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the　Nair…in…the…shampoo　thing　is　the　most　obvious　trick　in　the　world。　Remember　that　time？　At

Isabel？s　sleepover？　When　we　were；　like；　eleven？？

Serena　just　stared　at　her。

？Well；I　remember。？　Blair　unscrewed　the　top　of　the　bottle。　She　didn？t　even　need　to　sniff　it　to

realize　that　someone　had　indeed　tried　to　pull　a　switch　on　her？the　powerful　chemical　fart　stench　of

the　depilatory　was　unmistakable。　？Bitches！？　she　swore。　？It？s　a　fucking　good　thing　I　wanted　to

have　beach　hair。？　She　touched　her　brown　locks　worriedly　to　make　sure　they　were　still　there。　？Now

it？s　fuckingwar。　？

Dignified　and　determined；　Blair　and　Serena　burst　out　of　the　guest　house？s　French　doors　and　onto

the　white　pebble　path　leading　to　the　swimming　pool。　Blair　surveyed　the　crowd；　seeing　now　that

they　were　all　men。　Every　single　one。Whoa。　A　hundred；　maybe　a　hundred　and　fifty　people；　and　the

only　girls　in　sight　were　her　and　Serena？and　Ibiza　and　Svetlana；　of　course。

？My　dad　wouldtotally　love　this。？　Blair　almost　wished　that　her　fabulous　gay　dad；　Harold　Waldorf；

and　his　much…younger　French　boyfriend；　Etienne　or　Edouard　or　whatever…thefuck　his　name　was；

weren？t　off　living　the　good　life　in　the　south　of　France。　She　wanted　someone　besides　Serena　to

witness　what　was　about　to　happen。

？My　girls　are　here！？　Bailey　Winter　emerged　from　a　thicket　of　silver…haired　news…anchory　types；

all　of　whom　seemed　to　be　wearing　blue　blazers　and　white　pants；　despite　the　fact　that　it　was　easily

eighty　degrees。　Bailey　himself　wore　a　similar　ensemble；　but　with　three…quarter…length　sleeves　and

pant　legs　that　left　his　neon…orange…and…hot…pink　argyle　knee　socks　and　white　nubuck　saddle　shoes

exposed。　Skipping　up　the　path　to　Blair　and　Serena；　he　extended　one　chubby　hand　to　each　of　them；

his　entourage　of　five　yelping　pugs　following　closely　on　his　heels。

？e；　girls；　make　a　Bailey　sandwich。？　He　giggled。　？Hopefully　it　won？t　be　the　only　threesome

I？m　in　tonight。？　He　grinned　and　gave　a　little　wave　to　the　shirtless　DJ。

？Lovely　party；？　Blair　plimented　Bailey；　noticing　the　many　barely　clothed　waiters　circulating

with　champagne　flutes。

？Thank　you；　darling！？　Bailey　squealed。　？Step；　step；　ladies。　We　need　to　get　you　some　drinks！？　He

dashed　off　in　the　direction　of　the　bar；　pulling　the　two　along　with　him　like　puppies　on　a

leash。　？Bartender！？　he　barked　at　the　golden　surfer…boy　model…type　who　was　behind　the　bar。　His

uniform；　like　those　of　the　rest　of　the　waitstaff；　consisted　of　a　low…cut　Bailey　Winter　Gar？on

cotton…and…cashmere　vest　over　his　perfectly　defined　bare　chest。

？What　do　my　pets　want？？　Bailey　cooed。

？Two　Negronis。？　Blair　turned　to　scan　the　crowd；　a　blur　of　white　trousers　against　the　green　grass；

perfect　haircuts　and　impressive　muscles　peeking　out　of　too…short　sleeves。

Then　she　spotted　them：　Ibiza　and　Svetlana；　clad　in　white。　Copycat　bitches。　Svetlana　wore　a　tacky；

stretchy　asymmetrical　dress　that　emphasized　her　basically　nonexistent　chest。　Ibiza　had　squeezed

herself　into　a　backless　white　hot　pants　jumpsuit　that　looked　like　something　Blair？s　mother　might

have　worn　to　Studio　54；　like；　thirty　years　ago。　Nasty。

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