Author: Summer
Title: Drain the Glass
Rating: PG-13, for now
Chapter Title: In My Life.
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: Jordan visits… a run in with friends… a very chaotic world.
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 The Beatles' In My Life. Or Georgiou Studio. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)
Author's Note: To Loz and Joan, for their last minute reviews. 50 reviews in three chapters. I love you guys.
Feedback is always appreciated. You guys know me well enough to know I'd never hold back a chapter over it… err, with the exception of Loz and Joan, lol, but it does make an author more enthused. Plus, I'm the kind of person who will comment on good feedback in an author's note, maybe pimp a fic.
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Jordan Danvers slipped from her bed the next morning, not bothering to wake her sleeping boyfriend. After taking a quick shower, she threw on her jeans and a white ribbed sweater, letting her hair dry naturally.
Grabbing her car keys, she slipped from the dorm, into the early morning. The chill of a New England fall was comforting to Jordan, seeing as she'd always loved this weather.
She'd promised Amelie she'd pick up her sisters, since Amelie was going away with her sister for a few days.
Starting her car, Jordan glanced back to the dorm, where the sun was just visible over the roof. It was barely six, and it didn't take much brainpower to know that almost everyone in the dorm was asleep. She shrugged, pulling out of the parking lot. She could probably pick up her sisters and be back by the time Ben woke up.
Daniel and Rebecca Ashford were not the stereotypical grandparents. Normandy sat on the stairs, glancing down at the elderly couple. Daniel was a big man, probably well over six feet tall. He wasn't overweight, but his frame certainly wasn't lanky. He had an authoritarian air about him, and Normandy was sure that was why he'd closed so many business deals.
Rebecca, on the other hand, was a petite woman; she barely came up to her husband's chest. She'd aged gracefully, and her hair hadn't turned that shade of gray associated with old age, rather, a white. It was fortunate for the woman, whose hair, Normandy had learned, had been a white blonde anyway. She didn't possess her husband's assertive air, yet she wasn't friendly either.
Normandy no longer held the same hopes as Emilie when it came to the couple. She'd abandoned them when she was young, probably three or four. She'd realized they'd never be the grandparents a child wanted, that Rebecca was more likely to cook her own meal than knit her granddaughters' mittens or rock them in a rocking chair, that Daniel's only communication with the girls would be his discussions about business.
Emilie, however, was obviously still hoping for a change in her grandparents' behavior. Normandy watched her younger sister, sitting on the floor across from the elder Ashfords' straight backed chairs, stumbling through a passage in The Aeneid, frantically looking up every few words, hoping for a smile or a nod from her grandparents, any gesture of interest.
Normandy sighed. It was oddly symbolic, she realized, that Emilie be sitting on the floor. Her grandparents had put themselves on a pedestal, and even family was looked down upon. It was almost embarrassing to watch Emilie trying to please them.
It was a relief when Jordan walked in, dressed casually and a smile on her face. Except Normandy knew what was coming.
"Miss Danvers," Rebecca addressed Jordan formally, "Haven't we spoken about the dress code for this house?"
Jordan smiled tightly, nodding. "Yes, but personally I find the idea of having a dress code within one's home absurd." She paused. "I'm here to pick up my sisters, not get critiqued by a woman who has no sense of style herself," she pointed out, raising an eyebrow as she glanced at Rebecca's dress.
Normandy would've smiled, but she didn't want to ruin her two-year streak. It was nice to see Jordan upset Mrs. Rebecca Ashford. And she could. Jordan and Rebecca weren't related, so Jordan owed her no familial courtesy.
Rebecca glared at the blonde girl. "Just like your mother," she muttered, storming out of the room.
Jordan rolled her eyes, glancing up the stairs. "Mandy, if you spend any more time here, you'll end up even more sordid than usual. Where's Emilie?"
Normandy gestured toward the sitting room, but didn't bother to stand. It would take another half hour for Jordan and Rebecca to finish exchanging insults anyway.
