A/N: Well here's the next part. Hope this one hits par for the crowd! Just let me know in the reviews what you think :)
"How to Lose a Socialite in 10 Days"
IV – Knight in a shining Mercedes
First impressions are everything in the world of a socialite. Rory had made a particularly bad one. Fighting with Logan was not the way she had intended to 'get to know him' – it felt entirely out of character – at least in her opinion. He did challenge her though.
'Just call me Master and Commander,' he had said, his voice floating and his smile as charming as though he had just said, 'my pleasure madam' or 'how very nice to be acquainted with you miss'.
That was Logan in a nutshell – or so her impression of him had reported – he was able to make something so cruel seem so very beautiful. Or was it just beautiful in her eyes? Had his impression really had such an effect on her? She could not deny that she found him attractive. His boyish good looks. That wispy blonde hair and remarkably fetching smile – that trademark smile of his. It both irritated her and caused her to melt.
But this was a mission. A mission with a cause. She didn't need to be attached. After all, wasn't that one of the cardinal rules of being a spy? That one did not become too attached to the 'target'.
She shook her head, "Doyle, you have sent me beyond the edge of reason," she mumbled aloud, patting at her cheek with cotton-ball.
Her mind wandered for a moment, considering Paris and Doyle. The fact was, she was quite aware of the tension between the pair, but knew that neither of them would act on their feelings. She felt out of character – dastardly and deceiving. It was fair she contested, trying to convince herself, after all, Doyle had put her in this mess in the first place and Paris – to be fair… Paris was Paris. What mess hadn't she dragged Rory into? Or been the cause of, for that matter.
She felt uneasy. She was entirely against being manipulative but this was serious – her career was at stake. Being fired from the Yale Daily News was going to show up as a red-flag on her resume, to any future employer.
She brushed her fingers along a collection of lipsticks.
First impressions. One never does quite get the chance to make a second one – she felt that the proceedings of the night could possibly allow for one. Logan often smiled at her, didn't he? She paused, staring at her slightly lucid reflection; the mirror was fogged somewhat from her shower. Logan probably looked at all the girls he encountered that way. It was probably his method. His way of picking up.
"You got what you wanted Gilmore, this is what you wished for… maybe you weren't careful but this is what you got…" she mumbled, still trying to convince herself.
She raised a small, gold, cylindrical lipstick to her mouth and applied a lush coat of red to her lips – it wasn't too inviting or presuming – it was quiet, reflecting her nature but still drawing attention to her mouth; still leaving an element of doubt. She continued with her usual rigmarole, applying various coats of cosmetics richly decorated and stamped with the words Maybelline or Revlon.
When she was finished, she stared at her reflection once more, inspecting her work and surveying her 'look' – she was satisfied.
She exited the bathroom and rushed into her bedroom, noticing the time as she passed through the common room. She was going to be late – perhaps even the better part of very late, as she examined open closet of dresses. Her hands danced between each piece of coloured fabric; her eyes scanning quickly and passing judgment in time with her hands.
Eventually, she decided upon a light, sky blue coloured, form-fitting, one-piece dress. It wasn't over the top and wasn't too dressy but still maintained an air of elegance. Hurriedly, she slipped the expensive piece of clothing on; a piece, that she recalled her grandmother had purchased for her and was invariably going to be a 'Marc Jacobs' but she didn't want to know – she felt it too presumptuous and pompous and thusly, she refused to ever look at the tag. This provided some difficulty in slipping the dress on; for fear that wandering eyes would be the end of the illusion, she had resolved in always clenching her eyelids shut and then bopping and shimming around the room until she could safely open her eyes once more. This was as close as she wanted to be, to ever being blind.
Fortunately, her shoes were an easy find at the floor of her wardrobe; a neat, powder blue pair of heels that complimented her dress very nicely. She slipped the pair on and grabbed her already packed purse and headed for the door, clutching a white shawl she had readily placed on the hat hooks behind their front door. She was ready.
