lomped out of her mom？s dressing room and reached for the chocolate brown velvet
curtain hanging in the doorway of her dad？s。 ？If you guys are in there together； like； doing it while
I？m home； then that？s really gross；？ she declared flatly。 ？Anyway； I？m going over to Nate？s； so？？
Her father； Harold J。 Waldorf； Esquire； pulled aside the velvet curtain； dressed in his cashmere
tweed Paul Smith bathrobe and nothing else； his nicely tanned； handsome face looking slightly
flushed。 ？Mom？s out looking at dishes for the Guggenheim benefit。 I thought you were out。 Where
are you going exactly？？ Blair stared at him。 He wasn？t holding a phone； and if her mom was out；
then who the fuck had he just been talking to？ She stood blinking at him with her hands on her
hips； tempted to peek inside his dressing room to see who he was hiding in there。
Does she really want to know？
Instead； she stumbled out of the master suite； clomped her way across the penthouse； grabbed her
blood orange…colored Jimmy Choo treasure chest hobo； and ran for the elevator。
Outside it was breathtakingly cold； and fat flakes fell at random。 Usually she walked the twelve
blocks to Nate？s house； but today Blair had no patience for walking？she had just discovered that
her father was a lying； cheating scum…bag； after all； and a cab was waiting for her downstairs。 Or
rather； a cab was waiting for Mrs。 Solomon in 4A； but when the hunter green uniform…clad
doorman saw the terrifying look on Blair？s normally pretty face； he let her take it。
Besides； hailing cabs in the snow was probably the highlight of his day。
The stone walls bordering Central Park were blanketed in snow。 A tall； elderly woman an