Rory's day brightened when Jordan entered the Danvers' drawing room, complaining about the grandeur of the house. "Seriously, I always feel like I'm going to break something the second I-"
"Jor!" She waved to her roommate, gesturing for her to sit down on the couch. "I was just watching a movie," she added, nodding to the television.
Jordan nodded, plopping down next to Rory. "What movie?"
"Not sure." Rory paused. "Where'd Ben go this morning?"
"To bed. He's still asleep, probably." Jordan shrugged.
Rory raised her eyebrows. "You left him there?"
"Yeah."
"Did you leave a note?"
Jordan rolled her eyes. "You sound like my mother," she teased. "No, I didn't. I wasn't planning on actually coming in here when I left."
Rory laughed. "Are you going to stay for a while?"
"Yeah. I wanted to talk to Tristan."
"According to Amelie, he's not much of a morning person," Rory pointed out. "And it's only 10:30."
Jordan shrugged. "Then you'll have to entertain me until he wakes up," she said, pointing to the remote. "Lets see what's on."
Running a hand through his disheveled hair and squinting through tired eyes, Tristan almost fell down the stairs after he awoke around 1:00.
Entering the drawing room, he was greeted with a feminine laugh, and he peered at Rory Gilmore. "What?" he asked, confused.
Jordan raised an eyebrow and cast a disdainful look at him, and Tristan became even more perplexed. "Nice choice," Jordan said lightheartedly, looking him up and down.
"I'm in the comfort and safety of my own home. I can dress however I damn well want," he responded, grinning. Mismatched socks, one plain, navy blue one, the other a red and green checkered one Emilie had given him last Christmas. Tattered gray track sweatpants from Rawley Military School for Boys, ripped in the knees. A white T-shirt, reading "I'm with stupid," also left over from high school. He spun around to amuse his sister and her friend. "What? You don't think this could be the next fashion fad?" he asked, feigning hurt, in a surprisingly good imitation of the gay fashion designer at the Georgiou Studio in Hartford.
Jordan rolled her eyes, glancing back at Rory. "See? This is cheese? That's all he is. A big, horrible joker."
Rory laughed. "And to answer your question, Tristan… No. I believe the only way that an outfit like that would become popular would be if our next president were an ape or something. The animal, not just someone who resembles one. Although if someone resembled an ape, then maybe-"
"Rory!" Jordan interrupted the brunette, grinning. Turning back to her brother, she asked, "Have you noticed how talkative this one is yet?"
Tristan nodded. "Yep."
Rory flushed, glancing down at her shoes. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I get carried away and, well…" She trailed off.
Tristan smiled, shaking his head. "Don't be. At least what you say is interesting. It's better than listening to Jordan drone on about her newest boyfriend, or lipstick, or-"
"Hey!" Jordan cried indignantly, hitting Tristan's shoulder in jest. "I resent that."
"Tristan," Emilie shouted, running into the room. She threw her arms around her half-brother.
Tristan grinned, effortlessly lifting the five year old off the ground. "Hey, Emilie," he said. "Miss me?"
"Yes." She kissed Tristan's cheek, then pulled back and pouted. "Amelie was 'sposed to pick us up."
Rory smiled at how the girl morphed the word supposed, her speech skills not completely formed.
"Amelie's going away with her sister, remember?" Tristan responded, setting his sister on the floor carefully. She clung to his legs, but he didn't try to shrug her off. Amelie was lucky, Rory realized. Tristan would make a wonderful father.
And their children would definitely be gorgeous, Rory decided. Whether they received Tristan's golden hair or Amelie's chestnut, and Tristan's blue eyes or Amelie's green, they'd be striking. How could they not with a father that looked like Tristan?
Rory blushed again, realizing she was letting her mind drift into dangerous territory. Tristan was her employer, and she was pretty sure that she and Amelie would become friends.
Her thoughts were once again interrupted, this time by Jordan. "Is that the right time?" she asked, pointing to the VCR clock. Tristan glanced at his watch and nodded. "Oh geez. Ben's going to be awake. I've gotta go," she explained hurriedly.
Rory and Tristan both watched Jordan scurry off in amusement; seeing as it was nearing 3:00, Jordan should've realized hours ago that Ben would be awake.
