AN: Hello all you concerned readers. As I privately responded to some, my main concern is being true to the plot and doing justice to this story and it's characters. This, and real life, might effect the timing of updates. I simply I ask you to bear with me and just leave another review :) Writing takes time. Editing takes longer...reference list will be posted on the review section. I hope you'd like this next part. Not super happy with it. But it gets us where we need to go.
I want to thank to my frequent reviewers. Some of you disappeared in the last few updates, so I hope all is well at your end. I send you best wishes. Thank you for taking the time to leave a review and share your reading journey with me. I truly appreciate how engaged some of your are with this story.
Big shout out to MidLifeWriter and Kazza for off the record discussions. Your thoughts and inputs were gold.
December 2013
Seattle
"Stop with the pictures. You only need one. One." Logan rinsed the razor under the running water. Rory patiently waited for him to lift his head again for another stroke of the knife.
Logan has the sense to avoid camera angles. Either he'd move too fast, or he'd make sure to block the light or a clear view of his features. Yet, the displayed concentration on his face when he carefully runs the blade on his face was memorizing.
"You have a fantastic shaving technic. I'm gonna record the whole process and make a series of it." Rory kept the Sony aimed at him. The medium camera had a wide enough angle to capture a wide shot, the reflection of his foam-covered face, and her sitting on the marble by the sink. "Distinguished cheekbones too."
Logan frowned.
"You're shaving that ridiculous beard. Such a memorable event that has to be documented properly. We'd finally be able to see your dimples." Rory replied, "Plus, it's in the contract."
"So much for being indifferent." Logan shook the water off the blade, sliding it down on his cheek from his left ear.
"It itches." Rory's busily adjusted the brightness on the digital camera. She didn't care for the pictures, too; she was just testing the camera's abilities. And Logan was the best subject.
"Go answer your phone and leave me to shave in peace." Logan tried to hide a small smile to keep his bothered attitude.
"It's my mom. She can leave a message. I'm busy." Rory deflected his attempt to make her leave the bathroom. He'd have to try harder. She switched the Camera into sport mode, firing a series of shots at him. She wasn't keen on speaking to her mother anyway.
"Shouldn't you be making final plans for Christmas?" The foam under his chin disappeared with a swift move, "When do you fly out?"
Rory looked at him through the lens, "I'm not. Mom canceled Christmas."
~w~
"Rory," the brunette lets out a little whimper as he broke off contact. Her lips, all swollen, grazed his again. Shit. Logan has let this impromptu pancake-making make-out session get a little carried away. He pulled away, just barely. "Rory, I can't have sex with you in the kitchen."
"Because this is Seattle?" Her fingers played at the naped of his neck, trying to coax him closer again. "This is not Seattle; this winter wonderland. I went all out with the instant mashed potatoes flakes to pull this off." Her mouth crushed on his again.
Because that is something he would do with Chelsea. Logan tries to push it to the back of his mind.
"Because it's unhygienic." He mumbles against her lips.
"We can clean up in the shower after." She sexily captures his lips again. Her hands tag on his jeans. "Not Seattle. Not my boss. No one's toes. Stop changing the rules."
He couldn't quite argue with the trumping argument. He wouldn't be so hesitant to fall into bed with her if they were out East. But he is still her boss despite the mutually agreed upon holiday loophole.
"No. Slow down a minute." Logan stills her hands.
His eyes fall to the floor, a ridiculous amount of fake snow substitute covers it. Rory has transformed the main room in his apartment into a winter set. This was not what he imagined when he made the impulsive and foolish decision to stay put in Seattle for the holiday season.
"It's the like Christmas at the East Coast!" she beamed at his stunned face. His gym bag dropped at the entrance at the sight of the white power. "Go take a shower. Let's hang the lights and make marshmallow pancakes!"
The marshmallow pancakes dare is entirely to blame for the state that he is in now. It was disgusting, and the sticky remains of egg whites and sugar would be a nightmare to clean off the pan.
But it's the least of his problems. Rory's face is nuzzling his neck, "I don't have any on me."
"You have too many clothes on, that's what you have." She tags on his pants again, but he denies her access. Rory blinks at him. "What do you mean you don't have any?"
"I'm out. Condoms weren't high on my shopping list." Logan looks at her from the corner of his eye. He winces as Rory looks at him baffled.
"What's the deal with the condoms? You do realize we are, in general, trying to procreate, right? Condoms kinda get in the way of that." She found Logan's stubborn insistence to add the latex barrier utterly unexplained. Not that he was easily persuaded to engage in sexual activity within Seattle's borders to being with.
Logan stepped out of her reach, putting a much-needed distance between them. So many reasons.
First, to separate leisure and baby.
Second, Rory accusing him of manipulating her into sleeping with him to capitalize on the missed cycle in September - didn't help. Logan wasn't keen on the tables turning on him again.
Third, every time they have gone, unintentionally, old-school ended up in nothing or a disappointment.
The fourth one, he chose to voice, "Contractions that accompany the female orgasm could prevent the embryo from implanting."
"What the hell..?" Rory looked utterly freaked out by his response, "Logan? Are you deliberately looking for reasons not to have sex with me?"
"No." Yes. Kind of. Logan combs his hand through his hair, conflicted, "The timing is… The book said that it's not recommended at this point in the cycle. Sex could… Um… maybe we shouldn't at all."
The flakes shuffled around his feet. Rory was still sitting frozen on top of his kitchen counter.
"Seriously?! Stop reading that creepy book." Rory muttered, scowling at the new information, "Explain."
Logan rubbed his neck; he really didn't feel comfortable discussing how her contractions work, "Also, the probability of multiple embryos increases if natural intercourse occurs at certain times during the IVF cycle, which raises risks for mother and baby. Dr. Pence validated the risk."
"You discussed the prospect of you giving me an orgasm with my doctor?" Rory gawped at him.
"He is a fertility doctor; he kinda knows all about that stuff… and I didn't discuss it with him. I sent him an e-mail." Logan changed the subject, "Let's just watch a movie or something."
"Fine." Rory jumped off the counter; he had managed to stray her mind as far away from sex as possible. "Let's watch The Lion King!"
"No. Anything but that." Logan was quick to shut the idea down.
