Chapter 24

Material Girl

Author's note: Hello kittens, sorry for the late, late, late update. Life's been… hectic. But no need to fear, I'm back.

Enjoy(:

Lovers,

It is I, GG. Long time no see but I come with many goodies for my dollfaces. I'm sure all of you are nursing your hangovers from last night and just waiting patiently for the gossip… Well after B & N were spotted by some little people on the dance floor making out in the VIP area upstairs, I'd suppose they would've gone home together and said welcome back to one another. But B was seen entering her building, dare I say it, alone! Now that's a first. But of course S was not about to go home empty-handed. I have it on three different accounts that she stumbled into her townhouse with two young and hot fresh faced models just looking for a break into the biz. And N you ask? Up to his old tricks… Found walking around Central Park at 2 am like the little fiend he is hunting for some weed. Just a call out for help! What I wouldn't do to nurse that hottie back to health!

That's all for now darlings,

Gossip Girl

Waking up without a hangover was certainly new. I kinda missed the bitter headache, memory loss, and sometimes when I was lucky, the warm body beside me when I'd wake up.

No worries, today was a new day. And I think I'm beginning to like actually recalling what happened the night before. With a sigh I was out of bed and on my way to the tub for my morning soak.

Now what to wear to my E! interview…? Black is so dreary, I'm not in mourning, am I? I could always wear that burgundy Betsy Johnson velvet dress. Hm, maybe not. Ever since Miss Betsy opened up her in store in godforsaken outlets, count me out…

Adding a bath fizzie to my bath, I reached for my Blackberry, which laid on the side of the tub.

16 text messages and two voicemails. I hate voicemails. I'd probably listen to them next week. Really in general I hate talking on the phone. So much unnecessary talking to fill the dead space.

Most of the texts were from Chuck, little sleaze ball he is. How's it going with Nate? What are you two doing in the VIP room ALONE?! Oh darling, you truly must tell me the scoop! Were how must of the messages went.

Delete, delete, delete. The rest of the texts were mindless and annoying and quickly followed Chuck's into the trash. But there was one. Bolded from being unread, waiting patiently for me to read it…

I miss you.

That's all it said, but it was enough. Enough to send shivers down my spine. Enough to make me giggle and blush. Enough to bring to the surface all the emotions I had tried to keep hidden.

The water had gotten cold, but I remained frozen in the tub. A flash of memories swirling through my head… If only I had said goodbye things might've been different.

With a harsh slap to the water I jumped out of the now-freezing water and into my terrycloth Juicy Couture robe.

Shifting through my hundreds of outfits, my mind kept returning to that damn text message from Paul. I knew it was getting bad when I thought for nearly a minute a purple chiffon dress with white lace was a cute look. Disgusting.

Well what to do? Ignore it, make a witty reply, call him in a desperate rush?

I always did try to keep myself looking cool and collected in front of Paul, but it never seemed to work. Even if I tried to reply in a composed manner, he'd see right through me.

OK, just reply Blair, just reply. It's settled then. With a few clicks I sent back a text that would travel to Texas in seconds.

I've been thinking about you a lot, miss you too.

Simple, to the point, truthful. Good, good, now let's just pray to God I don't sound mental.

I set the phone down and slipped into the cute black pencil skirt and light pink ruffle shirt.

Gazing into the mirror after blowing out my hair and applying my Bobbi Brown make-up, I was satisfied. There was a glow to my cheeks that wasn't usually there and for the first time in quite a while, the bags under my eyes weren't so pronounced.

One week sober and results already! I thought sardonically. But I guess it was true, aside from the longing I felt whenever I saw someone with a cute and fruity alcoholic concoction in their hands at the club, I was pretty OK with not being the usual drunk bitch at a party.

With a quick glance to the clock on my bedstand, I realized I only had half an hour to get across town to the E! studio in Times Square.

Kicking on my patent leather pumps I hurried out of the door and jumped into the first taxi to stop for me.

"Now Blair, ever since you went down to Texas and left us all here miserable, the public has grown hungry for you," A giddy E! correspondent who's name I really can't remember said to me, hovering closer to me on the suede couch. "Are you aware of all of the fans you've garnered from just being New York's hottest socialite?"

With a cross of the legs and a polite giggle I flipped my hair a bit and replied, "I honestly had no idea, when E! called me for an interview on just being… me, you could've knocked me down with a feather."

In actuality, I was really rather annoyed when I got the call that they wanted me. Sure I love the attention and publicity… But E!? One of the cheesiest channels, calling to interview me about basically nothing or so I thought…

"And now with the news of your past eating disorder out in the papers," Whatsherface told me with a slight tap on the knee, "the public has grown positively ravenous with wanting to see your face again. So many emails have come pouring in, wishing you well. What do you say to these fans?"

I know word had spread about my stay in the hospital and all, but I was unprepared. How dare this bitch go out and tell the world? She didn't know me, didn't know the least thing except for maybe that my outfit jewelry cost more than what she got paid in a month.

Throughout my entire thought process my smile remained in place and my eyes displayed nothing. I was used to this kind of thing. Being ambushed with unhappy information I mean. Geez, I found out about Serena and Nate hooking up back in 8th grade in pretty much the same fashion, except replace the has-been reporter with a pack of malicious junior girls.

With a wink and flirtatious smile which had broken and melted hearts many times I answered, "Well here I am, come and get me boys."

"That was perfect," Drooled one of the minions working on the set as I passed by. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone dodge a question so well… You're a goddess."

With a fluttering of the lashes, I grabbed the Fiji water bottle he was offering me and sat down in my dressing room.

"Really, I think you've just become America's next darling." The nameless intern gushed. He extended his arm for a handshake. "I'm Marco, by the way."

"Well thank you Marco, but do you really think that went well?" I asked, guard down. "When she brought up my eating disorder I didn't know what to do."

"Oh believe me girl, you worked it." Marco added with a tilt to the head and a snap. "But can I just add, if that whole flirtation bit at the end was an act… keep it. Everyone I could tell was just eating it up."

On the cab ride back home, I tried to think, what did I do that was so different? In the last seconds of the interview when I was ambushed I automatically launched into my defense mechanism: flirting.

Is that how the public wanted to see me? I don't think I was being slutty in the way girls are today, just a few playful words.

I could do that… If that's what would get me the much deserved time in the spotlight like I want. A little more Marilyn Monroe and a little less Audrey Hepburn.

The cab stopped in front of my building and the doorman let me out. In the few steps to the entrance a guy about my age who looked like an up and coming model I'd seen in the latest issue of Vogue whistled and eyed my frame appreciatively before taking a puff of his French cigarette.

Usually I'd dismiss this sort of behavior with an eyeroll and a look of disgust, but before I could say anything vulgar I caught myself smiling. I walked slowly backwards to catch him with both my eyes and blew a kiss. As he stopped in his tracks and called to me to wait I winked and waved goodbye before stepping inside.

See, that wasn't too hard. I told myself as the elevator climbed up to my floor. In my eyes, I was just acting like a more free and possibly drunk version of myself when in public. Instead of stiff and unrelatable WASP I could be the flirtatious and unobtainable socialite and the public would love it.

I felt a light vibration in my Chanel purse and rummaged through all the lipglosses and powders to find my phone.

4 missed calls? And all from Paul? I hope he doesn't think I'm ignoring him or worse, forgotten about him. My heart raced as I called him back. At the same time that the elevator stopped with the thud that always made my heart drop a little I got his voicemail.

After only two rings did I hear his magnificent voice telling me he 'couldn't come to the phone right now.' My call had just been rejected.