Running into Mitchum put Logan in a mood. He grumbled around the penthouse, a dark cloud over his head and a frown on his face. When Rory emerged from the bathroom the only thing Mitchum left behind was a soggy cigar. Rory had tried to ask about what happened but Logan clammed up. Rory couldn't blame him. Knowing how to make you feel like garbage was one of Mitchum's special talents. After a few days of turmoil, Logan swept into the living room, a devious smile on his face. Rory glanced at him from behind her laptop.

"I see you're feeling better," she said.

"Yes, I am. You like Mexico?"

"Sure? It's a fine country?"

"So let's go."

"Go where?"

"Mexico, where else? Keep up, Ace."

"We're going to Mexico?" Rory parroted, " When?"

"Now!"

"Now? What about your job?"

"I pay good money for an HR department that hires people who can take care of themselves while I fuck off from time to time."

"Where would we even stay?"

"My summer house, where else?"

Rory shook her head, "I don't have a bikini."

Logan tossed a shopping bag in her lap. "Good thing I picked this up on the way home."

Rory peeked inside the bag and raised her eyebrows. She pulled out a couple of crocheted doilies held together with pieces of string.

"What is this?" she asked.

"A bikini."

"First, this is not a bikini. This is a lovely reason for me to get arrested for indecent exposure. Second, I can't run off to Mexico in the middle of the night. I have to let my mom know, plus I'm so close to getting a couple of interviews-"

Logan pressed a finger to her lips. "Last I checked, the only child your mom needs to check on is James."

Rory shook his finger from her lips, "What if I get an interview while we're away?"

"There is both WIFI and cell service in Mexico, believe it or not. If those assholes can't wait until we get back to meet you in person, that's their loss."

Another protest bubbled up in Rory's throat before she stopped herself. Things on the job search front had been a little slow. Plus, there were only so many lies that she could tell her mom about her new "job".

"You're lucky that I'm obsessed with keeping my passport up to date," she said, pulling Logan down on the couch next to her.

Logan pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her lips. "As badly as I would love to have you model that bikini for me, we have a plane to catch. Start packing."

Rory looked up from her phone and furrowed her brows at the green sign informing her that she had just entered New Jersey.

"Logan," she said, nudging him with her elbow, "I think your driver is going the wrong way."

"Oh?" he replied.

"You're very calm for someone whose car is going the direct opposite of JFK terminal," Rory said.

"Who said we were flying out of JFK?" Logan replied.

"LaGuardia isn't in New Jersey either."

"You're so cute," Logan said, reaching over to pinch her cheek, "Don't tell your grandparents waited in line at JFK for their private jet to take off."

"Private jet?"

"Of course. It's 2018. Who flies commercial?"

Like a child, Rory pressed her face to the window and watched as the town car pulled into the airport tarmac. Rory stepped out of the car in shocked silence. She turned to Logan as he walked up beside her. "I can't believe you have a private jet."

"No," Logan said, throwing an arm around her shoulder, "We have a private jet. Check out that wing."

Rory squinted up at the wing of the jet and laughed. "That's not what I think it is."

"Yes, it is. Meet the Rory Citation Longitude."

"You're completely out of your mind!"

"Only for you, baby," Logan said with an over top grin.

Rory was so captivated by the sight of her name on the wing of the private jet, she missed Logan climbing the stairs up to it.

"Hurry up. I'd like to get both Rorys to join the mile high club."

Rory rolled her eyes before taking one step towards the jet stairs. "This isn't stolen, is it?" she asked with a smile.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Emily Gilmore, is that you?"

"Shut up!" Rory yelled, running up the stairs after him.

New York City winters didn't feel too bad when they were spent in Mexico. The guilt Rory felt from being waited on hand and foot by the maids at Logan's villa took about 2 weeks to evaporate. Leaving New York was just what Rory needed. The sound and smell of the ocean energized her every morning. Whenever Logan decided that she was allowed out of bed, Rory jogged, did yoga and applied for more jobs than ever. Logan would take her out into the city, snatching up anything that caught her eye. Rory decided that she wouldn't mind coming back to the villa every year to get away from it all and recharge, she would need when she went back to work.

She had spent the morning sitting on the villa's porch and updating her resume. Through the open bay windows behind her, Rory could hear the maids bustling about and cleaning inside. Rory never let it be known to them that she was fluent in Spanish, she didn't see the point. Plus, she could hear the best gossip if she pretended she didn't understand. Rory heard the deep raspy voice of one of the usual maids, Maria, but couldn't recognize the voice of her companion.

"Hey," the new voice said, "Who's she? Isn't Mr. Huntzberger's wife blonde?"

