A lot of people have expressed concerns on the relationship between Rory, Jess, and Tristan in this fic. I just want to let you know that this will be a long fic, running somewhere in the neighbourhood of 20 - 25 chapters. So be patient, my little grasshoppers. I really can't tell you exactly which direction I'm going to take and whether it's the same place you wanted or not. I'm not going to spoil my own fic by telling you that. But I do have a cryptic message for you guys: If that person has a last name, expect frequent appearance and consequential character development and foreshadowing. [i.e. I won't make Jess go to Venezuela and never come back.] This fic's secondary genre is drama. Trust me, it will become a drama … somewhere along the way.
Just want to let you guys know that this chapter was deeply influenced by the hallucinogenic qualities of eating 6 Oreo ice-cream sandwiches in one sitting. I'm not sure how well writing with a brain-freeze worked out. But that would sure explain the craziness [and inferiority] of this fic. Also, a big thank you goes out to all those who review my work and my FF muses. I am nothing without you guys.
Disclaimer: If I actually own the Gilmore Girls and all of its respective characters, I'd sign the deal with the Lego people. Think, you can build your own Stars Hollow and Chilton complete with mini Paris and mini Kirk! But you don't see GG Lego in your nearest ToysRus, do you? This proves that I do not own Gilmore Girls and I'm writing this in hopes that no corporate bigwig will magically appear beside me and shut me down. Enjoy!
03 ~ What if He Never Heard of Iron Chief Masaharu Morimoto?
Usually Rory wouldn't mind staying behind at work, burning the midnight oil for a particular assignment. After all, she was well known among her peers as one of the hardest working staff member on the New York Times payroll. In fact, it is quite usual for the night time cleaning staff to find her hunch over her desk working at a time when the rest of the building was deserted. But tonight was different. Tonight she wanted to go home as soon as possible.
Tonight, she had a date with Tristan.
Which was the reason why she was so irritated when the weekly staff meeting took a tragic turn. Somehow the topic of pandas being on the extinction list evolved into a mini-debate on the upcoming mayor election. This had unexpectedly chewed up an extra hour of meeting time. She hastily looked at her watch as she stepped out of the elevator. 6:50. She barely had time to change, much less taking a much-need shower to wash off the stench of fatigue. Half of her body was desperate to burrow into her warm couch and never come out again while the other half was curious enough to look forward to the date tonight.
Jess poked his head out of his room at the sound of her jingling keys.
"Talk while you walk." She gestured the boy to follow her into her room. "I'm running on a tight schedule."
"Wow, you looked like you're in Normandy during D-day." He said, noting her dishevelled hair and the sagginess of her steps.
"Thanks. With all those pent up positivity, you might want to consider being a motivational speaker if this whole Lonely Planets gig didn't pan out."
"Just wanted to remind you that I'm off to Thailand for my first assignment tomorrow. I'm going to be gone for the next month or so, away from civilization and more importantly, away from regular showers."
"I'll miss you." Her voice was muffled as she was engulfed by a closet full of clothes while searching for the perfect outfit.
"You better! By the way, I've restocked the jellybean jar, the chocolate chip cookie stash and bought a ton of caramel pudding. I've also set up automatic payments on the internet for all the bills and the rent except for the electrical bill. There's something wrong with the account configuration and I got fed up listening to the easy-listening station they put on when the customer service "hotline" was busy. I now know the lyrics to Enya." He heard grunts emitted from the closet. It sounded like she was busy battling her clothes instead of paying attention to him. "Hey, are you listening?"
"Yes." She finally emerged holding two very similar black dresses. Her face quizzical as she couldn't decide which one is better. "You have my sympathies."
"Good. Anyways, you'll have to mail it in when the bill arrives. I've already written the cheque. All you have to do is write in the appropriate amount of money and put it in this addressed envelope which I've applied the correct postage already. Did you get that?" While he was talking, he whipped out the cheque and the envelope as a visual aid just in case the Rory was confused.
