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backyard　below。　She　sighed。　？Honestly；　Blair；　it　kind　of　sucks。？　

？What　do　you　mean？？　Blair？s　workday　had　consisted　of　running　fabric　samples　from　the　tailor　
on　Thirty…ninth　Street　to　Bailey　Winter？s　home；　where　he　was　enjoying　a　？tea？　party　and　private　
fitting　with　a　Saudi　princess。　

Blair　pushed　open　the　window　next　to　Serena？s　and　leaned　outside。　She　exhaled　a　plume　of　
smoke　into　the　wind　and　glanced　over　at　Serena。　The　breeze　blew　her　blond　hair　gently　as　she　
swung　her　bare　feet　and　frowned。　

？I　don？t　know；？　Serena　sighed；　chugging　her　beer。　It　had　been　one　of　her　worst　rehearsal　days　to　
date。　She？d　overheard　some　of　the　crew　members　calling　her　Holly　Go　Slightly；　and　then　Ken　had　
yelled；　？Fuck；　fuck；　fuck！？　right　in　the　middle　of　her　scene。　？It？s　been　a　long　day。？　

？Tell　me　everything；？　Blair　urged。　

Serena　hesitated。　They？d　never　really　discussed　it；　but　she　knew　Blair　well　enough　to　know　that　
she　wasn？t　exactly　thrilled　that　Serena　was　starring　inBreakfast　at　Fred？s　。　It　was　Blair？s　lifelong　
dream；　after　all；　not　Serena？s；　how　would　Blair　react　to　hearing　Serena　plain　about　it？　

？I？m　having　some　trouble　getting　this　whole　acting　thing　down；？　Serena　admitted　sheepishly。　

That？s　an　understatement。　

？I　thought　I　could　do　it。　I　mean；　I　did　it　before；　but　that　was　different；　without　lots　of　experts　and　
people　running　around　on　set；　watching　you；　and　without　that　big；　huge　camera　just　staring　at　you　
like；　like　。　。　。　like　Darth　Vader　or　something。？　

？Tell　me　more。？　Blair　leaned　out　of　the　window；　exhaling　smoke　into　the　hot　summer　night。　She　
loved　helping　other　people　with　their　problems。　

More　like　she　just　wanted　to　hear　that　other　peoplehad　problems。　

？I　can？t　do　it；？　plained　Serena。　She　frowned　down　at　her　Marc　Jacobs　flip…flops。　？It？s　just　
not　connecting。？　

？Serena；？　Blair　murmured　dreamily；　？you　know　what　you　look　like？？

　？Huh？？　Serena　looked　up。　Blair　was　leaning　out　the　window；　still　clad　only　in　her　towel；　
clutching　a　cigarette　but　not　smoking　it；　so　her　ash　was　almost　an　inch　long。　She　looked　like　a　


crazed　Madison　Avenue　maven　in　an　alcoholic　trance。　

？You　look　exactly；？　Blair　said；　？I　mean；exactly　；　like　Holly　Golightly。　The　fire　escape；　the　wisps　
of　hair；　the　light？it？s　all　perfect。　It？s　fucking　creepy　almost。？　

？Thanks；？　Serena　uttered。　It　was　one　of　the　nicest　things　Blair　had　said　to　her　in　their　many　years　
of　friendship。　

？I？m　serious；？　Blair　proclaimed。　？I？m　an　expert。　I？m　in　the　business；　okay？　I　know　about　fashion；　
I　know　about　looks；　I　know　about　glamour；　and　you？ve　got　it。　I　don？t　care　what　Ken　Mogul　might　
say：　youare　Holly　Golightly；？　she　continued　determinedly；　？if　I　have　anything　to　do　with　it。？　

？What　do　you　mean？？　Serena　demanded。　

？Who　is　the　world？s　greatest　Holly　Golightly　expert？？　Blair　asked。　

Serena　laughed。　？You　are；　no　question。？　

？Well；　you？re　pretty　damn　lucky　to　know　me；　then；　aren？t　you？？　Blair　remarked。　Ifshe　couldn？t　
be　Holly　Golightly；　well；　then　she　could　make　Serena　into　her。　That　would　be　satisfaction　
enough。　？e　on。？　She　stubbed　out　her　cigarette　and　grabbed　her　friend？s　hand。　？We　have　work　
to　do。？　

