Don't Panic – Chapter 3
"Good luck doesn't seem like the right thing to say. 'Good-Bye sweet, sweet Rory it was good knowing you' seems more along the lines of what I should be saying."
"Mom, I'm going in, I'm applying for a job, I'm coming back out – you will be sitting in this car listening to that copy of Madonna's new album you thought I didn't see and panicking, I will come out and you will beg me for details make a quippy remark and we will go home." I said as I opened the door to get out of the car. "I'll be fine."
"Good-bye sweet, swee-" I closed the door on her and scowled.
I checked my watch and fiddled with the button on my jacket as I entered the elevator, my paperwork under my arm. "Hey, Hey! Can you hold that for me." I looked up, I knew that voice. "Seriously, I'm in a hurry."
I put my foot out to keep the door open. "Hi Logan."
"Rory-" he started.
"Just get in the elevator."
"This could potentially get awkward." He warned.
"It already is."
"It could get worse."
"Logan. Get in the damn elevator." He stepped in, and the tension became palpable.
"So." He tried.
"Don't even try."
I crossed my arms, forgetting my paperwork. Had this been a romantic comedy and I was Kate Hudson and he was one of the Wilson brothers we would have apologized and had sex in that elevator. I would have instantly gotten the job, his Dad would accept me, we would laugh about all our stupidities but incidentally it wasn't a movie. So when he tried to pick up my papers I snapped.
"What do you think you're doing? Touching my stuff? Hands off! Hands off! Ok? Seriously. Calling me at 3:32 am that night – 3:32 am what the hell Logan? It's like 'Oh hey we've only been sleeping together like every night and hanging out all the time and you said you loved me but like – ha-ha you were just a test and I passed! Finn order me another beer. Bye Ace.' Oh and yes I know that wasn't the exact phrasing but I don't want you to wallow in the glory of knowing I listened to it enough times to know exactly everything that was said. This is my floor. Good Bye."
He grabbed my wrist as I tried to leave, "Rory – please, let's talk."
I glared at him. I tried to free my wrist. "Don't make me pull a LC."
"LC?" He asked inquisitively.
"Laguna Beach, come on! No, please I have to apply for a job. If you want to talk, you have my number." He let go of my wrist and let me step out of the elevator. As the doors were shutting I said "Just don't use it at 3:32 when you're drunk and feel like confessing your sins."
With that I took a deep breath and walked up to the door of the editor's office. I was not going to fall apart over that little meeting. I couldn't do that to myself. I knocked lightly, I knew him from my brief stint as an intern, I was pretty sure he liked me. I also was fairly certain he didn't like Mitchum.
"Ms. Gilmore!" he exclaimed, "What a pleasant surprise. I haven't seen you in months, what brings you here."
"I'm actually here to apply for a job, Mr. Smith." I smiled somewhat weakly. But lucky for me his reaction was far warmer.
"Really, come, sit. Let's talk." He ushered me into the room.
I sat in the chair he had indicated to, crossed my legs and tried my best to look official. I wanted this job. I needed this job. "So Ms. Gilmore, as I recall you worked here as an intern briefly then proceeded to get arrested with Mitchum's son and then as far as I know, you dropped of the face of the planet for a few months."
"That's basically the jist of it." I smiled, a little less pathetically this time.
"So Rory, tell me – why should I give you this job?" he asked bluntly as he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap.
"Well ok, cut right to the chase." I mumbled as I pulled out my fairly pathetic resume. I had never really had a real job. "Basically, I see that I'm not the best looking candidate on paper. I know that. But that's not what journalism is about – it's not about what's on the paper, it's about how much you want it. How much you're willing to give a story. And, I sir, am willing to give my all. I'm willing to write filler, about parking lot repavements, I sir am willing to just be an assistant if it means getting to work in this building, in this environment."
"Well Ms. Gilmore, your honesty is commendable, but I don't know if we'll be able to hire you."
"Why not?" I demanded. We lost all the conventions of a regular job interview when I told him my paperwork sucked, if I was going down, I was going to do it all the way.
"Like you said, you're experience isn't up to par. Also you failed to mention why you stopped your internship early and it's not entirely up to me who we hire."
"Sir, no paperwork in the world is going to show you how truly dedicated I am to this, and about the internship – let's just say that my dedication comes from being put on a horse by Mr. Huntzberger, getting knocked off and trampled on by Mr. Huntzberger and then being treated like crap by Mr. Huntzberger." I was on fire. "And I'll have you know that he is not that great a journalist himself. He's just a rich, aristocratic, arrogant-"
"You're not the first person to be beaten up by Mr. Huntzberger, nor will you be the last, thank you so much for your time Rory. We'll call you within the week." He walked over to the door and opened it for me.
"Thank you for your time." I said and walked out to the elevator. As I headed out to the parking lot I saw Logan try and approach out of the corner of my eye. I turned and mouthed the words "Don't you dare." To him and made it out to the car in peace.
"So how'd it go?" my mom asked as I shut the door behind me.
"Well… at least I'll have some closure."
"You have, one, new message." I clicked my cell phone shut and walked out on the porch. My mom was inside making out with Luke, she would be busy for another hour or so.
I flipped my phone open and dialed voicemail, "Hey, sorry I missed your call. Um, yeah I guess we need to talk. Call me." I scowled slightly. Phone tag. This was not a fun game. I dialed his number and let it ring.
"Hey?" he answered.
"Hello."
"Rory?"
"The one and only." I said weakly.
"Hi."
"Hi." I repeated back
"Hi." It was getting awkward.
"You called." I stated simply.
"And then you called." He responded.
"That I did."
"Well… then this is certainly…" he trailed off.
"The other night shouldn't have gone the way it did. He was a jerk to you – I'm really, truly sorry."
"You weren't the jerk."
"I facilitated the jerk." I winced. That didn't come out right.
"That sounded dirty."
"Maybe it was." Nice save Gilmore I thought bitterly.
"This banter sucks." He declared.
"Agreed."
"Let's forget about the other night OK?" He tried.
"So I was reading an old issue of Spin today-" I started quickly, talking fast.
"You read Spin? What are you talking about?"
"This is called a 'conversation construct' – read Sloppy Firsts. And yeah, I read Spin, thank you. So in this issue there was an interview with the South Park guys and they were talking about voting and how they thought last election was like choosing between a turd sandwich and something equally disgusting and so they said 'Screw it we're not voting.' I thought about and said 'What an interesting stance to take. Does it help or hurt us in the long rung?'"
He started laughing, "Turd? That's something I never expected to hear you say. And since when do you watch South Park?"
"I lived with the Grandparents over the summer – I wasn't exactly busy."
"But it only airs late at night…" he was joking.
"Are you implying something?" I was playing along.
"That maybe you were a little busy to be watching Late Night cartoons." He laughed. I smiled.
"Jess, the book was amazing." I whispered.
"Thanks."
It was silent for awhile.
"I think it doesn't matter whether or not the guys from South Park voted or not." He said finally.