THE OBLIVIOUS MODE
By Yih

Note: All of Rory's family is dead, and they had a financial crisis which is why Rory's poor. Remember this is an AU, nothing from GG is the same.

Chapter Two

First ring, second ring, and pick up the phone damn it Logan. It never took him until the third ring, not when he knew it was me. I had a special ring tone. Something loud and obnoxious, so he had to be in a conference meeting. Bloody great, who knew when he'd get out? Sides, if I couldn't talk to him now, who knew when I'd get another free five minutes from the workaholic and rich socialite?

Pick up the phone, pick up the phone, I chanted. I braced myself for the voicemail to pick up, but heaven be praised: "Sorry Rory."

Apologies from Logan were like NYC traffic ceasing, it didn't happen. "Are you inebriated?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he snapped. "Why do you ask?"

"You said sorry."

I pictured him rolling my eyes and his tone only amplified it: "Is that a crime?"

"Nope," I responded, "just surprising from you."

"So when do you think you'll be able to get to O'Rourke's?" he asked. How typical of him to ignore the conversational direction I wanted to go. "And who are you working for today?"

"I think around 7 should be good." In my estimation, I would be able to get away from Paris at 6:00 when she started fussing over getting ready for another one of those dinner parties that she so enjoyed. That gave me an hour to get back to the penthouse, get dressed, and head over to O'Rourke's. Plenty of time. "And I'm jobbing Paris and Louise."

"Paris Gellar-Richmond? The Paris Gellar-Richmond that you proclaimed that you'd never work for again when she kept you up until 3 am planning party details for the ball she was throwing? That Paris Gellar-Richmond?"

I cringed. The memory was that awful. She had driven me mad enough that when I had stumbled back to my bed that night, I had vowed to a worried Logan who'd stayed up waiting for me that I'd never ever work for the obsessive compulsive woman again.

"Yes, that Paris."

"Are you loony?"

"I don't know," I muttered glumly.

"I think you are," he insisted. "I mean, did you not say Louise too? I thought the last time you came back from helping her with her kids, you realized why her nannies got paid so much because her kids were little terrors."

"Your words, not mine. They aren't that bad, but they get bad when you put all five of them into the same room at the same time. I mean rambunctious is okay when there's only one, but multiply that five times over and then you've got a mean rambunctious."

"Then why?"

"Money."

Logan growled. "I told you…"

"I know," I interrupted, knowing what this spiel would be about. What he was going to say was that I ought to know that if I ever needed any help at all, he would be there for me. After all, I had no one else but him with my grandparents' and my mother's tragic death. Considering the moneybag he was, I ought to feel free to use him as my personal vault. What he didn't understand was that I hadn't before and I wasn't going to now. It was bad enough that I was forced to live with him. Stupid exorbitant NYC rent. "And I simply won't let you pay for everything for me."

"I don't see why not," he grumbled.

"Because I'm stubborn like that."

"You're a mule."

"Why thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I'll take it as such because that means I'm not a fortune hunting whore like the sluts that are continuously sniffing at your cologne."

He laughed. "You make them sound like dogs."

"You're getting there."

"Bitches."

"Bitches, I see." He laughed. His eyes sparkled. "You make them sound like the worst sort of women in the world. I don't know how you do it, but you make them sound too terrible."

"Did I really make them out to be that bad?" I hadn't thought I'd made them out to be that bad of bitches, royal bitches at them. It was a possibility; my tongue did run away with me when I was with Logan. There was no need to curb it. He would think something was wrong if I didn't speak what was true.

There was a silence that meant he had to be smirking the smirk. I had then. My mum would have been disappointed and if she were still alive, she would have lectured me about not saying cruel and callous things about people that I barely knew. My acerbic tongue was a razor that never needed any sharpening.

"What you said just now," he remarked, "wasn't that bad. What you have called them before which only further reneges them to the dishonorable title of bitches and that was bad. Terrible, in fact."

"Thanks."

"You have a talent for complaining." I grimaced. That wasn't a talent I especially wanted. Who wanted to be known as a nagger? "In this case, I wholly agree with you. They are fortune hunting whores that follow where the money is and I am unfortunately one of their targets."

"It's tragic, isn't it?"

"Very."

I giggled. There was a pause. I giggled more. He sighed. "You find this funny?"

"Very."

"Very immature, Rory."

"Perhaps."

"And very childish and you know what they say… children shouldn't pay, adults should," he countered.

My forehead wrinkled with ill grace. Frowns did not become me, and it was very ineffective as he could not see it. Maybe I should have taken him up on the offer to upgrade my phone to the video variety. Even my creative mind could only imagine Huntzberger reactions so far.

