A/N: I just wanted to leave a friendly author's note to address so many of the comments and messages I have gotten after the last chapter was posted. I know that so many of you were shocked by the time jump. And I knew that this might be a problem. But after making a pro/con list, I really knew that the only way to continue the story where I needed it to go is to skip four years. I'm sorry if that disappoints you – but I beg you to stick with me through this journey that Lorelai is taking. Please know that I still love your honest opinions – and thank you for all of the emotions that you have invested into the story!
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Jess knew Rory was angry. Angry about coming to Stars Hollow. Angry about being made to leave New York. Angry about not being with her friends this summer.
But he didn't know she was this angry.
He sat, curled up on the sofa in the living room, with an opened but currently unread book in his hand while he watched the exchange between his sister and his grandma.
His grandma's tone was sweet and kind, and Jess couldn't remember a time that she hadn't been like that. "Rory, I didn't mean to upset you. I was just wondering if there was anything you wanted to do over the summer so we can plan…"
Rory's arms were crossed in front of her, and she wasn't yelling but she wasn't talking in a normal voice. "I don't care what we do."
"Your grandfather and I were thinking maybe we could go to a movie here in town with you, or maybe go horseback riding, or maybe even take a weekend trip and go to the cabin…" Jess watched as his grandma tried to gauge Rory's reaction, which Jess had learned long before was completely and absolutely impossible with her. "Does anything like that sound fun…"
Now Rory was yelling as she turned to walk up the stairs, "I don't give a shit, Grandma!"
And now Jess couldn't keep quiet anymore, not after hearing her say that. "Rory! What…"
"Oh, shut up. You don't have any friends." She turned and threw back at him. "You just sit alone in your room for hours. So coming here doesn't really affect you." Then she paused, and added just to hurt him, "But doesn't it bother you that Mom shipped us off for an ENTIRE summer? What kind of mom does that?"
He put his book down and stood up, not able to let her talk about their mother like that, "You know it's…"
She threw her hands into the air and said, "Oh, here it comes! Mom works hard. Mom takes care of us." She rolled her eyes and said, "Mom will be so glad her cheerleading squad is here to save the day!"
Now Grandma's voice was not so sweet anymore. A firm tone made Jess look at her immediately. "Kids, that's enough." Then she said, "Rory, you will not talk like that in this house, do you hear me?"
Crossing her arms defiantly across her chest, Rory wouldn't look at Grandma as she muttered, "Fine." She then stomped up the stairs, and a few seconds later, Jess heard the door to her bedroom slam shut
Jess knew he would have to say something. Something to tell Grandma that this wasn't new with Rory – that Rory wasn't angry with her. That it was a whole lot deeper than that.
Grandma turned to him, her eyes wide in shock as she asked, "Is she like this at home?"
He knew how she was feeling. But he just nodded, and said, "She's been giving Mom a lot of trouble lately." Knowing he was the big brother who should assure Grandma that Rory wasn't a bad kid, he added, "It's been tough at school with her."
He remembered watching kids tease her about almost everything about her as they rode the bus together. Saying that her hair looked stringy, that her clothes must have been from the free bin at a rescue mission, and, to Jess' confusion, that her eyes were too big for her face. She was younger than most of the kids in her class, because she was so smart – but they used that to mock how short she was, or how underdeveloped she was as a girl. Of course, he had started to stand up for her, hating to see kids pick on her. But she had told him early on in the year that if he just left them alone, they would leave her alone. So he had done what she wanted.
He also remembered that there was this one girl, he thought her name was Kelsey, or something – had invited her to go with a few friends to the movies that weekend. He had watched Rory's face fall as she lied and said she had something she had to do that weekend – but they both knew movie tickets were too much of a luxury item in their house.
The sweet Grandma he recognized was back, "What do you mean, 'tough?'" He loved how caring she looked about Rory – even after all the mean things Rory had just done.
Not wanting to rat Rory out, or make Mom seem like she wasn't seeing how bad things were with Rory, Jess just said, "Some of the kids pick on her. Just normal stuff. But Rory takes it to heart a lot." He could tell by how her face would fall every day when one of the girls would get on the bus. "So she's just a little mad about that." Wanting to be completely truthful, he also said, "And she wishes she could spend the summer with her dad."
