Nobody Does It Better (9 page)

“Oops, I think I'm winning.” Lexie giggles and popped another Oreo half into her mouth.

“Nice one, ”Nate responded, not even trying to fend off her chocolaty lips.

It had been Lexie's idea to smoke another joint and play checkers with Oreos, so she'd made up the rules: Every time she nabbed one of Nate's white-faced Oreo halves with her whole Oreos, she got to eat the Oreo half and kiss Nate on the lips.

Nate really wasn't into the game, which meant that he was sort of letting Lexie win, but kissing her on deck where everyone else was hanging seemed safer than sitting alone with her up in the crow's nest where one thing could lead to another and...

Not that he would have actually let anything major happen. Right?

As usual, Nate was suffering from the Curse of Blair. Whenever he fooled around with another girl, all he could think about was Blair and fooling around with Blair, making him feel sort of guilty and horny at the same time, which made it simultaneously kind of hard to take and kind of hard to stop.

He kept his eyes open as Lexie kissed him, making eye contact with Jeremy on the other side of the deck, who was kissing some girl with long brown hair and fat arms whom Nate had never seen before. All of a sudden Nate felt like he was in seventh grade at one of those parties where everyone just lay around kissing because they thought that was what they were supposed to do, even though it was kind of nasty to suck on a girls tongue for like an hour, without having a drink of water or anything. Except that time with Blair in Serena's closet at a party back in eighth grade- or was it sixth? They'd kissed and talked for so long Serena had to drag them out so they wouldn't miss the entire party. If only Blair would suddenly draw up alongside the Charlotte
in a little dingy and shout at him to grow the fuck up in that sexy, bitchy tone she sued when she was only mildly infuriated with him. Where was Blair anyway? He wondered in stoned, sleepless confusion. Why wasn't she with him?

Hello? Anyone home? Wake up!!!

Lexie had her eyes closed and was breathing heavily as she sucked on his lips. Her tongue tasted like chocolate and beer, which was kind of a bad combination. Nate could hardly wait to push her off his lap and head below decks to gulp a few glasses of cold water. He could also hardly wait to tell Blair that despite this bumpy little interlude everything would turn out alright once he got back from Bermuda, or New Jersey, or wherever the fuck they were headed.

His gaze shifted to the starboard side of the boat. The sun was going down, and they'd finally made it into the ocean. The dark water was quiet and a few fishing boats twinkled on the horizon. Nate hadn't checked the boat's navigational system in a few hours. The Charlotte
had been cruising on autopilot ever since they'd headed out, but since he was the only one who knew how to sail her and was kind of responsible for the safety of everyone onboard, he thought maybe he'd better check it out.

Yeah, maybe.

He pulled away from Lexie and whispered hoarsely into her ear. “I gotta go steer the boat.”

She slid off his lap, popped another Oreo into her mouth, and gave his bicep a squeeze. “Vhat a stud. You know, I always vanted to go to Ber-mooda.”

Nate headed aft to the captain's cabin, stepping over the prone bodies of his stoned, drunk, and half-asleep shipmates. Some kid from his world religion class was wearing one of the Charlotte
's orange life vests while he played the harmonica and sand old Neil Young tune:

'helpless, helpless, helpless, helpless.'

Nate was creepily reminded of the movie 'Titanic'- which Blair had made him watch not once but four times- right before the boat sinks.

Charlie and Anthony had locked themselves into the cabin and were sitting cross-legged on the floor, sharing a bong. They'd taken off their shirts and were trying to see who could stick their stomachs out the farthest- a ridiculous contest, since both their stomachs were so flat they were verged on concave.

“Hey,” Anthony greeted Nate “We were wondering- is there surfing in Bermuda?”

"Because we should have brought our boards,' Charlie added.

Nate shook his head, ignoring them. The air in the cabin was so full of smoke he could barely read the monitors. From what he could tell, though, they were nearing Cape May, which meant that if they traveled at a normal cruising speed instead of .5 miles an hour, it would only take a little over three hours to get back to New York
harbor. He'd dock the boat and head straight for the Plaza.

Only a whole day late.

Nate checked the incoming messages screen where the Charlotte
picked up text messages- mostly communications from [email protected], his father's cell phone.

NATHANIEL, YOUR MOTHER AND I ARE AT THE OPERA.

NATHANIEL, TURN THE BOAT AROUND.

I'VE ALERTED THE COAST GUARD AND THEY'VE BEEN INSTRUCTED TO ARREST YOU.