"I am only a child sometimes, and the times when I am an adult I will pay for myself. I accept enough charity from you as it is." And I would not accept anymore.

"It isn't charity," he reminded me. "I would live in the penthouse regardless. If you didn't live with me, then there would simply be another empty room. There are enough empty rooms as it is."

"Then invite the homeless."

"You take generosity too far."

"Ah, so there is a limit!"

He chuckled. "There is always a limit, and my limit in bestowing my generosity is only for you."

"Logan…"

There was talking noise in the background, static, some deliberate sighing, an annoying mobile ring, and one annoyed Logan telling whoever it was that had to be scared shitless that he was in no mood to deal with the mess that they had just delivered. "I have to go," he finally said apologetically. "I'll make the reservations to O'Rourke's. Don't be late."

"I won't," I promised, but it was a promise said to air. The phone had clicked off.

-

I was soggy and I was late. The hostess did not look impress with the swamp I was creating as I waited for someone to escort me to the table where Logan Huntzberger was expecting me. I knew that they knew that I knew that they knew where Logan was seated and that the pretense of looking up where he was in their fairly decent size restaurant was an arrogant gesture to show that they really did not think I could possibly be the Huntzberger guest.

"Please follow me, Miss Gilmore, Mr. Huntzberger has been expecting you." I noted the hostess's surprise. It was comical and depressing. I didn't fit into Logan's world, even if I had been his best friend since god knows when. It's been too long. How long? A decade and more.

The familiar sound of tapping fingers greeted me. "You're late," he swirled his wine and then sipped, "and you're wet."

"Stating the obvious?"

"Polite conversation is not a sin."

"Except that you weren't being polite."

He smiled and boy was it beautiful. "How not nice of you to point that out."

"I'm not the one that had etiquette teachers."

"Sit, Rory."

I sat, and then scowled because I had unwittingly listened to him. "I'm starved."

"I assumed you would be, so I went ahead and ordered for you." If it had been anyone but Logan, I would have been outraged. As it was, I smiled. Logan knew what I would eat and what I wouldn't eat. There was no one alive that knew me better than he did. "I take it work didn't go well?"

"No, Paris was not difficult or demanding just exacting and anxious and I only carpooled two Louise kids instead of the five that I had previously told you that I thought I would have to."

"Sounds not too bad," he remarked.

"It wasn't."

"What's up with the glorious ensemble you're sporting?" Trust him to notice my lack of suitable clothing. It was wet, that was the first sin. It wasn't fashionable, the second sin. Worst, the mother of all sins, it was wrinkled and dirty. "Why didn't you give yourself enough time to get dressed up?"

I read the irritation. It was nothing more than the slight tightening of his well formed jaw, but I had spent more than a decade studying his face. He had often told me that I knew him better than anyone in the world including his parents. It wasn't hard; I think the Maid knew him better than his parents. But it was I that knew him best.

"There was no time."

"You weren't deliberately late then?"

Teeth grit together. It wasn't like I tried to be late to everything; I was by ill luck late to everything. I had bad timing; I knew that, I think everyone knew that. Distractions, whatever they may be, were dangerous as they kept me from getting where I was going on time. I did eventually get there, and what did it matter if I was a bit tardy in doing so?

"No." Hoarse, croaky, and unpleasant and oh how I did feel unpleasant.

"Are you coming down with something?" There's concern. His eyes worried, no doubt precipitated by my wet rat look. There's nothing more tyrannical than Logan Huntzberger when I'm sick. Prison sounded lovely in comparison.

"No, something's in my throat s'all," I answered, quickly and strongly to erase any lingering suspicions. I didn't need to be coddled. Changing subjects had a neat way of changing focuses. "Oh and earlier today, I forgot to mention that I'm working with Madeline."

"Madeline, the single one?"

"Yeah."

"I like her."

"She thinks you're a fine piece of man flesh," I teased. Logan gave me one of his long suffering looks that asked why he put up with me. "I need you to get me up at 6:30."

"Better make it 6."

"I can get there in 30 minutes!"

"You can," he agreed, "if you don't shower and change."

"Bah." He was right. We didn't need to get into another discussion about my untimely self. Needed, desperately, another conversational topic. I was grasping when I saw food. "What did you order?"

"Excuse me?"

"For dinner," I clarified.

"Steak," he answered, "of course."

"Yummy!"

He smirked. "Why don't you say it? I can read your mind."

I coughed.

"I am the all-powerful…"

I rolled my eyes. "The all-powerful nothing."

He kicked my shins from underneath the table. "Hush, you."

-

Author's Note: TBC. Please review.