"Why not? It's a great movie. A modern version of Hamlet. It's my turn to chose; you can't deny both sex and my choice of movie." Rory pouted at him; her intent to guilt him went out the window when an envelope on the other side of the counter caught her eye. "What is that?"
"Pictures." Logan started putting the pancakes ingredient away. "Kim asked if I had any. I said I'd look."
Rory glanced at him. It's another validation he had other plans for the holidays than spending it in Seattle. With her. In a penthouse covered in fake snow. It makes her feel funny.
"Pictures?!" Rory waved the envelop excitedly, "Can I?"
"Don't hold me responsible for what's in there. Finn has naked phases."
Rory didn't waste any time. She jumped on the sofa while flips through them, smiling. The pictures seemed to document a selection of his wild college days, and beyond, She recognizes some of the Yale settings. "These are from when you were at Yale? Colin and Finn are such an act. Did you take these? These are great!"
"Some. They sure are." The mention of Finn and Colin make Logan lose his standoffish attitude, and he ends up next to her.
"Here," He leans closer, "We attended the famous Gloucestershire Cheese-Rolling festival, a time-honored tradition where brave men, such as myself, climb to the top of a hill with a large wheel of cheese, then proceed to push it and run after it as it rolls all the way down."
"Shut up. Why would you commit that to film?" Rory giggled.
He only smirks, pointing at the figures, "That's me, that's Colin, that's Finn, and that is the cheese."
"A rare documentation of Logan Huntzberger. So if you beat your cheese to the bottom of the hill, are you disqualified, or do you win?"
"There are no winners or losers in the Gloucestershire Cheese-Rolling festival."
Rory matches his grin. She wants to kiss him again. "That is so stupid."
"It's fun." It is. Rory doesn't care that they won't be watching The Lion King or having sex anymore. She loved discovering the hidden parts of Logan Huntzberger.
Rory shuffles the photos some more, reaching a picture of Finn carrying a blonde girl in a piggyback, "Who's that? Is that an old girlfriend of Finn's?"
"That's Chelsea," Logan finally says uncomfortably. It is hard not to notice he once again spaced the distance.
"She's pretty," Rory tries to sound indifferent, quickly moving on with the stack. Deep down, she's bursting with curiosity. It's the first time she can put a face to the ghost.
"Yes," with one syllable answer Logan is up to his feet. "Let's watch Home Alone. I'll get the popcorn."
Rory quickly goes back to the picture once he's sufficiently away. She stares at the face of competition. It's the only picture she is in. It slowly dawns on her – Chelsea took the photos.
June 2010
London
Logan stared at London's skyline. The unfinished Shard's concrete structure stuck out in the panoramic view stretching out of his office window like a middle finger in the face of heritage. Logan couldn't quite explain his fascination with the building.
Maybe it was the hype around the controversial design. 'A shard of glass in the heart of historic London' - That's what the critic in the papers said. Or the challenge it posed for BASE jumpers and urban climbers circles he now spent his time with. The prospect of jumping off that building was thrilling. So was the risk—the risk of getting caught. The adrenaline. Deep down, Logan was itching to defy gravity. He hasn't done anything this reckless since college.
Logan was restless.
Perhaps, it was because the construction has started the very day his divorce finalized. The symbolism and irony were not lost on Logan - A shard of glass stuck in the heart.
"So unimpressed, but so in awe!"
Logan spun around quickly. He was unaware of the door opening until the Australian accent rang out.
"Such a saint, but such a whore." Colin appeared behind the Australian next, alluding to Logan's double-edged sword of reputation. His afternoon delights with Bobbi from marketing was the worst kept secret in the London office. Logan didn't care.
"So self-aware, so full of shit. How is that possible that you're out of Wild Turkey?" Finn was already indulging himself with the booze he kept in his office.
Logan forced his eyes to tear off the door. He half expected a third figure to skip into the office out of habit. She never materialized. His heart stung angry at his foolishness.
"So indecisive, so adamant!" Colin shook his head as he could read through him. The lawyer found his way behind the desk opening the top desk drawer.
"I contemplate thinking about thinking; it's overrated; just get another drink in." The blonde voiced for the first time.
"Hear hear!" Finn concurred, drinking straight from the bottle. "What are you looking for, Colin?"
"Knives, razor blades, scissors, shards of glass, sharp pencils." The preppy man rattled, but all he finds is tissues, a laser pointer, paper clips, pens, mint gum, socks, and two sealed condoms. Colin looks at Logan, "So Rock'n'roll, so corporate suit. Hand sanitizer?"
"Second drawer." Logan crossed his arms defensively, "I'm not scared of dying. I just don't want to. To what do I owe this unsolicited visit? Shouldn't you be on your summer honeymoon?"
"Ah, Logan, you know how I feel about the sun."
"Shouldn't you be groveling back to Janie?" Logan directed the question to the other American.
"Janie got a gun." Finn snickered. "Turns out Janie is not just a model - She's a gun model. Colin had a dream that he wakes up with her standing over him, pointing a nine-millimetre gun to his temple and demanding a ring."
Colin sent an annoyed look at the Australian who ratted him out. "It wasn't a dream.
"Where do you find those girls?" Logan wondered. Colin Shrugged.
"He's gonna be hearing about that one for a long time!" Finn snickered again. Logan agreed.
"Your wedding day is coming up. We are here to watch you as you come undone." You can always trust Colin to state it as bluntly as it is. "Bros before hoes."
~w~
"The man is indestructible!" Finn announced.
"Dive headfirst off the cliff, instantly spins out of control." Colin demonstrated with his hands.
"Gets totally disoriented, barely gets the parachute out to open." Finn spices the story with a dramatic flair. "Lands right in the water!"
"Then comes the wave!" Colin made a wave sign with his hands.
"Where's Mitchum?" Ben stopped the duo from reenacting the whole incident. He wasn't anxious to hear the rest of the story of how all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Logan together again.
"Oh, the dark lord? We left word but haven't heard anything back. We don't expect to. He never comes." Finn answered, "But we've come up with a plan to get around the whole family only get information thing…"
"You've called Chelsea?" Ben asked impatiently.
"Chelsea would be absolutely no help at all. She's in rehab, and the divorce finalized in March last year. We're adopting him!" Colin announced. Finn nodded in agreement.