NATHANIEL, YOUR MOTHER IS VERY UPSET.

TURN THE BOAT AROUND, SON.

And so on.

“Shit.” Nate could imagine his mother crying in her black evening attire in their box at the Metropolitan Opera while his father stabbed furiously at his cell phone. Then again, his mother always cried at the opera; it was part of her whole dramatic-French-princess act.

The messages had all been sent within the last two hours, so it wasn't like his parents had been freaking out for that long. Normally his father's surly tone would have scared the crap out of him, but he'd been looking for a reason to abort the mission and get back to Blair. Now here it was.

He went back to the navigation screen and punched in the longitudinal and latitudinal points for the harbor at Battery Park City, which were written on the blackboard on the wall of the cabin in yellow chalk. He hit enter and immediately the boat's motor shift into neutral. Then the bow dipped and swung around until the boat had done a complete hundred-and-eighty-degree turn back in the direction of New York
Harbor
. He typed the command to increase speed to thirty-three miles per hour and glanced at the clock 8:29PM. He'd be back in bed with Blair by midnight.

“Yo, what up dude?” Anthony demanded from his spot on the cabin floor. “Are you doing homework or something?”

Nate grinned and shook his head, enjoying the buzz from their second hand smoke. Blair would be so thrilled to see him again she'd have to forgive him. And he wouldn't have any trouble making her forget.

Presuming she was there waiting for him. And presuming she was alone...

“Remove your shoes! Remove your shoes! Ree-moove your shoooo-ooes!” Damian screetched into the mike. It was the final chorus of “Japanese Restaurant,” the latest hit single written by Dan Humphrey and the last song on the Raves' playlist.

“If we slip out now,” Elise murmured, “we can probably get a cab before anyone else.”

Who said anything about leaving?

Jenny lit another cigarette, ignoring her. She wanted to hang out until the crowd thinned, and get a better look at Damian. See if his red-blond hair stood up on end all on its own or if it was crusty with hair gel. See if his teeth were really as perfectly white and straight as they looked from where she sat. Hear that Irish twang he was so famous for. And those arm muscles! The Raves' drummer was still cute, but she had to admit Damian was totally hot. He had this incredible energy about him, like he'd been wound up. If she stuck around, maybe Dan would even introduce them, and she could casually slip in that she was friends with Serena, and find out if they were actually together or not.

That is, if Dan was still alive.

Zoing! Damian struck the last chord on his guitar and threw his instrument into the crowd, as he was known to do. Then he climbed up the fireman's pole hand-over-hand, flexing those fantastic arm muscles, and disappeared.

“Show-off,” the drummer scoffed. He stood up stiffly, grabbed a bottle of beer from beneath his drum set, and chugged it. Then set the bottle down and craned his neck, like he was looking for someone in the crowd.

Jenny's skin tingled. Her?

Wait, wasn't she over him already?

“We should get going,” Elise repeated. She stood up and tugged on her shirt. “Everyone's going to be fighting for cabs.”

The bassist started unplugging things and breaking down the equipment. The drummer irreverently into one of the mikes. The drummer burped irreverently into one of the mikes.

Gross.

Jenny giggles like this was the handsomest, most adorable thing she'd ever heard.

“You can go if you want, but I'm not leaving,” she told her friend. She was supposed to spend the rest of the weekend at Elise's house, but opportunities like this didn't present themselves very often.

Opportunities to meet famous rock stars, or opportunities to be as naughty as possible?

The crowd began to disperse. Some headed to the bathroom' others spilled out the exit doors and onto the street. Elise hovered next to the table, unsure. Jenny took another awkward puff on her cigarette and jiggled her foot. And then all of a sudden he was there, in front of them- the drummer.

He wasn't Damian, but he was almost as good.

“Hey. I'm Lloyd.” His knuckles were wrapped in frayed surgical tape like a boxer's, his dark, neatly cut hair and preppy pink-and-green Lacoste shirt were soaked with perspiration. “You're Dan's sister, Jennifer, right?”

Jenny nodded. She loved it when people called her Jennifer. Although she would have preferred if he'd said, “You're Jennifer, that stunning model in the W spread this month, right?”

“How'd you know?” she asked, even though she knew the answer. Despite the fact that she dressed better than Dan did and was nearly nine inches shorter and mad a much nigger chest, they could almost have been fraternal twins.

Except that she was three years younger than Dan. Not that she was about to tell Mr. Drummer Boy that.

