It was a delivery man. With boxes and a dog.
"JACK!" The St. Bernard instantly ran to Tristan. And tackled him.
Rory laughed and took the boxes. "Thanks. Um.."
She shoved her hand in her pocket and grabbed a five dollar bill. "Thanks again."
She flashed him a smile and closed the door with her foot. Tristan was still underneath his dog.
Rory shook her head in a sort of way that she instantly scolded herself for. 'You aren't his mother, Rory. God...'
"Do you need some help?"
Rory almost dropped the boxes. Tristan DuGray, actually offering to do manual labor for somebody else? Well, in technicality, it was for himself.. But, still!
Rory intentionally banged her head against a counter in the kitchen in order to stop babbling to herself.
"So, what are you going to do about another apartment?" Rory found herself asking him over Chinese take-out.
"Why would I want to leave?" He winked at her before fishing out a piece of chicken with his chopsticks skillfully. But he sighed and pushed the box away. "I'm calling my dad. It seems so stupid and so childish, but I need him. I need his money, really, to get on my feet with this new career."
Rory nodded. "I think my mom might know how you feel. I couldn't get into Chilton on full scholarship, and my mom had to crawl back to her parents asking for money."
"Chilton didn't let you in on full scholarship? They have to have been crazy." Tristan sort of looked away sadly. "You were so smart and you enjoyed learning so much. And those people with all the money in the world felt that they were imprisoned there by their parents and that they were forced to go there—I always viewed it as a privilege."
Rory smiled over her pork. "Yeah. So did I."
"It's Saturday morning and it's six o' clock. What am I doing awake?" Rory muttered. But then, she heard the clinking of dog tags, coffee and a frustrated Tristan.
"What do you mean you won't wire me the money? I have never, ever, ever asked you for anything since I was nine and you refuse?" He banged his fist on the desk. Rory knew she shouldn't have eavesdropped, but she flew downstairs to the kitchen and picked up the cordless phone.
"Come on, Tris. Think about it. This is a stupid career move, and I'm surprised you found anyone that would believe that it wasn't anything less than career suicide!"
The muffled voice was obviously Tristan's father. Rory covered the mouthpiece to ensure neither of them heard her breathing.
"You know what, dad? Not everyone thinks like you, or mom or Tiffany. I'm making good money. Just not enough for a decent apartment in New York. You know if granddad was still alive..."
"Don't raise your voice to me, young man!"
"I am not a child anymore!"
"Then why are you asking for money, huh?"
"From the time I was nine, I never even attempted to look at you and mom when I needed something. If I needed something, I got it on my own. Chilton, NYU, and even my first own place! But no. That's not good enough for you. I haven't been your son for sixteen years. The least you can do is treat me like your son now."
"I'm sorry, Tris. I just can't."
The instant Rory heard the click of the telephone, she hung up and busied herself in the kitchen. She found two cup of her favorite coffee from Starbucks sitting next to this morning's New York Times, a variety of bagels, and some chocolate chip scones. All served on platters as if they were awaiting a princess.
"You're a god." She said the moment he walked down the stairs. 'He even looks like he needed the self-esteem boost. Tristan DuGray NEEDS a self-esteem boost. He's only wearing a white wife-beater and boxers, and his hair's tousled.. And.. He may be looking perfectly gorgeous, but honestly! The guy needs a compliment.' Why, Rory, are you overcompensating your insecurity about the hottie? 'Why is my subconscious my mom, and why did I let her read Freud?' This is what you get for not having your coffee. 'Yep. The subconscious is definitely my mom.'
"What?" He didn't realize she was up. But he could see through the gaps between the cupboards and the counters that she was bent over a copy of the New York Times, with a Starbucks cup in one hand and a chocolate chip scone in the other. "Oh. You found my presents."
She smiled at him. "Join me. My mother will definitely like you. That is, if you're still around when she comes to visit."
'Good, Rory. Trap him in five, four, three, two..'
"I'm betting I probably will be, if you'll let me." He sighed heavily.
"Here. Have some coffee before you explain. Always helps." Rory gave him a sympathetic smile and a cup. "Spill."
"Well.. I went out to get the stuff from Starbucks and the paper, and after setting them up, I went upstairs to call my father." He sighed. "I was trying to use the kitchen phone, because I didn't know if you were a heavy sleeper and I knew that if you weren't, I'd probably wake you up with the study phone. However, using a blue fluffy phone can be very, very hard, especially when you can't find the 'talk' button. So I went upstairs and called my father. He's refusing to send me the money, probably because he wants to take his mistress to the Caribbean. Whatever the reason is, I don't have enough money to have a decent apartment by myself."
Rory sincerely tried with all of her good heart to sympathize, but the little girl within her was secretly excited.
"You can stay here, you know.. Rent controlled, and everything.." Rory sort of swirled her spoon around in her coffee. "I mean, if you want to.."
"Really? That'd be great!!!" He looked like a little boy who had just been given extra chocolate chip scones with whipped cream on top.
"We do have our rules around here, don't we, Rox?" Rory looked at her dog and then looked back at Tristan. "Think you could handle it?"
"Bring it on."
"Ah-ha! You broke rule number one!" Rory snapped her fingers triumphantly. "Never expect anything until at least one cup of mocha chocolate chip coffee has been drunken."
"You need to think of the rules, don't you?"
"Yep."
"Okay. Rule number two. You do not bring uninvited guests home on any nights but Friday and Saturday."
"Don't like surprises?"
"No. Rule number two A."
"Now we have As and Bs to the rules?"
"Yes. Don't interrupt me. Rule number two A is that if said guest is brought home uninvited on said nights, I will be your crazy psychotic girlfriend that has just escaped Bellevue."
"And vice versa for me?"
"Yes. Stop interrupting. Rule number three- Every other week we switch off grocery buying duties, unless we feel like we need some bonding time and we go together."
"Sincerely doubt it."
"Yeah, me too."
"Just don't put your feminine crap on the list when I'm buying."
"And don't put your macho crap on the list when I'm buying. Stop interrupting. Rule number four- Sunday night is rental movie night. Unlike groceries, we go together to get said movies."
"You don't trust me, do you?"
"Not at all. Don't interrupt. Rule number five- You are responsible for your own dog."
"You don't want to pick up Jack's poop, do you?"
"Will you STOP interrupting? Rule six is- Avoid answering calls from my mother at all times. We've got caller i.d. I may pick up the phone. You may not. Unless I'm out or something. But even then, do not engage in conversation with her."
"That was rule six, rule six A, and rule six B, wasn't it?"
"Yes. Do you want rule seven to be don't interrupt Rory?"
"No, ma'am."
"Fine. We switch off on who cooks dinner which day depending on the other person's schedule."
"I have to cook?"
"Yes. Rule eight. Don't interrupt Rory."
"Why did I see that coming?"
"That is TWO violations of the Rory rules. Rule nine- Three strikes and you are rewarded with an extra duty. Trash is twice a week, I'll do that."
Tristan raised his hand.
"Better! Yes?"
"Why?"
"Because you're Coffee Boy."
"Sweet."
"Rule twelve- Do not use the phrase sweet in that context again."
Tristan raised his hand.
"You're learning!"
"Why not?"
"Okay, okay. Scratch that. We will come up with more rules when problems arise."
"I'm guessing it's my turn to buy the groceries?"
"Good boy!"