Chapter 2 – Basshole

AN: I know! I took a long time writing this. But it's a huge chapter, and I still have to focus on school and "Meet Me Half Way". So here goes. Tell me if it's still any good.

Archibald estate: http : / / www . capemaymac . org / uploadedImages / Media_-_News / 1879%20Physick%20Estate%20in%20the%20Spring . JPG

Kitchen: http: / / www . greatcampston . com / images / billiard-room-great-campston-kitchen . jpg

Nate and Blair's room: http : / / www . greatcampston . com / images / billiard-room-great-campston-blue_bedroom . jpg

Library: http : / / static . howstuffworks . com / gif / home-library-5 . jpg

(no spaces… you know the drill)

Blair. My name is Blair. I repeated to myself while going to sleep that night. Blair… what? Smith? Jones? Nothing? No last name. And, somehow, to a nine year old, that meant that I was a nobody.

I was Blair, the Nobody.

"Maybe my name should be Blair Nobody." I whispered, when in bed that night. Blair Nobody. "That would be nice. At least I'd have a last name. I'd be Miss Nobody."

"Blair! Why aren't you sleeping?" the woman that watched the room I shared with five other girls came over to me with an angry face and grabbed me by the arm. "If you aren't going to sleep, you're staying outside alone! I can't have you waking the other girls up!"

"No. Outside is cold! I don't want to go outside." I was firm with this.

"Oh, you don't?" the woman looked at me with sarcastic eyes. "Well, then little princess… you are still staying outside!"

In a second, I was thrown out into the street in slippers and a night gown. I rubbed my arms because of the cold. It was snowing! And she'd made me go outside because I was talking to myself. Damn that woman!

I sat in the stairs, trying to keep myself warm.

"What are you doing here all alone little girl?" an older woman, probably in her late thirties called out to me.

"I'm not a little girl! I'm Blair. I'm nine years old." I looked up at the woman, slightly revolted that she'd called me a child. But then I just stared at her. She was so pretty. She had a beautiful black dress, fur coat and diamond-filled pumps.

"You're a lively one, aren't you?" the woman smiled to me. "Where are your mommy and daddy?"

"I don't know." I shrugged.

The woman sat down beside me. "Alright, then what are their names?"

"I don't know. Hey, what's your name?"

She smiled, a little shocked that I didn't know my parent's name. "I'm Eleanor Waldorf. Now, Blair, where do you live? I'll take you home."

"That's a nice name Mrs. Waldorf. Do you have children, Mrs. Waldorf?" looked at her curiously. I didn't get to see many normal people. All my friends were orphans. Well, I couldn't really call them my friends. Because I was their leader. I was… well, a queen? Yes, I supposed you could say that. A queen.

"It's Miss Waldorf as of last Monday. Now, I asked you a question Blair. Where do you live?"

I pursed my lips. Why was she insisting on talking about my life? My life was boring, uneventful. I pointed to the door behind us.

"You live here?" Miss Waldorf looked behind her. She read the sign over the door and suddenly understood everything. "I'm sorry; I didn't know you lived here at the orphanage. In fact, I didn't even know there was an orphanage on this side of the city."

"It doesn't matter, Miss Waldorf. It's not interesting. Now, tell me how you got that dress, it's beautiful."

She stared at me for a while. Then a smile crossed her face. "I designed it… You are a unique girl, aren't you Blair? I think I'm going to have a talk with whoever runs this place about you."

I didn't understand what she meant by that. Have a talk with the Mr. Patrick, the owner of the foundation? Why would she have a talk with him?

I did realize though, that she said I was special. "I know. I'm Blair Nobody… that's why I'm special."

"No. As of now; you're Blair Waldorf." Miss Waldorf smiled and added; "I think I like the sound of that: Blair Waldorf."

I liked it too.

With a few of words, I'd found the perfect mother. One that found a reflection of herself in me. And vice versa. After that conversation; I wasn't Blair Nobody anymore. I was Blair Waldorf.

"Hey. Hey, Alice. Alice!" Nate shaking my arm so I'd wake up.

"I'm up, Nate. I'm up." I groaned, frustrated. I looked around the limo, to see Mrs. Archibald was reading a magazine and Chuck was eyeing us over the newspaper, amused. "Are we there yet?"

