before setting it down on the counter among the old newspapers and food…encrusted saucepans。
Then she stomped out of the kitchen and out of the apartment to get a decent cup of coffee at the
greasy deli up on Broadway。
Dan ran his hands through his messy light brown hair。 He was having a meltdown all right； but
not the right kind of meltdown。 He pulled a pack of Camels out of the pocket of his faded black
cords and lit one using the front burner on the gas stove。
Surely Yogi would not approve。
imitation is the sincerest form of flattery
Blair slipped her feet into the ivory calfskin Winter by Bailey Winter stilettos she？d chosen as the
finishing touch to her interview outfit。 They were a tad over the top； maybe； but she had to wear
something by the man himself。 It would have been so cheesy to show up in his clothes； but shoes
were a sly； subtle way to acknowledge his greatness without looking like some dorky； desperate
fashion groupie。
Blair was in baby Yale？s nursery？aka her former bedroom？admiring herself in the full…length
mirrors？the light was so much better there than in Aaron？s dingy room； where the stink of his
herbal cigarettes was embedded in the walls。 She nodded at herself in the mirror。 She looked
confident； but she felt nervous。 Blair had a history of bad luck with interviews？she had
actuallykissed her interviewer when she was applying to Yale。 Then； when she？d requested a
second interview with a Yale alumnus； she？d almostslept with him。 Chances were slim she？d end
up making a pass at Bailey Winter？he was handsome enough in a supertan； blinding…white…teeth
kind of way； but Blair was definitely not his type。
Ahem。 Not unless she changed her name toSir Blair。
She turned and glanced over her shoulder to catch her reflection from a different angle。 Getting
this interview had been even easier than she？d hoped？all it had taken was a call from Eleanor
Rose？but this was her big chance and she didn？t want to blow it。
Serena could have her Hollywood stardom； Blair would have a career in fashion。 She knew all
the right designers； stores； and magazines： she really understood clothes and how to wear them。
One day very soon she？d be a world…famous fashion muse。 She？d sit in the front row at every
Bailey Winter show； have a fragrance named after her； and appear in his ad campaigns。 Their
relationship would be just like Audrey Hepburn？s relationship with the house of Givenchy？the
stuff of legend。 Let Serena play at being Audrey Hepburn onscreen： Blair wouldbe Audrey
Hepburn in real life。
But didn？t Serenaalready have a perfume named after her？ Oops。
The insistent chime of her Vertu cell phone echoed from Aaron？s old room； interrupting her
daydream。 She？d been back in New York for forty…eight hours； but no one had called her； on either
her U。K。 line； which only Lord Marcus had the number to； or her regular phone； which was how
the whole world reached her。 She was living in exile； she told herself； and refused to rejoin society
until she could make some dramatic statement？for example； that she？d flown back from the U。K。
at Bailey Winter？s special request。 She couldn？t have it leaking out that she was back because
Lord Marcus was more interested in making googly eyes at his horse…faced cousin than in
ravishing Blair in her huge hotel bed。
As if we don？t have ways of finding out the truth。
She dashed back to Aaron？s room and whisked the phone off the bureau。 The display read
MARCUS。 His Lordship himself。
She pressed the receive button。 ？What？？ she demanded rudely。
？Blair； darling； what happened？ I？ve been trying to reach you。？
？I don？t really see what we have to talk about；？ Blair replied icily。 ？If you wanted to talk； you
had plenty of time when we were still on the samecontinent 。？
？You mean you？ve left？？ Lord Marcus remarked； clearly surprised。 ？I thought maybe you？d just
moved hotels or gone off to Paris to see your father or something。 I was so worried。？
？I？m sure you were；？ Blair snapped sarcastically； heading back toward Yale？s room。
？This isn？t about Camilla； is it； dearest？ Because； you see； we？re second cousins； so of course？？
？Of coursewhat ？？ Blair demanded； watching her face flush in the full…length mirror。 ？To be
honest； I？d rather not know； honestly。 If you want to get allFlowers in the Attic ； it？s your business。
Anyway； I don？t have time for this？I？m a woman in demand。 I？m a muse！？
？You？re amused； love？ It was all a misunderstanding then？？ Lord Marcus responded
happily。 ？Camilla is asking about you as well。 She？ll be so relieved。？
？Send her my regards；？ Blair quipped。 She pressed end； then slipped the battery out of the
telephone？s body and it went dead。 After inspecting it closely to make sure there were no tiny
parts that might e off； she left it in baby Yale？s crib。
Because you？re never too young for your first cell。
Blair glanced at her Chanel bracelet…watch。 She was due at Bailey Winter？s soon； and it
wouldn？t do to be late。 She walked down the long hall toward the kitchen； where she found her