"What?"
"Logan will make a fine son." Finn reasoned at Ben's stunned face.
"I know you can always trust my son to take things literally, but when I told him he needed a push, I was talking about was a metaphorical one not off a cliff!" Mitchum Huntzberger's voice boomed behind Ben's back, making him jump. "Ben, glad you could make it."
Ben shrugged. It's not like the newspaper king left him much choice. Sending the family jet to collect him from Seattle directly to London, was nothing akin to asking.
"I'm only going to ask this once, you imbecile boys. Whose idea was it?" Colin and Finn exchanged looks. Both suddenly looked scolded twelve years old boys.
"Logan's. The parachute was meant to open."
"It's called the Life and Death Brigade. It was an accident." Finn corrected.
"I know what's it called. You're supposed to avoid the death part! And you were supposed to stop him from throwing himself off a cliff!" Mitchum barked. "Three days ago, when I saw my son he was in fully functioning form, now you tell me what on earth have made him pull this idiotic stunt."
"It's was June 21st," Colin answered, looking down at his shoes uncomfortably. Ben sighed at the information. Finn stuck his hands into his pockets, rocking on his heels.
"What is so damn special about June 21st!? Look at me when you speak McCrae." Mitchum ordered.
Finn, Colin, and Ben exchanged conflicted glances. Neither man wanted to be the one disclosing that information.
"It's his wedding date." Ben's quiet words made Mitchum curse.
"That girl was always nothing but trouble. Where's the doctor?"
Xx
"He's banged up pretty bad, but most bruises are superficial apart to a broken ankle. He's one lucky guy to have landed in the water the way he did. He swallowed a lot of water, and we are monitoring his lungs to see he doesn't develop pneumonia or an infection. He cracked two ribs, and he's going to be in pain. He has a mild concussion but no further damage. We're just keeping him for observation... I've seen worse. He's going to make a full recovery." The doctor concluded.
"Robocop made a full recovery look where that led him." Finn quipped only to be hashed by Colin. Ben smiled despite himself. Such a typical Logan joke.
Mitchum shook his head. His son sure knew how to pick them.
"We had to give him some strong painkillers due to the operation on his leg. It knocked him out for the meantime; he's going to be in some pain for a while." The doctor paused, "I do have a few questions; we ran some blood tests, is Logan diagnosed with ADHD?"
Mitchum seemed surprised the doctor aimed the question at him, "Not that I know of."
"Potential side effects of the stimulant drug like Ritalin on those without ADHD showed changes in brain chemistry associated with risk-taking behavior, sleep disruption, and other undesirable effects." The doctor explained.
"That's not out of the ordinary behavior for Logan." Colin puffed. Ben agreed silently.
"Yeah, Logan never sleeps anyways." Finn offered his two cents.
"What the kind doctor is nicely asking - is my son abusing prescription drugs?" Mitchum cross-examines the witnesses. The three younger men went quiet again. "Today, if you may."
"Just weed. Only on weekends." Finn coats it. "And E's. Rarely."
"What about Cocaine?" Mitchum directly asked.
"Logan was never into that. That was Chelsea's thing." Colin confessed.
"Anything else?"
"He has a sleeping pills prescription, but he never touches them." Ben Attwood spoke for the first time since the doctor arrived. "I don't know anything about the Ritalin."
Xx
"It is time. It is time that he to stop jumping out of planes in gorilla masks, and crashing boats, and getting plastered every night, and ending up in the hospital. He was finally on a path. That girl is out of the picture, and he's away from those dopes Colin and Finn and the stupid Life and Death Brigade…"
The newspaper king paced the floor in front of his son's hospital room. A thin, metal, telescoping pointer suddenly materialized out of his dress-shirt pocket. Ben's eyes followed the tip memorized as it swung back and forth in the rhythm of his strides. He sometimes wondered if Logan realized how alike he and the man he called his father really was.
Colin and Finn wisely disappeared after Mitchum mercilessly bashed them. Logan's absence from the scene in the hospital's hallway only demonstrated how integral part of the trio he was. They took it in silence. Logan would have talked back.
"I did everything he asked. Bought him out, gave him a free hand in London, turned a blind eye of his nightly activities, of his dubious choice of bedmates… What am I going to do with him? The boy thinks he's Peter Pan. Flying off buildings in London and cliffs in Scotland!"
Ben couldn't quite decide what Mitchum Huntzberger was more, pissed, or panicked.
"Do I need to check him into rehab? I nearly lost him." The media mogul looked helplessly at the man his son's confines in. A man who used to once work for him.
Ben made a mental note to include this moment in his memoir if he'd ever write one. The cracks in Mitchum Huntzberger's bust-your-balls attitude. Epiphany dawned. Mitchum Huntzberger was scared of his son's vulnerability, which is why he has yet to step a foot inside his hospital room.
"I haven't been a father long. And the most pain my daughter ever endured is the colic, so it's not much by comparison…" Ben finally said, looking into his stale coffee cup, "But, sometimes all you can do is love them."
"Don't be ridiculous, Benjamin. Of course, I love him." The man who wears a yellow tie spluttered, "He's my son. He knows that."
"No, he doesn't." Ben snorted, "Logan doesn't need a lecture; he doesn't need a push, he doesn't need you to fix it for him. Just love your son."
Mitchum collapsed on the plastic chair next to his son's business partner, "I don't know how to get through to him. He keeps pushing me away."
"If you can't find it within you, swallow your pride, call Aaron Rosen and ask how."
~w~
Logan was spending his days in a chemically induced sleep, rummaging the fridge at night and surfing the movie channels. A plate with vegetables arranged in a smiley face stared back of him from the second shelf in the fridge: broccoli hair, carrot's mouth. A mashed potato face. Creepy.
Did his father think he was a child? He's eating cereal.
Logan took the milk out and slammed the door. His left ankle busted in pain as he hopped on one leg towards the cabinet that stored the coco-puffs. His other leg wasn't hurt but stiff from the recovering bruises.
Empty. Mitchum Huntzberger moved the cereal.
Mitchum was also strictly documenting what painkillers he took. How many sleeping pills. Before Logan took a shower, Mitchum would apply the plastic wrap on his ankle too tight. It soon became apparent his dad was not in a hurry to go anywhere. Not back to America. Not even the London office. The two-bedroom apartment was too small for both of them. Logan felt crowded. It seemed like the man was always either one step ahead of him, or one step behind him.
