Author: Summer
Title: Drain the Glass
Rating: PG-13, for now
Chapter Title: Typical Day
Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…
Chapter Summary: When there's a leak in the Danvers household, Rory has to go out for breakfast… with Tristan
Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past. Nor do I own John Mayer's Typical Day. Or Chris' Raspberry Rain. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)
Author's Note: To Joan, who beta'd this for me with no advance warning. To Jess for her lovely review. To Loz and Lola.
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Rise and shine give a stretch and wipe the dreams from my eyes / Close your eyes and imagine me on a typical day / Well I sit back and just close my eyes and I drift away
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"Rory, the phone's for you." Rory glanced toward the doorway of her room, where Emilie stood holding a phone. Rory went to get up from her bed, but Emilie stopped her. "There's an extension by the nightstand."
Rory nodded, picking up the extension. "Hello?" she said, as Emilie walked away.
"Hey, Rory. It's Jordan."
Rory smiled. "Oh, hi Jordan."
"What do you think of my sisters?"
Rory sighed, lying down. "Normandy's a piece of work," she responded slowly. "Hey, Jordan?"
"Yeah."
"Why didn't you come right out and tell me they were your sisters?"
"That would've been no fun." Jordan laughed. "Besides, you probably wouldn't have believed it, after meeting Normandy and Emilie."
"Well, you're a healthy medium between the two," Rory replied, grinning. "Emilie's such a sweet kid."
"And Normandy's a holy terror."
"No, not really. She's definitely a bit more of a challenge, but she's well behaved."
"And smart," Jordan added.
"Ridiculously smart." Rory sighed, running a hand through her hair. "The house is huge."
"Have you gotten lost yet?"
"No. I've had Normandy as a tour guide."
"Ah. Good choice. She probably knows the house better than Tristan. Or Amelie."
"I talked to Amelie earlier. She seems nice."
"Oh, she is." Jordan paused. "You know, I never would've thought Tristan would end up with someone like Amelie, though. For that reason."
"That she's nice?" Rory asked, confused. "From what I've seen of Tristan, he's nice too."
Jordan chuckled. "I guess he wasn't the most… honorable person in high school, though. He had the reputation of a player."
Blonde hair, blue eyes. An easy smirk. Rory could see it. "Yeah?"
"Yep. Apparently he only had one real girlfriend throughout high school. And she turned out to be a bit of a sleaze herself."
"Did you know her?"
"No. I went to high school in Massachusetts. That's where my dad lives. I know this because Tristan told me they broke up after she locked herself in a bathroom with some random guy."
"That's always good," Rory said sarcastically, shifting to her side.
"But, of course, he got over her quickly." Jordan sighed. "I guess he really was a player."
"I knew a few guys like that growing up," Rory said casually.
"Err. It's nine, Rory. Ben's coming over in a few minutes, so I should probably go."
"To stay?"
"Yeah, most likely."
Rory wrinkled her nose. "I didn't really need to know that."
Jordan paused. "You asked…"
"Yeah, but you should've known that I'd only want an answer if the answer was no, because now I'll have to worry about you guys getting romantic on my bed."
"That was only once."
"Hey! What?" Rory grimaced. Gross.
Jordan laughed. "Joking, Rory. I have my own bed, remember? And seriously, you worry too much. Just read that book I lent you."
Rory sighed, picking up Raspberry Rain. "The hero in it kind of reminds me of my ex."
"Why's that?"
"He has the same name. His physical appearance is about the same. You know, just all around."
"Creepy."
"Yeah." Rory sighed. "I'll let you go now."
"Okay. Bye. 'Night."
"'Night, Jordan." Rory hung up the phone, turning back to her story. Why didn't she meet a handsome, helpful guy when something went wrong in her life? Why was reality so tedious compared to a good novel?
Rory was sitting in the dining room eating breakfast the next morning when Amelie greeted her.
"Hey," she chirped, sitting down next to Rory and grabbing an orange from the bowl in the center of the table.
"Hey," Rory echoed, much more drowsily. College hadn't helped her become more of a morning person.
"I just wanted to tell you that I'm driving the girls to their fraternal grandparents' house. They usually spend their Sundays there," Amelie said, peeling her orange.
"Oh. Okay. Is it out of your way, though? Because I could take them-"
Amelie shook her head. "No. They live down the street from my sister's. I usually just visit her after I drop off the girls."
"Oh. Sure. Should I have a phone number or anything?"
"There should be a list on the desk in your room. It's on that." Amelie paused. "Tristan's not a morning person, so he probably won't roll out of bed until after one. But Corina comes in at eleven."
"The cook, right?"
"Yes. She's about thirty, dark hair, dark eyes."
"Okay. Thanks Amelie."
"No problem." She split off a piece of the orange, chewing it unhurriedly.
At quarter of eleven, Corina arrived. Amelie's description of the woman had done her no justice. Corina's hair was a dark brown, so close to being black it actually appeared blue under light. Her eyes were a warm chocolate, and she smiled easily at Rory. "Hello."
"Hi. I'm Rory Gilmore. Normandy and Emilie's new nanny."
Corina surveyed Rory carefully now, and after a long moment, the smile reappeared. "What do you think of Normandy?"
