Only in Your Dreams (Gossip Girl #9)(53)
The light changed: the rest of the room grew darker but the spot on Serena was intensely bright. She didn’t even blink. She looked up into the light and she couldn’t see anything but the light, and couldn’t think about anything but standing there in the light. She was Serena. She was Holly. She didn’t know who she was anymore. She just was.
Own it, she reminded herself.
“Whenever you’re ready, Holly,” Ken called from some-where out in the darkness.
She was ready.
Taking a deep breath, she walked to the bottom step of the tenement’s stoop. She didn’t hesitate, she didn’t count her steps, she didn’t stumble or run. Mounting the steps, she turned to face the cameras, inhaling deeply.
“It’s a nice night,” she sighed. “It’s always a nice night.”
She climbed to the top step and sat down. She could see Ken Mogul watching her intently as he puffed on a cigarette. She could see Blair, standing very still and squinting critically. She paused and then, with a heartbreaking little tremor in her voice, she began to sing.
Moon River, wider than a mile . . .
I’ll be crossing you in style, someday.
Dream maker, you heartbreaker . . .
She sang through all the verses of the song, unaccompanied. The set was completely quiet and the light so strong she forgot for a moment who she really was, where she really was: for the moment, she was Holly, and she was singing her heart out.
She finished the song and a tiny tear rolled down her cheek. She stared into the light, blinking and half smiling. She’d always been the center of attention; in fact, she was so used to it she barely noticed anymore. But this was the first time she’d ever felt like a star.
There was a long moment of complete and utter silence. No one moved. No one spoke.
“Holly,” whispered Ken quietly, but everyone could hear him—it was that quiet. “That was incredible. Where the f*ck have you been keeping that, sweetheart?” He leapt out of his chair and dashed onto the set to scoop her up in his arms. Some of the crew actually started clapping. Even Blair.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Ken Mogul cried, holding Serena closely against his chest and spinning her around in a circle. “A star is born!”
Ken smelled like sauerkraut and espresso. It made her eyes tear. But that was okay—she was already crying.
Disclaimer: All the real names of places, people, and events have been altered or abbreviated to protect the innocent. Namely, me.
hey people!
So I happened to be walking by Barneys the other day (okay,I admit it: I’ve been keeping a vigil) and guess what? It wasopen. That’s right: up and running, back to normal, and not amoment too soon. I scooped up some adorable Margiela drawstring pants that will do quite nicely poolside and headedupstairs to Fred’s, which has been restored to its normal glory. Iguess it’s true what I’ve been hearing: filming on that movie haswrapped. Wonder how our favorite leading lady did? Reportsfrom the set have it that (surprise, surprise) she pulled throughquite nicely (that’s our girl!), nailing every take so precisely evenher famously sourpuss director couldn’t stop smiling and declaring his love for her. Take a number, buddy. The even betternews is, as any Hollywood player will tell you, that the end offilming means one thing: the wrap party. I hear this one is goingto be a complete old-school blowout, so cross your fingers andcheck with your doorman every hour on the hour to see if theinvitation has arrived. Mine, of course, arrived days ago.
a public service announcement
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your e-mail
Q:
Dear GG,
I was picnicking on the Hudson last weekend and I swear Isaw a certain Hollywood stud rollerblading shirtless by theriver. I’d recognize that chiseled jaw and those even morechiseled abs anywhere. Could it really be? Because here’sthe thing: he was wearing these teeny spandex shorts thatshowed off his taut little butt and underneath his skatesI’m pretty sure I caught a glimpse of some rainbow socks. What gives? Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.
—ThadRulz
A:
Dear ThadRulz,
When did rollerblading become so popular again? Thatreally snuck up on me. Anyway, all I’ll say is this: straightboys are allowed to rollerblade too. In fact, I can think ofone (definitely straight arrow) who has recently discoveredhis love of the sport. If you’re looking for evidence that Tprefers the company of gentlemen, some say he’s hadaffairs with everyone from a certain director’s considerablyyounger wife to the director himself. You can’t believeeverything you read . . . unless you read it here!
—GG
Q: