The Demise of A Friend

A/N: Hey, everyone. I got some reviews saying that I should continue The Color of Coffee, so I decided I would. Here's chapter two, hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: You know the seagull at the beginning of Finding Nemo that says, "Not Mine!"? Well, at the moment I am that seagull.

After I closed the door behind Dean the first thing I did was go into my bedroom. I went over to my bookcase and pulled out my dog-eared copy of Oliver Twist before sitting down heavily on my bed and opening to a random page. It didn't really matter where I started reading; I had read the book so many times that I automatically knew what was happening in the story.

I sighed and tucked a stray piece of (annoying) hair behind my ear. I flipped a page. And then I nearly fell off my bed. There was writing in my book. And It was not part of the story.

Multiple thoughts passed through my head at once. Had my book been vandalized? Had I vandalized my own book without realizing it? Was Luke right about me needing a straightjacket for my birthday? And more importantly, why was Babette chasing Kirk down the road with a water gun?

I sifted through all of these thoughts until I got to the last one, and then I did a double take out the window. Sure enough…

What in the name of God?

I placed the book on my bed, determined to find out what the mystery writing was later.

Exiting the house, I stood on the porch and cupped my hands around my mouth.

"Babette! What's going on?"

She didn't seem to hear me, so I decided to get a bit closer. I marched off of the porch and ran across the lawn nearly tripping on a small twig (tripping – that seems like a familiar theme in my life).

"Babette!" I called again. She didn't stop running. I didn't know she could run so fast. With a sigh I realized that I was going to have to head straight into the action. I sprinted after her and tapped her on the shoulder when I got close enough. Not a good idea.

"Ah ha!" she yelled triumphantly. "I've got you now, Kirk!" She then proceeded to spray water in my face.

I just stood there dripping wet while she stared at me confusedly.

"Oh sorry Rory, didn't see you there," she said. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to go take care of something." She cast a murderous look at Kirk, who was peering nervously from behind a tree.

"Wait," I said. I was beginning to fear for Kirk's life. Babette was just a sweet old lady most of the time, but boy, when she got angry it wasn't a good idea to get in her way. It looked like Kirk had done just that, and was about to face the dreaded wrath of Babette.

"What is going on? Why are you mad at Kirk?" I was completely nonplussed.

"Because she's a madwoman! And anyway, I already apologized. There was no way I could have known that Peirpont had a weak spot on his belly! I just want to be left alone!" shouted Kirk from behind his tree. Babette again glowered in his direction.

"Why, you little…"

"Okay, okay!" I hurriedly interjected before the situation got too out of control. "Would someone please calm down and tell me what is going on? I think we can find a less…er…violent way to solve this!"

"He started it!" Babette exclaimed, thrusting her finger in Kirk's direction and sounding very much like a child. "He was looking at my Peirpont!" I paused for a moment here to say a silent "dirty!" in my head. Hey, it was tradition. And who am I to break tradition?

Kirk's voice silenced my somewhat inappropriate thoughts.

"I was only checking him for mold! It is my job, remember? I read in a chat room that gnomes are frequent contractors of several types of mold that will wear away paint! I only had Peirpont's safety in mind when I picked him up!" Kirk had stopped looking angry and was now starting to look guilty.

I nodded as I stored all of this information away for later.

When I turned my attention back to Babette, she looked like she was going to cry. I wanted to avoid an awkward situation, so I quickly asked, "And then what did he do? What did Kirk do to Peirpont?"

Babette gasped and put her hand up, so I gave her a minute to compose herself before speaking. When she had stopped looking like she was on the brink of a seizure, or a psychological meltdown, she continued her story.

"He…..he….oh Rory darling, I cant even say it! He picked Peirpont up, turned him over and then he….he dropped him! And Peirpont kind of did this slow motion flippy thing through the air (here she paused to gesture with her hands), and then he fell, right on his belly. You know how he had that thin spot on his belly? I had been meaning to get that fixed for a while. Anyway, he fell and he broke right in two! Pierpont is g…g…gone!"

She stopped, chest heaving as sobs overtook her.