Well, wasn't that the question of the week. "She's a very bright little girl," Rory started. "A bit introverted, but I'm not one to talk."
"She's like her old babysitter."
"Who was that?"
"Until about a year ago. Paris Gellar. Brilliant girl. It was a shame she didn't get into Harvard."
"She ended up going to Yale. I think Yale's at least Harvard's equivalent, if not better."
"So you're a Bulldog?" Corina asked.
"Well, I don't actually participate in any sports. Me and balls don't exactly mix very well." Rory stopped to ponder this for a moment. "But in the school spirit-y sense, yes."
Corina laughed, walking into the kitchen. "Not the athletic type? You'll have trouble keeping up with Emilie, then."
"What are you reading?"
Rory jumped from the recliner at the deep male voice. She whipped around to see Tristan DuGrey standing in the door, smirking. "Oh, um, Raspberry Rain."
"Oh, I don't do romance novels," Tristan replied offhandedly, then froze.
"Yet you knew what this specific title was about?"
"Amelie's father's company published it," he responded glibly.
"I'm offended. Do you really think I'd believe that you know what every single book your fiancée's father's company publishes is about?"
"No?" Tristan sat down in another recliner, smiling. "You caught me. I've read it. Amelie has a copy, and when I'm bored, I'm known for reading anything I can get my hands on."
"Out loud? Because it would be really fun if you started reading a dysentery medicine label out loud or something?" Rory giggled.
Tristan shook his head. "Um, no." He paused. "Amelie's mother was talking about promoting you to governess, because of the girls' ages."
Rory frowned. "What's that mean?"
"Well, nothing really. It's just a more acceptable label, you know? And it pays a little better…" Tristan let his words trail off, watching Rory closely.
Rory shrugged. "Well, sure. I could-"
"Master DuGrey!" There was a shriek from the kitchen, and a second later Corina came running out. "There's a water leak, sir. It's not good."
Tristan groaned, grabbing his cell phone. "I'll call a plumber, Corina. You can have the day off."
"Master DuGrey…" Corina hedged tentatively.
"Yes?" Tristan asked, dialing 411.
"I need the day's pay, sir. My son needs new clothing."
"I'll pay you Corina. I'll even give you a tip for having to put up with a leak, okay?"
"Thank you, Master DuGrey." Corina flashed Rory a smile, then disappeared into the hallway.
Almost two hours later, the blonde man reappeared, after having locked himself in the study, talking to various plumbers. "No one can get out here today. I guess there was a water leak or something in a hotel."
"Oh."
Tristan shrugged. "Puts a crimp in my day though. The leak's not that bad, but since I gave Corina the day off…"
Rory tried not to roll her eyes. So he was the stereotypical rich boy after all. "You don't know how to cook?"
His answer surprised her. "I do. Almost anything… just not breakfast."
"You hadn't eaten?" Rory asked.
"Nope."
"I'd offer to make you something, but I really can't cook. Our stove… well, my mom can't cook either. It was another storage place. One time, when my father visited, he hid the jar of hot chocolate mix from me and my mom in the stove. About a year later, my mom, for some unknown reason, actually turned on the stove. Doesn't taste as good burnt." Rory flushed, realizing her employer probably didn't need to know any of this.
"Oh." Tristan paused. "Did you eat?"
"I had a cup of coffee and a few orange slices."
"Huh. Only Amelie can sustain herself on that. You're coming with me."
Rory cast her curious gaze toward him. "I am? And where?"
"To get breakfast. Or lunch, because that's what they're probably serving at this point."
"Oh. I don't have any money to-"
"I'll pay. Think of it as a compensation for putting up with a Danvers household problem."
"Well, on that note." Rory grinned. "Let me just grab my coat."
There was something oddly unnerving about breakfast with your employer. It seemed so unprofessional, especially when the aforementioned employer was an attractive man her age. Rory paused. Since when had she found Tristan DuGrey attractive?
She was pulled out of her thoughts by an awkward lull in the conversation, and she realized Tristan must've asked her a question. He was looking at her expectantly, with a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Huh?"
Tristan smiled, then cleared his throat. "I asked if you'd like another coffee. You seem to have inhaled yours," he said, gesturing toward her cup.
"Oh!" She nodded, offering a small smile. "My mother got me really addicted to coffee."
"You seem really close to your mother," Tristan offered, taking her cup.
"Yeah. My mother's even more of a coffee addict than I am. She seriously considered getting a coffee IV once."
Tristan laughed. "I'm sure her doctors would've loved that," he said, standing up.
Rory watched as Tristan strode to the counter in a few easy steps, holding out her coffee cup to the server. She surveyed the man critically, trying to find a flaw, so that she wouldn't have to admit he was worth looking at.
He was easily six feet tall, with a sinewy frame, thin but muscular. His skin was tan and healthy, which was more than she could say for most college boys. What had drawn Rory wasn't his body, or his angel like golden hair, but his eyes. His eyes were such a piercing blue, that when the boy met her gaze, she felt like he could read her mind. Rory froze again, bringing her hands to cover her face in an exasperated gesture. This was not good. If this continued, she'd end up with a crush on her employer.
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To a place that's in my mind / I read a book or I watch TV. / It helps me to forget about all the little things that I need
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