Their　first　stop　was　obvious：　the　sidewalk　outside　of　Tiffany。　

Blair　had　thrown　on　a　vaguely　Mexican　embroidered　cami　she？d　bought　the　previous　summer　at　
Scoop　and　a　pair　of　jeans　and　had　insisted　that　Serena　dress　down　too。　When　the　cab　pulled　up　in　
front　of　the　store；　Blair　practically　shoved　Serena　out　into　the　street。　

？Now；？　Blair　barked。　？Let　me　see　your　walk。？　Blair　stationed　herself　in　front　of　the　store　
windows　and　faced　her　friend。　With　the　traffic　zooming　past　behind　her　and　the　tall　buildings　
rising　into　the　sky；　Serena　looked　very　small；　very　vulnerable。　Very　un…Serena。　Very；　very　
un…Holly。　

Serena　strolled　awkwardly　toward　the　store；　taking　funny　little　half…steps　like　a　flower　girl　in　a　
wedding。　

？Stop！？　Blair　howled。　She　walked　out　into　the　middle　of　the　sidewalk。　？What　was　that？？　

？What　do　you　mean？？　Serena　was　barely　audible　over　the　roar　of　traffic　and　the　chatter　of　all　the　
shoppers　and　tourists　milling　around。　

？You？re　not　trying；？　Blair　intoned；　channeling　a　tough　but　lovable　coach　from　some　inspirational　
sports　movie　she？d　seen　on　HBO。　？Show　me；　show　me；　show　me！　Iknow　you　can　do　a　more　


convincing　walk。？　

？I　feel　so　stupid；？　Serena　admitted。　？Everyone？s　looking　at　me　and　I　feel　all　weird　and　
self…conscious。？　

Miss　Dancing…on…the…banquette…at…Bungalow…8；　self…conscious？　

？You　can？t　feel　that　way；？　Blair　snapped。　？You？ve　got　to　feel　confident。　You？ve　got　to　feel　cool。　
You？ve　got　to　feel　like　the　whole　world　is　at　your　disposal；　like　you？re　calling　the　shots；　like　
you？re　in　charge。？　

And　this　was　calledacting　？　

？But　I？m　just　supposed　to　walk？？　Serena　asked。　This　wasn？t　like　walking　in　a　fashion　
show？which　she？d　done；　of　course。　？I　feel　silly。？　

？Pretend　it？s　graduation　again；？　Blair　suggested；　remembering　Serena？s　irksome；　last…minute　
dash　down　the　aisle　of　Brick　Church；　wearing　the　exact　same　Oscar　de　la　Renta　suit　Blair　was　
wearing。　

？I？ll　try；？　Serena　sighed。　

Blair　returned　to　her　station　in　front　of　Tiffany。　She　had　a　lot　of　work　to　do；　but　she　had　to　admit　
it　was　kind　of　fun　bossing　Serena　around　for　a　change。　

All　in　the　name　of　friendship。　

just　another　manic　sunday　in　the　park　with　v　。　。　。　and　d　

With　Nils　tugging　at　her　left　hand　and　Edgar　pulling　on　her　right？or　was　it　Nils　on　the　right　and　
Edgar　on　the　left？？　Vanessa　Abrams　remembered　why　it　was　never　a　good　idea　to　have　two　boys　
vying　for　one　girl？s　attention。　

Like　she　hadn？t　already　learnedthat　lesson。　

？e　on；　e　on；？　plained　one　of　the　boys？who　cared　which　one　anymore？　Their　tiny　
hands　were　sticky；　their　little…boy　voices　whiny；　and　besides　that　they　werestrong　。　They　had　grips　
of　steel；　and　since　they　refused　to　slow　down；　Vanessa　was　half　walking　and　half　being　dragged　
along　Central　Park？s　shady　asphalt　paths。　It　reminded　her　of　the　times　she　and　Aaron　had　walked　
his　fawn…and…white　purebred　boxer；　Mookie；　together；　except　the　twins　were　even　more　eager　to　
get　outside　than　that　dog　had　been。　If　they？d　had　tails；　they？d　have　been　wagging　them　insanely。　


