She put the phone to her ear。
Camp？Playdates ？ Excuse me？
？I think there？s been some misunderstanding；？ Vanessa stammered； struggling to stay upright
with the wine in her system and the weight of two kids tugging her floorward。 Suffering for her art
was all well and good； but she was no Mrs。 Doubtfire。
？Yay！？ the twins cried。 ？Mommy； is Vanessa our new friend？？
？Yes；？ the woman answered； her ear still glued to the over…size phone。 ？She？s your new friend。？
She was？
？It？s eighteen dollars an hour；？ Ms。 Morgan added as she clicked out into the foyer and up the
grand staircase。 ？You can start right now。？
Oh yeah； she definitelyis 。
one is the loneliest number
？Archibald！？ Coach Michaels yelled up at the roof。 ？I want to hear your lazy ass banging those
shingles。 Now！？
？Yes； sir；？ Nate Archibald muttered as he watched Coach climb into his blue minivan and back
out of the short driveway； honking a cheerfulbeep beep be…beep as he sped off down the suburban
Hampton Bays street。 Nate could picture him popping Viagra and jacking off to the pornos he
probably kept in the glove partment。
Douche bag；Nate added silently。 Sweat stinging his eyes； he ran a hand across his forehead and
frowned down at the black…shingled roof。Idiot； he told himself for the hundredth time that morning。
It was only nine o？clock； but the brutal sun was pounding down； the scratchy shingles were
tearing up his knees； and his back throbbed。 Nate straightened up to full height and pulled off his
drenched lime…green Stussy T…shirt。 Then he dropped his hammer and sat down； even though the
roof was so hot he could feel it burning his ass through his shorts。
He dug around in his pockets for the lovingly hand…rolled Thai stick joint he？d been smart
enough to stash there the night before。 Nate pulled out the yellow plastic lighter he kept tucked
into his sock and lit the joint； inhaling deeply。
Wake and bake。 The breakfast of champions。
His fuckup was costing him； that was for sure； but Nate was determined not to let one mistake
ruin his whole summer。 His days belonged to Coach Michaels； but his nights were still his； and he
had his parents？ place on Georgica Pond all to himself； since his folks preferred the splendid
isolation of their pound up in Mt。 Desert Island； Maine。
Nate flipped open his cell and scrolled through his contact list until he got to the first person he
knew with a house in the Hamptons。 There was no sense letting the perfect party house go to
waste。
Waste not； want not。
？Hey； it？s Charlie；？ said the voicemail recording。 ？I？m out of the country for a couple of weeks；
but leave me a message and I？ll check you when I get back。 Later。？
Damn。Nate hung up without leaving a message。
He scrolled some more until he came to the number for Jeremy Scott Tompkinson； another friend
from school。 Nate half remembered hearing something about how Jeremy was spending the
summer out in LA； taking acting classes or something lame like that。
The only guy Nate knew for sure was in the Hamptons was Anthony Avuldsen； so Nate tried him
too； but he didn？t answer his phone either。 He was probably still sleeping； no one with any sense
would be awake this early in the morning。
Frowning； Nate took another deep drag on his joint。 He could just imagine the endless march of
hot； sweaty days and lonely； quiet nights before he would finally pack up and head off to Yale in
the fall。
Poor baby。
From his perch on the roof； Nate could see the coach？s wide backyard； the very yard he？d be in
charge of mowing and landscaping for the next few weeks。 He？d been so preoccupied； he hadn？t
noticed the best part of the view： the coach？s wife； lying poolside； sunning herself in the bright
morning rays； top…less。 She was a mom and she wasn？t young； but she wasn？t that old； either。 At
least her boobs had aged well。 He？d seenThe Graduate ； and he？d never been with an older
woman。 Shit could happen。 Maybe working for the coach without pay wouldn？t be so bad after
all。
Or maybe the sun is getting to him。
b and s decide it？s share and share alike
She？d made three trips back and forth； but Blair still hadn？t managed to get all of her bags up the
five flights of stairs。 There wasn？t a doorman； there wasn？t any air conditioning； there wasn？t an
elevator； but she didn？t mind because the whole thing was just so 。 。 。 cinematic。
Blair had a plan for her life； a script she wanted to follow exactly。 But so much of what had
happened so far？buying a wedding gown； leaving Lord Marcus； getting hired by Bailey Winter；
and now moving in with Serena？wasn？t planned。 If someone had told her just a week before that
she？d have to get a job for the summer； she？d have screamed and protested？ working for the
summer was definitely not part of the story of her life？but Blair didn？t feel like screaming。 She
felt 。 。 。 happy。 Maybe there was a lesson here； maybe instead of trying to always live according to
a plan； she should just go with the flow？ Maybe things really did always work out in the end。