Logan intentionally switched his hours to avoid his father's presence, and it worked until the physiotherapist told Mitchum Logan should put more effort into it.
"I dare you to move. I dare you to pick yourself up off the floor."
"I can't." Logan moaned. The exercise routine that required lying on the floor and flex was tolerable. Those he could do. The real torture began when he practiced stepping.
"Stop lying to me, Logan. You can do anything. You just have to believe in yourself. Did we learn nothing from "Mad Hot Ballroom?"
Logan narrowed his eyes at his father. He was never watching documentary movies with him ever again.
"If I'd stop lying, I'd just disappoint you." he spat.
"Somehow, you reach the cereal cabinet just fine."
Xx
"Why are we here?" Logan sat, staring straight ahead at the darkened stage. The theatre was a better option than the office.
He regretted agreeing to go— but the desire to get out has won in the end. He had the false impression he could lose his father in the crowds. His ankle, even if better, slowed him down.
"Honor recommended it. Said you might need a change of scenery and that you'd like it." Mitchum browsed the program of The Lion King musical.
Honor. Honor was a traitor, siding with his father. She refused to use her only daughter's influence to convince his father to lay off. Or leave. Logan would be good with either. Desperately, Logan even called his mother. Surely she missed him. She was no help at all.
So was Aaron Rosen.
"It's the closest thing to the zoo I could think of; I never liked Zoo. Poor animals locked in cages for breeding and display."
'Poor Logan locked in a golden cage for breeding and display.' Logan couldn't help but bitterly think.
"Why can't we sit down there?"
"The only seats they had fit for your leg are the aisle seats. I can't stand sitting near the aisle." Mitchum cast a side-look at his son.
Logan huffed in dissatisfaction. An elegant excuse to avoid ordinary people. Logan longed to get lost in them. Here he was again, copped in closed quarters with father, in a theatre box as the crowd took their seats below.
Xx
At the end of the first act, Logan's eyes are brimming with tears. Logan Huntzberger didn't want to be king. By the end of the second act, Mitchum secretly wipes a tear. Logan's face is embarrassingly wet.
Even Simba couldn't escape his destiny. "I want out. I want out of everything."
"Logan, I know it might not look like it now, but cutting Chelsea out of your life might as well be the best thing that ever happened to you." Mitchum rolled the program in his hands.
"You mean the best thing you that happened to you." Logan spat his eyes defiantly fixed at the stage.
Mitchum didn't bother to deny it. Why waste breath on denying the truth. "With his girl, there's always something tearing you apart. It always lasts so much longer than you counted on. And it hits you so much harder than you thought."
"You are not listening to me…"
"You want out?"
"Yes," Logan says venomously.
"Okay." Mitchum counters calmly, "Why?"
Logan can't find the words. Or maybe he can't find a reason.
"Huntzbergers don't quit. You get up, dust off, and you double down. Do you need time? I'll give you all the time in the world." Mitchum tapped his son's knee with the rolled program, "But I dare you to move."
~w~
January 2014
"My headpiece is ringing off the hook with calls. Do you know who has become my best friend at work? Natalie. And she's not even in the same time zone as me." Shiri kept venting. "I have a headache."
"Nicole, you have been dethroned. Have some Advil." Kate throws a small bottle of pills at the office manager.
"I'm sure Natalie is nice." From Rory's personal experience, efficient would be the right word to describe Natalie. It seemed like neither Nicole nor Kate was up to talking the curvy woman's rant down.
"That besides the point. He keeps walking around, swinging that awful golf club and whistling that annoying Mary Poppins song every time he passes my desk." By he, Shiri means Logan.
"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?" Kate egged on the rant.
"Today, he switched to the Kite's song at the end of the movie. He better not whistle the whole soundtrack."
"Ask Ben to tell him to stop." Rory tried to sound indifferent.
"You think I didn't? Ben said the only way to make him stop is to beat him at his game." Shiri puffed in frustration. "He's playing along with this, I'm telling you – they teamed up."
Rory silently agreed with Ben. "So whistle back. Did you come here for Disney song recommendations?
Shiri looked at Rory pointedly.
"I'm so staying out of this," Rory said quickly. She was never more thankful for the interruption of her shrilling phone. Her mood sky rocked at the name flashing on the screen. "Hey, Chip."
"Chip?" Nicole mouthed. Shiri smirked craftily. Kate's interest piqued.
"No, it's a great time! I'm free to talk, what's up?" Rory ignored her friends and picked up a pencil drawing little circles as the producer man rattled information down the phone. "This weekend? Yeah, I'm game. Send me the details? Alright. See you tonight."
"You've been keeping secrets from us, Gilmore!" Nicole accused the minute she hanged up the phone. "Why didn't you say you and the producer reconnected? The gossip well has been dry for weeks! Dish!"
"Just saying… someone didn't go back home to the holidays this year…" Kate singsonged.
"It's just a business. Chip's company is filming a commercials series, and they need someone for stills."
"On the weekend?" Shiri and Nicole shared a skeptic look.
"Time is money. You need to get as many scenes as you can."
"This innocent face doesn't work on us." Shiri pointed at the string bracelet decorating her wrist. "So he's not only just Chip by name, but he's also cheap on the gift department. No surprise, artists are poor."
"I think it's pretty." Rory twisted the bracelet on her wrist. Invisible strings. She adored the simple under the radar piece. She fell in love with it more every day. It was symbolic.
"It is pretty when you are, like, twelve?" Shiri looked her square in the eye. "Dump his ass, honey."
"Why am I not surprised to find you here?" Logan and his impeccable timing.
"What are you? The attendance's police? I was on my way back to my desk." Shiri fired back at the man standing at the door with his golf club.
"Some people call me the space cowboy. Some call me the gangster of love. Some people call me Maurice." Rory caught the flickering glint in his eye. The smirk and dimples display on his cleaned shaved face. He was so embarrassingly happy lately. "Get there faster, and stop by my office. I need you to type something."
Logan leaves with the same sudden manner he showed up. Rory wondered if him whistling 'Let's go fly a kite' had anything to do with the fact that things were crazy good between them since Thanks Giving.
