Story Title: No Way Back
Chapter Title: Meet the Candidate
Description: Rory Gilmore gets tangled up in the other side of politics, but is she prepared to tangle with all it entails? Not if Tristan Dugrey has anything to say about it.
Rating: T (for now)
Rory Gilmore grabbed the bowl of popcorn off the kitchen counter and tucked a can of soda under her arm as she hustled to answer her ringing phone. It was Saturday night, and she was expecting the incoming call but had gotten home much later than normal and had been rushing around to get ready to relax for her standing bull session.
She hastily pressed the talk button. "Hey."
"Four rings? I think that's the precursor to being screened."
"Did you ever think that my delay had nothing to do with you, but rather involved some sort of issue on my end?"
"Things occur in life that aren't directly related to me?" Lorelai Gilmore teased her daughter. "I'm not sure how to react to this information. I may have to order another pizza."
"You have pizza? Man, that sounds so much better than popcorn," Rory frowned at the bowl she'd nestled into her lap after covering her legs with a fleece throw and snuggling down on her couch. She was in desperate need of a shopping trip to replenish supplies and hadn't had time to stop by to get take out in her rush to get home. Her home was currently an apartment, which was impossibly small due to the high rent prices of New York and her less than modest income. Thankfully what she lacked in space she made up for in comfort, as her rich shopaholic grandmother saw fit to make sure it was well stocked and decorated. Her couch was just as comfortable as her bed, and she would have probably fainted upon seeing the price tag of either.
"Popcorn? Do I need to come down there? Are you wasting away to nothing? Popcorn is not a proper dinner."
"But pepperoni is so nourishing?" Rory tossed back, not sure why she was defending her lack of options.
"Guh. You sound like Luke. But that's not possible, because he's working late and has no idea that I'm clogging my arteries and watching Glee."
"He might know about Glee if he understood how to use your DVR to check your recordings, especially since you never delete anything until the hard drive is so full you can't record anything new. And I'm willing to bet he's aware you're eating food he hates. You've been on a first-name basis with all the food delivery people in town for many, many years. And Joe sends you a Christmas card every year."
"Hey, good tips only go so far. You have to build relationships if you want consistently hot pizza delivered. And I have a theory that Luke would actually love Glee if he gave it a chance," Lorelai informed her only child.
"Yes, but in order for him to give it a chance, you'd have to duct tape him to the couch, gag him, and tape his eyes open. I think that falls under the realm of abuse," Rory said as she grabbed her remote and began turning on the appropriate devices.
"Stupid laws. So, were you on the other line or fighting off an intruder with that stun gun Grandma got you for your birthday?" Lorelai probed.
"What?" she asked, tossing some popcorn into her mouth.
"It took you four rings to answer. That's an eternity when your apartment is the size of a shoebox. Unless you, she who has a place for everything and everything in its place, lost her phone, I figured you might have been on the phone with someone else."
"Nope," Rory answered succinctly. She knew exactly where this was going. Her mother had never been able to hold back her opinions for too long, and Rory had let something slip during her last trip home that she was sure Lorelai had many, many opinions of, all of the negative variety.
"Have you had any interesting phone calls lately?" Lorelai asked in her knowing mom tone.
"I haven't spoken to him since I told you about it," Rory sighed as she selected the latest episode on her DVR, but didn't press play.
"But you are still in contact with him?" she pressed.
Rory sighed again heavily. Clearly Glee was on hold. "I spoke with him about three weeks ago. He didn't send his regards, I wonder why?"
"Hey, I have no problem with him. I do think that it's weird, what you two are doing," Lorelai responded honestly.
"Mom," Rory began with a tone that pleaded for her to drop that particular conversation. They were supposed to be mocking Glee and decompressing after their respectively busy work weeks, not delving into Rory's slightly unorthodox romantic interludes with her ex.
"I just don't get it. You said it all started when you ran into each other. Have you seen a lot of him?"
Rory bit her lip. "Just the once, about six months ago. We aren't pushing the whole in-person angle, and besides, he's been busy and so have I."