"What do you expect? He's a man." Maria replied.

"Shameless, huh? Sitting there in his wife's clothes."

Maria laughed. "Shame? What do you need shame for when you're fucking a man who could buy and sell you? At least she's prettier than the last one, eh? Her ass matches her thighs!"

The two of them erupted into laughter. Rory touched her cheek and felt it burning hot. She was sure that if she caught sight of herself in the mirror, her face would be tomato red. She bit her lips and gathered up all her things. She walked through the foyer and felt the maids watch her as she grabbed a bottle of tequila and went upstairs. Rory tore off Odette's clothes and pulled on the clothes she wore on the jet. She opened the window and tossed the rightful Mrs. Huntzberger's clothes into the backyard.

Rory spent the rest of the morning drinking in angry silence until she passed out. When she woke up, the sun had set and she felt sticky and sour. Whatever fiery anger she had this morning had dissolved into bitterness. She went downstairs to the living room and found Logan on the couch, the sounds of a soccer match blaring.

"Hey you," he said patting the couch cushion next to him, "Feel like translating? I've been using context clues but a clown ran out into the field and I'm lost."

Rory sat down next to him and crossed her arms without saying a word. Logan let her sit there for a few moments before muting the TV.

"You okay?"

"We should go," Rory asked.

"Go where?"

"Back to New York. I have stuff to do." Even to Rory's ears, her excuse sounded bogus.

"Stuff?" Logan said with a laugh, "What stuff?"

"Stuff Logan! Go interviews, try to get some freelance assignments, work! Not everyone's daddy gave them a multi-million a year job fresh from college, you know. Can we just go?"

Logan shrugged and threw up his hands. "Fine. Pack your shit and be ready in 10 minutes," he said.

Rory watched him walk outside to the porch and light up a cigarette. He'd been trying to quit and Rory knew he only smoked when he was stressed. It made Rory feel a little better to know he was as unhappy as she was at the moment.

The plane ride home was spent in silence. The weather outside when they stepped out onto the tarmac was warmer than the space between them. The elevator ride up to her apartment was spent looking anywhere but each other. Rory opened her apartment door and stopped Logan from following her in.

Logan sighed. "Are you kidding me?"

"I told you I have stuff to do," Rory replied as she crossed her arms.

"Since when is throwing a tantrum 'stuff'?"

"I'm not throwing–!" Rory began to shout into the emptiness of the hallway. She bit her lip and lowered her voice. "I'm not throwing a tantrum."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Fine. Do whatever you want." Logan tossed his bag over his shoulder and walked to the elevator at the end of the hall.

"When you decide you want to act like an adult, feel free to drop by," he said, letting the elevator doors slid shut.

Rory found herself in a bit of a moral dilemma. Logan graciously gave her one of his many credit cards once hearing that Rory had less than $10 in her bank account. With the two of them being in the middle of a...fight, she wondered if it were right to keep using it. Wanting to force herself into productivity, Rory packed up her laptop and set out. Google Maps told her there was a French patisserie/cafe five blocks from the apartment. Two blocks in, the sky darkened. Rory had barely looked up before the rain started pouring. One drop of water and her laptop was done for. The nearest open shop turned out to be a Starbucks.

Despite being a coffee fanatic, Rory wasn't such a huge fan of Starbucks. Sometimes all she wanted was a cup of plain, tasty coffee, but all they sold were coffee flavored sugar and milk monstrosities. Rory grabbed a handful of napkins and squeezed the water out of her hair. The wind splattered the rain against the glass windows and didn't look to be stopping anytime soon. The Starbucks was packed with other 30-somethings hunched over their laptops. She tried to find an open spot with an outlet but saw nothing. The smell of prepackaged pastries made her stomach grumble. Maybe a table would open up after she got a muffin. Or two.

When it was her turn to pay Rory handed the cashier Logan's card.

"Can I see some ID?" the barista asked.

Rory's brain short-circuited. When she handed the card over she assumed that it would be the usual swipe and give back. Not this.

"It's not mine, it's my husband's," Rory replied.

The barista frowned and handed the card back. "I'm sorry, we've had a lot of credit card fraud lately so we don't take credit cards without ID anymore."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, she is." Another barista with a 'manager' pin said as she came up to the counter. "Now how will you be paying?"

That was a great question Rory did not have an answer to.

"I'll pay," a voice said from behind her.

Without looking back, Rory shook her head and threw up her hands. "No, it's fine. Put it back or something."

"No way," the voice said coming up and sliding a $20 bill on the counter. "I'll pay. What are friends for?"

Friends? Rory looked at the stranger and laughed. She didn't know how she didn't recognize that voice.

It was Jess!