A light came on in Grandma's eyes, like something made sense. "I see." Was all she said before taking a deep breath and then exhaling. He could tell her mind was going a hundred miles an hour before she said, "I guess this is going to be one long summer, huh, Jess?"
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"God, I heard you were good, but I never dreamed anyone could be that good!"
She tuned out his praise of her lap dance, just taking the thirty dollars he handed her and wadding it up and putting it into her bra for safe keeping until she could get down to her locker. It was halfway through her shift, and she was due a break anyway soon. Putting on her stripper persona, she turned to the man who looked astounded beyond his mind and she said, "If you come again, you can ask for me."
It astounded her how many of the men that came into the club requested her. She had stood by and watched perfectly good girls standing around with nothing to do while men waited on her to get to them. No longer was she desperately trying to win men over and convince them that she could do a good job, like she had to in the beginning when she was first starting out. Nope, now she was struggling to keep up with the demand that she had. Maybe it was because she had been there for almost eight years, so the customer base was broader, with more men knowing that she did a good job and wanting to stick with what they knew. Or maybe it was because she just knew how to work the pole, having moves the new girls could only dream of doing. Who knew, but now, she had the privilege of picking and choosing the men who would tip her thirty or forty dollars compared to the cheapskate guy who had only tipped her ten.
He reached out and grabbed her arm, not hard, just signaling that he wanted to talk to her more. "How about another one?" And he held up a twenty. The exact amount of a dance. No tip. She looked around and saw three men waiting for her, and she knew even they would tip more than just the cost of the dance.
She pulled her arm away gently, and just said, "I think I'm going to help another gentleman out now." Lorelai tried to be sweet about it, but she could tell the drunk anger in the man's eyes start to come out. He again reached for her arm, but she was faster than that, and pulled away. "Thanks for letting me dance for you." She tried to diffuse the anger, but just loathed men who couldn't see that this wasn't for the attention that the men could give to her – she needed money. And if she could make more money off some old man over in the corner, that's what she was going to do.
He didn't yell at her. He just said, "You're a stuck-up bitch."
If only that had been the first time she had been called names. The Lorelai who had first started out would have been hurt by this. Would have caved and given him another dance for a fraction of what she could make elsewhere. Would have thought in order to not create a scene, she should do whatever not to make him mad.
But, knowing how many eyes were on her, not just the eyes of the customers, but she knew that because of how much money she was bringing in, Oscar had made sure to tell security to keep someone watching her at all times. Knowing this made it all the more fun to throw his dirty comment right back at him. "Well, this 'bitch' is going over to someone else now." Then she sweetly called back as she walked away, "Have a goodnight!"
She could hear him talking with his buddies very loudly at how horrible she had been, how insulting she had been. Because the man who waved a fifty in front of her wasn't too far away, she could hear him lamenting to his friends about how that woman was the only decent one in the whole club. Lorelai could have slapped him right then and there if she had been close enough to him, only because he was fixated on her because she wouldn't have him. Three other girls approached him to ask if he wanted a dance, but he just waved them away. She could feel his stare all along her body as she gyrated up and down her current customer's body; long before she had learned the skill of looking focused on the customer in front of her but her mind could be way off in completely different places.
Finishing up with the old man, she thanked him very kindly for his money, which she also stuck into her bra. Feeling the money building up against her skin, she thought now would be just as good a time as any to go downstairs and take a little break before finishing up her three hours she had left.
The club seemed like that place you wished you didn't have to know, but knew everything about it. Almost like the old uncle's house that everyone knows is creepy, but they also know all the best hiding places because they've been there so long. The long stairs going down into the basement. The clicking of her heels against the concrete. The stench of what must be puke coming from the door that lead outside. It was all there – and it was all old hat – working five nights a week, every week for the last eight years had made Lorelai almost numb to the gross reality of where she worked. It was a job. She came in, found out how terribly men thought about women's bodies, and then left. It was enough to pay the bills.