mother stationed at the marble…topped island； nibbling on a cold rillette sandwich despite the fact
that they were supposed to be leaving any minute。 Blair？s younger brother； Tyler； and his
girlfriend； Jasmine； were clustered around her on low…backed stools； sipping Cokes。
？Nice to see you again； Blair。？ Jasmine beamed an adoring smile across the cool white kitchen。
Jasmine was Blair？s stalker。 This had bee infinitely clear when she showed up at Blair？s
graduation party wearing the exact same white Oscar de la Renta suit Blair was wearing。 Her
nearly…black hair was remarkably shiny and healthy looking； but she was probably the most
annoying person alive。
？Mom；？ Blair ordered； ignoring Jasmine。 ？Put that down。 We？ve got to get going。？
？Hush；？ her mother reprimanded； dusting some invisible crumbs off the marble…topped
island。 ？We？ve got time。 Besides； I？ve been going to Bailey Winter？s house for years。 That man is
always ten minutes late。 It？s a known fact。？ She took another bite of her sandwich。
？Bailey Winter？？ Jasmine looked excited。 She spied Blair？s shoes。 ？Thoseare Bailey Winter！ I
have the same ones in black。 I should？ve gotten the ivory。？
Blair glared at her。
？Hey Blair？？ asked Tyler as he simultaneously downloaded songs onto his iPod and sent a text
message。 His eyes kept darting from one screen to the next。
？Yes？？ She tapped her stilettoed foot impatiently。 Could they please just get the fuck out of here？
？Did you really go all the way to London and not bring me； like； even one present？？
？Sorry；？ she sighed。 ？I came back in kind of a hurry。？
？Although you certainly found time to buy yourself a few things；？ Eleanor observed； popping a
picholine olive between her lips。
？I？m Jasmine。？ Tyler？s girlfriend hopped to her feet and extended her hand to Blair。 ？You？re
Blair； of course。 We actually met before； but you were hosting your graduation party； so you may
not remember。？
As if Blair could possibly forget her little imitator。
There was something suspicious about a thirteen…year…old with such good manners。 In fact； there
was something suspicious about Tyler having a girlfriend？he？d never seemed even remotely
interested in girls before； preferring instead the pany of his puter； his hookah； and his
vinyl record collection。
？Let？s go； Mom；？ Blair demanded。 ？I don？t want to be late。 This is my chance to make a really
great impression。？
？Oh； honey。？ Eleanor finished her sandwich and tossed the remains on the counter for Myrtle to
clean up。 ？I？m so glad to see you taking this so seriously。？
？Wait； are you going tosee Bailey Winter？？ Jasmine demanded。
Wouldn？t she like to know。
？He？s interested in hiring me；？ Blair informed her icily。
？I justlove his clothes；？ Jasmine gushed。 ？Of course； I？m not supposed to buy anything that？s not
B by Bailey Winter？ my mom says I have to wait until I start high school before I？m allowed to
get my hands on the good stuff； but that？s okay by me。 I mean； I have to wear a uniform anyway；
so？？
？Yeah； whatever。？ Blair cut her off。 Did sheask for this kid？s life story？ ？I？m going down to ask
the doorman to hail a cab。 Mom； you better be ready in five minutes or I？m going without you。？
Blair rode down to the lobby alone and stood in front of the building smoking and keeping time
on her Chanel watch。 After precisely five minutes had passed； Eleanor breezed out of the building
in a grapefruit…colored Bailey Winter shirtwaist dress and beige Tod？s flats。 But she wasn？t alone：
Jasmine was scurrying excitedly next to her like a three…year…old before her firstNutcracker
performance。 Blair was unfazed。 There was a movie playing in her head： the waifish muse was on
her way to visit her genius couturier。 Even Jasmine couldn？t fuck it up。
When they reached Bailey Winter？s grand Beaux Arts mansion on Park Avenue； Blair was first
out of the car。 Her mother and Jasmine followed behind like ladies…in…waiting。 When it came time
to edit her little film； the bit players could easily be removed。
They were greeted at the door by an honest…to…God English butler； in a morning suit and
everything； who announced them by name after he led them to the second floor parlor： ？Miss
Eleanor Rose； Miss Blair Waldorf； and Miss Jasmine James…Morgan；？ he cried in his booming
voice。 It reminded Blair of Lord Marcus； but all thoughts of him were erased the second she
stepped inside the grandest room she？d ever seen。 The walls were paneled mahogany and hung
with massive oil paintings of beautiful； aristocratic women in incredible confections of lace and
silk； smiling peacefully。 There were marble pedestals topped with pure white sculptures of male
torsos and heads； and high above； set into the wall that kept out the noise of Park Avenue； was a
massive stained…glass window。
？Oh my God！？ cried the familiar； shrill voice of Bailey Winter。 The dignified Park Avenue
designer skipped into the room like a schoolgirl； his yellow…white hair sticking straight up on end
as if he？d been electrocuted wh