"That's a song, isn't it? What song is that?" Shiri showed no intention of leaving anytime soon.
Rory shrugged. Probably. She didn't know which.
"The joker by Steve Miller's Band. 'Space Cowboy' is a much better song, in my opinion. My brother used to listen to it on repeat until I pulled the tape out of the cassettes. It makes me feel old." Kate supplied a cultural tidbit that fell on Shiri's uninterested ears.
"You do know that he types faster than me, right? I've timed him. He types ninety words a minute. He just wants to show off his rocket model Lego." Shiri rolled her eyes, "Why did he stop going to New York again?"
"No idea," Rory responded. In all fairness, she wondered the same.
~w~
"A little to the left. Now, fix it a bit to the right. No, more to the right. I think it's crocked, don't you?" Logan directed the office manager to move the square vinyl cover per his instruction. Shiri stood barefoot on the yellow couch. Holding two record covers leveled against the glass wall. Three more waited on the sofa. "Can you show me how it looks a little higher? I think that might look better."
Logan tapped the golf club on the glass wall a little higher.
Shiri huffed. "Get that club away from me."
"What is going on?" Ben took a minute to watch the scene unfold before him. Logan smirked at his friend, swinging his golf club aimlessly. Sometimes, well, most of the time, Logan enjoyed hassling Shiri just for sport.
"I'm redecorating." Logan offered offhandedly.
"FedEx delivered him a package from Califonia, and he decided he's gonna hall of fame his office. At least he didn't decide to pack up the whole office two floors up like last time." Shiri stepped down from the couch, turning the covers over. "Springsteen, The Fundations, Van Morrison, Patsy Cline, and I've never heard of this stereo-something. Questionable musical taste. Where did you get it from anyway?"
Ben's eyes focused on the last item. Dakota. Stereophonics.
"The record store." Logan avoided Ben's penetrating eyes, suddenly looked interested in tapping the various golf balls on the floor and arranging them in a line.
Ben took the records to cover off the office manager's hands. "You can get back to your regular job. Close the door."
The office manager glanced between the two men before leaving.
"Baby, now that I found you, I can't let you go?" Ben questioned, taking a seat on the yellow couch, rotating the Beatle's single of 'Ticket to Ride' in his hands, "Chelsea was feeling symbolic?"
"I suppose. Chapter closed." Logan confirmed, hitting the golf club against the first ball. "This is the return of the space cowboy, interplanetary, good vibe zone. No, we don't talk, and - yes, I'm taking my pills."
Ben picked up the Springsteen's record. Secret Garden. Theme from Jerry Maguire. The other two albums were a riddle. "You are not having a reversed breakdown on me, right? How's Rory?"
"Not pregnant." Logan gave the answer he always gives when Colin or Ben asks.
"Where is Rory?" Ben moved to his next question.
The second ball missed the cup he used as an improvised hole. "No idea. I'm not her babysitter."
"Right. Just her baby partner."
Logan slowly grazed the next ball in the line. "Ben?"
"Yeah?"
"Take a chill pill." Logan refocused his attention back on the line of balls.
"Um, Logan." Ben's voiced his name after a few moments.
"Yeah…?" Logan asked, aiming his swing to guide the golf ball into the cup lying on the carpet.
"Why is your dad here?"
"What?!" Logan's whole body whipped around in the direction of Ben's gaze. The golf club went flying out of his hands, and Logan winced at the smashing sound of glass. Ben slapped his forehead in despair. The gold club laid once again, surrounded by shimmers of glass.
Mitchum Huntzberger squinted his eyes at his son.
"Oh! you have got to be kidding me!" Shiri's voice vocalized Logan's sentiment exactly.
~w~
"Hugo approached me with this. He's shopping for publishing rights." Mitchum laid out a sample of colorful chromo comic strips on Logan's counter top, "Originally posted on Facebook, didn't gain a lot of followers. Hugo tells me that followers equal readership. Why am I explaining that to you? You understand this stuff better than I do. He thinks it works better in print, and he thinks you'll agree with him."
Mitchum looked up to find his son's back turned on him. Head buried in the refrigerator.
"Logan?"
"Listen, Dad, when Rory gets here..." Logan checked the labels on the medication blocking out his dad's chatter. He was trying to remember which he should be using tonight.
It's was Monday, and Logan wasn't thrilled about his father crashing the party. What more, Rory's phone went straight voice mail; texts were left unanswered. Logan assumes she'd show up in time for dinner. Monday is Monday.
And nothing kept the girl away from food.
"Did you know she used to work for Hugo?"
"I'm familiar with her resume," Logan responded absentmindedly, scratching his head, trying to remember where did he put the syringe.
"It still needs some work. A good editor will do great things with it. What do you think?" Mitchum went back to discussing the comics. "Logan." His father called his attention.
"Since when do you pay attention to comic?"
"Hugo thought I might express interest. Can't say he was off the mark."
"You came all the way to Seattle to discuss some comics with me? I haven't been doing anything remotely related to print for the last three years. Maybe longer."
"If you had come home for Christmas, as discussed, instead of hiding out in Seattle with your girlfriend. I wouldn't have to." Mitchum pushed the manuscript over the counter forcing his son to look at it. "The protagonist is a photographer from Seattle, goes by the initials R.G. rings a bell?"
"She's not my girlfriend." Logan retorted instinctively, slowly taking the comics strips. "First time I see this."
The Ferris wheel. The Planetarium. The Pyramid staircase. Bits of their boat fight. Casablanca airport.
"…Target the female readership. That way, we can better control this if this is under our thumb. I'd rather it ran by us. I reckon you agree?" Mitchum Huntzberger watched his son's expression change from caught off guard to emotional to full-on angry.
The older man knew his heir had not heard a single word.
Logan tried to fight the lump in his throat. He knew Rory draws comics like scribbles of phrases she finds funny. He first came across it on the ferry - the washed sperm, for example. Others, he found lying around randomly when he spent time at her place.
It was clever. Entertaining even. But this, this was something else.
Logan's saliva tasted like metal, like a betrayal.
"Logan, are you listening to me?" Mitchum questioned.
The younger's man eyes snapped to his father. "Are there more of these?"
