folding them neatly before stuffing them into the back pocket of her peg…legged Seven jeans。
？If I were a cabernet；？ Blair？s father？s dramatically playful lawyer？s voice echoed out of the
adjoining dressing room； ？how would you describe my bouquet？？
Excusez…moi？
Blair clomped out of her mom？s dressing room and reached for the chocolate brown velvet
curtain hanging in the doorway of her dad？s。 ？If you guys are in there together； like； doing it while
I？m home； then that？s really gross；？ she declared flatly。 ？Anyway； I？m going over to Nate？s； so？？
Her father； Harold J。 Waldorf； Esquire； pulled aside the velvet curtain； dressed in his cashmere
tweed Paul Smith bathrobe and nothing else； his nicely tanned； handsome face looking slightly
flushed。 ？Mom？s out looking at dishes for the Guggenheim benefit。 I thought you were out。 Where
are you going exactly？？
Blair stared at him。 He wasn？t holding a phone； and if her mom was out； then who the fuck had
he just been talking to？ She stood blinking at him with her hands on her hips； tempted to peek
inside his dressing room to see who he was hiding in there。
Does she really want to know？
Instead； she stumbled out of the master suite； clomped her way across the penthouse； grabbed her
blood orange？ colored Jimmy Choo treasure chest hobo； and ran for the elevator。
Outside it was breathtakingly cold； and fat flakes fell at random。 Usually she walked the twelve
blocks to Nate？s house； but today Blair had no patience for walking？she had just discovered that
her father was a lying； cheating scum…bag； after all； and a cab was waiting for her downstairs。 Or
rather； a cab was waiting for Mrs。 Solomon in 4A； but when the hunter green uniform？clad
doorman saw the terrifying look on Blair？s normally pretty face； he let her take it。
Besides； hailing cabs in the snow was probably the high…light of his day。
The stone walls bordering Central Park were blanketed in snow。 A tall； elderly woman and her
Yorkshire terrier； dressed in matching red Chanel quilted coats with matching black velvet bows in
their white hair； crossed Seventy…second Street and entered the Ralph Lauren flagship store。
Blair？s cab hurtled recklessly up Madison Avenue； past Agn？s B。 and Williams…Sonoma and the
Three Guys coffee shop； where all the Constance Billard girls gathered after school； and finally
pulled up to Nate？s town house。
？Let me in！？ she yelled into the inter outside the Archibalds？ elegant wrought…iron…and…glass
front door as she swatted the buzzer over and over with her hand。
s moves out
？I？m going to 169 East Seventy…first Street；？ Serena van der Woodsen said to the cabbie as she
slid into the taxi？s black vinyl backseat。 She rolled down the window and let the warm late
morning air blow across her face。 Aah； summer。 All her life summer had meant parties at her
family？s estate in Ridgefield； Connecticut； or long； sunny afternoons in the park； reading oldW
magazines and slurping Stoli…and…cranberry popsicles with Blair。 Now； for the first time ever；
Serena had a job。 She turned a thick manila envelope over in her hands and removed the letter
she？d already read several times：
Holly：You must suffer for your art。 You must BE your part。 Pack your bags。 The keys in this
envelope are the keys to your new life？ the original life of Holly。 See you soon。 Kenneth。
It was an odd letter； sure； but what else did she expect from a world…famous eccentric like
KennethMogul？ He was her director； so she figured she better do as directed。
She patted the two old monogrammed red…and…white…striped Kate Spade tote bags beside her。
They still smelled deliciously like the ocean and suntan lotion and contained a stash of Cosabella
underwear； one of her brother Erik？s old Brown T…shirts that she？d swiped the last time he？d been
home； a flimsy Milly sundress； her most fortable Michael Kors flip…flops； a Cynthia Vincent
pink…and…black paisley print jersey dress； her trusty Seven jeans； a second pair of flip…flops； just in
case； and a white embroidered Viktor & Rolf top。 Only the essentials。
She stared out the window at the grand steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art； the lush trees
of Central Park； the grand apartment buildings on Seventy…second Street； the panoramic vista of
Park Avenue； and then at the unfamiliar； ugly modern towers on Third Avenue。 Ew。
？We？re here； miss；？ the cabdriver announced； grinning at her in the rearview mirror with a
mouthful of gold…capped teeth。 One tooth even had the initialZ stenciled into it。Maybe for Zorroor