"Oh, Babette! I'm so sorry! I know how much you cared about Pierpont. Here, let me get you inside," I motioned toward her house and led her up the front steps. I gave Kirk a dirty look over my shoulder.

"I'm not finished with you, mister," I said in the best Darth Vader voice I could manage. Which, obviously wasn't very good, because Kirk held up his hand and spread his fingers, keeping the first and last two fingers touching as he backed away.

"May the force be with you," he said. And then he started to run.

"Good," Babette snorted through her tears. "He better run. I'll be dealing with him later."

I smiled to myself, at the same time feeling slightly apprehensive. I guessed that Kirk had a rough couple of days ahead of him and I almost felt bad. Almost. Breaking Babette's beloved gnome was as bad as a crime in this town.

After I made Babette some tea, I went back over to my house to call Lane. I hadn't talked to her in a while, what with the amount of homework I received from Chilton. Today had been a stressful day, and talking to Lane usually came in the form of a stress reliever.

I sat in the living room on the couch and dialed the familiar number. Mrs. Kim picked up.

"Kim's Antiques. Fifty percent off of everything in the store from now until the end of the week. How may I help you?"

"Mrs. Kim?" I started in what I thought was a confident voice that suggested I loved God with all of my heart. "May I please speak to Lane?"

There was a brief pause while Mrs. Kim considered this.

"Lane will have to call you back. She is making lactose-free wheat-free cookies. After they are done, we will have to eat them. Only good for another thirty-eight minutes. Then she has Bible study for an hour. She'll call you in precisely three hours and twenty-seven minutes."

"Thank you, Mrs. Kim," I said. "I'll make sure to set my watch for three hours and twenty-seven minutes."

"Good. May God be with you…and your mother."

I hung up when I heard the dial tone. It was always a good idea to wait until you were sure that Mrs. Kim had hung up. She took great offense if she thought you had hung up on her.

Sighing, I trudged back into my bedroom. I had really wanted to talk to Lane. The day had been bad enough already, now I had to wait three hours and twenty-seven minutes with nothing to do to talk to my best friend. It was times like these that I realized living in a small town is not all it's cracked up to be.

I cast my eyes around my room, desperate for something to do. I knew for a fact that there was nothing on TV (after all, who watches TV at one o'clock on a Sunday afternoon?), and I was just about to go ask my mom if she needed any help at the inn when my eyes landed on the book on my bed.

I picked it up, remembering the unsolved mystery from this morning. Opening the pages, I flipped approximate spot I remembered seeing the writing on. After thumbing through it a bit more, I managed to find the page.

They were notes. Notes in the margins; thoughts about the plot and completely random things that one might think about while reading Oliver Twist.

I squinted my eyes at the page as I realized that I knew that handwriting. In fact, I was very up close and personal with that handwriting nearly everyday. It was the same writing that was on the specials board at Luke's.

And then I realized that Jess was the one that wrote the specials up on the board every day. Which led me to remember another important piece of information – Jess had 'borrowed' my copy of Oliver Twist the night my mom invited him and Luke over for dinner. Jess had written in my book. My book.

I felt a flush rising in my cheeks, a sure sign that I was getting pissed off. I mean, the punk had vandalized my book. However, it came to my attention that I was also slightly pissed at myself, or rather the butterflies that inhabited my belly as I thought of how Jess' coffee brown eyes had looked at this page, how his olive skin had brushed against it as he wrote.

I shook myself out of my reverie and remembered Dean, my boyfriend. Why was I getting so hot and bothered over another guy, when I had a perfectly good one already?

Jeez, now I really needed to talk to Lane. I looked at my watch in hopes that my discovery had taken up three hours and twenty-seven minutes. I sighed in frustration when I realized that I still had two hours and fifty-four minutes until Lane would call.

It was then that I resigned myself to an afternoon on the couch, watching boring talk shows on TV.

A/N: Well there's chapter two. I hope you liked it. You know how cars run on fuel and people run on food? Well, I run on reviews, so if you would like to see an update within the next week, leave me one. Also, I am looking for a beta for this story but I am not quite sure how the beta system works. If you are a beta and would like to help me out, please PM me!