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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　Smith。　？Then；　this　uptight　Upper　East　Side　girl　wows　him　with　her　money　。　。　。　and　
things　like　lunch　at　Fred？s；　the　restaurant　at　Barneys？？　Serena　hoped　what　she　was　saying　made　
some　sense。　She　had　a　tendency　to　ramble　and　lose　track　of　the　plot。　

As　if　any　guy　she？d　ever　talked　to　evencared　。　

They　turned　up　another　staircase　and　Serena　went　on；　starting　to　feel　a　little　winded　as　she　
spoke。　？The　other　girl　ruins　his　innocence；　which　is；　like；　the　one　quality　that　would　make　him　a　
success　as　an　actor？and　turns　him　into　a　jaded　New　Yorker。　Then　it？s　up　to　my　character　to　save　
him。？　

？So　does　that　means　we？ll　be　neighbors　all　summer？？　Jason　asked；　sounding　adorably　hopeful。　

？Actually；　just　for　a　couple　of　weeks；？　she　admitted。Breakfast　at　Fred？s　was　a　big…budget　picture；　
but　Ken　Mogul　had　only　twelve　days　scheduled　for　the　actual　filming。　

They　reached　one　landing　and　walked　down　a　narrow　hall。　Then　he　turned　and　led　her　up　another　
flight　of　steps。　

？How　far　up　are　we　going？？　Serena　wondered　out　loud。　She　was　slightly　out　of　breath。　

Better　lay　off　those　hard…core　French　cigarettes。　

They　reached　another　landing；　walked　down　another　hall…way；　and　started　up　another　flight。　Was　
it　possible　that　he　was　just　leading　her　up　to　some　dark；　hidden；　date…rape　lair？　Should　she　be　
scared？　She　patted　her　skirt　pocket；　checking　for　her　cell　phone；　just　in　case。　

？I？m　at　my　first　job；　too；？　he　explained。　？I？m　a　summer　associate　at　Lowell；　Bonderoff；　Foster　
and　Wallace。　The　law　firm？　I　was　there　until　four　last　night；　so　that？s　why　I？m　going　to　work　now。　
I　don？t　usually　have　to　work　so　late；　though。？　

At　last　they　reached　the　top　floor；　where　the　ceiling　was　low　and　the　hallway　was　dark。　Serena　


could　see　the　flush　on　Jason？s　cheeks。　She　wasn？t　sure　if　it　was　from　all　those　damn　stairs　or　if　he　
was　blushing　because　of　her。　

？Here　we　are；？　he　announced。　

She　unlocked　the　door　and　pushed　it　open。　Jason　followed　her　inside　and　dropped　her　bags　on　the　
ground　with　a　thud　that　echoed　off　the　walls　of　the　empty　apartment。　Two　bare　bulbs　protruded　
from　the　urine…colored　ceiling；　which　was　marred　with　so　many　water　stains；　it　almost　looked　like　
the　orange…and…yellow　tie…dye　pattern　had　been　painted　on。　

？It？s　nice；？　he　observed　gamely。

　Itis　？　

Serena　strolled　around　the　apartment？s　main　room；　almost　losing　her　balance　on　the　sloping；　
creaky　wood　floor。　Three　windows　faced　the　street；　with　tattered　screens　and　a　view　of　the　solid　
brick　old　people？s　home　across　the　street。　Out　of　the　back　window　off　the　tiny　kitchen；　Serena　
recognized　the　fire　escape　from　the　originalBreakfast　at　Tiffany？s　；　where　Holly　Golightly　had　
strummed　her　mandolin　and　sung　？Moon　River。？　Blair　got　teary　every　time　they　watched　that　
scene。　Serena　pushed　a　window　open。　The　apartment　had　a　stale；　claustrophobic；　gag…inducing　
smell；　like　sweaty　feet　and　sardines。　

？But　where？s　the　furniture？？　she　asked；　her　voice　dangerously　close　to　a　whine。　

？And　who？s　this？？　Jason　added。　A　bl