technically Blair？s； but she knew her onetime roommate would never e back to Williamsburg
to collect any of the stuff she？d left behind？ Vanessa thwacked over the cobblestones of the
too…trendy…for…a…place…that…smells…like…dead…meat Meatpacking District toward the unmarked
rusty door of Ken Mogul？s massive live/work loft。
Despite her classmate Serena van der Woodsen？s drunken promises to put a good word in with
him at Blair？s wild graduation party a couple of weeks before； Vanessa Abrams had never
seriously expected to hear from Ken Mogul again。 Earlier that year； he？d taken an interest in her
career when some nearly…X…rated film footage she？d shot of Jenny Humphrey and Nate Archibald
hooking up in Central Park surfaced online and tried to take her under his wing as a prot？g？。 But
Vanessa didn？t like the idea of being underanyone？s wing； and working on a major Hollywood
production out in LA wasn？t exactly her thing。 She was more a dead…pigeons…and…used…condom
film auteur than maker of big teen block…busters； butBreakfast at Fred？s was going to be shot right
on her doorstep at Barneys uptown。 It was tempting to write it off as a learning experience。 Still；
something about it made her uneasy。 She rang the buzzer marked only with the director？s initials
and waited； fiddling nervously with her clothes。 Nearly her entire outfit had been garnered from
the spoils Blair had left behind。 She？d paired a black sleeveless Mayle cowl…neck top with her
own tattered black jeans； Blair？s clunky Celine sandals； and the steel…gray leather DKNY
messenger bag Blair used to carry her laptop in。 The look was sophisticated and artsy： she looked
like someone who didn？t care about things like looking sophisticated。
Like sheever cared？
Suddenly the door flew open to reveal an incredibly tall girl sporting super…short cutoffs and a
pink tank…top。 Her skin was dark brown and flawless； her hair was long； jet black； and perfectly
straight； and her eyes were huge； green； and sparkling。 She smiled； showing off a mouthful of
absolutely perfect white teeth。
All the better to eat you with 。 。 。
？Yeah？？ the Afro…Asian model…goddess demanded with a hostile grimace。 She looked almost like
an evil character in that Xbox game Jade Empire； and Vanessa could imagine being decapitated
with a flick of her long； lean； fighting…machine wrist。
？Um； yeah； I？m here to see Ken。？
？e on up；？ Jade Empire muttered； turning around。 The heavy steel door slammed shut as
Vanessa followed her up a narrow cement staircase and into a huge； bright； open room。 A forest of
rusting steel columns supported the vaulted ceiling； and a bank of windows showcased an
incredible view of the Hudson River。 The vast space was divided by a long； open bookcase and
was overflowing with heavy art books and vinyl records； framed photographs and dusty vases。
The latest Arcade Fire album blasted from tiny Bose speakers mounted to the top of the bookcase；
and the music echoed all around。
？He？s in here somewhere；？ Jade Empire explained； clearly disinterested。 ？You？ve got an
appointment； right？？
？I think so。？
？Well； just hang out。 He？ll show up sooner or later。 Good luck with whatever it is。？ She shrugged
and kicked off her beaded yellow Chinese slippers and shuffled away into the depths of the loft；
disappearing behind the bookcase。
Vanessa turned to the wall behind her； which was covered from floor to ceiling with framed
photographs of all different sizes。 She recognized some of them？they were Ken Mogul？s own
work。 Before meeting him； Vanessa had worshipped the filmmaker； and she knew everything he？d
ever done。 His favorite place in the world was Capri； in Italy； and before turning to filmmaking；
Mogul had been a renowned photographer。 Mixed in with his art photos of half…nude models
lolling around on litter…strewn subway platforms were snapshots of Ken crammed into nightclub
booths beside famous faces like Madonna； Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt； and David Bowie。
？Like what you see？？ came a gravelly voice from behind her。
Vanessa turned to see the taut； stubbly face of Ken Mogul himself。 He had the unnerving habit of
seeming not to blink； and he fixed his slightly bloodshot bulging blue eyes on her with a crazed
smile。 He wore a plaid flannel vest and old Levi？s chopped off at the knees。
？Here？s the deal。？ He went on without waiting for her response。 He wheeled around and Vanessa
had no choice but to follow him past the massive bookshelf and into an enormous office with a