"But not too busy for phone sex," Lorelai clarified, with a clear tone of distaste.
"Mom!"
"I'm sorry, sexting. But still, it requires a phone, so technically," Lorelai continued.
"Okay, enough. We're supposed to be watching Glee, not discussing how and why I choose to keep in contact with Logan."
"Do you want to get back together with him?" Lorelai asked, technically dropping the issue of sex, but not the line of questioning into her daughter's love life.
"I told you, we're not getting back together. We just," she searched for a word to make what they were doing seem as normal and casual as it felt to her. "It's just two old friends reminiscing a little."
"Rory, you do not reminisce with a man who proposed to you. You might think that having a few brief sexual encounters with Logan is no big deal," she began.
"Because it isn't a big deal," Rory protested.
"I've been in similar situations," she urged. "Granted, a lot less technology was involved, but I've had random hookups with men from my past, thinking that it was just harmless fun, but someone always gets hurt. I just think it's a bad idea. That's my two cents. You never took my advice when it came to Logan in the past, I know, and you have no obligation to now, but it makes me feel better to at least pretend you're listening."
Rory rifled her fingers through the popped kernels. "It doesn't mean anything, because nothing has changed. He's happy in California, and I have my job here in New York. I have no plans to leave, not for anything. In fact, that's why I was running late tonight."
"So, you admit that you were tardy in answering my call?"
Rory smiled. "I'm so sorry you had to wait so long to hear my voice. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"Yes. So, you were late because of work?"
"Oh. No. I was actually having coffee with a friend of Grandpa's."
"Why?" Lorelai questioned warily.
"What do you mean, why?"
"I mean, why were you having coffee with a friend of Grandpa's?"
"Because he was in town and Grandpa told him that next time he made it to the city he should look me up, and he did, so I had coffee with him."
"Did he hit on you?"
"No! We had coffee. Not every man Grandma and Grandpa introduce me to is a set up."
"No, but ninety-five percent of them are."
Rory shrugged. She had her there. "Well, this guy is your age. So maybe you should be worrying that Grandpa will suggest he call you when he's back in Hartford."
"I'm involved. Luke has lived here for many, many moons now."
"When has that ever stopped Grandma from wanting to set you up with other men?"
"Would Grandma even approve of this man? She doesn't like all of Dad's friends and acquaintances. What does this man do?"
Rory tossed some more kernels in her mouth. "He's a politician."
"Yech," Lorelai groused. "The only thing worse than politicians are lawyers."
"I'm not sure you and Grandma are biologically related," Rory mused.
"Yeah, we are. I took a strand of her hair from her brush once and sent it out for one of those home DNA tests."
"Mom!"
"What? Come on, it is hard to believe we're related by blood at times. You just said it yourself!"
"You really thought that you were adopted and they just never told you?"
"No, but I held out hope for many, many years that I had been switched at birth. Alas, it wasn't true."
"You really should have your own reality show."
"I don't think Luke would allow cameras in here. But I am thinking of sending an audition tape to Glee."
"You let me know how that goes."
"Wait. Weren't we talking about something else?"
"Other than your plans to invade primetime television? Yes. We were discussing my having coffee with the politician friend of Grandpa's," Rory retrieved the information from the tangent they'd taken.
"Yes, right! So, you had coffee with a corrupt weasel, and?" Lorelai asked, feigning interest.
"He wasn't corrupt or weasel-y. He was actually very nice and sincere. We talked for a long time, and he offered me a job."
"He offered you a job? What job?" Lorelai asked, sitting up and taking a genuine concern at that turn in the conversation.
"It doesn't matter. I told him I was happy where I was. Because I am. I'm living the dream. Paying my dues as a journalist."
"Says the woman who complains about the grunt work she is still doing in order to pay said dues, even though she's the best writer her editor has and he hasn't even so much as offered a raise for saving his ass on a number of occasions?"
"What do you do, write down everything I ever tell you?" Rory asked.
"I'm your mother. I have an vested interest in you and tend to pay attention when you tell me things. Even when you tell me things that make me want to plug my ears and sing over you."
"I'm sorry I mentioned Logan to you. I knew it was a mistake."
"Forget Logan. What job did Mr. Politico offer you?"
"He has a real name," Rory laughed. "It's Jack Kent."
Lorelai frowned as she made the connection. "The Jack Kent?"
"Yep."
"I voted for him. He's so charming and smart. He almost reminds me of JFK Jr., except with political aspirations and without the legacy of Camelot. And he offered you a job?"
"Yes. As a speech writer for his upcoming campaign."
"He can't possibly be worried about losing his seat."
"Well, since he's running for Governor of Connecticut instead of his district House seat, he's more concerned that you might think. Apparently the Republicans have a strong candidate and with the current economy he thinks it's going to be a tight race."
"And he wants you to work on his campaign, as one of his writers?"
"Actually, he offered me head campaign writer. I'd actually be in charge of all his speeches and most of the communication that revolves around his getting into office."
"Did he mention salary?"
"No, because I told him that even though I was flattered, I was a journalist, not a political activist."
"But you've spent your career writing about politics. You'd be perfect."
"That's what he said. In fact, he made me promise to come to his headquarters tomorrow and meet with him and his campaign manager, to hear the full details before I officially decline."
"So, you're coming to Hartford tomorrow?"
"Well, it was either that or spend the day in meetings with my editor, all focusing on ways for me to do my job with fewer resources," she blew out some air. "I told him I'd come, because I figured I could call in sick, take a personal day, meet with him for a half an hour, and then come have lunch with you."
"Well, I certainly do enjoy the sound of this plan. You deserve a day off. You also deserve a major pay raise. And campaigns are big money makers. Your grandparents give tons of money to whatever Republicans they think can win, every election cycle."
"If that DNA test had proved that you weren't related to Grandma, would you still speak to her?" Rory asked, as her mother's tone had dripped of disdain.
"Yes. But I'd wait for her to taste all the food before I ate it."
Rory paused. "Let's watch Glee."
Lorelai brighten. "Let's."
XXXX
Rory sat in Jack Kent's campaign headquarters, in a hard plastic chair just outside his office with a cup of coffee that an intern brought her, scrolling through her email on her phone. She'd been five minutes early, but she'd been sitting in wait for at least fifteen.
"I'm sorry," the same intern that brought her the coffee came back with a stack of brightly colored papers, likely fresh off the copy machine. "Mr. Kent told me to tell you that he'll be with you in a minute. He didn't know he had this meeting. The campaign manager arranged it, and he tends to push Mr. Kent's schedule to the limit. Can I get you anything else? A donut?"
"I'm fine," Rory assured the eager intern. "I can wait."
She smiled as the college co-ed scurried away, back to answer a phone or stuff envelopes or whatever was on her list of tasks for the day. Rory closed her email and checked her prior text messages in her inbox. There were no new messages from Logan, but the last one from three days ago was still saved. She wasn't proud that she'd continued to engage in activities with her former live-in boyfriend that were solely of a suggestively sexual nature. They certainly weren't dating again. But it was easy. It made her feel good, in a way she hadn't experienced in a while. Her love life had been intermittent, if not stagnant at times since her break up with Logan Huntzberger. It wasn't that she needed a big relationship to make her happy; but a little spark now and then was a nice distraction. Maybe her mom had been right about one thing; she was growing weary of the grind at work. If her interludes with Logan helped her through the doldrums, what was the harm? She looked up and shoved her phone in her bag as Jack Kent rounded the corner toward her.
"Rory, I'm sorry! I was shanghaied with a financial meeting. My campaign manager is obsessed with money. I keep telling him that if we're doing our job right, the money will come to us, but he's something of a micro-manager. But he's the best, so I keep him around. I see you got some coffee. I can only offer my sincerest apologies," he grimaced as he opened his office door for her.
Rory stood. "Oh, no, it's fine. I mean, not the coffee. It's terrible," she laughed with ease.
Jack moved to sit in his chair, opening the button on his jacket and shoving over a stack of files from his view. "There's a lot of clutter in here. We're in the process of changing some things, but even the smallest change requires a mountain of paperwork. And it doesn't matter how many interns I have on staff, I still have to initial every last line."
