Don't You Forget About Me

Don't You Forget About Me by Cecily von Ziegesar

Book: Don't You Forget About Me by Cecily von Ziegesar Read Free Book Online
Authors: Cecily von Ziegesar
Ads: Link
to me,” Serena replied slowly, her voice soft. “Oh, and will you come shopping with me for the Met party?” “Of course.” Blair nodded. She remembered how much fun they used to have playing dress-up when they were little, trying on clothes in her room all afternoon and drinking Campari and sodas with lime, giggling together in the bathroom mirror as Serena expertly painted Blair’s lids with black liner, or lacquered her nails with ballet slipper pink Essie polish.
    Even if Serena had written Nate that stupid love letter, Blair was the one who was with him now. There really wasn’t any reason they couldn’t still be best friends. Serena would be the famous one and Blair would be . . . the happy one.
    Right.

all n needs now is a peg leg
    Nate crossed West Forty-fourth Street and headed toward the imposing beaux-arts limestone building that housed the New York Yacht Club. The large bay windows resembled the sterns of ships and made Nate wish desperately that he was still out at sea with Blair, her wet, sandy hair tickling his skin, nothing in the distance but blue sky and endless horizons. He only felt like himself when he was on board the
Charlotte
, far away from the city and the pressures of real life. Why did real life always have to be so
complicated
? He’d been back on dry land for one day, and he was already in serious trouble.
    Story of his life.
    He pushed open the front door and stepped inside the opulent interior of the old club. The paneling was all deep, rich mahogany, and everything in sight was gilded in gold. He pushed his shoulders back and tried to stand up a little straighter as he climbed the ornate, winding marble staircase toward an impeccably dressed attendant.
    “I’m here to see . . . uh . . . Captain Chips,” Nate said stupidly, realizing he couldn’t even remember Chips’s last name. “I’m Nate, um, Nathaniel Archibald.” The attendant looked down at his metal clipboard and quickly found his name, placing a neat check mark right beside it.
    “Right this way, Mr. Archibald. Captain
White
is expecting you in the Grill Room.” The attendant emphasized the name White, as if implying that Nate ought to remember it. Nate gulped and followed him down the wooden stairs to a set of heavy oak doors.
    The gracefully curved ceiling of the Grill Room was fashioned out of planks of oak, the floors and walls paneled in the dark wood. Round tables covered in white linen tablecloths were scattered around the cozy, underground space. It was like being in the belly of a tall ship, and Nate instantly felt a thousand times more comfortable. He could almost hear the wood creaking under his feet as he was led toward a man dressed in full navy uniform, gold medals shining on his lapels. His white hair was neatly combed back from a deeply tanned, severely lined face. A gold wedding band winked from his wrinkled, leathery hand. As Nate approached, the man stood and gripped Nate’s palm.
    “Nate Archibald. You’re the spitting image of your father,” Chips growled with a Scottish accent. He looked at Nate with crinkly-lidded blue eyes beneath bushy white brows, and motioned to the leather-cushioned chair across from his. “Sit. Have a drink.” Chips sat back down and gestured to the waiter, a man in his forties with neatly combed sandy hair falling over a wide forehead. Chips pointed at his glassful of amber-colored liquid and held up two wizened fingers. “You like scotch?” He cocked an eyebrow at Nate.
    “Sure.” Nate shuffled his legs under the table. “Anything’s fine.” The waiter leaned in, speaking softly. “I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered apologetically. “I’m going to need to see some ID.” Nate paused for a second, feeling like he’d been trapped. He’d already agreed to have scotch, but now he’d have to show his fake ID. Was Chips setting him up? He gulped and reached into the back pocket of his cargo shorts, retrieving the battered brown leather wallet his dad had

Similar Books

The Cherished One

Carolyn Faulkner

The Crystal Mountain

Thomas M. Reid

The Body Economic

David Stuckler Sanjay Basu

New tricks

Kate Sherwood