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Rory Gilmore sighed as she glanced at the caller i.d. on her cell phone and pushed open the door to Luke's Diner.
"Hey, Mona-look, I told you I couldn't write the story until after the event-…yes, I know that you need a rough draft, but-…wait, you don't-…but, I don't-...i'll give you what I have, but I promise you it's not much…Well, I can't help it!...No, Mona, I do not think I can convince the entire city of New York to move the mayors inauguration ball up a week, just so you can have a rough draft!...Because it doesn't work like that!...Ok, thank you! I'll have it on your desk when I get back tomorrow…I'm in Stars Hollow…yes I did…yes, I did…I told you Monday that I was going home for a few days and I'd be back on Friday….remember the seminar? The one you signed me up for? …yes, I-…Ok, Mona-…I'll see you tomorrow-…ok…ok…Mona! Bye!"
Rory Gilmore slammed her phone down on the counter and put her head on the counter, breathing a heavy sigh of relief.
Luke Danes glanced up from his order pad and sent Rory a sympathetic look.
"Rough day?"
"The worst," she answered, not rising from the counter. "First, my car wouldn't start, and I called Gypsy, and she's sick and not working today, so I have to take the bus all the way to Hartford just to sit for two hours listening to some 60 year old guy with the world's worst comb-over, I mean, he was putting Donald Trump to shame, drone on and on about the proper size of column inches and gutters, just so my psychotic boss would 'feel more secure in my writing abilities.' So, after another hour-long bus ride back to Stars Hollow, my psychotic boss calls me, not remembering that I was coming home for the world's most pointless seminar-the one she made me attend, mind you. The resulting phone call was what you unfortunately witnessed. So, in a nutshell, my car sucks, the bus sucks, seminars suck, my boss sucks, and I haven't eaten or had coffee since seven this morning which sucks and its only two o' clock…..ok I'm done."
"So, coffee and a cheeseburger. Fries?"
"Yes please, and make it a double cheeseburger. Oh! And no lettuce this time, Luke!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Luke denied, conveniently not making eye contact with Rory.
"You really think, I didn't notice the entire head of lettuce on my burger? Luke, Luke, Luke, your lettuce sneaking skills are sadly slacking."
"Well, at least I can tell your mother I tried."
"I honestly think Mom would divorce you if she knew what you did…or tried to do."
"Well, if you don't mind, keep it down. Your mom's coming in the door, and I really don't have the money for a divorce right now. Besides I hate lawyers."
"As do we all," Lorelai agreed, sitting next to Rory at the counter. "What are we talking about?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all," Luke answered.
"Oh, nothing…uh huh. So, Rory, what are we talking about?" Lorelai asked, swinging around to face Rory.
"Why don't you believe me?" Luke asked sounding offended.
"Because I know you, honey. It's nothing personal. So what were we talking about?"
"Luke put lettuce on my burger yesterday," Rory said, looking teasingly at Luke.
Lorelai gasped, "Fiend! How could you? Why would you?"
"Because Rory's young and she still has a chance," Luke answered, turning to Rory. "Rory, you're young-you do not want to grow up like your mother."
"Um Luke," Lorelai interrupted. "Rory's twenty-six. I think she's pretty grown-up already."
"Yeah, Luke, I even upgraded from Velcro to laces last week when I learned how to tie my shoes," Rory teasingly chimed in.
"You know what I meant," Luke said defensively. "I'm gonna go get your burger going."
"And no lettuce! I'm watching you mister! I don't want you poisoning my kid!" Lorelai
"Your kid?" Rory asked skeptically. "I thought I was grown-up."
"Well, you do have all that Hello Kitty paraphernalia."
"Um, no Mom. That's you."
"….Oh right!"
"Excuse me, Mr. Dugrey?"
Tristan Dugrey leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head as he answered his secretary.
"Yes, Sharon?"
"Your father is on the phone. Would you like me to put him through, or should I take a message?"
"A message will be fine, and let him know that I will call him when I get a moment."
"Yes sir."
Tristan turned his attention back to his computer and finished typing a business letter to a client. One of the most prominent lawyers in the city of New York, Tristan spent the majority of his time in the office, writing e-mails, taking calls, and securing new clients. He figured that he hadn't spent almost ten extra years in school for nothing, and Tristan made the most of his career. Borderline workaholic, his life revolved around making his clients happy.
After hitting the 'send' button on his e-mail, Tristan swiveled around in his chair to look out the floor to ceiling windows in his office. It was a beautiful day outside, and he was dying for a breath of fresh air. It was only two o'clock in the afternoon, but Tristan felt as if he'd been stuck in the office for months. Deciding that he deserved a good long lunch break, he got out of his chair and grabbed his coat off of the hook by the door. After telling Sharon of his plans and asking her to let all of his calls go to voice mail, Tristan stepped out of the office and into New York City.
There was no place more perfect in the world to Tristan. After spending the first sixteen years of his life in Hartford, Tristan felt that New York was refreshing. No one knew him there. No one cared about the 'Hartford Dugreys' and their last Christmas party. No one worried about making connections with him in the city. That's what always drove him crazy in high school. All anybody cared about was that he was a Dugrey. No one cared that he, Tristan, loved football or liked to listen to music in the shower. Granted no one in New York cared about that either. But nobody gave a second thought to the fact that he was a Dugrey.
Everybody in the city kept their distance. And that was just fine to Tristan. He could deal with distance. He could care less about what people thought of him. He could spend the rest of his life without meeting another person in New York City and be perfectly content.
At least, that's what he told himself.
