo
A/N 2: Oh and writing this made me miss Serenate so much. Bring them back, GG writers? Pretty please? I think N and S have dated enough guest stars to fill up the whole church when they get married...