light district。 Now I wish I？d asked for a lap dance。 Tell me it was her！
？Despr8
A：
Dear Despr8；
Sorry。 Her parents might be alternative； but I？m afraid our J isn？t。 She？s off studying fine art and
maybe the fine art of fine boys； but lap dancing in the red light district and skeezy tourists are not
part of the curriculum。
？GG
perfect your party small talk
A handy refresher course for all my fellow revelers。 Enjoy！
1） You？re cornered by a lecherous； badly dressed aspiring director who wants you to e back
to his place for a private audition。 Your response：
a） Dream on； perv。
b） Why go to your place？ Grab your video phone and meet me in the bathroom！
c） I？d be happy to； Mr。 Mogul。
2） While in the bathroom line； a portly； producer…type…fellow asks what you thought of his movie。
Your response：
a） I thought there were some casting problems？for example； the young ingenue could？ve had
more ingenuity？but it wasn？t bad。。。。
b） The costumes were pretty； although my belief has always been that when it es to costumes；
less is more。
c） Have you started casting the sequel yet？
3） A world…famous； unbelievably handsome； internationally recognizable movie star asks you to
tango。 Your response：
a） Tango？ I？d rather go somewhere quiet； far from all these paparazzi。
b） Hold me close。 Please； just hold me close。
c） I？ve always found that gay guys make the best dancers！
4） Some leggy starlet type trips and spills her fruity cocktail allover your new taupe suede
Sigerson Morrison ballet flats。 Yourresponse：
a） Nothing？you just hurl your drink in her face。b） My shoes！ My pride and joy！ My raison
d？？tre！c） Screw it。 I？ll dance barefoot！
Done yet？ Don？t cheat。 Okay； the answer to each one is C。 Like you didn？t know that。 See you
tonight！
You know you love me。
gossip girl
v？s date with destiny
Teetering ever so slightly on her black peep…toe Celine plat…form sandals？okay； so they were
technically Blair？s； but she knew her onetime roommate would never e back to Williamsburg
to collect any of the stuff she？d left behind？ Vanessa thwacked over the cobblestones of the
too…trendy…for…a…place…that…smells…like…dead…meat Meatpacking District toward the unmarked
rusty door of Ken Mogul？s massive live/work loft。
Despite her classmate Serena van der Woodsen？s drunken promises to put a good word in with
him at Blair？s wild graduation party a couple of weeks before； Vanessa Abrams had never
seriously expected to hear from Ken Mogul again。 Earlier that year； he？d taken an interest in her
career when some nearly…X…rated film footage she？d shot of Jenny Humphrey and Nate Archibald
hooking up in Central Park surfaced online and tried to take her under his wing as a prot？g？。 But
Vanessa didn？t like the idea of being underanyone？s wing； and working on a major Hollywood
production out in LA wasn？t exactly her thing。 She was more a dead…pigeons…and…used…condom
film auteur than maker of big teen block…busters； butBreakfast at Fred？s was going to be shot right
on her doorstep at Barneys uptown。 It was tempting to write it off as a learning experience。 Still；
something about it made her uneasy。 She rang the buzzer marked only with the director？s initials
and waited； fiddling nervously with her clothes。 Nearly her entire outfit had been garnered from
the spoils Blair had left behind。 She？d paired a black sleeveless Mayle cowl…neck top with her
own tattered black jeans； Blair？s clunky Celine sandals； and the steel…gray leather DKNY
messenger bag Blair used to carry her laptop in。 The look was sophisticated and artsy： she looked
like someone who didn？t care about things like looking sophisticated。
Like sheever cared？
Suddenly the door flew open to reveal an incredibly tall girl sporting super…short cutoffs and a
pink tank…top。 Her skin was dark brown and flawless； her hair was long； jet black； and perfectly
straight； and her eyes were huge； green； and sparkling。 She smiled； showing off a mouthful of
absolutely perfect white teeth。
All the better to eat you with 。 。 。
？Yeah？？ the Afro…Asian model…goddess demanded with a hostile grimace。 She looked almost like
an evil character in that Xbox game Jade Empire； and Vanessa could imagine being decapitated
with a flick of her long； lean； fighting…machine wrist。
？Um； yeah； I？m here to see Ken。？
？e on up；？ Jade Empire muttered； turning around。 The heavy steel door slammed shut as
Vanessa followed her up a narrow cement staircase and into a huge； bright； open room。 A forest of
rusting steel columns supported the vaulted ceiling； and a bank of windows showcased an
incredible view of the Hudson River。 The vast space was divided by a long； open bookcase and
was overflowing with heavy art books and vinyl records； framed photographs and dusty vases。
The latest Arcade Fire album blasted from tiny Bose speakers mounted to the top of the bookcase；
and the music echoed all around。
？He？s in here somewhere；？ Jade Empire explained； clearly disinterested。 ？You？ve got an
appointment； right？？
？I think so。？
？Well； just hang out。 He？ll show up sooner or later。 Good luck with whatever it is。？ She shrugged
and kicked off her beaded yellow Chinese slippers and shuffled away into the depths of the loft；
disappearing behind the bookcase。
Vanessa turned to the wall behind her； which was covered from floor to ceiling with framed
photographs of all different sizes。 She recognized some of them？they were Ken Mogul？s own
work。 Before meeting him； Vanessa had worshipped the filmmaker； and she knew everything he？d
ever done。 His favorite place in the world was Capri； in Italy； and before turning to filmmaking；
Mogul had been a renowned photographer。 Mixed in with his art photos of half…nude models
lolling around on litter…strewn subway platforms were snapshots of Ken crammed into nightclub
booths beside famous faces like Madonna； Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt； and David Bowie。
？Like what you see？？ came a gravelly voice from behind her。
Vanessa turned to see the taut； stubbly face of Ken Mogul himself。 He had the unnerving habit of
seeming not to blink； and he fixed his slightly bloodshot bulging blue eyes on her with a crazed
smile。 He wore a plaid flannel vest and old Levi？s chopped off at the knees。
？Here？s the deal。？ He went on without waiting for her response。 He wheeled around and Vanessa
had no choice but to follow him past the massive bookshelf and into an enormous office with a
garage…door…size window。 ？Here。 Sit。？ He poured Vanessa a tall glass of what looked like chilled
mint tea from a green glass pitcher and pointed to a red leather Eames chair across from a
paper…strewn midcentury modern table。 He poured a glass for himself and sank down into a desk
chair； swiveling it aimlessly before tilting back and resting his feet on the desk。 ？It？s a money job；
is all； but just between us；Breakfast at Fred？s is going to fucking rule。 Don？t tell the producers；
but this is not your average teen flick。 I？m thinking Godard。 Something human； humorous； and
freakingdark 。？
？Uh…huh；？ murmured Vanessa； sipping her tea。 Not