"A bunch," Mitchum pulled a bonded manuscript out of his business case, "Some are better than others. It looks like they are mostly stand-alone. A good editor can take these places."
"No one is taking this anywhere. I'm shutting this down."
The front door suddenly slammed.
"Alright, Huntzberger! just poke me with that thing, and let's get it over with; I'm starving! Did you hear about the new Indonesian place? Chip said it's amazing! Let's check it out; I had the best day you wouldn't believe…" Rory stopped in her tracks. Frozen in the awkward arrangement of a hat in one hand, the camera angled awkwardly, holding her red coat midway off.
Both men squinted at her in the same way. Like she has fallen through the roof.
"Mr. Huntzberger. It's Monday." Rory blurted instinctively, her eyes sending Logan a panicked look.
Logan's eyes blazed back at her.
"Hello, Rory. I recall we agreed on Mitchum. I missed you at the office today. Good day?" Mitchum greeted and turned to his son, "My guess the lady did not know I was coming?"
"No one knew you were coming. I called." Logan answered snappily. He deliberately turned, collecting the necessities for the evening ritual. "Be right back."
Rory hurried past his intimidating father following Logan's lead to the bedroom. The man offered her a facilitating smile she couldn't make sense of.
"Did our wires got crossed?" Rory asked carefully.
"No." Logan busied himself with the preparation for the shot. Inserting the syringe into the cap and drawing out the liquid.
"Your dad's here." She finished removing her outdoor wear, throwing all items on the bed.
"I know. He is hard to miss." Logan tapped the syringe squinting tiny drops flow off the needle. He stubbornly didn't meet her eye.
"Why is your dad here? A little warning would have been appreciated. You could have called..."
"I did. If you had answered your cell or checked your messages…" Logan said, irritated, "Stomach or thigh?"
"My phone died. What is he doing here? Did you know he was coming?"
"Does it looks like I knew he was coming? He just showed up. It wouldn't be a surprise if you weren't playing hooky for the day." The blonde repeated, "Stomach or thigh?"
"Stomach." Rory pulled up her shirt, granting access to her lower abdomen averting her eyes. She hated the needles. She reached for her camera. "Wait – I need to document this."
"Rory, I don't have time for this. And I'm not in the mood." Logan was mad. Rory could tell by the clench of his jaw.
"Why is he here?" She asked again.
"He's here because of you. Keep still." Logan's hands pinched the skin, preparing to insert the needle.
"Me?"
"Yes. You." Logan answered tightly. A cloud of anger lingered over his head.
"Why are you mad?"
"Care to explain why Hugo handed my father a bunch of comic strips vividly portraying every single intimate interaction we had?" The content of the syringe finished emptying into her tissues.
"Ow, Logan, did you have to make it hurt?"
~w~
"So, Monday is date night? That's a great idea. Must run this by your mother." Mitchum moved his gaze from Logan's dejected form and smiled at Rory. Logan only scowled back.
"Something like that," Rory answered carefully, eyeing the younger Huntzberger. He had clammed up after her partial confession in the bedroom and remained extremely snappy, or standoffish at best, for the rest of the night.
"How about more wine?" Mitchum went to re-fill Rory's glass, trying to ease the tension.
Rory quickly covered her glass.
"She can't drink," Logan stated.
"Oh." The older man's eyes ping-ponged between his son and the lady sitting at the table. Neither indicated any will to share news, "I apologize. I'm flying out later tonight. Maybe I should pace myself too."
"Would be wise," Logan concluded tightly. The rest of the wine left un-poured.
"Interesting choice this Indonesian food. You know, Rory, I travel a lot but never came across it before. So, tell me more about the comics. Is it finished? or it's still a work in process – Hugo wasn't very clear about that."
Logan's eyes stayed unwavering on her. He wanted an answer too.
"Ah… actually… I've been toying with some stuff. But I haven't put anything down…" Rory trailed off at Logan's thunderous face. "I don't know yet."
"What do you think, Logan?"
"It doesn't matter what I think. We're not going to run this."
"Ruth thinks this has great potential. A wide range of female audiences is looking for relatable women content, content created by women. They are looking for a storyteller who understands the female experience. What's it like to be a woman. Her words, not mine." Mitchum pointed out, amused, "According to her, I'm a white privilege male."
Rory couldn't help but smile at the praises the Newspaperman throw around. The great Mitchum Huntzberger conducted a pitch for her work. To his very objective son.
"Who's Ruth Gonzales?" Rory's eyes pinged ponged between father and son.
"Ruth is a copy editor for Mary Claire. She and Logan go way back." Rory's head went spinning with jealousy at the implied interaction. Mitchum diverted the subject. "Tell me more about your film photography thing."
"You've run this by Ruth Gonzales?" Logan asked for clarification before Rory has the change to dive into her favorite topic of the night.
The man with the yellow tie turns back to Logan, "I reckoned this would serve your interests better."
"Nothing about this serves my interests," Logan answered firmly. The vine in his forehead throbbed. It was like watching a bomb ticking away.
"Five hundred words 'dump his ass, honey' advice columns are dead and buried. People don't want to be told what to do anymore. They want stories, and they want to shout out their feedback. Be reactive. Be included. This is a conversation starter."
"No." Logan kept his persistence. "You don't get involved."
"With a little work, this could be premium content. Visuals are the future. No other magazine is currently doing anything like it. You've been saying storytelling is the direction we need to go for years. This could be the talk of the year."
"No."
Watching his father interact and take, what slowly Logan realized, a genuine interest in Rory was unnerving. Logan's head nearly exploded with anger and irony.
"I'm going to make it very clear, to the both of you," Logan made sure to meet his father's and his baby partner's eyes. "This is private, and it's going to remain private."
"No one can hardly recognize it's you. I censored your name. There is no other identification. Always drawn from the back." Rory reasoned for the fifth time tonight. He was just unreasonable.
"You plenty imply my identity. Who else could L.H. could be?"
"Liam Hemsworth." Mitchum offered only to meet with Logan's deathly stare.
"Butt out, Dad," Logan warns bluntly.
Rory looked at Mitchum, stunned. "You know who Liam Hemsworth is?"
Logan pushed his chair back, "I need some air."
