AN: once again, THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED OR READ MY STORY.
You know, I didn't think anybody actually READ my Author notes.
But well, can you say surprise? Yes, you probably can.
I don't particularly have much talking to do today, I am physically as well as mentally exhausted.
My parents took me furniture shopping...I assure you, I was both grateful and useful as I sat on a chair and messaged my friends pleading for salvation.
Unfortunately for me, none of them answered. WHAT GREAT FRIENDS I HAVE.
Really, we should ALL be so lucky as to be sitting on a red leather reclining armchair (great value at $300, its part of a set....if you'd follow me....) and then happily find a book on the shelf next to me.
But then sadly, realizing that it is indeed made out of cardboard. Then looking around to find that everything's cardboard.
The TV. The computer. The picture in the nice cardboard frame of a non- existent family.
So this bids the question...am I cardboard?
ENJOY.
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After much pacing in his suite, Tristan picked up the phone and took a deep breath, silently counting the number of rings.
"Hello?" A chirpy voice answered.
"Cou-" He coughed, as his voice came out a little hoarse, "Could I speak to Kate Werthson please?"
"This is she. Who may I ask, is calling?"
"Um, this is Tristan Dugrey..."
For some reason, he could imagine Kate smirking on the other end of the line.
"...And I was wondering if I could get the number for Rory Gilmore's hotel room."
"You know," Kate said teasingly, "I've gotten two other calls like this today, how do I know you're for real?"
"What proof do you need?" Tristan asked, surprised at her daring.
"The number of your agent."
"How do you figure that?" Tristan asked, curious.
"After the first call from a man who sounded like he was eighty something claiming to be Tristan Dugrey, so I got the number of Tristan's agent, just in case he ever did call and I accidentally yelled at him then hung up."
Tristan laughed. "How did you know I was going to call?"
"Well, if you are who you say you are, it was kinda obvious."
Tristan smirked. "Enlighten me."
"K news. You could just tell. You looked like you were on the brink of confessing your undying love."
"Have you been drinking?" Tristan asked, with a raised eyebrow, extremely amused by Rory's agent.
"Only during working hours."
"Okay. Roger's number is 578-442."
"Hello Mr. Dugrey. How are we today?" Kate automatically went into charming mode.
Tristan actually laughed. "Fine, Miss Werthson. And how is Mary?"
"I spoke to her only ten minutes ago. My girl's been nominated for a globe." She said proudly.
"Hey," Tristan said, his grin widening, "I'm going to that too! Maybe I'll see her there...but I would rather speak to her sooner..." He trailed off.
Kate rolled her eyes. "Call Madison Hotel and ask for Snoopy."
Tristan raised an eyebrow. "Snoopy?"
"I have no idea why she picked that name either."
Tristan grinned. "Thank you very much, Kate."
"Nice speaking with you Tristan. And if you're going to take Rory to dinner, I suggest Porcelain House, you know, that Italian restaurant down Freeman's Drive? It's her favorite."
"You know, I beginning to think this may be a conspiracy. I've gotten a lot of advice about Mary lately."
"Maybe everybody's noticing something but you." Kate said mysteriously.
"Porcelain House? I'll remember that."
"Ciao."
"Bye."
Tristan grinned and began to dial Rory's number, but then thought better of it.
He didn't understand why she consumed his thoughts all of a sudden; it was like he couldn't get her out of his mind.
He thought he'd gotten over this phrase after military school, he'd thought he'd forgotten about her, but apparently not.
Tristan grabbed a baseball cap and a black jacket, plus sunglasses. Even though it was eight at night. Never could be too careful.
He had a sudden urge to see her, and that was exactly where he was heading.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------
He arrived on the scene, surprised at how many paparazzi there were, milling around the lavish hotel, with security sternly telling the photographers to leave.
Tristan pulled the baseball cap even lower, and he knew he probably looked like someone who was going to rob a bank.
Risking his chances of being recognized and then chased, Tristan casually walked up to the doorman.
