"You said you were willing to do clothes, Rory," Louise reminded her,
leaning against the closed door of the spacious bathroom.
"This isn't considered clothing," Rory shot back.
"What do you mean?"
"It's more of a handkerchief than a garment."
"This is the trend now, if you haven't noticed." She looked at Madeline for support. She only shrugged.
"In what country?"
"They're called clubbing clothes." After a moment of silence, she added, "you're going to have to come out eventually."
"Ha! Evidently you don't know the Gilmore way. I can go for days without food!"
"How about coffee?" Smiling at the silence that ensued, she exchanged a high-five with Madeline. The door opened with a whoosh. Grumbling incoherently, Rory stepped out.
"Let's get this over with."
As they exited the highly-stylized Rose Royce, Louise handed Rory a card.
"What's this for?"
"It's you ID. Duh."
"ID?"
"You have to be eighteen."
"One problem. We're not."
"And that's where these come in." She pointed at the card in Rory's hands.
Flipping it over, Rory shook her head. " I am NOT a twenty-five year old african-american woman."
Dismissing her statement, Madeline led them towards the line. "This is only part of the plan to get in."
"What do you mean?"
"Watch and learn."
Sauntering confidently over to the bouncer, they leaned seductively over him.
"Hi there," Louise greeted.
"What do you want?" He asked gruffly.
"Our friends are already in there. And you know it's rude to make people wait."
"We were wondering, could you help us get in?"
"Wait in line like the rest of 'em."
Running a finger over the collar of his shirt, Louise inched nearer. "You don't understand how important it is."
"We'd be SO grateful if you'd just let us in," Madeline added. They both giggled.
Rory looked away disgustedly.
He hesitated. "Ids?"
"Just flash it quickly and walk in," Madeline whispered. They did so, and Rory glanced nervously at the bouncer as they passed him.
"I can't believe that worked," Rory exclaimed.
"Like a charm," Louise said airily. Perusing the room for her next victim, she spotted the lucky guy and advanced slowly.
"Where's she going?" Rory asked suspiciously.
"We won't be seeing her any time soon. Come on. The others should be over there."
Glancing over at Rory, she shook her head in disapproval. "If you're going to hang out with us, you have to loosen up. You really think you'll get accepted into the popular crowd if you're all uptight at a club?"
Rory slumped her shoulders a little in an effort to be more casual. It was almost comical. Holding back her laughter, Madeline looked at her sympathetically. "You don't do this much, do you?"
Rory shook her head.
"Just follow my lead."
As Madeline threaded her way through the crowd of bodies, Rory took a deep breath. She was about to plunge head on into the world of shallow, superficial socialites. She'd been avoiding it ever since she had enrolled at Chilton, and now, now she would voluntarily place herself in the center of it all. At once she was seized by doubt. Then she heard familiar laughter. The crowd was thinning as they headed toward the back of the club, and she could make out a familiar figure with tousled blonde hair. His head was turned, and she was studying his profile. He turned toward her, and all at once she knew there would be no going back.
"This isn't considered clothing," Rory shot back.
"What do you mean?"
"It's more of a handkerchief than a garment."
"This is the trend now, if you haven't noticed." She looked at Madeline for support. She only shrugged.
"In what country?"
"They're called clubbing clothes." After a moment of silence, she added, "you're going to have to come out eventually."
"Ha! Evidently you don't know the Gilmore way. I can go for days without food!"
"How about coffee?" Smiling at the silence that ensued, she exchanged a high-five with Madeline. The door opened with a whoosh. Grumbling incoherently, Rory stepped out.
"Let's get this over with."
As they exited the highly-stylized Rose Royce, Louise handed Rory a card.
"What's this for?"
"It's you ID. Duh."
"ID?"
"You have to be eighteen."
"One problem. We're not."
"And that's where these come in." She pointed at the card in Rory's hands.
Flipping it over, Rory shook her head. " I am NOT a twenty-five year old african-american woman."
Dismissing her statement, Madeline led them towards the line. "This is only part of the plan to get in."
"What do you mean?"
"Watch and learn."
Sauntering confidently over to the bouncer, they leaned seductively over him.
"Hi there," Louise greeted.
"What do you want?" He asked gruffly.
"Our friends are already in there. And you know it's rude to make people wait."
"We were wondering, could you help us get in?"
"Wait in line like the rest of 'em."
Running a finger over the collar of his shirt, Louise inched nearer. "You don't understand how important it is."
"We'd be SO grateful if you'd just let us in," Madeline added. They both giggled.
Rory looked away disgustedly.
He hesitated. "Ids?"
"Just flash it quickly and walk in," Madeline whispered. They did so, and Rory glanced nervously at the bouncer as they passed him.
"I can't believe that worked," Rory exclaimed.
"Like a charm," Louise said airily. Perusing the room for her next victim, she spotted the lucky guy and advanced slowly.
"Where's she going?" Rory asked suspiciously.
"We won't be seeing her any time soon. Come on. The others should be over there."
Glancing over at Rory, she shook her head in disapproval. "If you're going to hang out with us, you have to loosen up. You really think you'll get accepted into the popular crowd if you're all uptight at a club?"
Rory slumped her shoulders a little in an effort to be more casual. It was almost comical. Holding back her laughter, Madeline looked at her sympathetically. "You don't do this much, do you?"
Rory shook her head.
"Just follow my lead."
As Madeline threaded her way through the crowd of bodies, Rory took a deep breath. She was about to plunge head on into the world of shallow, superficial socialites. She'd been avoiding it ever since she had enrolled at Chilton, and now, now she would voluntarily place herself in the center of it all. At once she was seized by doubt. Then she heard familiar laughter. The crowd was thinning as they headed toward the back of the club, and she could make out a familiar figure with tousled blonde hair. His head was turned, and she was studying his profile. He turned toward her, and all at once she knew there would be no going back.