Emilie followed Jordan out of the room to say goodbye, and Tristan sat next to Rory on the couch. Elbows on his knees, he held his head up with his hands. "I don't like that guy," he confided in Rory.
Rory frowned. "Why not?" From what she'd seen of Ben, he was a pretty decent person. He could be rather dim-witted at times, and loud, but most of the time, he was a polite, caring guy.
"He's not good enough for Jordan," Tristan responded simply, as if the answer were obvious. And Rory supposed, coming from Jordan's brother, it was.
"Oh."
Half an hour later, Normandy sat down delicately in a recliner, yet managed to look reserved, perching on the edge so she was sitting straight. "I was informed today through an email from Delores Nevins that the chorus performance is tomorrow."
Tristan frowned. "Who has an elementary school concert on a Monday."
"Apparently the ninnies running Chilton Elementary." Rory's head jerked up at the mention of Chilton. Normandy raised her eyebrows, meeting Tristan's gaze. "To make a long story short, Emilie and I both need new gowns."
Tristan sighed. "Fine. Okay. Give us half an hour, and we'll bring you shopping."
Normandy disappeared, content with the answer. It was Rory's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Us?"
Tristan nodded. "Yes. You're coming with us. You are being paid to watch the girls, and I wouldn't know where to start to pick out two little girls' dresses." He paused. "I'll be back in a few minutes. I'm thinking I'd get thrown out of the store dressed like this," he said, glancing at his still pajama-adorned body.
Rory had never known it was possible to feel underdressed just going shopping. She glanced around, noticing that almost all the women in the store were in dresses or skirts, and at the most casual, pant suits. She glanced at her own jeans and sweatshirt, and shook her head. So this is how the other world lived. It was like being a celebrity. Can't leave the house without an evening gown in case paparazzi finds you.
Tristan was wearing a suit, and when they were leaving, she figured it was how he dressed normally. She glowered at his profile now. It would've been nice of him to warn her.
Emilie had already pointed out six or seven different dresses she liked, and she, Rory, and Tristan had all agreed on a light blue one. Normandy, however, wasn't nearly as enthusiastic. She looked at each dress noncommittally, for such a length of time that Tristan grabbed a random dress and held it up for his sister to look at. "How about this one?"
Normandy observed it for a moment, before announcing, "No."
"Why not?" Tristan asked, clearly exasperated.
Normandy pointed to the seam. "See that? The stitching is horrible. It's actually visible, which means it will probably fall apart or fray within the month."
"But you only need to wear it for a night."
Normandy glanced at the price tag. "Are you suggesting I spend $400 on a poorly made gown that will fall apart momentarily?"
Rory's eyes widened at the price tag. Hiding her surprise, she quickly grabbed another from the rack. "What about this one?"
"No." Normandy paused, pulling out one next to the dress Rory was putting back. "This will do," she said, barely glancing at the dress.
Rory stared at it. It was a simple, long, black gown, and she supposed it would suit Normandy perfectly. It was depressing in appearance.
"Fine," Tristan answered quickly, not even looking at it. "Lets get out of here."
Walking back to his car, Tristan glanced at the girls' governess. He'd bought everyone ice cream cones at a nearby Friendly's, and Rory was currently trying to keep it from running down the cone.
It was obvious, although she was of the Hartford Gilmore line, she hadn't been raised in the world of high society. She looked carefree- not to the extent of being naïve- in her sweatshirt and jeans. Even in such casual clothes, Rory Gilmore possessed the same natural beauty as Amelie, which was evident considering the girl wasn't wearing even a speck of makeup. Her eyes were a bright, friendly blue, and even walking out of one of Hartford's most formal stores, she still looked approachable. She wiped ice cream from her face, glancing at Tristan. "What?"
"Nothing," he answered, glancing away. He was not comparing a member of the household staff to his gorgeous fiancée. That would be ridiculous.
"Rory!" Rory whirled around at the familiar voice, as did Tristan. He frowned as Madeline Lynn and Louise Grant ran over, confused. How did his old schoolmates know Rory Gilmore?