Rory set to follow him for the second time tonight. A heavy hand rested on her arm to stop her. She turned to look at the older version of Logan. Blue eyes instead of brown. "He needs a couple of minutes. Trust me."
~W~
When Logan returns with the fainted hint of cigarette smoke, Mitchum settled the bill and made his excuses to leave. Logan flinched away when his father tried to squeeze his shoulder. The newspaperman rewarded Rory with a peck on the cheek and a card.
Rory and her baby partner stand side by side on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant watching the man he calls father sped away in a taxi. Rory can't even begin to assess the damage.
"Look at you, getting a card," Logan commented sarcastically.
Logan was in a foul mood. Rory felt robbed of her Monday night dinner. Her secret version of Logan now traded with this spiteful version. She could feel the blow-out approaching. Something deep inside tells her Logan was just holding off the fight because of his father.
"I didn't go to your father for a job, Logan. He came to me with an opportunity. I didn't even think there was a chance he'd lay his hands on this." Rory pulled her red coat tighter around her.
"And your gonna take it."
"You heard what he said; this is a great opportunity. Not all of us have the opportunities you have. It's not as easy when it's not handed to you."
"Oh, this is handed to you. Don't be naïve." Logan spat, holding out his hand to flag down another taxi.
"Your dad is professional. A professional who thinks something I've created has an audience. It's a vote of confidence. And not only him, but a bunch of other people too. No one has ever thought it was good before. Ben didn't, the people on the internet didn't, my mom hated it. You out of all people should relate."
"He's not doing this out of the kindness of his heart; he's not doing it because he thinks you're talented. He's not doing this because he thinks it's worth something - He's doing it because you're with me."
"I'm not with you. I'm your baby partner." Rory looked at him argumentative, missing the look he gives her. "No, he doesn't."
"Yes, he does. I know him. I know his every expression, his every nuance. If he has you under his thumb, he has me under his thumb. He must be relishing in his sweet revenge, considering how successful it all went." He says almost accusingly. "I should have seen this coming."
"You know what, Logan? Even if he does - I don't care. I deserve that chance. Even if he does it because he thinks I'm your dirty little secret -"
"He doesn't think you are my dirty little secret. Nobody thinks that!" Logan says tightly, "Stop twisting my words. I don't want you working for him, Rory. I'm trying to protect you."
The attempts to hail a taxi continues.
"No, you're not. You're throwing a hissy because you don't get your way. I don't need your protection." Rory protested, "Funny. You have a problem with me working for him, but you have no problem working for him yourself. And you surely don't have a problem with me working for you. That's some double standard."
"Working for my father is not keeping it separated. That's the deepest level of immersing yourself in the Huntzberger universe."
A taxi finally stops.
"Oh, yes! The horrible Huntzberger life. What's so wrong about the Huntzberger universe anyway? The charmed life is just fine when it suits you." Rory says harshly. He is just like her mother. "If you are a part of it - Why shouldn't I be?"
"You better not say things you know nothing about, Rory." He warns. Logan holds the door of the taxi, waiting. "Get in."
"No." She stays put, refusing him, "Give me a reason why I shouldn't. A good reason."
Logan slams the taxi door forcefully, his temper finally evident. The arguing couple remain standing in the street. The driver doesn't waste his time and drives away.
"Because you are never going to be a Huntzberger! You are mine. Just mine! He doesn't get a foot in it."
Rory takes a step back. Why does he always throw the most candid confessions at the most inappropriate times?
"You want to quit working at Current? Go ahead – quit! But we both know you don't want to – you had every opportunity to walk out – and you didn't. No one's stopping you. I'm not what's keeping you there."
"So what's keeping me there? Oh, you wise one." She challenges him.
"You're scared of your own shadow." It's scary how he reads right through her.
"So are you, Mr. Huntzberger obligations!" She retorts without a beat.
Low blow. She can tell by the way he whipped around the conversation back at her.
"You think it's all so easy for me? I don't want that life." He slaps his fist on hand for emphasis, "All I have is one door. New York is the end game – I can't avoid it, but I can postpone it. You don't know everything, so you better keep your mouth shut."
"I never know because you don't tell me anything!" She stumps her foot in frustration.
"Like you tell me, huh? What do you want my soul or something? Why should I tell you anything?" Logan shook with anger. She never saw him this angry. Not even after Fez. "Why would I trust you when you go around my back, selling your kiss and tell, spilling private moments all over the internet?!"
"Why not? I'm your baby partner. I deserve it." Rory can't believe her boldness, "I didn't go behind your back, Logan. We are keeping things separated; that's how you wanted it, remember?"
"This isn't part of the deal!" Logan's hands grasp at his hair in frustration. "What were you even thinking of putting it down on paper!?… What had possessed you to publish it… to shop it around?"
"You gave me the comics idea! You and your 'comics is the non-judgmental part of the paper' logic."
"What are you talking about!? I didn't tell you to splash out your love life in a cartoon! You choose to do that. That was all you."
"You don't even remember. How typical of you! Don't you just love to build me up, mess me around, and knock me back down." He words pick up speed, "I created something! I don't know why everyone keeps telling me you are my 'go-to' guy on this. From the moment you've found out about it, all you've been doing all night is see red and shoot daggers at me."
"What did you expect?! A round of applause? A standing ovation? What did you want me to say? Good job?" Logan throws his hands in question, "I'm not going to do that! You have put, nearly every intimate moment you had with who-knows-how-many-guys, including me, very graphically down to paper - and you didn't even ask for my permission!"
"I don't need your permission; you are not my boyfriend!" Rory Gilmore counters at him.
"That is beside the point." He returns hotly.
"This is exactly the point!" She yells back at him. "You wanted separate – separate this!"
A lull. Both are out of insults or truths.
Rory Gilmore recomposes herself with a deep breath, The parallel to the latest conversation with Lorelai is flashing before her eyes. "I know all the games you play, Logan. You are not going to guilt me or Huntzberger me into having your way. You don't have to like it, but don't get to have a say in this. I'm taking this opportunity, and tomorrow I'm telling Kate all about you."
They both simultaneously sigh.
"Come on," Logan says. His features still angry, but his voice is mellow.
"Where?" She asks suspiciously.
"Home." His face gains some composure, "This is not how I wanted tonight to go."
~w~
"His dad was in town."