？Christ；？　muttered　Vanessa。　？Slow　down；　please！？　

Eighteen　dollars　an　hour；　eighteen　dollars　an　hour。She？d　already　made　thirty…six　dollars　that　day；　
not　a　fortune；　but　it　would　go　right　in　the　coffers　for　her　next　project。　

How　about　her　nextapartment　？　

Vanessa　stumbled　a　little　as　the　boys　stopped　short　in　front　of　an　umbrella…covered　cart。　

？Can　we　get　ice　cream　sandwiches？？　

She　highly　doubted　that　their　mother　had　ever　in　her　life　taken　the　kids　to　the　park；　let　alone　
bought　them　ice　cream。　Vanessa　hadn？t　even　set　eyes　on　her　since　their　bizarre　job　interview；　and　
Ms。　Morgan　didn？t　seem　like　the　kind　of　woman　who　would　tolerate　ice　cream　dripping　on　her　
boucl？　Chanel　suits。　The　Abramses　had　always　kept　her　and　Ruby　on　a　strict　sugar…free　diet　when　
they　were　kids；　preferring　Tofutti　and　fruit　to　ice　cream　and　candy；　but　she　didn？t　care　what　these　
two　ate。　

？Sure；　ice　cream　sandwiches；　whatever；　you　got　it；？　she　agreed；　wriggling　free　of　the　boys？　death　
grips　and　pulling　a　crumpled　twenty　out　of　her　jeans　pocket。　？Three　ice　cream　sandwiches；　please；？　
she　told　the　vendor；　who　had　a　handlebar　moustache　and　was　wearing　a　tie…dyed　T…shirt　circa　
1972。　

The　boys　leapt　up　and　down；　grabbing　at　the　ice　cream。　They　tore　the　wrappers　open　hungrily；　
then　raced　away　into　the　confines　of　the　playground；　screaming　and　laughing　through　gooey　
mouthfuls　of　ice　cream。　

？Wait　up！？　Vanessa　yelled　after　them　halfheartedly。　She　wasn？t　sure　she　cared　if　they　
disappeared　and　she　lost　her　job　and　went　to　prison。　Had　it　really　been　only　three　days　since　she？d　
started　work　as　the　principal　cinematographer　on　a　major　Hollywood　production？　Or　was　this　
whole　thing　some　kind　of　horrible　nightmare？　

She　sank　onto　a　bench　under　a　tall；　gracious　oak　and　watched　the　twins　scarf　down　their　treats　
and　toss　their　wrap…pers　onto　the　ground。　Oops。　Then　they　started　a　dizzying　game　of　tag；　racing　
under　the　slide；　between　the　swings；　narrowly　avoiding　collisions　with　teetering　prewalkers　and　
their　menacing　minders。　

？Stay　close！？Vanessa　called　out　weakly。　She　finished　her　ice　cream　and　leaned　back　onto　the　
surprisingly　fortable　wood…and…concrete　bench。　Cars　whizzed　by　on　their　way　through　the　
park　at　Ninety…seventh　Street；　a　nice；　sleep…inducing　sound。　The　sun　was　strong　but　there　was　
plenty　of　shade；　and　for　one　brief　second　she　almost　didn？t　mind　that　she　was　there　as　a　nanny；　not　
just　as　some　other　adult　enjoying　the　park　on　a　nice　Sunday　afternoon。　Her　eyes　closed　and　she　
tuned　out　for　a　moment。　


Then　she　heard　a　familiar　high…pitched　yelp　and　her　eyes　flew　open。　
Who　knew　she　had　a　maternal　instinct？　
There　was　a　motion　not　far　in　the　distance；　and　Vanessa　recognized　two　familiar　blond　heads。　
She　got　to　her　feet　and　hurried　over　to　where　one　of　the　twins　was　sprawled　out　on　the　sidewalk；　


clutching　his　skinned　knee　and　crying。　His　brother　stood　at　his　side；　pointing　an　angry　finger　at　a　
rollerblader　lying　prone　on　the　sidewalk。　

