Psycho Killer (27 page)

CLOSE BUT NO CIGAR

Can you believe
N
? He was
thisclose
to getting a nice slice of
B
pie, if you know what I mean. I guess we’re supposed to admire his self-control, his ability to keep the old hot dog in the bun, his savoir faire, his game-for-anything half-naked sprint up Fifth Avenue. Was that a lacrosse team thing?

I was wrong about him. He has a freaky streak.

Ooh, that makes me like him even more. He can let his freak flag fly with me anytime.

YOUR E-MAIL

SIGHTINGS

N
at the burrito place on Lexington late last night, chatting up the cute girl behind the counter. She gave him extra guacamole for free. Yeah, I bet she did. And
C
out for his Saturday morning stroll, sporting a tan leather eye patch freshly flown in from Italy by Hermès’ leather artisans and stamped in gold with his initials. How eye-catching!

You know you love me,

“Dan,” Jenny whispered, poking at her brother’s chest. “Wake up.”

Dan flung his hand over his eyes and kicked at his sheets. “Go away. It’s Saturday,” he mumbled.

“Please get up,” Jenny whined. She sat down on the bed, poking him repeatedly until he removed his arm to glare at her.

“What’s your problem?” Dan said. “Leave me alone.”

“No,” Jenny insisted. “We have to go shopping.”

“Right.” Dan rolled over, turning his head toward the wall.

“Please, Dan. I have to get a dress for the party on Friday and you have to help me. Dad gave me his credit card. He said you could get a tux too.” Jenny giggled. “Since we’re turning out to be the type of spoiled rotten kids that will need tuxes and dresses and all that crap. Besides, I need to do something to get my mind off all the murders I keep reading about. It’s giving me the creeps.”

Dan rolled over, thinking of Chuck. He hoped he was dead, even though he hadn’t gotten the satisfaction of killing him himself. “I’m not going to that party,” he insisted.

“Shut up. Yes you are. You’re going and you’re going to meet
Serena and dance with her. I’ll introduce you. She’s totally cool,” Jenny burbled happily.

“No,” Dan said stubbornly.

“Well, you can at least help me pick out a dress,” Jenny pouted. “Because I’m going. And I want to look nice.”

“Can’t Dad go with you?”

“Yeah, right.” Jenny scoffed. “You know what Dad said? ‘Go to Sears, it’s the
proletarian
department store.’ Whatever that means. I don’t even know where Sears
is
, if it even exists anymore. Anyway, I want to go to Barneys. I can’t believe I’ve never even been there. I bet Serena van der Woodsen and Blair Waldorf go there every day.”

Dan sat up and yawned loudly. Jenny was all dressed and ready to go, with her curly hair pulled back into a ponytail. She even had on her jacket and shoes. It would be kind of hard to say no.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” Dan said, standing up and stumbling toward the bathroom.

“You know you love me!” Jenny called after him.

As far as Dan was concerned, Barneys was full of assholes, down to the dude who opened the door for him, smiling in the cheesiest way possible. But Jenny loved it, and even though she had never been there, she seemed to know everything about the place. She knew not to bother with the lower floors, which were full of designer clothes she could never afford, and headed straight to the top floor Co-op. When the elevator doors rolled open, she felt like she had died and gone to heaven. There were so many beautiful dresses hanging on the racks it made her salivate to look at them. She wanted to try them all on, but of course she couldn’t.

When you’re a 32DD, you’re kind of limited. And you definitely need
help
.

“Dan, will you go ask that woman to help me find this in my size?” Jenny whispered, fingering a purple velvet empire-waist sheath with beaded straps. She pulled out the price tag. Six hundred bucks.

“Whoa,” Dan said, looking at the price over her shoulder.

“Shut up. I’m just trying it on for fun,” Jenny insisted. “I won’t buy it.” She held the dress up to herself. The bodice would barely cover her nipples. Jenny sighed and put the dress back on the rack. “Would you please ask that lady if she’ll help me?”

“Why can’t you ask?” Dan shoved his hands in his corduroys and leaned against a wooden hat rack.

“Please?”

“Fine.”

Dan strode over to a haggard-looking woman with frosted blond hair. She looked like she’d been working in department stores her entire life, only taking one vacation a year in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Dan imagined her chainsmoking Virginia Slims down on the boardwalk, worrying about how the girls back at the store were managing without her.

“Are you lost, young man?” the woman asked. Her name tag read
MAUREEN
.

Dan smiled self-consciously. “Hello. My sister over there needs help.” He pointed at Jenny, who was studying the price tag of a red silk wraparound dress with ruffles on the sleeves. Jenny had taken off her jacket and was wearing a too small white tank top.

“Certainly,” Maureen said, striding purposefully toward Jenny.

Dan stayed where he was, glancing around the room and feeling completely out of place. Behind him, he heard a familiar voice.

“I look like a nun, Mom, I swear. It’s just completely wrong.”

“Oh, Serena,” another voice said. “I think it’s darling. What if you just unbutton the collar a bit. There. See? It’s very Jackie O.” Dan spun around. A tall, middle-aged woman with Serena’s coloring was standing half in, half out of a curtained dressing room. The curtain was slightly parted, and Dan could just see a bit of Serena’s hair, her collarbone, her bare feet with the toenails painted dark red. His cheeks burned and he bolted for the elevator.

Last night—knife in hand—

sidewalk stank of piss and fear
.

I sleep perchance to dream
.

“Hey Dan, where’re you going?” Jenny called over to him. Her arms were already piled high with dresses while Maureen flicked efficiently through the racks, giving her all sorts of advice about support bras and the latest figure-enhancing underwear. Jenny had never been happier.

“Gonna check out the men’s stuff,” Dan mumbled, glancing nervously toward the side of the store where he’d spotted Serena.