"No." Nate smiled. "But I wanted you to see this." He pointed to the window.

I promptly smiled and looked outside. I almost jumped right then, but I kept my cool, my facial expression only faltering for a split second. There were chickens! And pigs! Just outside, loads and loads of them! The only thing that separated them from the road was a measly wooden fence.

"Cute, aren't they? They belong to our neighbors, the Abrams. Their originally from New York as well, you know? But they came here three years ago…"

At this point I wasn't even listening to Nate anymore. There were pigs! And chickens! Ew. This was grosser than the subway, if that's possible. Miss Waldorf had raised me to be an Upper East Side girl, not some Mary-Jane country girl!

"Nathanial, I don't think it wise to be showing a New Yorker the joys of farm animals." a soft voice interrupted my thoughts. "And I wouldn't worry, Dr. Krieger. Our house does not rent out rooms to animals." Chuck looked over the newspaper at me, winking as he said my name.

He was getting a kick out of this, wasn't he?

"Pardon, but… doctor? You're a doctor, Alice?" Mrs. Archibald interrupted, eyeing Chuck first and then me. Her look was half curious, half suspicious.

I reacted as fast as I could. "Yes. I mean, almost. I was doing an internship, but I asked for a holiday. I mean, I am planning my wedding to Nate." I lay my hand over Nate's. I looked up to see Mrs. Archibald shrugging her shoulders and returning to her magazine and Chuck, who gave me a quick look over (Basshole! How did I come up with that? – Basshole: what a good name for him), a smirk and then went back to his newspaper.

"Blair, darling?" Nate grabbed took hold of both my hands to turn me to him. "Are you ok? You've been acting weird since we got in the car."

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you. I just… I don't think it wise for my luggage to be on the car behind us and not here in Chuck's limo." Yes, we were riding in Chuck's limo. He supposedly had a thing for them. I also loved them, because Miss Waldorf had two.

But the fact that my luggage wasn't close to me was distressing. There were some personal things in there. Such as choreography drafts and scheme sketches. Things that no one could see… too personal. I mean, coning a museum director into giving you fifty percent of their art was no piece of cake; I needed at least two weeks of planning. The easy stuff, like getting a bank to invest in a few fake funds takes a few minutes to plan. But I still needed all my drafts!

Rule number three of the Con-Artist playbook: Never let personal belongings out of your sight, where they might be seen by others.

"Don't worry Dr. Krieger. We're almost there, you'll get your things soon enough." Chuck's voice was heard from behind the newspaper.

He was listening in to every word we were saying! I couldn't slip up, I just couldn't.

"Of course."

After a while filled my dead silence (other than Mrs. Archibald turning the pages of her magazine) Nate exclaimed, all excited: "Look! We're here!"

I controlled myself so not to roll my eyes. Then I spotted Chuck, who had noticed my expression, and was smirking. I glared at him for a second, and then looked outside, to see the house.

It was quaint, but it was a country house. It was nothing compared to what I was expecting. Nothing at all! Nate had explained it was the most beautiful place in the world, and that I would love it. Well, I did not love it.

It had a cedar shingle maroon colored roof and Easter Coatings, in white and green. So it was not only a cheap little thing, it was also very trite and corny-looking. It was a terrible and inappropriate for a family of blue-bloods.

Then Anne Archibald explained to me how they hated to show how rich they were to others, although her father; William Vanderbilt lived a life of luxury. This comment from Anne was immediately followed by a scoff from Chuck and a look that said you could at least buy a normal looking home.

Even though I hated the fact; I had to agree with Bass. The house was ridiculous! It was green for Christ's sake! It looked like something a middle-class family would live in… two hundred years ago, of course.

We came in through the kitchen, after the limo left us in the back door.

I wanted to ask why he'd left us in there, but Chuck (reading my mind) came over and whispered in my ear: "Anne says it's easier for the driver, that way he won't waste his time, going around to park my limo."

Nate and Mrs. Archibald were speaking to the cook, a wise looking old Irish lady, with pure white hair, curled up in a braid and thick glasses, which she looked over. She was obviously absorbed in the conversation with Mrs. Archibald and Nate, but she did give Chuck and I subtle glances once in a while.

