Author's Note: I speak of something called 'Asian Mother Syndrome' in this
chapter. I don't know who's reading or whom my blathering might upset.
I'm just using my own dear mother as a gauge. Though I shouldn't mock it,
because I fear it will be my fate one day. Gah.
*
Chapter Two: The Consequences of Neglecting Laundry…
*
Tristan couldn't decide if Jess's choice was a blessing or damnation. He gave his friend a hard stare before returning his gaze to the woman.
She was still on the same barstool, lazily stirring her drink with what looked like a maraschino cherry. Her head was tilted at such an angle that suggested how bored she was with the atmosphere, with sitting there alone with nothing to keep her company but her drink.
A renegade curl worked its way loose and was now hanging temptingly over her left eye. As she lifted her fingers to tuck the curl behind her ear, she raised her head and haughtily scanned the front door, letting her gaze linger briefly before sweeping across the room, no doubt to check the door leading to the patio, just in case whoever she was waiting for came in from there. Oh yes, she was definitely waiting for someone, he decided. And he was insanely curious as to what manner of person would make this woman wait.
He looked up again to check her progress, and was surprised to see her looking right at him. His ordinary brunette was checking him out critically. Her eyes narrowed slightly in her appraisal. Did she like what she saw? Before he could even smile and try to make a connection, she raised a brow and looked towards the back door.
She had dismissed him.
That was it. Blessing and damnation. Blessing because he realized he would have had to approach her anyway after that cold rejection. Damnation because she was obviously not going to be an easy person to win over. She was going to be a challenge.
Dear Lord.
Not unlike Jess, Tristan lived for challenges. He'd had a lifetime of easy successes; he didn't have to try at school at get straight A's; he was a natural at athletics; he had the Midas touch with investments, no one could say his place in the DuGrey empire was undeserved; and needless to say, he never wanted for female companionship. With things coming far too easily to him, it was an intrinsic reaction that he should enjoy challenges. Really, what was life without them?
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked calmly, unwilling to betray any true feelings.
Jess gave him a crooked smile. "Worried you'll lose?"
"Please; I just want to give you a chance to pick someone else, someone who stands a chance," Tristan said, draining his beer. "A last out."
Jess shook his head disapprovingly, and then looked at Paris. "Does he know me at all? It's like we never went to Yale or were roommates for four years…"
Tristan rolled his eyes. "You're such a drama queen."
"Could you two hurry this along so I can finish my meal in peace?" asked Paris. "You're boring me."
"You can be such a bitch some times, Paris," Jess sighed before turning to Tristan. "I'm sure. It's the brunette."
"All right, it's your money," he said, then stood up.
"Wait. You're going over now?" asked Paris.
Tristan held up his beer bottle. "I'm just getting a refill," he smiled before walking towards the bar.
Jess quirked a brow. "He could have at least asked if we wanted anything."
Paris glared at him. "I can't believe you just did that."
"What are you talking about?"
"You know, sometimes you two can be so childish I don't know why I'm even friends with you. It's not like you provide me with any intellectual stimulation. In fact the more time I spend with you two, the dumber I get. I think my IQ has dropped ten points since college," she said, her eyes wide as she gestured with great animation.
"Blah, blah, blah. When was the last time you got laid?" he asked, suddenly very curious.
Paris looked shocked. "What?"
He shrugged. "This bitterness of yours is coming from somewhere. It's not your time of the month, so I figure it's because you're sexually frustrated. Who was the last guy? It wasn't J.B. Sloan, was it?"
"Why do you know my menstrual cycle? Wait. I don't want to know. And is that all you think about? Sex?" she asked, her face flush. "Why am I even asking? Of course that's all you think about, you ignorant Neander…"
Before Paris could finish her sentence, Jess reached over and curled his fingers behind her neck and silenced her with a kiss. She was so shocked she didn't even think to push him away until much too late. She'd already responded to the kiss in equal measure, reveling in the sensation of his soft lips sweeping over hers. Paris had gotten her first taste of him, and she began to fear that it was only the beginning of something terribly wrong.
She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, most unladylike for the normally proper former debutante.
Jess smirked. "You were giving me a headache. I had to shut you up, and that seemed like the best idea at the time."