？What？s　going　on？？　Vanessa　demanded；　trying　to　sound　authoritative。　

？That　big　boy　ran　into　Edgar！？　cried　Nils。　

A　freckle…faced　blond　nymphet　cheerleader　type　in　hot　pink　short　shorts　and　a　plicated　
electric　blue　sports　bra　rolled　athletically　up　to　the　scene。　？What？s　going　on；？　she　snapped；　？is　that　
you？re　not　controlling　your　kids；　and　we？re　trying　to　get　some　exercise　here！？　

？They？re　notmy　kids；？Vanessa　retorted；　kneeling　to　pat　the　sobbing　Edgar　on　his　head。　？And　you　
don？t　have　to　be　rude。？　

？Vanessa；　Vanessa；　let？s　go　home　now；？　Nils　whined；　pulling　on　her　arm。　

？Maybe　that？s　not　such　a　bad　idea；？　Lycra　Girl　mented；　kneeling　to　tend　to　her　fallen　
rade。　She　looked　like　she？d　rollerbladed　right　out　of　a　Coors　Light　mercial。　

？Hey。？　Vanessa　was　in　no　mood　to　take　crap　from　some　bimbo　stranger。　？Next　time　watch　where　
you？re　going。？　

？Vanessa？？　Mr。　rollerblader…who？d…fallen…on…his…ass　demanded；　struggling　to　sit　up。　

Vanessa？s　eyelids　flapped　up　and　down　in　disbelief。　Was　she　seeing　things？　

There；　splayed　out　on　the　asphalt　under　the　oaks；　in　the　middle　of　Central　Park；　wearing　
rollerblades；　dorky　athletic　shorts；　and　a　clingy　white　spandex　tee；　plus　wristbands；　kneepads；　and　
elbow　pads；　with　a　flushed　face　and　messy；　sweaty　hair；　was　Dan。　Her　Dan。　

？Dan？？she　gasped　with　so　much　horror　and　confusion　in　her　voice　that　Edgar　actually　stopped　
blubbering　and　stood　up。　

？Hi。？　Dan　grinned　sheepishly。　The　blond　bimbo　in　the　skimpy　jog　bra　extended　her　hand　and　
helped　him　to　his　feet。　He　swiveled　unsteadily　on　his　blades。？Hey　Vanessa　。。　。　what？s　up？？　


？What？s　up　is　she？s　not　paying　attention　to　these　little　animals　running　around；？　the　blonde　
started；　tugging　her　shorts　so　high　she　was　in　grave　danger　of　causing　some　severe　camel　
toe。　？And　I？m　really　trying　to　be　very　Zen　about　this；　but？？　

？Whoare　you？？Vanessa　demanded。　

？Who　areyou　？？　the　girl　retorted　bitchily。　

？I？m　hisgirlfriend　；？Vanessa　replied。　

Lycra　Butt　recoiled　a　little。　

？Wait；？　Vanessa　insisted。　？What　are　youdoing　？？　She　studied　Dan　critically。　His　outfit　was　so　

pletely　ridiculous　she　could　barely　look　at　him。　She　turned　back　to　the　girl。　？You　must　be　the　
reason　I　never　see　Dan　around　the　house　any…more。？

　？You　guyslive　together？？　

The　words　from　Dan？s　poem　flooded　into　Vanessa？s　head：　

Pure　love。　Pure　lust。　Trust　trust。　

Buddha　was　no　Jesus。　Neither　am　I。　

I？m　just　a　guy。　

？Who　are　these　kids；　anyway？？　Dan　wondered　aloud。　

？We？re　her　friends；？　snapped　one　of　the　twins？Vanessa　still　couldn？t　tell　them　apart？sticking　his　
tongue　out　at　Dan。

　？Your　friends？？　Dan　repeated。　

？Right；？　Vanessa　snapped。　？Kind　of　likeshe？s　your　friend；　right；　Dan？？　

A　church　bell　rang　down　on　Fifth　Avenue。　The　sound　was　so　pure　and　so　totally　inappropriate　for　
the　moment；　it　made　Vanessa　want　to　scream。　

？Vanessa？？　The　other　twin　tugged　on　her　hand。　？I　don？t　feel　so　good。？　

？Not　now；？Vanessa　responded　sternly。　

？I？m　c