“Okay,” Jenny said gaily. “I’ll meet you down there in forty-five minutes. And if I need your help, I’ll call you on your cell.”

Dan nodded and leapt onto the elevator as soon as the doors opened. Down in the men’s department, he shuffled over to a counter and spritzed his hands with Gucci cologne, wrinkling his nose at the strong, Italian male scent. He looked around the intimidating, woody department store for a bathroom where he could wash it off. Instead, he found a mannequin in full evening
dress and, beside it, a rack of tuxedos. Dan fingered the luxurious material of the jackets and looked at the labels. Hugo Boss, Calvin Klein, Donna Karan, Yves Saint Laurent, Armani.

He imagined stepping out of a limo wearing his Armani tux with Serena on his arm. They’d stroll down the red carpet leading into the party, music thumping all around them. People would turn and say “
Oh
,” in hushed voices. Serena would press her perfect mouth to Dan’s ear. “I love you,” she’d whisper. Then Dan would stop and kiss her and pick her up and carry her back to the limo. Screw the party. They had better things to do.

“Can I help you, sir?” A salesman asked.

Dan turned abruptly. “No. I—” He hesitated and looked at his watch. Jenny was going to take forever upstairs, and why shouldn’t he, now that he was here? He picked up the Armani tux and held it out to the sales guy. “Can I try this on in my size?”

All that cologne must have gone to his head.

The salesman taught Dan how to tie a perfect bow tie before leaving him alone in the dressing room to admire his reflection. He looked older and cleaner and super sharp. Amazing how a tuxedo could instantly turn you into James Bond. Dan posed in front of the mirror, pretending to whip out a gun and fire at foreign double agents.

“Friggin’ silk fucking bow ties,” he heard a familiar assaholic voice intone from the next dressing room. “I hate these fucking things.”

Dan pressed his back against the dressing room wall, holding his pretend gun aloft. So Chuck Bass was still alive. If only he had a real gun.

“Fuckingchristshitmotherfucker!” the asshole continued to swear.

Dan took a deep breath, parted the velvet curtain, and stepped out of his dressing room.

“Hey, is that you, Chuck?” he called cheerfully. “It’s Dan, your classmate? I could probably give you a hand.”

Jenny and Maureen had completely scoured the racks, and Maureen had filled a dressing room with dozens of possibilities in assorted sizes. The problem with Jenny was she was only a size two, but her chest was a size twelve at least. Maureen thought they’d have to compromise and go for a six, letting it out in the bust and taking it in everywhere else.

The first few dresses were a disaster. Jenny nearly busted the zipper of one trying to unsnag it from her bra. And the next one didn’t even make it over her boobs. The third one was completely obscene. The fourth one fit, sort of, except it was bright orange and had a ridiculous ruffle running across it, like someone had slashed it with a knife. Jenny poked her head out of the curtain to look for Maureen. Next door, Serena and her mother were just heading out of their dressing room to the cashier’s desk.

“Serena!” Jenny called out without thinking. Serena turned around and Jenny blushed. She couldn’t believe she was talking to Serena van der Woodsen while wearing a bright orange dress with a stupid ruffle on it.

“Hey Jenny,” Serena said, beaming sweetly down at her. She walked over and kissed Jenny on both cheeks. Jenny sucked in her breath and gripped the curtain to steady herself. Serena van der Woodsen had just kissed her.

“Wow, crazy dress,” Serena said. She leaned in to whisper in Jenny’s ear. “You’re lucky you don’t have your mom with you. I got suckered into buying the ugliest dress in the store.”
Serena held the dress up. It was long and black and completely gorgeous.

Jenny didn’t know what to say. She wished she were the kind of girl who could complain about shopping with her mother. She wished she were the kind of girl who could complain about a beautiful dress being ugly. But she wasn’t.

“Is everything all right, dear?” Maureen strode over and handed Jenny a strapless bra contraption to try on with her dresses.

Jenny took the bra and glanced at Serena, her cheeks burning. “I’d better keep trying this stuff on. See you Monday, Serena.”

She let the curtain fall closed, but Maureen pulled it open a few inches. “That looks nice,” she said, nodding approvingly at the orange dress. “It suits you.”

Jenny grimaced. “Does it come in black?”

“But you’re too young for black,” Maureen said, frowning. She swept into the dressing room and yanked up the dress’s back zipper, which was only partially zipped.

The dress had no give and no room to spare. Jenny felt like she was being squeezed from all sides, suffocated, tortured. She glared suspiciously at Maureen’s reflection in the mirror. How did she know this Barneys saleswomen wasn’t a total psychopath? For all she knew Maureen could be the freakish murderer responsible for all the killings she’d read about online.

She pulled away from Maureen’s abusive hands and yanked the orange dress off over her head. “Thanks for your help,” she said, stuffing the dress and the horrible flesh-colored strapless bra device into Maureen’s arms. She pushed the saleswoman out of the dressing room and closed the curtain in her face. “I’d like to finish trying these on in private, please.”

Whipping off her bra, she reached for a black stretch satin dress she’d picked out herself. She pulled the dress on and felt it ooze all over her in a comfortable yet sexy way. It even had hidden pockets.

In case she needed to carry a weapon?

When she looked up, little Jenny Humphrey had vanished from the dressing room. In her place was a gorgeous goddess who looked like she could fire real bullets out of her sizable breasts.

Down in men’s evening wear, Dan was hoping Chuck would deign to speak to him, given that Dan was wearing a very expensive Armani tux.

Chuck yanked open his dressing room curtain. A tan leather eye patch with the letters
C.B
. monogrammed on it in gold covered his right eye. Dan couldn’t believe it. That’s all the ambulance had been for—Chuck had hurt his eye?