"You need serious help," she said, narrowing her eyes.
"You know you liked it."
"Did not."
He sighed. "Your tongue was in my mouth."
Paris blushed again. "It was an accident."
"Sure. Whatever gets you through the night, sweetheart," he chuckled, purposely trying to rile her. But all she could muster was a growl before losing all verbal skills and stabbing at her Chicken Poblano.
*
She told one guy to get bent. She asked another if he'd spent all day thinking up his spectacular pick up line. She asked yet another if he'd actually read Shakespeare or only memorized lines that he thought would make women swoon. He beat a hasty retreat, not unlike all the others.
Rory Gilmore didn't understand what was going on. Men normally left her alone. She'd always been told that she looked intimidating, cold, unapproachable, and scary even. And she liked it that way. But obviously, the men in the restaurant hadn't gotten the memo.
Before she could think about this too long, she felt someone tapping on her shoulder. Rory didn't even get a chance to turn around and look at the latest idiot when she felt a hand hitting her bottom and a husky voice saying, "Hey Baby-cakes, what's a sexy lady like you doing in a place like this?"
Lane Kim, her best friend and general practitioner at large, had just hit on her.
Rory turned her disbelieving gaze on the petite doctor. "I can't believe you just touched my ass."
She winked as she slid onto the unoccupied stool beside Rory. "What's a little love pat between friends?" Lane asked with a wink and a bright grin.
"Nothing," Rory said. She lean forward and caressed Lane's upper arm, looking at her with sleepy eyes. This drew a good number of looks from the hopeful men around them. "You don't think Henry would mind, would he?"
Lane shrugged with one shoulder. "He's always wanted to try something new. Experimentation could be the next step in our relationship."
The guy behind Rory choked on his beer. It was good enough to make them both laugh.
"Do we have a table, we eating at the bar, or are we going somewhere else?" asked Lane, deciding to end their teasing.
"Eat at the bar? You know my grandmother once told me only hookers eat at the bar," Rory shared, earning a disapproving shake from her friend.
"That's just wrong. That's something my mother would say."
"Yikes, we wouldn't want that, now would we?" asked Rory. "Anyway, I put us on the list; it shouldn't take much longer."
"Good, because I'm starving, and I can't emphasize that enough," Lane groaned.
Rory frowned. "Hey, what's wrong?"
Lane waved her hand. "Nothing. I just had a small fight with Henry today."
"Yeesh. Feeling neglected again?"
Lane groaned. "You know I love him, but sometimes he's so aggravating, I could kill him. It's like we never had the talk about how we need to focus on our respective careers right now," she said, her hand on Rory's arm. "He keeps on telling me he understands that I work eighteen hour shifts and barely have time to sleep, but I don't think he really does. Am I being selfish? I mean, am I being irrational in thinking he should be patient with me?"
"No, you're not being selfish. It's not your fault you want a career. But."
"But?"
"But, if I had a girlfriend as awesome as you, I'd be upset too."
"I don't need to hear that! Now I'm going 'aww' on the inside, and I feel all guilty again," Lane said, frowning.
"You'll work it out. Because you two need to be my token stable married couple. I don't have one right now, and who better that two of the best young doctors in Boston? You're going to have such crazy children."
"There is to be no children talk. You sound like my mother. You know, she's been laying it on pretty thick with the 'I won't live to see my first grandchild' talk. It's like her joy over me being a doctor lasted her half a second before she started on the procreation guilt trips."
"I'm sorry."
"Asian mother syndrome. It can't be helped."
"No it can't."
"You're not supposed to agree," Lane pouted.
"Hey, I have a Lorelai as a mother. That could be worse than Asian mother syndrome," Rory pointed out.
Lane guffawed. "I'm sorry, there's nothing worse. You are wrong."
"Okay, I concede. But only because I'm hungry and am feeling slightly buzzed by my drink as a consequence of said hunger," she said defensively. "Otherwise, you can be sure I'd put up an argument that even Clarence Darrow would be in awe of."
"I'm sure you would have," her friend agreed, giggling.
Rory rolled her eyes. "A good friend would have at least tried to keep a straight face."
Lane shook her head. "I've known you way too long to still extend that courtesy."
"You're terrible," Rory decided. "Let's talk about something else."
"Okay, I've been meaning to ask you this since I sat down. What's up with the animal print bra under a see-through shirt?" she asked with an amused expression. "Rory Gilmore, are you finally taking my advice and making an effort to find a man?"
Rory glared at her friend. "No. I need to do laundry; this was the only one I had left. And I figured it would be preferable to wear something as opposed to coming here swinging free."
Lane burst out laughing.
"Mean."
"I'm sorry," said Lane. She clutched her stomach with one hand and lifted the other in front of Rory. "I can't believe you just said 'swinging free.' It's too much."
"Some friend you are."
Lane sat up straight and exhaled calmly, closing her eyes so she could picture something utterly terrible, like limping puppies or U2 breaking up, anything to stop her from laughing. She made a show of taking deep breaths and shaking her head.
There. Better, she thought. Then, as Lane opened her eyes, she inadvertently looked directly into those of a bona fide hottie. A quick perusal gleaned sharp blue eyes, a sexy smirk and a tight body—at least from what she could see. He was the kind of guy who looked good, and knew it.
Before she could embarrass herself any further by checking him out, the man walked away, beer in hand, to a table where a bickering couple was sitting. As soon as he sat down, they stopped, and turned their attentions towards their drinks. Hmm.
"Lane, earth to Lane," Rory said, snapping her fingers in front of her friend's eyes.
"Huh? What? I'm here," she said, bringing her eyes back to Rory.
Rory followed her previous line of vision to the table. "You were checking those guys out," she said point blank. She turned to her friend, and dared her to deny it. "Weren't you?"
"It would be sacrilege not to; the man is beautiful."
"Henry."
"Looking, not touching."
"Pretty man."
"You're giving him too much credit."
Lane smiled. "What am I missing? Do you have something against this guy?"
"I don't know," Rory said, wrinkling her brow. "He seems familiar, but I don't know where I've seen him. It was bothering me before you came in."
"College?"
"Unlikely."
"Maybe he's been in the café before?" Lane speculated. "You do get a lot of traffic through there."
"Maybe," Rory said. "It doesn't matter. He's nothing."
"Ouch. All this, and you haven't even talked yet."
"There will be no talking," Rory countered.
"I think you should go over there. I mean, you're already wearing the leopard print bra, why not make good use of it?" asked Lane, grinning wickedly.
"I'm telling Henry you used to listen to Ricky Martin."
Suddenly Lane was stone-faced. "You wouldn't."
"If push came to shove…"
"I'm sorry, are you Rory?" asked the hostess, cutting in on their conversation.
"Yes."
"If you'll please follow me, your table is ready," said the girl amiably.
"Great," Rory smiled, before hopping off her stool and looking back at Lane and sticking out her tongue.
Lane grumbled, grabbing onto Rory's hand and weaving through the tables. "You'd sell your own mother for the right price, wouldn't you?"
Rory winked. "Bidding opens up at ten dollars."
*
Jess shot him a look. "Back so soon?"
"Upset I cut your fight with Paris short?" Tristan asked.
"No, I just expected you to make a move, not stand around like an idiot and eavesdrop on her conversation with her friend."
"You wound me," he said dryly.
"What, no snappy comeback?" asked Jess.
Tristan sighed, dropping a couple bills on the table. "I don't have the energy to argue with you anymore tonight. I'm tired, and unlike some people, I have a job to get up for in the morning."
Jess raised a brow. "Touché," he said, putting some money on the table.
"Enough with the personal insults. Let's just get out of here, shall we?" asked a snappy Paris.
Without waiting for a reply from either of them, Paris slipped out of the booth and flew out of the restaurant. The two men stood side by side, watching her go.
Then Tristan turned to his friend. "What happened between you two?"
Jess shook his head, a smile on his lips. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said before strolling away.
Tristan knew without a doubt that there was something up with his two friends. They'd always been high-strung around one another, but he'd always attributed that to the sexual tension between them.
His eyes darted up to the two women following a hostess up the stairs, but they locked on only one. The one with the dark hair that he wanted to touch. The one who would most likely be doing laundry tomorrow.