Rory waved to the two. "Hi."
The two girls caught up to Rory and Tristan, and the four stood there awkwardly for a moment, Normandy and Emilie all but forgotten for the moment. Madeline bit her lip, and glanced at Louise, indecisive. The girl never had been able to make a decision herself, afraid of offending somebody. Louise's gaze, however, was set on Tristan. Madeline gave Rory a quick hug, glancing back to see if her friendliness to Rory had angered Louise, like it may have in high school.
Louise's only response, however, was two words. "Tristan DuGrey," she said, almost awestruck, staring at the blonde boy. "Well, I'll be." She looked him over appreciatively, her friendly gaze from a moment ago suddenly transformed into sultry bedroom eyes. "You look nice," she said, placing a hand on his chest.
Rory glanced back at Normandy and Emilie, knowing full well that Louise may not stop there. "He's also engaged," she spoke up, hoping Louise wouldn't do anything that would freak out the girls.
Louise turned to Rory in surprise, raising a perfect eyebrow. "Well, I'll be," she repeated, shaking her head. "Never would've thought…"
Rory was confused, and then she realized that Jordan had said Tristan was a player. Louise must've known him from those days. Hell, they'd probably been sex buddies. "Riiight." She'd meant to drag it out, have it sound sarcastic.
Madeline glanced from Louise, to Tristan, to Rory, confused. "Um, okay." Turning her attention to Rory, she asked, "Have you spoken to Paris lately?"
Rory shook her head. "The last time I talked to her was almost a month ago."
"Oh. Well, you read newspapers, right?"
"Yes." Rory shot Madeline a questioning glance.
"So you're going to the funeral?"
"What!" It wasn't a question, more of a startled expletive.
Tristan suddenly spoke up, realizing what Rory was thinking. "Paris' mother died in a plane crash three days ago. The funeral's Tuesday."
"Oh." Rory paused. "Wait, you know Paris! Right. Corina, I think, mentioned it to me."
"We went to school together."
"Amnesia much, Rory?" Louise teased, raising an eyebrow.
She didn't even glance at Louise. She stared at Tristan, perplexed. "Wait! No. Are you confused?"
"Um. No. At least I don't think so."
"But I went to school with Paris."
Louise rolled her eyes. "Are you guys serious?"
Both Rory and Tristan turned to the blonde. "About?" they cued, speaking simultaneously.
"Rory. Tristan. You guys had classes together. Remember the English project?" Louise paused, glancing from one to the other. Both held blank expressions. "The play?" Still nothing. "Romeo and Juliet. It was supposed to go on that night that Tristan broke into the safe."
Both Rory and Tristan froze, letting a memory flow back into their heads.
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"I got in some trouble." Tristan wasn't meeting her gaze, and it worried Rory. She and the boy had never gotten along very well, but she didn't like the sound of this.
"Trouble involving…" Rory asked hesitantly, not sure she wanted to know.
"Involving Duncan and Bowman, and Bowman's dad's safe." Tristan finally met her gaze as he said the last few words.
Rory felt like her stomach had dropped. Why would somebody like Tristan do that? "Oh no," was all she could muster.
"I mean, Bowman had a key. It was supposed to be no big deal. And then the crazy silent alarm kicked in." Tristan's words almost sounded like an explanation.
"You broke into Bowman's dad's safe?" Rory was stunned. Tristan had money. He didn't need money in that safe, nor anything else he could've found in there. It's not like the safe contained the Hope Diamond or anything someone would want… at least she figured it didn't.
"Yes," Tristan answered simply.
Rory started to shake her head, but caught herself. "Stupid."
Tristan hesitated. "Yes."
Even if she hadn't always gotten along with Tristan, she didn't hate him. She didn't think he actually deserved this. "Well, okay, you can apologize and you can put back the money and you can explain that, I don't know, you were going through something." She looked up hopefully, although she knew this probably wouldn't work.
The corner of his mouth curved up a bit, so it resembled a smirk. "I was. I was going through his safe."
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Tristan smirked. "Look how much Mary's changed."
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