Zeus？Serena wondered。
？Oh。？ She pulled out her burgundy Bottega Veneta wallet and thumbed through the cash。 Then
she climbed out of the taxi； balancing her packed…to…the…gills tote bags； and scanned the
putty…colored town houses for the right number。
There was number 171； and there was number 167； but there were some unmarked buildings in
between the two； and she couldn？t figure out which was hers。 She lugged her bags to the nearest
stoop and sat down。 Judging from some of the boxy； low buildings on the street； the place she was
moving into wouldn？t bequite on par with what she was accustomed to。 She dug out a cigarette
and lit it； stepping aside as a stream of foul…smelling gray smoke billowed out of a grate in the
gutter。
Wake up； Dorothy： you？re not on the Golden Mile anymore。
It was funny how everything could change so quickly？ she？d gone from being Serena van der
Woodsen； senior at Constance Billard and sometimes…model； to being Serena the working actress。
It didn？t seem so long ago that her biggest worries had been remembering where the Catherine
Malandrino sample sale would be this month； or bickering with Blair in the VIP room at Marquee；
or hooking up with Nate wherever he wanted？which； for a short while； had been everywhere and
all the time。
It？s a hard…knock life。
？You lost？？
Serena looked up 。 。 。 and up； and up。 Standing above her was a gorgeously tall guy with broad
shoulders； preppily cut dark brown hair； a cleft in his wide chin； and pretty blue eyes。 He was
wearing a plain gray suit and stiff navy tie； but his smile was so charming she was willing to
overlook his dorky office ensemble。
But would she be willing to overlook the dorky plaid box…ers he was probably wearing
underneath？
？I？m just looking for this address；？ Serena sighed； handing the stranger her keys with the number
169 painted on them in red。
Some girls really know how to work the damsel…in…distress thing。
？Well？？he grinned； ？I think I know exactly where this building is。 Because I actually kind of live
there。？ He extended a hand to help Serena to her feet。 ？Hey； I？m Jason Bridges。？
？Serena van der Woodsen；？ she replied； smoothing her Kelly green Lily Pulitzer skirt； smiling
the sort of sly； wide…eyed…ingenue smile that Audrey Hepburn was famous for。
No wonder she got the part。
Just like Holly Golightly； Serena was a master of the
she…can？t…possibly…be…that…beautiful…and…that…innocent…allure that made guys flock to her。
？Well； Serena。？ Jason bent down to pick up her two over…stuffed totes。 ？Let？s head on home。？
He unlocked the door to number 169； a white town house with black trim and ivy climbing up
the side of it。 He shoved the heavy old black door open to allow Serena to step inside first。
A true gentleman！
？So；？ he began as the door slammed behind him。 ？You visiting Therese？？
？No。？ Serena frowned as she inspected the vestibule？s creaky wooden staircase； lit only by a
pretty but dim wrought…iron chandelier。 The whole place smacked of dead old lady； as though it
hadn？t been touched since its original owner died thirty years ago。 Yet it was still charming and
semi…grand； in its own way。 ？I？m moving in； I guess。？
？You guess？？ Jason laughed as he started to climb the wooden steps； which groaned and
squeaked noisily。 ？What does that mean； exactly？？
？Well；？ Serena began； ？I？m in this movie； and this morning I got a note from my director telling
me to pack my bags and e here； and now here I am。 I think it？s to help me get into character or
something。？
？Movie star； huh？？ Jason asked。
？Something like that；？ Serena answered； mildly embarrassed。
？Wow。？ He turned to shoot her a slow； shy smile。 ？This is a nice building； but I？d think most
movie stars would just want to stay somewhere a bit more glamorous； like the Waldorf or
something。？
？We？re doing a retelling ofBreakfast at Tiffany？s ；？ she explained； choosing the exact words Ken
Mogul had used to describe his big…budget debut；Breakfast at Fred？s 。 ？This is where Holly
Golightly lived in the original movie； but I guess you probably knew that already。 It？s supposed to
make me feel just like she does。 It？s my first movie。？
？Oh yeah？？ Jason asked as they reached the landing； where the black…and…white mosaic…tile floor
was missing a few tiles。 ？What？s it about？？
？It？s about a wild city girl？that？s my part？who meets this innocent guy from the country who？s
trying to make it as an actor。？ She conveniently left out that the guy would be played by super…hot
actor Thaddeus Smit