“Your brother said his gorgeous sister was coming,” Lloyd replied with a completely straight face. He glanced at Elise who was still standing there, fidgeting with the sipper on her Banana Republic purse like a total geek. “Marc, our bassist? He's got this thing about big old hotels,” Lloyd continued. “Anyway, he's booked some big suit up at the Plaza Hotel. We're having a little get-together there if you want to come.”

Jenny let her cigarette fall to the floor. She almost forgotten she was holding it. “Totally!” she exclaimed with more enthusiasm then she'd intended. “I mean, my brother's going, right?” Not that she really cared if Dan was going. She just didn't want to sound like the type of girl who partied in hotels with strange guys from rock bands all the time.

Right.

“It's ten minutes until my curfew. I have to get home,” Elise insisted. She gave Jenny a look as if to say, “This is your last chance.”

“Okay. Well, I'll call you tomorrow,” Jenny responded. She handed Elise the pack of cigarettes, but Elise waved them away.

“You might need them,” she said, before turning to go.

Jenny knew she ought to have felt a twinge of guilt for not leaving with her friend, but how could she pass up a chance like this? The worst thing that could happen was that their father would find out, but he'd never been very good at punishments, and besides, Elise would never tell. She squeezed her knees together and smiled up at Lloyd with nervous excitement. He held out a bandaged hand and pulled her to her feet.

“Come on. I'll introduce you around.”

The club had returned to a state of normalcy. People chatted quietly over their beers while the new Franz Ferdinand album played on the stereo. Dan was sitting on the edge of the stage now, next to a very pretty tanned girl with honey-colored hair, cradling a bottle of Schweppes tonic water. He looked completely spent, but the girl was chattering away, laughing and smiling like Dan was the most entertaining guy she'd ever met.

“Fucking hell, Yoko's back,” Lloyd hissed under his breath as they approached.

“Who?” Jenny asked curiously. The girl was wearing a super short tiered jade green miniskirt, and her bare legs were luxuriously long and tanned, like those of a Bain do Soleil sunscreen model.

A giant fake smile spread across Lloyd's face. “Never mind,” he responded between gleaming white teeth. “You'll see.”

The tanned girl shimmied off the stage and kissed Jenny on both cheeks. “Dan says you are his seez-stirrh,” she said in a thick French accent. “I am so jealous of doz gorgeous bresssts!” she reached out with both hands and gave each of Jenny's boobs a good hard squeeze.

Honk, honk!

“So womanly, non?”

“Monique, I wouldn't--” Dan started to warn her.

“Thanks,” Jenny interrupted, surprising everyone including herself. She'd always been extremely sensitive about her chest, with good reason, but Monique's little outburst seemed like a genuine French compliment. Besides, she didn't really mind that Damian and Lloyd were now well aware that her boobs were the largest in the room.

“Jennifer this is Monique. Monique this is Jennifer.” Lloyd introduced them. “Monique is Dam-”

“Visiting from St. Tropez,” Monique cut him off, her eyes burning with a look that had, “Shut up, you idiot!” written all over it. “Are you coming to zee
Plaza
'otel wid us?” she asked Jenny.

“No, she ahs to go home,” Dan slurred. “It's late.” He glanced around the club with bleary eyes. “Isn't it?”

Well his outfit was definitely tired.

Little sister lesson number two: Don't even think about telling her what to do.

“No way,” Jenny corrected her brother. “I am so coming.”

Damian slid down the fireman's pole and bounded up to them. He'd changed into an olive green tracksuit with the words JUICE ME smeared on the butt in white paint. “Ready to ruckus, yeah?” he demanded, clapping Dan and Lloyd on their backs.

Monique flashed him a sweet I'm-only-tolerating-you-because-you're-famous sort of smile and hooked her arm possessively through Dan's.

Lloyd grabbed Jenny and squashed her into sort of a three-way bear hug with Damian. “Damian, meet Jennifer. Jennifer, meet Damian.”

Jenny was so excited, it was a good thing Lloyd was hugging her so tightly or she would have collapsed on the floor. Damian made an exaggerated delighted gasping sound, like an overly gay man discovering the cutest little doggie raincoat he'd ever seen. Then he kissed Jenny on the tip of her nose.

So maybe he wasn't Serena's new boyfriend.

“Why don't Danny and Monique take the limo? The rest of us can squeeze into a cab?” Damian offered.

“I could sit on someone's lap,” Jenny volunteered.

“Of course you can,” said Lloyd.

“Of course you can,” Damian agreed.

Of course she can.