"Hi," He said coolly, "I was wondering if I could get through."
"Why?"
"To visit an old friend."
The doorman's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who?"
"Snoopy." Tristan shrugged.
The doorman nodded slowly, checked for any cameras on him before moving aside to let him pass.
Tristan nodded thankfully.
He briskly strolled towards the management area, removing his baseball cap and running a hand through his messy blond hair in the process.
He leaned onto the counter, whistling to himself.
"May I help you sir?" The man at the front desk said, then he did a double take as Tristan saw that all too familiar recognition process kicking in.
The man sub-consciously straightened.
Tristan gave a small smirk. "Yes, I was wondering if I could get a room number for Rory Gilmore? Er...Snoopy?"
"Ah yes, she is staying in Suite two, level eight, Mr. Dugrey."
"Thank you," Tristan said, beginning to walk away but hesitated and then as he turned back, he handed the man a crisp fifty-dollar bill, "I would appreciate it if you didn't mention I was here to anybody."
The man nodded in understanding, as a panting bellhop came jogging into the foyer to hand something to him.
It looked like a video.
The man turned to him. "Miss Gilmore requested this video, would you mind...?"
Tristan took the video and smiled. "Of course not. Have a nice night." He said as he walked towards the elevators.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------
Rory brightened when she heard the doorbell ring and she started humming the oompa loompa song.
There was the sound of faint tapping of a fist.
And when she opened the door, she stopped humming.
The last person she expected to be there, was indeed, there. Her eyes widened.
"Hello, Mary." He smirked.
"Its Rory." She automatically countered.
His smirk only grew wider.
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AN: FLAP YOUR ARMS LIKE A CHICKEN FLAP YOUR ARMS LIKE A CHICKEN.
IF MEN IN GREEN SUITS COME FOR YOU, I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT.
PLEASE REVIEW : )
Oh, a note to msQTpa2T: emaf is fame backwards : ) the title basically means "fame is crazy." But that just sounded too dull for my chicken.
You know, I didn't think anybody actually READ my Author notes.
But well, can you say surprise? Yes, you probably can.
I don't particularly have much talking to do today, I am physically as well as mentally exhausted.
My parents took me furniture shopping...I assure you, I was both grateful and useful as I sat on a chair and messaged my friends pleading for salvation.
Unfortunately for me, none of them answered. WHAT GREAT FRIENDS I HAVE.
Really, we should ALL be so lucky as to be sitting on a red leather reclining armchair (great value at $300, its part of a set....if you'd follow me....) and then happily find a book on the shelf next to me.
But then sadly, realizing that it is indeed made out of cardboard. Then looking around to find that everything's cardboard.
The TV. The computer. The picture in the nice cardboard frame of a non- existent family.
So this bids the question...am I cardboard?
ENJOY.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------
After much pacing in his suite, Tristan picked up the phone and took a deep breath, silently counting the number of rings.
"Hello?" A chirpy voice answered.
"Cou-" He coughed, as his voice came out a little hoarse, "Could I speak to Kate Werthson please?"
"This is she. Who may I ask, is calling?"
"Um, this is Tristan Dugrey..."
For some reason, he could imagine Kate smirking on the other end of the line.
"...And I was wondering if I could get the number for Rory Gilmore's hotel room."
"You know," Kate said teasingly, "I've gotten two other calls like this today, how do I know you're for real?"
"What proof do you need?" Tristan asked, surprised at her daring.
"The number of your agent."
"How do you figure that?" Tristan asked, curious.
"After the first call from a man who sounded like he was eighty something claiming to be Tristan Dugrey, so I got the number of Tristan's agent, just in case he ever did call and I accidentally yelled at him then hung up."
Tristan laughed. "How did you know I was going to call?"
"Well, if you are who you say you are, it was kinda obvious."
Tristan smirked. "Enlighten me."
"K news. You could just tell. You looked like you were on the brink of confessing your undying love."
