king District toward the unmarked
rusty door of Ken Mogul？s massive live/work loft。
Despite her classmate Serena van der Woodsen？s drunken promises to put a good word in with
him at Blair？s wild graduation party a couple of weeks before； Vanessa Abrams had never
seriously expected to hear from Ken Mogul again。 Earlier that year； he？d taken an interest in her
career when some nearly…X…rated film footage she？d shot of Jenny Humphrey and Nate Archibald
hooking up in Central Park surfaced online and tried to take her under his wing as a prot？g？。 But
Vanessa didn？t like the idea of being underanyone？s wing； and working on a major Hollywood
production out in LA wasn？t exactly her thing。 She was more a dead…pigeons…and…used…condom
film auteur than maker of big teen block…busters； butBreakfast at Fred？s was going to be shot right
on her doorstep at Barneys uptown。 It was tempting to write it off as a learning experience。 Still；
something about it made her uneasy。 She rang the buzzer marked only with the director？s initials
and waited； fiddling nervously with her clothes。 Nearly her entire outfit had been garnered from
the spoils Blair had left behind。 She？d paired a black sleeveless Mayle cowl…neck top with her
own tattered black jeans； Blair？s clunky Celine sandals； and the steel…gray leather DKNY
messenger bag Blair used to carry her laptop in。 The look was sophisticated and artsy： she looked
like someone who didn？t care about things like looking sophisticated。
Like sheever cared？
Suddenly the door flew open to reveal an incredibly tall girl sporting super…short cutoffs and a
pink tank…top。 Her skin was dark brown and flawless； her hair was long