"You should really go paperless," Rory offered off-handedly, but he snapped his fingers.
"Yes. We should. And with more people with your mindset, we could do it. I've already got other environmentally friendly measures in place. But recycled paper isn't enough. Oh, and if you use the spoons to stir sugar in your coffee, watch out. They're compostable and they tend to … melt in the fair-trade coffee. But there's a Starbucks two blocks down."
"I appreciate the warning, and the offer," Rory began.
Jack waved his hand. "Now, you promised to let me give you the full pitch before you break my heart by declining," he smiled, easily charming her. He was a handsome man—a good candidate. He was passionate about helping better their state, he was charismatic; he was smart and well educated. He should be a shoe-in, save for the opposing candidate who would most likely have a similar resume. "And as well as I speak on my own behalf, my secret weapon will be arriving momentarily to give you the hard sell. People can't say no to him, and I like to use that to my advantage to bring in the best people for my team."
"I'm sure he's very persuasive," she assured, "but I really think that you've overestimated my worth to your campaign."
"You know politics. I've read your writing for years. I know all I need to know. Now tell me a few things, before my campaign manager arrives. Just a few questions, if you'll be so kind to humor me."
Rory smiled, despite herself. He really was charming. "Okay."
"Would you vote for me?"
"Of course," she answered honestly. "If I still lived in Connecticut."
"It's your home state. Surely you care about what's happening here. You have family here, correct?"
She nodded. "Yes, I do. But I live and work in New York. I'm a registered voter there. And I don't plan on getting involved in any campaigns there either. I write about politics, I don't get involved in the actual campaigns."
He pointed at her. "Yet."
"Something tells me you're the persistent sort," Rory teased genially.
"You hear the word no a lot the first time when you go into politics. If I let a few no's stop me, I wouldn't have gotten this far. I envision a lot of things, most of them more ideal than what reality can produce, but it starts here, building my team of people who can help me put my dreams into action. I envision you in my bullpen, writing my speeches, handling press conferences. You're ideal."
"I really am flattered," she admitted honestly, starting to feel bad about disappointing him.
"Good," he held up a hand. "Just hang on to that feeling and talk to my guy, okay?" he asked as he waved past her to someone on the other side of his glass door. "Now, I will warn you, he can be a little brash at times. He speaks his mind and doesn't really dally in niceties. But he's effective as all hell and if I had to go into a foxhole with anyone, it would be him. He's like a sheep dressed in wolf's clothing," he explained.
"And this is who is going to sweet talk me into taking this position?" she asked, half-joking.
"I told you; he's effective. I never said he was going to kill you with kindness. Besides, you have to have a tougher skin in this business," Jack explained.
Rory didn't have the chance to respond as the door opened and a familiar, tall, blonde-haired man in a suit entered the room. The air in the room changed when he joined their meeting; as if they'd experienced a shift in elevation. Rory stood to greet the man who was to sell her on a job she had been telling everyone including herself she had no intention of accepting, but he failed to take her offered hand.
"What's going on here?" he asked in a rather accusatory manner.
Jack smiled, unfazed. "This is our new head speech writer," he introduced them. "Rory Gilmore, I'd like you to meet…."
"We've met," Tristan Dugrey cut him off, nodding curtly to Rory and refocusing on his candidate. "Didn't you go through the short list of qualified speech writers I left on your desk?"
Jack leaned back against his desk. "I'm sure they're all very good."
"And vetted. They all clear. You just have to pick one," Tristan spoke with confidence and annoyance, as if addressing a teenager.
"So vet her. I like her," Jack pointed to Rory, who was beginning to feel as if they'd forgotten she was in the room.
Tristan gave a derisive snort. "I wouldn't bother to vet her. She wouldn't pass."
"Excuse me?" she asked, no longer feeling invisible so much as insulted.
Jack crossed his arms, curiosity taking over as he glanced from one to the other. "Just how do you two know one another?"