garage…door…size window。 ？Here。 Sit。？ He poured Vanessa a tall glass of what looked like chilled
mint tea from a green glass pitcher and pointed to a red leather Eames chair across from a
paper…strewn midcentury modern table。 He poured a glass for himself and sank down into a desk
chair； swiveling it aimlessly before tilting back and resting his feet on the desk。 ？It？s a money job；
is all； but just between us；Breakfast at Fred？s is going to fucking rule。 Don？t tell the producers；
but this is not your average teen flick。 I？m thinking Godard。 Something human； humorous； and
freakingdark 。？
？Uh…huh；？ murmured Vanessa； sipping her tea。 Not only was she distracted by the director？s
office artwork？over his desk hung a bigger…than…life…size picture of the director him…self；
pletely naked； splashing in the waves with the bitchy Jade Empire skank？but she hated this
kind of pretentious art talk。
Better get used to it； Miss NYU Film School。
？So； what do you say？？ asked Ken； openly picking his nose and flicking the findings onto the
floor。 ？I know it？s a major studio； I know it？s big budget； I know it？s romantic edy。 But those
are all the reasons I need you。 I need your vision to help me deliver something that？s going to
make the movie…going public sit up and take notice。 ？
As if they hadn？t already。
Vanessa stared out the window at some elevated train tracks that had been abandoned decades
before and were now sprouting trees and grass； and a big building under construction on the next
block。 It was everything she was against： a major studio？s romantic edy for teenagers。 But
Ken Mogulneeded her； how many ining NYU freshmen could say the same thing？ Plus； it
sounded like a shitload of fun； and she had fuck…all to do that summer。 That was why she？d e
there today in the first place： sheer boredom。
She turned back to Ken。 ？I？ll have to think about it。？
Ken took his feet off the desk and fiddled with his papers； finally unearthing a beaten pack of
cigarettes。 He stuck one in his mouth but didn？t light it。 ？The female lead was supposed to be my
wife；？ Ken continued； ？but； as you already know； I？ve decided to go in another direction。？
？Wife？？ Vanessa could hardly believe that anyone would dream of marrying a googly…eyed；
neurotic； conceited freak like Ken Mogul。
？Heather。 I think she showed you in。？
Miss Congeniality was Mrs。 Mogul？
？Oh； right。？ Vanessa couldn？t resist taking another peek at the nudie photo behind the desk。 It
looked like a scene from a pirated porn movie。
Freaks of the Caribbean？
？Well； now she？s not speaking to me because I？ve decided to go with Serena。 Serena？s going to
be huge。 And so are you。？
？I？m honored；？ Vanessa replied。 ？I really am。 But you？ll have to let me think about it； okay？？
Better think fast； honey。 Hollywood waits for no one！
d？s got a golden ticket
Dan had seen Bree in several variations of exercise gear and； of course； pletely naked； but
he？d never seen her all put together for an evening out。 So when he emerged from the 6 train
station at Seventy…seventh Street he was taken aback to find her waiting for him； a vision in a
simple white silk camisole； with her blond hair？which he？d never seen down？ cascading over her
sun…kissed shoulders。 Her long； below…the…knee embroidered turquoise skirt looked like something
she？d unearthed at a flea market in Turkey。
Dan was wearing the closest thing he had to a party outfit： a sharp charcoal gray slim…cut Agn？s
B。 suit； a gift from his former agent； back when he？d been poised to be the literary world？s next
big thing。
Not a fickle almost…college…dropout who cheats on his live…in girlfriend。
？Hey beautiful；？ he called boldly； springing off the last step and onto the sidewalk。 Taking the
stepswas easier since he？d started his exercise regimen。
？Thanks。？ Bree kissed his cheek。 ？Feeling centered？ You look good。 I hope I？m not
underdressed。？
？No； you？re just right。 Should we go？？
They strolled down Lexington amid clouds of bus exhaust。 The early evening light shimmered on
the windows of Starbucks。
？So。？ Bree wrapped her arms around herself as she walked。 ？I？m still not sure I understand why
you were invited to this party。？
？I？m not sure；？ Dan admitted。 ？I know Serena from way back。。。。 Or maybe Vanessa put me on
the list？ Who cares？ Party？s a party； right？？They turned onto Seventy…first Street。
？That？s true。？ Bree nodded stiffly。 She looked a little nervous and uptight for someone who was
usually so Zen。 ？Speaking of Vanessa 。 。 。？
？Right。？ Dan dug instinctively into his pockets