"Have you been drinking?" Tristan asked, with a raised eyebrow, extremely amused by Rory's agent.
"Only during working hours."
"Okay. Roger's number is 578-442."
"Hello Mr. Dugrey. How are we today?" Kate automatically went into charming mode.
Tristan actually laughed. "Fine, Miss Werthson. And how is Mary?"
"I spoke to her only ten minutes ago. My girl's been nominated for a globe." She said proudly.
"Hey," Tristan said, his grin widening, "I'm going to that too! Maybe I'll see her there...but I would rather speak to her sooner..." He trailed off.
Kate rolled her eyes. "Call Madison Hotel and ask for Snoopy."
Tristan raised an eyebrow. "Snoopy?"
"I have no idea why she picked that name either."
Tristan grinned. "Thank you very much, Kate."
"Nice speaking with you Tristan. And if you're going to take Rory to dinner, I suggest Porcelain House, you know, that Italian restaurant down Freeman's Drive? It's her favorite."
"You know, I beginning to think this may be a conspiracy. I've gotten a lot of advice about Mary lately."
"Maybe everybody's noticing something but you." Kate said mysteriously.
"Porcelain House? I'll remember that."
"Ciao."
"Bye."
Tristan grinned and began to dial Rory's number, but then thought better of it.
He didn't understand why she consumed his thoughts all of a sudden; it was like he couldn't get her out of his mind.
He thought he'd gotten over this phrase after military school, he'd thought he'd forgotten about her, but apparently not.
Tristan grabbed a baseball cap and a black jacket, plus sunglasses. Even though it was eight at night. Never could be too careful.
He had a sudden urge to see her, and that was exactly where he was heading.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------
He arrived on the scene, surprised at how many paparazzi there were, milling around the lavish hotel, with security sternly telling the photographers to leave.
Tristan pulled the baseball cap even lower, and he knew he probably looked like someone who was going to rob a bank.
Risking his chances of being recognized and then chased, Tristan casually walked up to the doorman.
"Hi," He said coolly, "I was wondering if I could get through."
"Why?"
"To visit an old friend."
The doorman's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who?"
"Snoopy." Tristan shrugged.
The doorman nodded slowly, checked for any cameras on him before moving aside to let him pass.
Tristan nodded thankfully.
He briskly strolled towards the management area, removing his baseball cap and running a hand through his messy blond hair in the process.
He leaned onto the counter, whistling to himself.
"May I help you sir?" The man at the front desk said, then he did a double take as Tristan saw that all too familiar recognition process kicking in.
The man sub-consciously straightened.
Tristan gave a small smirk. "Yes, I was wondering if I could get a room number for Rory Gilmore? Er...Snoopy?"
"Ah yes, she is staying in Suite two, level eight, Mr. Dugrey."
"Thank you," Tristan said, beginning to walk away but hesitated and then as he turned back, he handed the man a crisp fifty-dollar bill, "I would appreciate it if you didn't mention I was here to anybody."
The man nodded in understanding, as a panting bellhop came jogging into the foyer to hand something to him.
It looked like a video.
The man turned to him. "Miss Gilmore requested this video, would you mind...?"
Tristan took the video and smiled. "Of course not. Have a nice night." He said as he walked towards the elevators.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------
Rory brightened when she heard the doorbell ring and she started humming the oompa loompa song.
There was the sound of faint tapping of a fist.
And when she opened the door, she stopped humming.
The last person she expected to be there, was indeed, there. Her eyes widened.
"Hello, Mary." He smirked.
"Its Rory." She automatically countered.
His smirk only grew wider.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------
AN: FLAP YOUR ARMS LIKE A CHICKEN FLAP YOUR ARMS LIKE A CHICKEN.
IF MEN IN GREEN SUITS COME FOR YOU, I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT.
PLEASE REVIEW : )
Oh, a note to msQTpa2T: emaf is fame backwards : ) the title basically means "fame is crazy." But that just sounded too dull for my chicken.