We're standing at the door of Blair's house in Beverly Hills and Daniel complains that the gloves are sticking to the wires and are too tight, but he doesn't take them off because he doesn't want people to see the thin silver wires sticking out of the skin on his thumb and fingers. Blair answers the door.

"Hey, gorgeous," Blair exclaims. She's wearing a black leather jacket and matching pants and no shoes and she hugs me and then looks at Daniel.

"Well, who's this?" she asks, grinning.

"This is Daniel. Daniel, this is Blair," I say.

Blair offers her hand and Daniel smiles and shakes it softly.

"Well, come on in. Merry Christmas."

There are two Christmas trees, one in the living room and one in the den and both have twinkling dark-red lights coloring them. There are people at the party from high school, most of whom I haven't seen since graduation and they all stand next to the two huge trees. Trent, a male model I know, is there.

"Hey, Clay," Trent says, a red-and-green-plaid scarf wrapped around his neck.

"Trent," I say.

"How are you, babes?"

"Great. Trent, this is Daniel. Daniel, this is Trent."

Trent offers his hand and Daniel smiles and adjusts his sunglasses and lightly shakes it.

"Hey, Daniel," Trent says. "Where do you go to school?"

"With Clay," Daniel says. "Where do you go?"

"U.C.L.A. or as the Orientals like to call it, U.C.R.A." Trent imitates an old Japanese man, eyes slit, head bowed, front teeth stuck out in parody, and then laughs drunkenly.

"I go to the University of Spoiled Children," Blair says, still grinning, running her fingers through her long blond hair.

"Where?" asks Daniel.

"U.S.C.," she says.