Chapter 57

Chapter 57

Chuck and Serena burst into the Waldorf penthouse, out of breath. They had practically ran across the Upper East Side, not bothering with a ride through the high-traffic New York streets.
Eleanor Waldorf looked up from her magazine as they stepped out of the elevator, exhausted. “Charles and Serena?” she asked, surprised.
“We… we wanted to know…” Serena puffed, trying to get out the words. “Where’s Blair?” Chuck said, finishing for her.
Eleanor gave them an odd look, as if they had just asked her why she didn’t buy her shoes at Macy’s. “Why, she’s in Florida,” Mrs. Waldorf said, sounding as if it was obvious. “Didn’t she tell you?”
“Not exactly,” Serena replied.
“Florida?” Chuck asked, surprised himself. “Not Paris, or London, or Milan?”
“No… Florida. Harold has a condo over on West Palm Beach. Blair said she didn’t feel like the regular getaways; the relaxing beaches will be a nice break. She’s been so stressed lately.”
“Do you know how long she plans to be there for?” Chuck said, reading Serena’s mind.
Eleanor shrugged, but with elegance. Only a woman as worldly as herself could do that. “A few months, at the most. I’m not really sure. She could come back in a week, or not.”
Serena sighed. “Well, thank you for your help, Mrs. Waldorf,” she said politely.
“Of course. I just can’t believe she didn’t tell you two. You are her best friends after all.”
Chuck wondered if Eleanor Waldorf even knew of the extent of their relationship. He guessed not.
“Yeah,” Serena said, heading for the door. “I suppose she didn’t want it to go public.”
“Well, my bad, then,” Mrs. Waldorf said, laughing. Chuck and Serena stared at her.
“What?” she asked defensively. “Isn’t that what you youngsters say these days? ‘My bad’?”
Oh, god. Chuck and Serena hated it when adults tried to be cool. But didn’t every teenager? Of all the people, they never would have guessed Eleanor Waldorf would dare to drop to such a high level of patheticness.
“Yes, well, thank you,” Chuck said quickly, ushering Serena out. “Talk about scary,” he said quietly as they exited the building.
Serena laughed. “Yeah. So, what are you going to do, Chuck Bass? What shall it be?”
He glanced at her. “The plan is: my hotel suite, so I can pack. Then the airport. My father’s jet is in Italy with him on some trip, so I’ll have to settle for public. But it shouldn’t be too hard to get an instant flight, with my name.”
Serena scoffed at his arrogance, even in such a time like this. Even though she couldn’t help but admit he was right. “Fine. Do you want me to come with you? To the airport, I mean. I don’t think this is a situation I can help fix.”
“I think I’ll be okay. Plus, you’d just be wasting your time coming along. You’d better go home. I’ll call you later.” Chuck walked down the street a ways, and then hailed a cab. He turned to her just as a yellow taxi pulled up.
“And, Serena?” His eyes turned soft as Serena spotted the tiniest smile on his lips. “Thank you.”
Serena smiled warmly. She didn’t say anything, but just gave a little wave as Chuck lowered himself into the taxi.

“Here you are, sir. One ticket to Palm Beach, Sunshine State.”
The airport attendant smiled as she handed Chuck the printed boarding pass. Grabbing his suitcase, he headed for Customs.

“Serena.”
Becky pushed herself from the wall as Serena walked through her hotel suite door.
“Becky,” she said in surprise. “What… what are you doing in my suite?”
“I thought we could talk.” Becky’s expression looked strangely bitter. But not exactly unbelievable, as Serena remembered her face when she stormed out of Chuck’s place.
“I’m not really in the mood for talking,” Serena said simply as she hung up her coat and tossed her purse on the sofa.
“Well, too bad, because I am. So how about a little game or 20 Questions?” Becky raised her eyebrows. Serena loathed the gesture. “Question One. What was Chuck doing expecting you at his suite after school?”
“What do you think? With Blair not available, he obviously called me over for a quickie.”
Becky’s eyebrows shot up a little more, amused. “Question Two. Where is our little Blair Waldorf?”
“Taking some time off. I heard some people have been drawing her close to the depression line.”
“Question Three,” Becky said, unaffected. She looked at Serena suggestively. “You going to go after her?”
“Here’s a question for you, Rebecca,” Serena said, no longer in the mood for this stupidity. “When are you going to get the hell out of my suite, and go spread your crap to someone who cares?”
Becky blinked. Thrown aback for the second time today, she snatched up her coat and opened the door. “Fine. Be a b****. I was just trying to be friendly.”
“Yes, well, don’t. You’re not fooling anyone.” Serena nudged Becky out the door, and slammed it shut. Pushing the bolt over the door, she leaned back against it and sighed.
At that very moment, there was nothing Serena van der Woodsen wanted more than for Becky to get her scrawny *** back over to LA and leave her Upper East Side alone. Drama is fun. Scandal is juicy. Partying is wild. But Becky Summers? Becky Summers is chaos. Troublesome, evil, chaos.