Chuck and I exchanged a look. And then I noticed how close he was, breathing on me. I swear I felt a blood rush to her cheeks. I turned my face away slightly.

He smirked and whispered, "Your blushing Blair."

I was going to respond, but Mrs. Archibald turned around and said "Come Alice, I'll show you around the house while Mrs. Watson gives Nate and Charles her famous homemade pantries."

I smiled and nodded, although I was cringing at the idea of Nate and Chuck alone. Would this stranger tell my fiancee the truth? Maybe he would not, I mean, he's been silent until now, why would he change?

So I left Nate behind in the house's kitchen along with an amused Chuck, while I followed Mrs. Archibald. She showed me the library, the living room, dining room and the various bedrooms, ending the tour with a stop at the bedroom that belonged to Nate and me.

If I could, I would've stared at the room for half an hour. It was old. The bed was creaky and rubbish. There was barely any space to move in there. And I'm supposed to live here until I get married?

"You can fill any of the empty drawers on the dresser. I'll leave you to your things, Alice, dear."

"Thank you Mrs. Archibald." I turned and crouched down next to my luggage, which someone had already left in my room, as Mrs. Archibald left.

"So, Al. Do you fancy my little piece of Heaven?" Nate came into our room, when I was unpacking my Alice Krieger outfits.

I took piece by piece my clothes from the luggage. "It's… pretty." I smiled at him. Pretty for a rundown life-size dollhouse.

"I'm glad you liked it." He came over and crouched beside me, to kiss my cheek. "Do you need help?"

No! Pretended to think about it for a while. "No, thanks, I've got it. Your mother has already explained to me where I could put my things. Not to mention, I'm a bit of a freak when it comes to my belongings."

"Alright, sweetheart. Mum wants her and I to go shopping, I'm not exactly sure where, but I heard our maids say something about a family dinner at my grandfather's house, so, you better dress up." He got up and left without another word.

Family dinner? At least I'll get to spend some time at a better smelling place.

I finished putting the Alice Krieger clothes in a drawer on the tiny dresser next to the bed. I suppose I have nothing to do until dinner time. Maybe I could find somewhere to practice my dancing. I reached in my bag and took out my iPod, then dressed in red tights, a black one shoulder top and a wrapped skirt of the same color.

I then peeked out of my room, catching a glance of Chuck walking down the stairs at the end of the hallway, speaking on the phone. This gave me a bad feeling, so I decided to follow him down the stairs, as silently as I could.

He walked around for quite a while, as if he was actually afraid of anyone who might be listening. He stopped at the end of some hallway that I remembered faintly. Seeing that he would turn around and see me, I panicked and went into the first room I could find, locking the door behind me. I found myself in the library, which was possibly the most spacious room in the house.

It was below ground level, being it that, to reach most of the book, you'd have to walk down stairs after going in the room. Maybe I could dance here? It made sense; the library was the biggest room in the house, and Mrs. Archibald had told me that it was the less used.

So I waited until it was completely silent outside and then I walked down the stairs and pushed the couches in the center of the room, away, careful to not make any noise. I had to use this opportunity to keep in shape and shake off stress, while Nate and his mother where out, Chuck was busy and no one else was paying attention.

I put my headphones on, completely detaching myself from the world around me. The usual classic mix blared into my ears when I pressed play, deciding to practice ballet.

First, a quick warm-up. A light prancing in place for a couple of minutes, with my feet parallel, slowly and gently alternating, raising and lowering my heels. I keep my knees soft and made sure I roll through my entire foot, including the toes.

After a whole song of warm-ups, I did choreography. I whispered my moves to myself. "Starting in the fifth position, four changements. Temps levé to cou de pied back with right foot. Relevé to attitude croisé derrière, with my right leg lifted. Extended right leg allongée and extend arms."

As I concentrated completely in what I was doing, I stoped whispering to myself. A plié in fifth position with my left foot front. An echappé sauté to second position. An echappé sauté to fourth, second, forth with the right foot front, to close on fifth. I was about to repeat the entire combination starting with my left foot front on fifth, but that was when I looked up.

