Only in Your Dreams (Gossip Girl #9)(51)

And no island babe could ever make him forget that.





Gossip Girl 09 - Only in Your Dreams

v finds a father figure

Slamming the heavy door behind her, Vanessa stormed into the foyer of the Humphrey homestead, dropping her battered army surplus knapsack onto the creaky parquet floor and upsetting a stack of old newspapers in the process.

“Damn!” She knelt and restacked the newspapers as tidily as she could, but the apartment was always in such a state of disarray it hardly seemed to matter.

“What’s that?” a booming voice called out. “Who’s there?”

Vanessa stood and looked around guiltily. She was so exhausted from her afternoon with the tireless twins, so humiliated and pissed off from her run-in with Dan and his tight-butted rollerblading slut, so furious about getting fired by the psychotic Ken Mogul, that she had forgotten that she wasn’t at home: she couldn’t just stomp around, slamming doors. She was technically a guest.

“What’s all this racket?” Rufus Humphrey shuffled into the dimly lit foyer, clutching a sheaf of loose-leaf papers to his barrel chest. His thick tangle of frizzy gray shoulder-length hair was tied up in a green twist-tie, there were peanut shells in his salt-and-pepper beard, and his glasses had slid all the way down his broad red nose. He was wearing a tattered pair of beige cargo shorts with several pens and highlighters sticking out of one of the pockets, a light blue way-too-tight wine-stained polo that Vanessa recognized as one of Dan’s discarded school shirts, and a pink plastic apron embellished with daisies.

“I’m so sorry,” Vanessa apologized. “I didn’t mean to dis-turb you.”

“What day is this?” Rufus demanded, staring at her intently without any hint of recognition.

She wondered if she should remind him who she was. “Sunday.”

“Sunday, yes, Sunday.” Rufus nodded, tearing off his rim-less reading glasses and tucking them into one of his many pockets. “So, are you home late or early? Should I scold you or something?”

Vanessa laughed, relieved that he seemed to know exactly who she was. “Don’t worry. I can assure you I’ve been behaving.”

“Come in, then,” he urged, turning and retreating to the steamy and disorderly kitchen. “I’ve been working on dinner, and I need a fresh palate to sample what I’ve come up with.”

As if she hasn’t had a rough enough day already.

Vanessa stationed herself on one of the rickety, uneven chairs at the kitchen table, sipping a glass of murky tap water and watching Rufus Humphrey busy himself at the stove. Whatever he was cooking it was very fragrant and it made her stomach growl noisily. The only thing she’d eaten that day was her hastily scarfed ice cream sandwich; after the whole scene in the park she just hadn’t been in the mood for lunch.

“Taste this,” Rufus commanded, handing Vanessa a wooden spoon.

She blew on the steaming mound of couscous and sampled it. “Really good.”

“It’s a tagine,” Rufus informed her. “Paul Bowles’s recipe. I totally forgot I had it. Where’s Dan? He loves Paul Bowles. He’d get a kick out of this, I just know it. I replaced the saffron with vermouth!”

“Dan? I’m not really sure,” Vanessa admitted. She fiddled uncomfortably with the faded white linen place mat, which was embroidered with little lavender flowers. It seemed so out of place in that moldy, disorganized kitchen.

“Trouble in paradise?” Rufus asked, energetically stirring the bubbling pot.

Vanessa hesitated. She was really in the mood to just spill her guts. She hadn’t spoken to Ruby since leaving the apartment in a huff, she hadn’t talked to her parents in ages. She didn’t even care that Rufus was Dan’s dad, she just needed to talk to someone.

“Paradise,” she scoffed. “I don’t think we’re living there anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Rufus paged through a cookbook, nodding sagely. “Shit! Two teaspoons. Well . . . six teaspoons isn’t going to kill anyone.”

“I mean,” explained Vanessa, a lump forming in her throat, “I think we’re broken up.”

“What happened?” Rufus asked as he rifled through a drawer, clattering the utensils together.

“I don’t know,” Vanessa lied, suddenly embarrassed. Did he really need to hear all the gory details?

“You kids.” He shook his head. “Young love.”

Or young loveless.

Trying not to lose control, Vanessa continued. “And the thing is, he doesn’t even know what else is going on in my life. I mean, I lost my job today. I got fired by Ken Mogul.” She sighed, her whole body trembling. Hearing the words out loud, even out of her own mouth, made the reality even more harsh.

“Fired?” Rufus repeated, adding what looked like way too much honey to the couscous pot. “Don’t worry about it. Believe it or not, I once got fired from a job. I was an usher at the Brattle Theater, back when I was a student.” He chuckled. “I got canned for screaming obscenities during a play about red Russia, but it’s kind of a long story.”

“Well, I really appreciate you letting me stay here. I’m sure I’ll figure out another place to go soon,” Vanessa mumbled miserably. “I can call Ruby and maybe she’ll let me crash on the couch. Or maybe I can ask Blair Waldorf for help. I mean, I helped her out when she didn’t have any place to go.”