"Can you show me how the envelope looks like again?" She deadpanned. But instead of laughing, Jess diligently held up the envelope again in a manner that reminded her of flight attendants explaining airplane safety procedures. "I was only joking. Of course I know how to pay the bills via good old fashion mail. Remember, I was doing a fine job of it before you moved in."
"Don't scoff. Our power was nearly cut off when I first got here."
"It was a one time thing." She protested.
"I don't care. I'm not taking any chances. I do not want to come back from a foreign country only to have to traipse around in a candle-lit apartment because you forgot to pay the bill. Contrary to popular belief, candles are not romantic, they're a fire hazard."
"Don't worry. I won't forget this time, okay? Now help me pick an outfit." She pleaded.
"Do I look like Will Truman to you?" It is now his turn to scoff.
"No. But you do have an uncanny knack at colour coordination. Seriously, which one? Quick."
"Neither." He sighed as he walked towards to closet. "Do not expect me to do this again."
"Thank you." She hugged him with the intensity of a boa constrictor trapping its prey. "I'll go take a shower, just hang it on the doorknob when you're done."
Jess grudgingly retreated to the closet to rummage through her clothes; careful to not touch the flamingo pink feather boa in the corner for it may compromise his masculinity. This was definitely not what he expected when he agreed to move in with her. During his search, he even managed to find his AC/DC shirt tucked away in the corner. The same shirt that mysteriously disappeared a week ago. He made mental note to remind Rory to never borrow his clothes again.
Finally after much debate, he found a nice blue dress. It was very similar to the rest of her wardrobe that way it's simple and elegant. She had a knack for buying clothes that are sensible yet drop-dead gorgeous. The only different was that it's not black. Upon hanging the dress on the doorknob, Rory opened the door a little bit and a wet arm snatched it inside.
"By the way, I have to catch the 6 o'clock flight to Bangkok tomorrow morning." He told her as she emerged out of the bathroom.
"Do you need a ride to the airport?"
"Nah. I know you're not exactly a morning person. I'll take a cab. I've posted a copy of my itinerary on the fridge. There's no contact number seeing that this is going to involve a lot of hiking and wilderness and phones are not readily available in the middle of a rain forest."
"There must be a way for me to find you. You know, for emergency purposes." She delicately applied an extra coat of mascara. Jess grimace at the thought of people willingly wield sharp objects around their eyes. He couldn't believe the entire cosmetic industry was based on people's willingness to blind themselves.
"If you really, really need to look me up, there's a satellite phone number. Emergency only." He said as he scribbled a long chain of numbers on a post it note. He stuck it on an empty corner of her vanity mirror.
"Define emergency."
"Apartment burning down, obliterating my CD collection and melting my Buddy Christ action figure – emergency. Luke calls here and wonder why I have yet to make a call since I got here – not an emergency."
"What about a 24 hour marathon of Iron Chief on food Network?"
"Emergency."
"I was not joking." She paused from applying eye shadow to look at him.
"Neither am I."
Just when she was going to say something sarcastic, the chiming of the doorbell reminded her that her date was waiting outside. "I'm not ready." She said in a panicking tone.
"I'll do the stalling." Jess replied. He shook his head when he walked out of the room. The things he'd do for Rory.
He opened the door to a young blond man. Jess slowly gave the visitor an once-over. Tall, dressed in smart casual attire, a silver ring on his middle finger. Yup, it definitely fitted the description of the person that Rory's won't stop talking about for the past couple of day.
"I'm sorry. I think I got the wrong place." Tristan double-checked the little piece of paper with Rory's address scribbled on it. He was obviously surprised to find a person other than Rory answering the door. Maybe it's next door, or maybe it's the next building, or maybe it's the next street. He hated it when he couldn't read his own writing.
"Are you Tristan DuGrey?"