Rory Gilmore. The name seemed so familiar, yet he could not put his finger on how or why that was. But he'd know soon. It was only a matter of time before he knew everything about her.
*
Chapter Two: The Consequences of Neglecting Laundry…
*
Tristan couldn't decide if Jess's choice was a blessing or damnation. He gave his friend a hard stare before returning his gaze to the woman.
She was still on the same barstool, lazily stirring her drink with what looked like a maraschino cherry. Her head was tilted at such an angle that suggested how bored she was with the atmosphere, with sitting there alone with nothing to keep her company but her drink.
A renegade curl worked its way loose and was now hanging temptingly over her left eye. As she lifted her fingers to tuck the curl behind her ear, she raised her head and haughtily scanned the front door, letting her gaze linger briefly before sweeping across the room, no doubt to check the door leading to the patio, just in case whoever she was waiting for came in from there. Oh yes, she was definitely waiting for someone, he decided. And he was insanely curious as to what manner of person would make this woman wait.
He looked up again to check her progress, and was surprised to see her looking right at him. His ordinary brunette was checking him out critically. Her eyes narrowed slightly in her appraisal. Did she like what she saw? Before he could even smile and try to make a connection, she raised a brow and looked towards the back door.
She had dismissed him.
That was it. Blessing and damnation. Blessing because he realized he would have had to approach her anyway after that cold rejection. Damnation because she was obviously not going to be an easy person to win over. She was going to be a challenge.
Dear Lord.
Not unlike Jess, Tristan lived for challenges. He'd had a lifetime of easy successes; he didn't have to try at school at get straight A's; he was a natural at athletics; he had the Midas touch with investments, no one could say his place in the DuGrey empire was undeserved; and needless to say, he never wanted for female companionship. With things coming far too easily to him, it was an intrinsic reaction that he should enjoy challenges. Really, what was life without them?
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked calmly, unwilling to betray any true feelings.
Jess gave him a crooked smile. "Worried you'll lose?"
"Please; I just want to give you a chance to pick someone else, someone who stands a chance," Tristan said, draining his beer. "A last out."
Jess shook his head disapprovingly, and then looked at Paris. "Does he know me at all? It's like we never went to Yale or were roommates for four years…"
Tristan rolled his eyes. "You're such a drama queen."
"Could you two hurry this along so I can finish my meal in peace?" asked Paris. "You're boring me."
"You can be such a bitch some times, Paris," Jess sighed before turning to Tristan. "I'm sure. It's the brunette."
"All right, it's your money," he said, then stood up.
"Wait. You're going over now?" asked Paris.
Tristan held up his beer bottle. "I'm just getting a refill," he smiled before walking towards the bar.
Jess quirked a brow. "He could have at least asked if we wanted anything."
Paris glared at him. "I can't believe you just did that."
"What are you talking about?"
"You know, sometimes you two can be so childish I don't know why I'm even friends with you. It's not like you provide me with any intellectual stimulation. In fact the more time I spend with you two, the dumber I get. I think my IQ has dropped ten points since college," she said, her eyes wide as she gestured with great animation.
"Blah, blah, blah. When was the last time you got laid?" he asked, suddenly very curious.
Paris looked shocked. "What?"
He shrugged. "This bitterness of yours is coming from somewhere. It's not your time of the month, so I figure it's because you're sexually frustrated. Who was the last guy? It wasn't J.B. Sloan, was it?"
"Why do you know my menstrual cycle? Wait. I don't want to know. And is that all you think about? Sex?" she asked, her face flush. "Why am I even asking? Of course that's all you think about, you ignorant Neander…"
Before Paris could finish her sentence, Jess reached over and curled his fingers behind her neck and silenced her with a kiss. She was so shocked she didn't even think to push him away until much too late. She'd already responded to the kiss in equal measure, reveling in the sensation of his soft lips sweeping over hers. Paris had gotten her first taste of him, and she began to fear that it was only the beginning of something terribly wrong.
She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, most unladylike for the normally proper former debutante.
Jess smirked. "You were giving me a headache. I had to shut you up, and that seemed like the best idea at the time."
"You need serious help," she said, narrowing her eyes.
"You know you liked it."
"Did not."
