Chapter Seven

Rory

Friday-night dinners could turn into kind of a chore, especially to my mother and her thirty-year rebellion, but this week I was rather looking forward to asking Grandma more stuff about Joe.

Not that I was particularly interested.

Okay, so I was interested, what with all the secrecy and mysterious knowledge of 50% of my life.

But I wasn't quite about ready to turn into Paris, with the restraining orders from four different Chilton teachers.

Once we were seated, with the exception of Grandpa, who had to fly to Rome for a business trip, I slowly pushed the Joe ball forward.

"Hey, Grandma?"

She looked up from her chicken Caesar (she was just about to throw a Wendy's comment at the maid) and turned her attention to me, "Yes, Rory."

"Do you, perchance, know a boy named Joe from Yale?"

"Joe from Yale?" she repeated.  She pursed her lips and looked at the candles (I think it helped her concentrate), deep in thought.

And then my mother quipped up, "Yeah, Bob from Harvard called, he was wondering if you knew Joe from Yale's number because he throws the best parties and he wanted to throw one for Jim from UCLA because he just got engaged to Betty from Princeton--,"

Grandma, now used to the sarcasm, flew right through it and ignored my mom, "Oh, Jordan Bancroft, you mean?"

"I'm not sure.  Maybe that's him."

Grandma suddenly leaned forward, "Is he treating you well?  I had totally forgotten that he was still in Yale.  Or actually, studying at all, for that matter."

My poor mother, out of the Yale loop (to the joy of my grandmother), jumped in to make sense of things.  And what better question to ask, in the midst of confusion, than, "Who's Jordan Bancroft?"

"Oh, he's just this guy from Yale."

"I think that's established."

"And he said Grandma sent him and he knew all these people—he knew Sherri."

Right then, my mother flinched in her seat.  "Are you okay?" I asked.

She shook her head and gave me a small wave, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.  It was just that 'mutual-friends-with-my-mother' thing biting me in the ass.  Nasty little bug."

Again, the Emily shield was up and deflected the joke to the floor.  "He told you I sent him?" she asked incredulously.

I got worried at that part, "Didn't you?"

"And let him influence you into candy-flipping until you overdose?  I think not!"

We heard rummaging and suddenly saw that my mother was desperately searching for something in her purse.

"Lorelai, what in God's name are you looking for in that bag?  And in the middle of dinner!  It's terribly rude!"

My mom spoke into her purse, "Dammit, where did I leave that tape recorder?  My mother just said, 'candy-flipping' and 'overdose' in the same sentence!  I may never have another chance to hear this again after I go skiing in hell tomorrow morning!"

Grandma gave a huge huff of annoyance at my mother's behaviour.  "Lorelai, I'm sure HBO would love to sign you up for a new show to replace Sex and the City at this very moment, but I'd like to remind you that I am neither that company nor the least bit amused.  Jordan Bancroft just lied to Rory, for God's sake!"

"Mom, relax, will you?  He was probably just trying to meet her; I lie to boys all the time."

Grandma slapped the table in my defense, "But this is Rory!"

"I've lied to her, too," she replied, with a small nod towards my direction.

"Hey!" I said, defensively.

My mother squinted at me, "Rory?  What did I say about defensiveness?"

I lowered my head, "That it's the root of economic instability and the cause of the Michael Jackson case…"

My grandmother sighed, "Ugh, the two of you are so calm about this.  In my day, if a boy had lied to me, I would have broken ties with him immediately!"

The night went more or less like that, but with an insane amount of banter between Mom and Grandma afterwards, which went from the salad to the fruit platter.

I was left to sort this new information about Joe and his fictional orders from my grandmother quietly in my head. 

What was that boy up to?

Jess

I went up the stairs towards my apartment, safely dodging Roberto from pulling me into his party (I wasn't in the mood).  As I got to the front door, I saw Paris sitting on the welcome mat.

Her head was bowed and she looked like she was sleeping.

I nudged her with my foot, "Hey."

When Paris realized that it was me, she jumped up.  "Hey, Jess."

Good, she was sober now.  Last night, after that weird kiss, she had passed out in my arms, so I carried her to my room and put her on the bed.  I then proceeded to lie on the floor to prepare for a restless night's sleep, thanks to the earlier events and the hard-wood surface.

The next day, she had disappeared and I hadn't seen her since.  Well, until now, obviously.  She looked at her feet and crossed her arms.

"I've been hesitant to come back, Jess, because it was kind of a shock to wake up remembering nothing; me, on your bed and you on the floor, you know?" she started.

"You don't remember anything about last night?"

"I can tell you now, I was Syndey Bristow and you were… passed out on the floor without your shirt on!"

"Don't quite get the connection in there, but I'm sure it's just due to my own ignorance of the new millennium pop culture."  I gave her a rather rude smirk and proceeded to open the door with my key.

"I have a favour to ask of you…" she started again.

Oh, God.

"No."

Her mouth was agape.  "You haven't even heard it yet!"

I looked at her square in the eye, "We are not going out.  I don't like you that way, and I'm pretty sure you don't, either."

She dwelled on the shock of me already knowing what she came here for, for a small second.  But then, "See?  That's what's so perfect!"

I leaned on the door and tilted my head, "Paris, whatever you're up to, I don't want to be a part of it.  Go down a floor, there's a guy named Roberto, he can hook you up."

I was just about to close the door in her face when, "I'll give you three hundred bucks."

Jesus, that was rent, food and spending money.  I opened the door a crack and gave her a suspicious glare.  She returned me with a conspiratory smile.

Author's note:

That last chapter didn't get much feedback, eh?  That bad?  Anyhoo, I hope this gets more of a look. 

Thank you, though, to artsgirl15 and iminlovewithaboynamedJESS (that's a hella long name).  I appreciate you guys for your reviews.