But it was still enough of a shame that she hadn't told anyone in her life where she worked. Not the kids, not Luke, not Camille or Zeke – no one. They had asked, of course, where she worked. And there had been nothing in her conscience that plagued her when she said she worked at a bar downtown. Bars were open as late as the club was. And she just couldn't bear anyone knowing how low she had sunk – and stayed. It irked her that she was still working as a stripper eight years after starting. But the money was good. And it was enough to save up for the house she wanted to buy. Only a few thousand left to go, and she would be free of that crummy apartment.
She had imagined what she would do with a house she was proud of. The first thing was to invite Camille, Zeke, and Luke to come and visit them. Only Luke had seen their apartment, Lorelai making the effort to take the kids to see their grandparents. She would put flowers on the table in the kitchen that looked out into the small backyard – and the kids would each have their own bedroom – and her bedroom would have a bathroom attached to it. There was nothing bad about the house – this summer was her year – she was going to do this.
Putting her money into her locker, she grabbed her phone out, just to check, but of course, there were no calls from Rory saying that Jess was being too bossy, or asking if she could "please please" go out with a friend. Smiling just a little at the comfort she felt with the kids at their grandparent's house, she turned to straighten out her wig when suddenly there was a man in the doorway of the dressing room. Without really looking, she said, annoyed, "Customers aren't allowed…"
And his voice brought her eyes up, fear lacing through her entire body. It was the pissed off man with the lack of tipping ability. "So you're a bitch everywhere, not just up there." His voice was angry as he clenched his jaw while he spoke to her.
And now, she was scared. Because there were no security guards down here. There was no one else around down here. Because she started early, at six, and ended late, no one else was taking a break at the same time. But she knew they could smell fear – these drunk men – she had dealt with them every night as long as she could remember. So she mustered up the strength it took to look calm and collected and said, "I'm sorry, sir, but…"
But she had no time to finish her sentence before he had grabbed her arms and threw her up against the wall, pushing himself into her. She started to scream, but he clamped his hand over her mouth, the dirt caked on it smearing all over her lips. She was now completely past the point of fear and now she was terrified. She struggled, her arms pinned down by his heavy body that not only pressed against her, but towered above her.
There was no one around. And he was so angry. That was evident by his words.
"I am here to be served, you whore!" He hissed into her ear. The hand that wasn't clamping down on her mouth slid between her bra and her body, causing her to whimper as he violently assaulted her. "Now where is that stuck up slut you were upstairs?" His laugh sickened her. "I'm going to get my money's worth tonight."
And at the thought of what he was going to do, she realized she hadn't utilized any of her lower weapons. This was where revenge came in. As soon as she thought about it, she brought her knee up as hard as she could into his groin, causing him to release her and start to fall to the ground. But she wasn't done. Because sure she had been scared, but now she was angry as she watched his face explode in pain. So before he could make it to the ground, curled over in pain, she put all her weight into the punch she sent flying right into his nose.
He crumpled to her feet, moaning, one hand holding his face, the other cupping his groin. But she didn't notice because her fist was hurting so much, and she hissed "fuck" from the pain shooting through her hand.
"Lorelai, what the hell happened?" She looked up and breathed deeply as she saw it was Oscar. He was holding his cigar in one hand while his mouth hung open, looking down at the big man she had toppled.
So thankful someone was here, she said breathlessly, "He came down here and attacked me." She could only imagine what Oscar was going to do to the man who was moaning on the floor, grasping his groin. Oscar would beat up any man who left any sort of hard handprint on Lorelai, so she was anxious to see exactly what pain this man would be in after a few minutes alone with…
Until, for the second time that night, she looked up to see a man coming at her, and tossing her up against the wall. But this time, it was Oscar. This was so surprising that she couldn't even cry in pain as her bare back smashed into the wall.
And she was even more afraid as she watched this man that thought of her as one of his best workers scream at her, "You just hit a customer!" He didn't move his hands from either side of her shoulders – he wasn't doing it to assault her, but he was so angry. The cigar smell from his mouth hit her nose as he was so close to her. "Do you know what this could do to the club? He could sue us! And even if he didn't, he's going to tell people what happened and they're going to go somewhere else!"
She just whimpered out, "He was going to hurt me."
"Then you call for help!" He let go of her arms, which allowed her body to move away from the wall a few inches. "Haven't you learned anything from being here so long, Lorelai?" She could see the distressed anger in his face as he looked at the guy on the ground, who was completely oblivious to the conversation because of his pain.