He sighed. "Your tongue was in my mouth."
Paris blushed again. "It was an accident."
"Sure. Whatever gets you through the night, sweetheart," he chuckled, purposely trying to rile her. But all she could muster was a growl before losing all verbal skills and stabbing at her Chicken Poblano.
*
She told one guy to get bent. She asked another if he'd spent all day thinking up his spectacular pick up line. She asked yet another if he'd actually read Shakespeare or only memorized lines that he thought would make women swoon. He beat a hasty retreat, not unlike all the others.
Rory Gilmore didn't understand what was going on. Men normally left her alone. She'd always been told that she looked intimidating, cold, unapproachable, and scary even. And she liked it that way. But obviously, the men in the restaurant hadn't gotten the memo.
Before she could think about this too long, she felt someone tapping on her shoulder. Rory didn't even get a chance to turn around and look at the latest idiot when she felt a hand hitting her bottom and a husky voice saying, "Hey Baby-cakes, what's a sexy lady like you doing in a place like this?"
Lane Kim, her best friend and general practitioner at large, had just hit on her.
Rory turned her disbelieving gaze on the petite doctor. "I can't believe you just touched my ass."
She winked as she slid onto the unoccupied stool beside Rory. "What's a little love pat between friends?" Lane asked with a wink and a bright grin.
"Nothing," Rory said. She lean forward and caressed Lane's upper arm, looking at her with sleepy eyes. This drew a good number of looks from the hopeful men around them. "You don't think Henry would mind, would he?"
Lane shrugged with one shoulder. "He's always wanted to try something new. Experimentation could be the next step in our relationship."
The guy behind Rory choked on his beer. It was good enough to make them both laugh.
"Do we have a table, we eating at the bar, or are we going somewhere else?" asked Lane, deciding to end their teasing.
"Eat at the bar? You know my grandmother once told me only hookers eat at the bar," Rory shared, earning a disapproving shake from her friend.
"That's just wrong. That's something my mother would say."
"Yikes, we wouldn't want that, now would we?" asked Rory. "Anyway, I put us on the list; it shouldn't take much longer."
"Good, because I'm starving, and I can't emphasize that enough," Lane groaned.
Rory frowned. "Hey, what's wrong?"
Lane waved her hand. "Nothing. I just had a small fight with Henry today."
"Yeesh. Feeling neglected again?"
Lane groaned. "You know I love him, but sometimes he's so aggravating, I could kill him. It's like we never had the talk about how we need to focus on our respective careers right now," she said, her hand on Rory's arm. "He keeps on telling me he understands that I work eighteen hour shifts and barely have time to sleep, but I don't think he really does. Am I being selfish? I mean, am I being irrational in thinking he should be patient with me?"
"No, you're not being selfish. It's not your fault you want a career. But."
"But?"
"But, if I had a girlfriend as awesome as you, I'd be upset too."
"I don't need to hear that! Now I'm going 'aww' on the inside, and I feel all guilty again," Lane said, frowning.
"You'll work it out. Because you two need to be my token stable married couple. I don't have one right now, and who better that two of the best young doctors in Boston? You're going to have such crazy children."
"There is to be no children talk. You sound like my mother. You know, she's been laying it on pretty thick with the 'I won't live to see my first grandchild' talk. It's like her joy over me being a doctor lasted her half a second before she started on the procreation guilt trips."
"I'm sorry."
"Asian mother syndrome. It can't be helped."
"No it can't."
"You're not supposed to agree," Lane pouted.
"Hey, I have a Lorelai as a mother. That could be worse than Asian mother syndrome," Rory pointed out.
Lane guffawed. "I'm sorry, there's nothing worse. You are wrong."
"Okay, I concede. But only because I'm hungry and am feeling slightly buzzed by my drink as a consequence of said hunger," she said defensively. "Otherwise, you can be sure I'd put up an argument that even Clarence Darrow would be in awe of."
"I'm sure you would have," her friend agreed, giggling.
Rory rolled her eyes. "A good friend would have at least tried to keep a straight face."
Lane shook her head. "I've known you way too long to still extend that courtesy."
"You're terrible," Rory decided. "Let's talk about something else."