Just like in the movies。
Bounding down the last flight of steps to retrieve her very last bag？a crocodile Paul Smith duffel
she？d picked up in London only a couple of days before？Blair was startled by the lanky；
dark…haired guy wearing a crisp blue Hugo Boss suit； stepping out of the parlor…floor apartment。
She froze in her tracks。
Isn？t there a handsome downstairs neighbor inBreakfast at Tiffany？s ？
？Hello there；？ Blair called out in her best vaguely Eastern European；
Audrey…Hepburn…as…Holly…Golightly accent。
？Hey；？ the guy responded shyly。 His tousled brown hair hung down in front of his blue eyes。 He
tucked his hands in the pockets of his suit pants and pulled himself up to full height。
？Good evening；？ Blair replied； strolling down the stairs primly through the narrow； badly lit
space that passed for a lobby。 She squeezed past the smiling stranger and bent to pick up her
bag。 ？Excuse me；？ she continued； heaving the bag full of shoes onto her shoulder。
？Of course；？ he said； leaning his back against the door to his apartment。 ？Can I help you with
that？？
？I can manage it；？ Blair told him stoically。 She flashed her most charming smile。 ？Have we
met？？
？I？m Jason。？ He extended his hand。 ？You visiting for the weekend？？
？Oh；？ she explained； ？I？m moving in with my dear old friend Serena。 On the fifth floor？？
？Oh； I know Serena。？ Jason paused。 ？We hung out the other night； drank some beers on the stoop。
She never mentioned anything about her beautiful roommate； though。？
And she？d never mentioned her handsome new neighbor either。
Typical。
？It was a bit spur of the moment；？ Blair explained。 ？It？s a long story。？
？I？ve got time。？ His lips spread into a cute； flirtatious little grin。 He tucked his long fingers into
his back pockets。 ？And I？m a great listener。？
？Is that so？？ Blair shifted the bag from one shoulder to the other。 Itwas sort of heavy。
？Not only that；？ Jason continued； ？I was just on my way out to pick up a nice cold bottle of ros？。
Have you been up to the roof yet？ Maybe you？d like to join me for a wele…to…the…building
drink？？
？I didn？t know we could get up there！？ A cool glass of pink wine with a broad…shouldered；
blue…eyed stranger sounded like the perfect way to celebrate the end of a milestone of a day： new
job； new house 。 。 。
New romance？
Serena was busy memorizing her lines for tomorrow。 A drink with Jason would keep Blair out of
her hair。
？I know a way；？ he said； winking。 ？I？ll meet you in fifteen minutes？？
Under normal circumstances that would hardly have been enough time for Blair Waldorf to
prepare herself for an evening t？te…？…t？te； but this was the new and improved； girl…with…a…job；
ever…fashion…ready； easygoing summertime Blair Waldorf。
？I？ll give you ten。？ She skipped up the stairs slowly turning back to smile at him。 ？By the way；
I？m Blair。？
After throwing on a casual pink floral Lilly Pulitzer tunic top and some white shell…embellished
flip…flops； Blair headed upstairs。 Jason was already waiting for her with a blanket slung over his
shoulder and a bottle clutched in his hand。 He scaled the rusty ladder and pushed open the black
steel trapdoor。 Then he reached down to help Blair up with more studly grace than Marcus had
ever shown。 Blair grabbed his hand eagerly and let him pull her up to the rooftop。
？I hope it doesn？t rain tonight；？ she remarked as she twirled around； taking in three hundred and
sixty degrees of Manhattan skyline view。 ？Because I？m never goingdown that ladder。？ She was
only half…kidding。
？I told you the view was great；？ Jason teased； digging a wine key into the cork and pulling it out
with a satisfying pop。
It wasn？t as manding as the view of Central Park from the high…up terrace of Blair？s Fifth
Avenue penthouse； but there was something magical about the hot summer haze lin…gering over
the neighborhood？s bland apartment towers。 The trees weren？t as perfectly pruned as the oaks and
elms that surrounded the park； but the spindly branches that peeked above the roofline were lush
and green。 The Upper East Side； Blair realized； was just like Bailey Winter？s line： from Fifth to
Park Avenues was Bailey Winter Couture； everything from the Park to Lexington was like Bailey
Winter Collection； and everything between there and the river was Bailey by Bailey Winter。
That？s one way to think of it。
？It？s really nice；？ she agreed； taking a plastic cup of chilled wine and settling onto the worn navy
blue cotton blanket Jason had spread on the warm tar roof。 It wasn？t as soft as her favorite
cashmere Asprey picnic throw； but she had on the per…fect summer outfit； a gorgeous man was
sitting next to her； and her career in fashion was about to explode。 Who needed minor British
royalty？ She was a New Yorker and this was a classic summer…in…New…York moment。 London was
a damp and smelly slum by parison。
？So； how e Serena never mentioned you before？？ Jason asked。
？Maybe she wanted you all to herself；？ Blair replied mischievously and probably