"He covered my mouth. I couldn't…" Tears came to her eyes as what could have happened again hit her, and then the fact that this man who had been her protector from the men here at the club was now angry with her. "Please don't be angry with me…" Was all she could squeak out through the lump forming in her throat.
Regret seemed to wash over the old man's face, and he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to him. "Oh, darling…" She leaned into his old suit, crying from the relief of stopping the attack and the shame of Oscar's disappoint
ent. Her entire body shook while Oscar just rubbed her back and said, "I wasn't angry. I think I was just scared for you and I took it out on you, Lorelai." His fingers ran through her hair as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "This is such a horrible place for you."
She pulled away, looking at him with confusion as she asked, "What?"
His wrinkled fingers brushed the tears off of her cheeks as he said, "You're much too beautiful a woman to be dancing for these cheap men who don't value you at all." He gestured to the man on the floor. "I just wonder if there's something that you could do that would lessen your hours and make more money."
She stuttered, "Are… are you firing me?" The idea of not having a job was the most frightening thing she could think of at that moment. So she started to cover her bases, "I didn't mean to hit him! It was just a reflex. And I'll work harder, even more hours, give you more of the cost for the dance. I'll do anything just…"
He stopped her with a finger to her lips. "Hush. I'm not firing you." Relief set in. "I'm offering you a better position."
She tried to think of what that could be. Searching his face, she asked, "What?"
He smiled down at her tenderly, and brushed the hair out of her face, and said, "I know so many men who would pay you so much more for…" He looked off into the distance, like he was searching for the right word, "… a little bit more intimate interaction."
Lorelai's mind tried to wrap around what he was saying. If dancing on someone's body completely naked except for a tiny thong – if there was something more intimate than that – it hit her right then. And she looked up at him in horror as she took a step back. Shaking her head, she pulled her arms around her chest and said, "No… no, I can't do that…"
Oscar took a step towards her, his caring face such an oxymoron to his offer. "It sounds horrible but it's really not. You'd get paid like triple the amount you make, and you wouldn't have to work half as long."
She continued to shake her head, now breaking his gaze to look ashamed at her feet. That he would think she would even think of stooping that low made her feel like something had gone wrong in how people thought about her. She would never sleep with someone for money. All the customers who had offered her hundreds of dollars to "go out to their car" or "come to the bathroom" with them – they could think what they wanted to think. But for Oscar, a man she had known for eight years. For him to even bring up the subject humiliated her. "No. I won't."
"You're just giving them some kind of connection they can't get at home." He reasoned through, still standing above her. "It's not like you're out begging for men to take you to bed. They're coming to you."
Her shoulders actually shuddered as she said, "I can't. I just …."
Suddenly she felt the strong arms around her shoulders again, this time squeezing into her hard. She looked up to see the anger back, so fast. And he shook her and said, "Then you'd better be fine with eventually getting raped by one of these men that you tease upstairs." He yelled even louder, "At least if you considered my offer, it would be your choice compared to being cornered in a room with no control over anything."
Lorelai's heart fell as she knew that there had been some close calls in the last few years. But there had never been something that got this close, the man coming downstairs into her dressing room. But she could draw the line at stripping. That was fine. It was her body to do with what she wanted to – and in order to make the money she needed to support her family, she did what she had to do.
But nowhere in her conscience, was there room to sell her body for sex to make more money. Nowhere.
And apparently, Oscar was getting the message that she would never consider that ever. His eyes pierced into hers as he let go of his vice-grip on her arms. And all he could say was, "Go home. Come back tomorrow. Rest your hand." He gestured to her bruised fist.
"But I have three hours left before…" She needed the money. She had to get the money. "I can still work…"
His voice was clipped as he authoritatively said, "I said go home. After what you did tonight, I don't want to see you right now."
She should be worried about whether he was still angry with her. She should be worried about him grabbing her again, but she wasn't. She just had to know. "You're not firing me because I won't accept your…"
He shook his head. "Either way, you make me more money than all of the other girls combined. I'm not going to fire you…" He stepped over the man on the ground. "…unless you do this again."