The summer night air was cool but not chilly. She threw the shawl over her shoulders and clip-clopped her way to her car, which was parked conveniently only a short distance away. She was thankful; her running was not a sight to behold. Her running in heels was worse.
The silver Toyota her grandparents had purchased for her blinked to life as she buzzed the key, unlocking the little car.
Upon opening the driver's door, she realized her heels were utterly inappropriate for driving and scowled at the pedals in the car. She unclasped the latch on one shoe, slipped it off and tossed it on the passenger's seat; following in the same process with the other shoe.
She felt slightly panicky as she noticed the dim blue light of the clock on her dashboard – she was late.
With the driving experience she did have, Rory was most often a thoroughly well-aware driver; very careful and law-abiding. Tonight, she felt, was perhaps one of those occasions where one was allowed to break a few rules. She sped the little Toyota through the streets of Hartford, sneering at any opposing driver for not having the courtesy of allowing her to zip through and overtake, wherever was necessary.
When she was but seconds from the restaurant – which was now clearly in sight - she prayed somewhat, for a glimpse of Logan, just to be sure he was still there but all that became apparent was the infamous red and blue flashing lights in her rear view mirror.
Her eyes bulged and her head spun.
Without any thought of continuing onward, she slowed and gently eased the car off to the side of the road, where a white police car followed suit.
Rory dropped her head onto the steering wheel.
"This cannot get any worse," she mumbled, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, alerted by a tapping at her window, she was sure things were indeed about to get much worse.
Calm, she thought, just don't react all crazily. She didn't want to end up on 'America's Wackiest Criminals'.
She rolled her window down and was met by a young, very trim and neat, yet rather domineering male police officer, "I'm sorry!" she spluttered, "I just- I never break the law… I was really late and had to get here and now- I'm- look I'm really sorry".
A small crowd at Madame's Restaurant, whom were either entering or exiting the building, began pointing and whispering, in Rory's general direction.
"May I have your license and registration please ma'am?" the young officer asked, holding out his palm and flashing a torch in Rory's eyes.
She squinted at the small crowd forming around the restaurant and then began fiddling with her purse. She fished her dainty fingers in amongst the rabble of quickly packed items, hunting for the details the officer had requested.
"You don't have any license and or registration for this vehicle, do you ma'am?" the officer pushed, sternly but in some strange way, comforting.
"No, no," Rory answered abruptly, "it's in here somewhere," she added, pulling out carefully selected pieces of her make-up collection and tossing them onto the passenger's seat.
"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the car," the officer requested quietly.
"No, it's quite alright," Rory replied, emptying the remaining contents of her purse onto her lap.
Her license was not among the items. She looked up and smiled weakly at the police officer.
"Ma'am, out of the car, please," he persisted, nodding slightly.
Rory sighed and bit her lip, resolved to not crying. She pulled the door handle and swung the driver's door open as the officer stepped back. She stepped out onto the road and immediately realized she was barefoot – not that it mattered now.
"If you could please remove any lethal items you're carrying now, that would be much appreciated ma'am," the officer instructed.
Rory half-glared at the man, spreading her palms and shrugging, "I'm not sure where I'd be hiding any lethal weapons".
"You're hiding lethal weapons, ma'am?" the officer inquired, raising an eyebrow and jotting down some notes in a small black book.
"Look, please, just listen to me," Rory pleaded, "I never leave home without my license; I never break the law… I- I just made a really mistake tonight".
"Mistakes," the officer corrected, maintaining his concentration on the notepad.
Rory sighed and glanced toward the building crowd outside Madame's. Logan was not among the whispering mass.
"Now just put your hands behind your back please ma'am, if you choose to struggle, you will be apprehended with force," the officer explained, approaching Rory with a silver pair of handcuffs.
"Wait!" Rory squealed, "what am I being charged with?"
"Ma'am you're being charged with unlawful driving, reckless driving and spee-"
"Hank- Hank Bell?" a voice cracked from behind Rory.
The officer peered beyond Rory and broke into a smile, "well I'll be!" he said, shaking his head, "that couldn't be little Logan Huntzberger, could it?"