"Did you know the human head weighs 8 pounds?" Ben countered back with a fact, adding the sugar into his coffee. "No offense, Rory. Logan doesn't end up on my couch when he clashes with Mitchum. That's what getting hammered with Colin and Finn, and Flasky is for."
Rory nearly threw her arms around the tall man's neck when he cornered her by the elevator the next morning, saying: "let's talk comics." Once again, Rory is not quite sure if he means comics-comics or code for Logan. They had collided now, so maybe one is the same. Nevertheless, Rory need not be asked twice to turn on her heels.
"Mitchum wants to publish my comics. I'm taking him up on his offer." Rory felt like a huge balloon left her lung once she admits it to Ben.
"He does? You do?" Ben's expression is utterly surprised. Apparently Logan didn't share. "You really should have started with that."
"Logan flipped."
"You blind-sided him. Logan doesn't handle being blind-sided too well."
"I did not."
Ben took a sip of his coffee for a deliberated pause, "Rory, he's never going to show his hand if each time he starts to get comfortable with the situation, you throw him a curve-ball and kick him off the couch."
"I didn't kick the cat."
"Why do we always get to the point I always have to spell it out to you?" Ben sighed, "You are about to broadcast his private universe and heart for all to see. Nationwide. At the courtesy of his father, out of all people. You left him no control of the narrative, didn't ask his permission, didn't consult him on it. He didn't even know about its existence. He feels betrayed."
"No one is going know it's him anyway."
"Logan is gonna know," Ben concluded simply. "Rory, Logan didn't just crash your date with Joel at the Thompson to up you one. He was protecting his perfect memory from being tainted."
The expression on her face turned from stubborn to slightly remorseful.
"Logan might be a thirty-something years old man, but mentally he is five. He gets over-dramatic when it comes to Mitchum in general. It's not always justified. Right now, he is terrified his favorite toy will be confiscated." Ben stirred his coffee unfazed. "I doubt he's happy his father is involved. But he's not going to deprive you of an opportunity, that's not his style. He'll cool off and come groveling with some stupid grand gesture."
Rory bites her lip.
"What?" Ben asked, alarmed.
"He fixed it."
"He fixed what?"
"The comics. I woke up this morning, alone, all the furniture pushed to the side, and I found the comics laid out on the floor– sequenced, numbered. Post It to indicate where to fill the blanks." Rory described the scene she woke up to, "There's also a pile of sketches which, according to him, are: 'Trash. Stay on message'. And he's right. It is better this way."
Ben smiled, "I told you so. Logan is the master of narrative."
"I don't understand; he was so against it last night." Rory rubbed her temples, "What do I do now?"
"Start filling the blanks - and publish it," Ben stated simply.
"But you just said…"
"Sounds like Logan spent most of the night channeling his inner Picasso. He fixed it. You stayed the night." Ben gave her a soft smile, "Stop fighting him on definitions and just be in the moment and enjoy him."
Rory took a sip from her own coffee. Cold. Yuck.
"He walks with a spring in his step; he whistles while he works. I'm afraid that if I poke him, he'll burst and spray love juice on me." Rory's eye widened at the visual his choice of word sprung to her mind, "You're doing something right, just ease up on the poor guy a little. He has some right to be upset about this."
~w~
Rory sat Indian style on a pillow staring at her dissembled manuscript laid out on Logan's wooden floor. It's what she's been doing ever since she got back from work—taking in the nuances. Logan had cast out into the "garbage" pile nearly all the comics mentioning other guys.
The rattles of keys, the now-familiar thud of the gym back dropping by the door. Logan is kicking off his shoes. Rory keeps her back to the door listening to his sock-covered strides.
"Hey."
"Hey." His drawl sends shivers of uncertainty down her spin.
"No one has ever dumped me quoting Humphry Bogart." Rory isn't sure what exactly makes her say that. Maybe because something in her knows he'll react. Perhaps, because when things were great before Fes, she made a career move and Logan dropped her like a hot potato.
"I wasn't trying to make history."
"No. it was just you being you. Doing that thing you do. Breaking my heart into a million pieces, like you always do." Her hands hide in her sleeves. Even after her conversation with Ben, Rory can't place the roots of Logan's dismay, "Is it him or me?"
"It's both." He answers.
"When I started doing this, I didn't think you'd ever be more than a one night stand. Like most of them." It's the only thing she finds worth saying when he lowers himself down to the floor. Logan buries his face in her hair. It's strange how intimate this is. "Should I.. keep filling the blanks?"
"I'm not okay with this. Yet." He says quietly into her hair, "I'd rather you don't work with him. But, I can't tell you not to."
Rory's heart can't help but flutter. Ben was right. Ben is always right.
"My mom hates this too. You two are very alike." Rory speaks, "She's my best friend in the whole wide world. She had this vision of me, of what my life should look like, of who I should be… but I'm not. I couldn't keep up the charade anymore after the night in the pyramid. Mom already stumbled upon the truth; there was no point to keep lying to everyone."
Logan's face is kept buried in her hair. He says nothing, she can't feel him breathing, but something tells her he's listening.
"I was flailing. I didn't have a plan or a list or a clue what I'm doing. I was just biding my days, wasting my time, dating guys I shouldn't be dating, or didn't want to date, spending my weekends capturing other people's happy ever after. The only thing I really like about my day job - is the breaks."
She stops to process her words.
"You told me, in the laundry room, that in comics - even if you missed a few installments and you pick it up later - they still feel like old friends. It gave me some hope, you know? If tell her through comics, maybe she'd still be disappointed and judgmental, but I hoped she'd be less..." The rest of her words chokes in her throat. "Logan, please say something."
"I kinda suspected the breaks thing. Come here." His left arm sneaks around her waist, pulling her closer. Rory notices for the first time the bandage on his hand.
"What the hell happened to your hand?" Her face whip around to look at him.
"Oh, that." He refers to the white bandage dismissively, "I landed wrong while climbing. It's just a sprain, I've been worse. Unless you want to kiss it better?" A smirk spreads across his face; his dimples pop out.
Rory jabbed her fist into his upper arm. "You're so full of yourself."
"Exercising violence to an already hurting party is not how making up goes, Rory."
"Oh, is that what you're doing?"
"If you hit me, I don't."