Tristan briefly considered Rory, who had her arms folded protectively over her chest and was openly glaring at him at this point. "We went to school together," she answered, no remembrance of the good old days inferred in her tone.
"Briefly," he amended.
"Did you vet him?" Rory asked Jack, who smiled at her irritated tone.
"He didn't need to. I'm the best," Tristan answered without missing a beat, his tone confident.
"So run her this afternoon and we'll sign the papers tomorrow. Does that work for you?" Jack looked to Rory.
Tristan also leveled his gaze to the brunette, who had failed to answer the question. "Do you even want this job?"
"Why wouldn't she want this job?" Jack Kent asked.
"She's a reporter, for one. She gets off on revealing scandals and exposing the seedy underbelly of the political world, not on lifting up candidates for election."
"Got a lot of scandals and seediness you're trying to hide?" Rory asked Tristan. "Because I would imagine if anyone had skeletons in their closet, it would be you."
"Not only is she a 'journalist'," he said, using air quotes to annoy her, "but she thinks she's the noble sort. No way does she want to work for a political campaign, and we need dedicated people here. Not just someone looking for a pay increase or the inside scoop for her own means."
"Hey, for your information, Jack courted me, not the other way around," Rory defended herself against her former classmate.
"Is that your game? You think he likes you and maybe you'll reap a few side benefits there? Because he's running a clean campaign and I'm not about to let you ruin his image by becoming the tabloid mistress."
"He's not even married," Rory began. "Therefore whomever he might see romantically would not be a mistress. And I am not looking for a paramour. I am solely here because I believe that Jack Kent should be the next governor of Connecticut and I have the kind of experience he needs to write his speeches. I've been on the other side; I was in the trenches throughout the last presidential election and reported on Obama from his days as one of the many to his inauguration. I know what the reporters are going after, and I can play to that."
Jack sat back, nodding with approval, clearly pleased with her impassioned response. "Vet her."
Tristan ground his teeth as he looked from his candidate to the last person he would have pulled into this campaign of his own free will. Jack Kent was the perfect candidate—not only could he win, but he had let Tristan pretty much call all the shots on staffing up to this point. This job had been a dream come true. But now things were starting to get to the point of no return and for whatever reason, Jack had his sights set on hiring Rory Gilmore. He knew she'd pass the vetting—surely she'd never done anything untoward in her whole life. She was probably clean as a whistle, but he wasn't sure she had the fortitude to handle what a political run required—and he sure as hell didn't want to be the one to break her into politics.
"I don't like this," he said finally.
"And here you've been hiding it so well thus far," Rory rolled her eyes and sat back down in her chair. Her phone buzzed in her bag and she glanced down to see that she was going to be late for her lunch with her mother and that Logan had left her a new text message. She pushed her phone down further into her bag and attempted to keep her thoughts on what was happening around her.
"Tristan, I trust your judgment. You've done everything in my best interest so far. But I'm telling you, I want her for this position. So put aside whatever bias you have when it comes to her, pretend you've never met her, and do as I ask. Unless she's a serial killer with a penchant for assassinating political hopefuls," he said with a serious tone, "She's in."
Tristan whipped out his cell and typed something into it. "Fine. I'll vet her. But if she has so much as an unpaid parking ticket, I'm not going to let it go."
Jack just smiled. "We'll talk. Rory, thank you so much for coming all the way here. I'll be in touch soon, okay?"
She nodded and shook his hand. "No problem."
Tristan opened the door for her. "Jack, don't forget; you have the lunch with the Women's League at one. The car will be here for you in fifteen minutes."
As the door shut behind him, Tristan lowered his voice. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
Rory swung around and looked up at him. "Why? You didn't get it all out in there?"
"My office is over here," he instructed, not offering any better explanation.
"Fine. But I need to go soon," she huffed as she marched into his office. He closed the door and leaned back on the edge of his desk. She stood near the door and stared at him, having nothing positive to say to him after what had transpired in Jack's office.
"You have lunch plans?" he probed.