"Yes." He answered hesitantly. "And you are … " He asked when a quick memory jog confirmed that he had never met this person before.
"Jess Mariano. Rory's roommate."
"I don't think Rory ever mentioned having a roommate. "
"Not the point. I would like to have a word with you."
"Sure."
"Outside." He closed the door behind him making sure that Rory will not hear any of this. "Seeing that her father and Luke isn't here, I'll be the one to give you the speech."
"Who's Luke?" He was clearly not following his train of thought.
"Not the point and don't interrupt from now on. Rory is a good kid. If you hurt her or even do as much as put a frown on her face, I will hunt you down and practice jujutsu on you. Your face will resemble hamburger meat when I'm done with you. Got it?" For a moment there, Tristan thought he walked into the set of The Sopranos instead of the foyer outside Rory's apartment.
After he recomposed himself, he managed to find the right words to reply Jess. "Trust me, I'll never hurt her."
"You better not." Jess leaned his body forward in an intimidating manner to stress his point.
Somewhere uptown, she was comfortably seated in a quiet corner of a posh restaurant. The clientele of this establishment are either affluent or famous or both. None of them looked like they might have a day job as door-to-door salesman. She had a sneaking suspicion that the guy at the next table with an eerie resemblance of Denzel Washington was indeed Denzel himself.
A moment of awkward silence passed between them before Tristan finally spoke up.
"So, what are you reading now?"
"Why do you ask?" Her eyes lit up brightly at the sound of her favourite topic.
"If memory serves me right, your face was always buried in a book. I just thought it would be a nice opening line."
"Mansfield Park. I know, I know, this isn't exactly the definitive work of Austen and a girl like me should be reading Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility or even Emma. But I personally have a thing for lesser-known works of great authors." She secretly hoped that she didn't sound like a pompous book critic.
"Actually, I totally see your point. My personal favourite is The Beautiful and Damned instead of The Great Gatsby. Although it's the latter that made F. Scott Fitzgerald a household name, I think The Beautiful and Damned deserved just as much accolade and attention." She never would have thought that Tristan had just as much of a discriminating taste as she did on books.
"It also has the added advantage of not having a big-screen adaptation where some insipid writer screwed up everything just so they can fit a literary masterpiece into a 2 hour movie."
"I know. I firmly believe that if the movie is based on a book, you might as well read the book and never see the movie. Movies often strip away the reader's imagination and more often than necessary, it's a big disappointment. The Harry Potter series was one of the few occasions when the movie is almost equivalent to the book itself."
Rory nodded her head in agreement. "I still remember a certain TV adaptation of Jane Eyre where Timothy Dalton played Mr. Rochester in it."
"Oh, I think I saw that in junior high. Nothing exude on-screen chemistry like an elf midget in a tutu running into the arms of a disproportionably tall ex-Bond with a butt chin. It was awful!"
"My eyes were burning. I think I was scarred for life."
They talked a bit more before the waiter set their dinner on the table. She took a sip of the Merlot and smiled at her dinner companion. She was definitely having a good time.
~*~*~*~
"Wake up." Rory plunged down beside the sleeping figure.
"Wha … is it 4 already?" A hand stretched out from underneath the cover to search for the clock.
"No. It's 11 pm. Wake up. I want to talk about my date."
"Call Lorelai. That's what mothers are for." Jess mumbled incoherently and rolled over to the other side of his bed.
"But it's 11 pm!"
"So it's more inconvenient to call your mother, who by chance is a blood kin and genetically predisposed to do this, than to wake me up. Me, who happens to have to catch an insanely early flight tomorrow morning to a non-English speaking country and desperately needs the next five hour of slumber time." He hid his head underneath the covers; fervently hoping that Rory would go away.
"Duh! It's Friday night."
"I fail to see your point."
"Mom probably had a battle during Friday night dinner at my grandparents. She'd stop by Luke's afterwards and he'd try to cheer her up. Luke would close early." Rory pry the cover away from his death grip to expose his head.
