Chapter 8: Kinds Of People

"Well hello," Paris heard her mother greet someone at the door. She stepped out into the foyer from the living room and saw Tristan smiling charmingly at Renee. She let out a soft snort when Renee smiled widely, appreciatively at him. "Tristan, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Gellar," he replied smoothly and stepped into the mansion. "You look beautiful, as always."

God, Paris thought in disbelief as he mother blushed like a teenager on her first date. Is there anyone he can't charm? When Renee laid a hand on Tristan's arm in an out-and-out flirtatious gesture, Paris decided she needed to put a stop to the madness before she threw up. "Hey Tristan."

He looked over Renee's shoulder and smiled in relief. "Hey Paris."

"Let's go into the living room," she replied and gave her mother a pointed look.

Renee frowned for a second before smiling prettily. "You kids have fun. I'll stop by later with something to drink."

When she was gone, Tristan looked at her gratefully. "Thank you for rescuing me."

She grimaced as she led him into the living room. "I was trying to preserve my own health. Remind me again why I let you hit me up for homework?"

"Because you love me." Paris scowled darkly at him he fell back onto the couch behind him and gave her a lazy grin.

"Try again."

"You have gorgeous penmanship."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't you have a girlfriend to bother, now?"

The mirth vanished immediately from his eyes as he straightened up on the couch. He cleared his throat and looked away from her. "No, I don't."

She looked at him inquisitively as she dug into her book bag for the notes. "Trouble in paradise?"

It was Tristan's turn to roll his eyes. "Why do you have to say it like that?"

Paris was genuinely puzzled as she sat down beside him on the couch, handing over her notes. "What do you mean 'like that'?"

He ran a hand through his untamed hair and let out a frustrated sigh. "Like the idea of me and Rory together was doomed from the beginning."

Paris knew that it would be safe not to comment on that statement. "What happened? Oh wait, let me guess – she heard the rumor?"

He groaned. "Nothing gets by you, does it?"

"Not usually," she replied with a smug grin. Then she sobered. "So what? She threw a fit? Decided that it was best to stay away from you?" Tristan explained that he had tried to stop the story. "That was very noble of you."

She let him take that as a compliment. "Thank you."

"And very stupid."

"Oh," he said, a little insulted. He furrowed his brows. "Why?"

"You should have left it alone," she explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "That way, you wouldn't have gotten involved and she wouldn't have traced it back to you."

He scoffed at that. "Yeah right. If she heard the first rumor, she would have assumed I was the spreading it around too. Rory would have found a way to make it my fault. It's easier that way."

Paris understood that. It was a very Rory-like thing to do. "You're right, I suppose."

"Yeah well, now it's up to her," he said, trying to sound dismissive. He smiled at her brightly. "So are you going to Madeline's bash?"

She nodded. "Jess is invited."

"Ooh," he teased as he sat up straight. "It's getting that serious between you and Mariano? Ready to thrown him to the sharks already?"

"You think I shouldn't?" she asked, nervously.

She had never considered how weird or difficult it would be for Jess to mingle with the Chilton crowd. Not that she was an elitist or anything – well she was sometimes – but her classmates were mean, rude and obnoxious. Case in point? The Tristan/Rory rumor fiasco. Jess didn't even go to Chilton…why would he want to go to a party that a bunch of snobs were attending?

"Paris," Tristan's tone was reassuring, as if he knew what she was thinking. "If you want him to come, then ask him. People are going to talk no matter what and from what I've heard, they're already talking a lot about you and Jess."

"Really? Like what?"

"You don't wanna know," he answered; then reached back and grabbed the phone from the side table. "Call him and ask. Only way to find out."

She smiled at him gratefully, dialed the number she had memorized by heart and waited for him to pick up as she nervously chewed on her lip. The voice that came through sounded tired. "Hello?"

"Hi Jess, it's me."

"Hey," he replied, the edge in his voice disappearing. "I was wondering when you'd call."

She tried hard not to blush but when she saw Tristan look up and smirk a little, she knew she had failed. Ignoring the butterflies that had suddenly spread their wings in her stomach, she plunged forward. Cool and calm, she told herself. Flirt a little. "Well, you could have called."

"I could have," he conceded and she didn't have to see him to know that he was smiling. "It's more fun this way, though."

She laughed a little. "Well, I have a reason for calling you. I need to ask you something."

"Sounds intriguing."