"Okay, I've been meaning to ask you this since I sat down. What's up with the animal print bra under a see-through shirt?" she asked with an amused expression. "Rory Gilmore, are you finally taking my advice and making an effort to find a man?"
Rory glared at her friend. "No. I need to do laundry; this was the only one I had left. And I figured it would be preferable to wear something as opposed to coming here swinging free."
Lane burst out laughing.
"Mean."
"I'm sorry," said Lane. She clutched her stomach with one hand and lifted the other in front of Rory. "I can't believe you just said 'swinging free.' It's too much."
"Some friend you are."
Lane sat up straight and exhaled calmly, closing her eyes so she could picture something utterly terrible, like limping puppies or U2 breaking up, anything to stop her from laughing. She made a show of taking deep breaths and shaking her head.
There. Better, she thought. Then, as Lane opened her eyes, she inadvertently looked directly into those of a bona fide hottie. A quick perusal gleaned sharp blue eyes, a sexy smirk and a tight body—at least from what she could see. He was the kind of guy who looked good, and knew it.
Before she could embarrass herself any further by checking him out, the man walked away, beer in hand, to a table where a bickering couple was sitting. As soon as he sat down, they stopped, and turned their attentions towards their drinks. Hmm.
"Lane, earth to Lane," Rory said, snapping her fingers in front of her friend's eyes.
"Huh? What? I'm here," she said, bringing her eyes back to Rory.
Rory followed her previous line of vision to the table. "You were checking those guys out," she said point blank. She turned to her friend, and dared her to deny it. "Weren't you?"
"It would be sacrilege not to; the man is beautiful."
"Henry."
"Looking, not touching."
"Pretty man."
"You're giving him too much credit."
Lane smiled. "What am I missing? Do you have something against this guy?"
"I don't know," Rory said, wrinkling her brow. "He seems familiar, but I don't know where I've seen him. It was bothering me before you came in."
"College?"
"Unlikely."
"Maybe he's been in the café before?" Lane speculated. "You do get a lot of traffic through there."
"Maybe," Rory said. "It doesn't matter. He's nothing."
"Ouch. All this, and you haven't even talked yet."
"There will be no talking," Rory countered.
"I think you should go over there. I mean, you're already wearing the leopard print bra, why not make good use of it?" asked Lane, grinning wickedly.
"I'm telling Henry you used to listen to Ricky Martin."
Suddenly Lane was stone-faced. "You wouldn't."
"If push came to shove…"
"I'm sorry, are you Rory?" asked the hostess, cutting in on their conversation.
"Yes."
"If you'll please follow me, your table is ready," said the girl amiably.
"Great," Rory smiled, before hopping off her stool and looking back at Lane and sticking out her tongue.
Lane grumbled, grabbing onto Rory's hand and weaving through the tables. "You'd sell your own mother for the right price, wouldn't you?"
Rory winked. "Bidding opens up at ten dollars."
*
Jess shot him a look. "Back so soon?"
"Upset I cut your fight with Paris short?" Tristan asked.
"No, I just expected you to make a move, not stand around like an idiot and eavesdrop on her conversation with her friend."
"You wound me," he said dryly.
"What, no snappy comeback?" asked Jess.
Tristan sighed, dropping a couple bills on the table. "I don't have the energy to argue with you anymore tonight. I'm tired, and unlike some people, I have a job to get up for in the morning."
Jess raised a brow. "Touché," he said, putting some money on the table.
"Enough with the personal insults. Let's just get out of here, shall we?" asked a snappy Paris.
Without waiting for a reply from either of them, Paris slipped out of the booth and flew out of the restaurant. The two men stood side by side, watching her go.
Then Tristan turned to his friend. "What happened between you two?"
Jess shook his head, a smile on his lips. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said before strolling away.
Tristan knew without a doubt that there was something up with his two friends. They'd always been high-strung around one another, but he'd always attributed that to the sexual tension between them.
His eyes darted up to the two women following a hostess up the stairs, but they locked on only one. The one with the dark hair that he wanted to touch. The one who would most likely be doing laundry tomorrow.
Rory Gilmore. The name seemed so familiar, yet he could not put his finger on how or why that was. But he'd know soon. It was only a matter of time before he knew everything about her.