"Alright, you can stop there."
"I'm not sure whether they'd do it at Luke's place or our place."
"Oh god, make her stop." Jess curled into the fetal position, hoping the images would disappear. But he was still reluctant to sit up.
"I just don't want to call her up and hear heavy breathing of two people on the other end. You of all people should have known better about this. Isn't that the reason why you moved here? You're tired of walking into the room when they …"
"And I'm awake." As if on magic, Jess immediately bolted up, noticeably uncomfortable at where the sentence was going. He tugged his wrinkled shirt and slowly pulled himself to a sitting position. Clearly, he's not able to avoid this talk. Might as well make himself comfortable while he did this. "So tell me about the big fancy date."
"It was kinda weird at first. We got into the car and dance music came on immediately when he started the car. Tell me if, 'baby when I heard you, for the first time I knew, we were meant to be as one' sound familiar." Rory sang the little segment to the surprise of the half-asleep boy. Never in a million years would he imagine her singing, and on top of it, she was singing pop music.
"So he's a fan of Kylie Minogue. Something wrong with that?"
"I'm sorry. Did that part about infectious pop-dance music not make a connection in your head? He listens to Kylie Minogue for god sake!"
"Yeah. But did you see the music videos? I think any hot-blooded man on this planet should be excused for liking Kylie."
"But you don't listen to Kylie … you don't, right?" She raised one of her eyebrows for effect.
"God no. So aside from having questionable music taste, what else was wrong with him?"
"He was kinda embarrassed in the beginning and immediately changed the CD. Apparently he's a fan of the Blues Brother soundtrack too."
"Not bad." He nodded in an approving manner.
"My thoughts exactly. Actually, aside from the music in the beginning, everything was perfect. I found out he has a brother, he visits his grandfather regularly and on top of it, he works at the Metropolitan Museum of Art as a junior curator. We had a hearty discussion on whose life story is more depressing, Emily Dickinson or Sylvia Plath."
"What's the verdict?"
"Plath, but by a very slim margin. On account that she stuck her head into an over."
"You sound like you were having a good time."
"I was."
"Then why are you freaking out on my bed in the middle of the night?"
"Because aside from the music and the really good food, this is not the Tristan DuGrey I knew in high school. He's suppose to drive a Porsche, he's suppose to make sexual innuendo jokes, and he's suppose to remind to me why I hated him so much in high school. Instead, I had a terrific time, he behaved in the most gentlemanly fashion and he was intelligent enough to understand my obscure cultural references. Also when he kissed me goodnight, he gave me the sweetest kiss on my forehead. FOREHEAD!! All these mixed signals are causing havoc in my head. Is he playing with me, or is this the real Tristan DuGrey?"
"Rory, slow down before you go all Sigmund Freud and start psychoanalysing his dessert. Maybe you should see him a few more time before you make any judgment call. After all, New Yorkers are infamous for hiding their real roots during the first date."
"What if he's the wrong guy for me? I don't want to figure that out on date number 50. I want to know now, before I invest too much time and energy into it. What if he doesn't like the same books or the same movies or the same TV shows."
"I hate to tell you this, but I'm afraid there's no easy way to do it."
"I wish this could be simpler."
"Me too, kiddo. Me too." Jess pulled her against him and gave her a warm hug. She leaned her head on his shoulder in a childish manner.
A week of hard work and its consequential exhaustion was finally catching up to her. He could feel her breathe slowed down and her body relaxed against him. He continued to stroke her smooth brown hair.
"Can I stay here tonight?" Her sentence blurred into a chain of garbled syllables.
"Sure." He the top of her head and let her slid underneath his cover.
"I'll miss you." She mumbled before drifting into deep sleep. Jess gently tucked her in and lay down beside her. He pulled a stray strand of hair away from her face. Me too, kiddo. Me too.