Rolling her eyes, she continued before she lost her nerve. "My friend, Madeline, is throwing a party at her house this Friday and she's invited you. You don't have to say yes right away. You don't have to say yes at all. In fact, you can even say no. It's good to say no. I mean no is a word that is highly underrated. More people should use the word no…um, kids under peer pressure, women in submissive relationships, the people behind the Anna Nicole Smith Show…"

Tristan shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Do you want me to say no?" he cut her off, and she could hear laughter in his voice.

She sighed into the phone. "No."

"Will you be at the party?"

"Obviously."

"Then I'll be there."

He surprised her with the cool yet reassuring answer. Getting a little excited, she nearly fell off the couch but steadied herself so she didn't sound like an idiot when she replied. "You will? You're sure?"

"Pretty much."

"People will be there."

"You don't say."

"Lots of preppy people."

He laughed a bit. "I figured."

"I'm talking suede boots, ridiculously expensive hairstyles, Rolex watches - "

"Paris," he cut her off, sounding a little annoyed. "I said I'd be there."

"Okay," she answered with a little disbelieving smile. "Good."

"I have to go," he answered. "See you soon."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Jess hung up the phone just as his mother sat down at the kitchen table, a plate of burgers and fries in her hand. He looked at it as she set it down in front of him and then raised an eyebrow. "What's this?"

"Food."

"What did you put in it?" he asked as she sat down across from him.

"I see you're still a wise guy," she observed with a smile.

"Yeah well it's hard to get rid of things like that," he scoffed and picked up the burger because he was hungry…and it smelled delicious. "Very domestic of you, Ma. Making me lunch, tidying up after me…what gives?"

"Nothing," she replied defensively as he took a bite. "I used to do it for you all the time in Brooklyn."

"Really?" he asked after he swallowed, his voice bordering on nasty. "I don't remember. But then again, it's been two years since we've seen each other."

She nodded, ran her tongue over her upper teeth – like she always did when she was trying to hold in a snappy remark or her anger. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest as she regarded him coolly. "Are you going to keep taking shots at me like that the whole time I'm here?"

"How long is that exactly?" he asked her, his anger rising steadily. His mother was acting like there was nothing wrong with her presence in Stars Hollow, like she fit into his world now, like they hadn't been separated for two years, that they could pick up where they had left off which wasn't much of place to begin with, anyway.  "And while we're on the subject why are you here? Where have you been? Luke called you three times in the last month and you were never home. Then all of a sudden you show up with your luggage intent on staying indefinitely."

"It's not indefinite," she cut in, looking put out. She pushed a strand of her dark hair behind her ear and leaned forward, elbows on the table. "And I don't know why I am here."

"Bullshit," he scoffed, the food forgotten.

"Don't use that - "

He cut her off. "You never do anything without a reason, Ma."

She stood up, pulled the sleeves of her shirt up her arm and paced. He knew that she was trying to keep from yelling, to keep from saying something she would regret later and he wanted to provoke her more. At least if he made her feel something more than just indifference then they'd be getting somewhere. But, she kept him from saying anything and let out a frustrated growl. "I'm a grown woman. I shouldn't be interrogated by my son like this."

He got up to get into her face. "A grown woman wouldn't do anything to make her son interrogate her. If you can't deal with you own shit then how can anyone else?"

"I am dealing," she answered, her eyes watering a bit. "I'm dealing the only way I know how, okay? Are you satisfied, Jess? If my being in Stars Hollow bothers you so much then just say so. Don't give me the third degree about it. My life doesn't involve - "

"Me," he sneered filling in for her. "It doesn't involve me."

"Don't put words in my mouth, Jess." He let out a breath and tried to calm his nerves. Then he shook his head, signaling that he didn't want to continue this argument and grabbed his jacket. She furrowed her brows. "We're not finished."

"It doesn't matter to me," he retorted and jerked his arm into the sleeve of his jacket. "Do whatever you want, Ma. Just keep me out of it. Like you always do."

When he reached the door, she asked him to stop and knowing that he shouldn't, he complied. "I want to talk to you about Paris."

"What?" he asked completely shocked as he turned around. "After this yelling match you want to talk to me about Paris?"

She ignored his ferocious stare and continued, hands on hips. "We don't mix with those kind of people."

"What kind of people?"

"Rich people."

He shook his head, disbelievingly. "Since when have you had anything against money and the people with it?"

"Listen to me, Jess. It'll never work. Their world…it's different. We clash."

"Are you listening to yourself?" he asked, his temper flaring again. "Them? Us? Jesus!"

"I know what I am talking about," she retorted. "It'll only hurt you in the end." Disgusted that she would even care now about what happened to him, he turned around and reached for the door. "Where are you going?"

"Out," he shot back and slammed the door behind him.