Chuck Bass was right there, against the door frame, giving me that stupid smirk of his. I ripped the headphones from my ears and glared at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Blair Waldorf is a ballerina? Well, I must say, I was not expecting this. But it does make you sexier. A lot more flexible." Chuck's smirk did not falter as he walked down the stairs next to me.

"I don't want to play any kind of game here."

"You'll play whatever game I tell you to. There is a lot of money on the line for you."

I thinned my lips, irritated. "What do you want Bass?"

He chuckled (yes! Chuckled!) "I'll let you know. But there's one thing you can be certain of; you'll do what I want," he lifted up his hand to tuck a curl behind my ear, "when I want you to do it."

I nodded, my nostrils flaring. He then left me standing there on my own, still boiling inside. Mother Chucker! Bass-hole! Basstard! Of all the arrogant, self-centered, intoxicatingly handsome, charming men out there, I had to meet the worst one. The one that just happened to be the cousin of my fiancée (fiancée who I'm conning out of a lot of money).

I pondered about the situation for a long time. There was only one person I could ask for advice. So I ran back to my room and took a cell phone from my handbag. Eleanor Waldorf.

"My darling, I'm so glad to hear from you." Eleanor greeted.

"Hello there Eleanor… Am I interrupting something?"

"No, not at all Blair! I'm having brunch with the most boring people ever. But it is part of my life I suppose. Marrying Cyrus and becoming an honest person does come with its downsides." Eleanor sighted. I always forgot how she'd turned away from the dark side after meeting Cyrus.

"True. But it's the price to pay for true love."

"Darling, you know I love you, but you are the last person I would ask for advice on the prices of true romantic, run-of-the-mill love. I mean, my dear, you are Blair Waldorf. Ruthless, conniving, closed, dark, all rolled into one innocent-looking package with a pretty-princess face on it."

I laughed. No, Eleanor was not criticizing me. This was just the way we were. She was complimenting me on my flawless work. My strive was to be the best actress around. Not in a theater or in front of a camera. No, my stage was a different one. My stage was the real world.

"Why thank you. But it seems I might have a problem." I rolled my eyes at the thought of Chuck Bass. Just when I was about to pull my first pump-and-dump, he had to ruin everything. I'd had years of preparation for this con… I had a fake passport for God's sake! And Bass just pranced into my life like a little bug. "There's a loose end. The mark's cousin knows."

"Oh dear. One of your mark's family members… that is troublesome."

"I know. And the worst part is, I can't take it all back. Maybe you could do a background check on him?"

Eleanor laughed. "Hon, this is your scheme, not mine. I promised Cyrus I would get mixed up in those things anymore. Now, I think you should just drop the con and come home. The pump-and-dump is overrated anyway."

"Says the woman who did it five times. Listen, I've worked too hard on this mark to just drop it because of a setback. I'll ask Serena for a look into his past. And then I'll use that against him… pretty old school, but it'll work."

"Whatever you say darling."

I put my phone down after saying goodbye to Eleanor. This was turning out to be a bigger pain than expected. I had to think of something before Chuck ruined everything.

I walked out of my room on tip-toes as I heard Bass's voice in the kitchen. I went downstairs carefully and came close to the door, my back against the wall.

He was speaking with Mrs. Watson, the lady from before. "She is going to marry Nate."

"Oh, I would never have guessed Charlie. I'd say you two had some dirty little secret hidden somewhere. You were giving her quite the look." Mrs. Watson's voice retorted back.

Then there has a low chuckle coming from Bass. "She's very… interesting. Probably the most interesting woman of my generation I'll ever meet, but not the type I'd trust."

I fisted my hands. So I'm not good enough for you?

It was Mrs. Watson's turn to laugh. "So she's not you type of lass? That's rich Charlie. Brunette, drop-dead gorgeous, and she's got that if-you-cross-me,-I'll-kill-you-look. Also, I've never seen you like this, so interested in a woman."

"Mrs. Watson, you've got it all wrong. Yes, she definitely is the type I'd roll around with. She's different. And it is hilarious watching Nate trying to catch up with her wittiness."

I held a smile. That was true.

"Poor Natie, he's not the brightest bulb in the bunch, is he?" Mrs. Watson sighed.

"That's an understatement."

Have fun while you can Bass, I'm not going down without a fight.