"Geez Hank," Logan spoke, hands in his pockets, "it's been too long".
"Yeah, I haven't arrested you in- gosh… three or four months! The holding cell at the station just hasn't been the same," officer 'Hank' replied, smiling happily.
"Is Gretel still there?" Logan asked, his trademark smile plastered on his face.
"Oh she's workin' reception these days, but she has her times down at the cells," the officer replied, extending his hand to Logan.
Logan reciprocated and shook Hank's hand; the pair mumbled to one another for a moment and then burst into fits of laughter.
Rory was entirely bemused, "hello," she blinked, "I'm being arrested here, can we cut to the chase?"
The officer looked up at Rory, wiping a tear from his eye, "yeah where was I?"
"Oh, I don't know if you should arrest Ace here, Hank, she's good folk. Besides, she wouldn't do too well with Bruiser… you know… she's pretty, she mightn't last the night," Logan interjected, smiling and winking at Rory.
The officer seemed to be considering Logan's point, "the law is the law, you know," he began, nodding to Logan and scratching his thigh. Rory's heart sank, "but I suppose I can make just one little concession for you Logan ol' boy. Besides, I reckon we'll probably be seein' you 'round the station sometime soon," he finished, laughing and slapping Logan on the back.
"Only if you're the man arresting me Hank," Logan replied tapping Hank's chest and smirking .
"You better believe it!" he cried, laughing again, "alright ma'am," he said, turning to Rory, "your friend here must think pretty darn highly of you".
Logan nodded to Rory and smiled again.
"I suggest you drive more carefully in the future ma'am, and that you should use a better moisturizer… the stuff that came out of your handbag is just not good enough to keep your complexion in balance, I use Olay Complete and I've never gone back," Hank said, running his fingers across his chin, "you two take care!" he called and entered his car, pulled out onto the road and honked twice as he drove by.
Rory stood wide-eyed, unable to speak.
"Oh come on Ace," Logan said, walking over to her, "you can thank me anytime now".
"I- he… you," Rory stammered.
"Hey, have you seen Paris?" Logan interrupted, pulling out his cell phone to check for missed calls.
Rory snapped back to reality, "she couldn't come – I came in her place".
Logan looked up at Rory with an eyebrow raised, "you and I are going out on a date?"
Rory snapped somewhat further back to reality, "I just got cosmetic advice from a police officer who let me off the hook," she spluttered.
"Yeah…" Logan replied dreamily, "so when do we eat?"
She looked at him, "I can't believe you just did that?"
"Did what?" Logan asked defensively, "hey if a guy wants to eat, he's got to make himself heard now and then".
"No!" Rory scowled, "you saved me – you- you, why!" she threw her arms up in the air, "why did you do that?"
"Just bailing a friend out," Logan shrugged, smiling at her in his trademark way, "come on Ace, you'd have done the same".
She glanced toward the crowd who were now, all pointing and whispering excitedly and confusedly.
"Okay… let's go on our date," she caved, confused too much to properly think straight about what had just happened.
"Not like that you aren't," Logan nodded to her before walking away and raising his phone to his ear.
"What do you mean?" Rory jumped, frowning at him.
Logan covered up the phone, "you're generally required to be dressed when you go into these places," he replied, grinning happily at her before resuming is conversation on his phone.
Rory looked down at her feet and rolled her eyes. She turned back to the car and reached inside for her shoes.
"Alright," Logan spoke, "that's settled".
"What's settled?" she called, her voice slightly muffled in the car.
"Well we can't go here," Logan thumbed toward Madame's.
Rory poked her head out of the car and focused on the crowd, "oh".
"Don't worry, I've pulled some strings," he consoled her, "just gather your gear and let's get going".
Rory looked up at him from the driver's seat and paused. He leaned on the frame of the door and smiled down at her.
"Thank you," she whispered.
A/N: Don't worry, the date hasn't even begun to get awkward! Stay tuned folks for the next installment… ok… I won't ever be that clichéd/cheesy again… alright you know I will :P