The Spectator

Chapter 7: Table Manners

     Max laughed. "I can't blame you, the last Waldorf-Bass dinner party had a chocolate fountain for dessert."

     "Ooh, here's hoping," Ella replied with a grin. "Chocolate is my weakness."

     "Isn't it everyone's?" He assented jovially. "How do you know the young Archibald, then?"

     "Well, she's been writing for our Lifestyle column for some time now, but we recently promoted her to junior editor," Nate chimed in. "She's one of our paper's rising stars."

     "What did you say your name was, my dear? Perhaps I've read you," Max inquired.

     "Ella Vazquez, but I really doubt—."

     "Vazquez, huh?" Thompson seemed lost in thought, "The name is familiar, did you by chance cover the mayor's affair?"

     "I did," Ella answered, for some reason getting a little embarrassed. What a strange thing to be known for...

     "That was comedy gold, my girl. Gold," Max exclaimed, "You were my little guilty pleasure every Sunday morning... I read work from all my competition, you see. The pieces you authored were refreshing, not like some of the other lifeless articles the Spectator has published in their Lifestyle section before, ironically enough..."

     Ella and Nate's smiles froze on their faces.

     "Mr. Thompson! What a pleasant surprise," Dan said dryly as he and Serena came to take their seats. The two men eyed each other with faux-pleasant smiles on their faces. Blair, now also seated by the head of the table, watched the goings on over the edge of her champagne glass. A little tension at the dinner table was never a bad thing, she'd figured, and Max was outnumbered six to one should the conversation get too sour.

     Ella caught Nate's eye and raised her eyebrows, mouth still set in a calm smile. Why is this happening??? She asked with her eyes. Nate shook his head, expression unperturbed and even a little amused. It was just like Blair to make sure he butted heads with his competition tonight. He'd spent too many months off the radar.

     The meal was a smashing success, initial awkwardness aside. And Ella... well, she wasn't doing too badly dealing with the table of entrepreneurs and artists that Blair had invited. Junot Diaz was, in fact, in attendance and Serena was quick to introduce the two of them. She and the acclaimed author quickly lost the rest of the table as they started comparing hometown slang.

     "Do you have any idea what coño means?" She asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

     "Well, it means... you know," He laughed.

     "It took me twenty years to figure it out, Junot! My whole life I said that word and had no idea..." She shook her head.

     Nate was not bothered by Ella talking over him to the author in the slightest. No, on the contrary, he was glad she was a good time after having been so nervous before... though it did seem rather rude how someone always seemed to interject just as he began to say something. Be it Junot, or Serena, or Thompson, there was always someone there to one-up him with a witticism. He wasn't terribly bothered, a casual smile always at the ready, but still... kind of rude.

     None of the members of the non-judging breakfast club failed to notice where Nate's attention kept turning during dinner. There were two levels to dinner party conversation, as these Upper East Siders well knew: personal and full-table. Full table was the general direction of conversation maintained by everyone seated. Personal referred to the little asides you reserved for the person next to you-- usually someone you felt closer to than the rest of the guests. Ella and Nate were doing a fantastic job of keeping up with the full-table conversation, but when it came down to little whispered jokes and quiet laughter, they always turned to each other.