"Yes," she answered tersely without offering any supplementary information. He didn't sound as if he were offering to share a meal with her, but either way she was glad to have another commitment. If he was going to dig into her past, she had no intention of making it easy for him. She was grateful to have had the theft charge expunged from her record. Since her brush with the law, the only thing she'd done that she was ashamed of was this recent bout of sexting she was partaking in with Logan, but that in no way involved breaking the law; just the rules of proper society. Nor was it common knowledge, unless he planned to interrogate her mother. She wondered if she should put the idea past him.
He nodded. "So, how have you been?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Since Chilton?"
He sighed at her reticence. "Listen, the way I acted in there, it doesn't mean I dislike you in some way. This is my job, and believe me when I tell you that not everyone is cut out for politics. If you're too green you get eaten alive and if you've got things you don't want exposed, it shines a spotlight on it before ripping it to shreds for the whole world to see."
"What does that make you, a shark?" she volleyed back.
"I do what needs to be done," came his simple, yet heavy response.
"Jack Kent can't need you to do much dirty work for him," she shook her head. Even if Tristan was comfortable with the dark side of politics, she couldn't imagine the man needing much in the way of that kind of protection. She knew that much about him.
"It's politics. You have no idea the barrage of false rumors that people attempt to pin on his record. If you can't produce solid, retaliatory information on them first, they can say whatever they want and voters will believe it. Papers don't have to be wholly accountable for anything they print, which I'm sure you're aware. And do not get me started on bloggers and Twitter—people talk about how great social media is, but it's a logistics nightmare."
She listened to him in awe. But she wasn't about to feel sorry for him. "And you're worried that, what? I'll add to these rumors or that I'll get eaten alive?"
He looked at her with a sudden softness. "Honestly, I've learned not to make those assumptions about anyone. You tell me, what am I going to find? That you cannot tell a lie or that you have a list of enemies up and down the eastern seaboard?"
"Nothing in my life would hurt his campaign. And I'm a good writer," she said both statements with certainty, though still not thrilled with the idea of him searching through her life, looking for offenses to use against her. It seemed so backhanded.
"I know you're a good writer. You don't have to sell me on that; besides, Jack's already sold. My information gathering is a precaution at this point, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about any of it."
She nodded, not understanding still why he was so against her working on the campaign unless he was holding some sort of grudge from high school. It seemed petty, but she honestly didn't know much about the man that stood before her, save for the fact that Jack Kent thought him to be the man that could pave the path to the governor's mansion for him. "I need to go. Do your digging, make your decision. I'd say it was a pleasure, but I'm still on the fence about that. Goodbye, Tristan."
He moved to open his door, his upbringing in Hartford society haven beaten his gentlemanly attributes into him. "Just because I'm hesitant to hire you doesn't mean I didn't enjoy seeing you again. We'll be in touch."
She paused in his doorway as she passed him, taking a moment to search his eyes. He definitely didn't look unhappy with her or her general presence, as least not in that instant. She would have sworn he'd have soon as deported her than hired her back in Jack's office. She nodded, her face furrowed slightly in confusion. A moment later, she was on the other side of his door, alone in the back hallway. She could hear the noise and bustle coming from the rest of the office ahead of her.
She pulled out her phone to call her mother, to tell her she'd meet her at Luke's Diner instead picking her up at the Dragonfly Inn and walking over to lunch together due her now running behind yet again. She hesitated in dialing and instead checked the new text message she'd received from Logan. The words on the screen made her blush and she felt her lungs swell with air at the imagery he provided. The inability to act on these messages kept a safe distance between them, while offering a small rush of arousal. If they'd been in even quick traveling distance of one another, it might be tempting to risk another in-person encounter. It was better this way, though, that she instead take the time to wait until later that evening to send him her response, to let him relish in that as he went to bed. She put the phone back in her bag and walked through the office. She'd call her mother from the car, when she'd had a minute to absorb all that had occurred in the past hour.
It struck her as odd, how so much seemed to have shifted for her in the last hour, when really her life was the same as it had been when she woke up this morning. Whatever the reason, she definitely did not consider her options limited now. For the first time in a long time, she felt like something new was on the horizon.