Disclaimer: C chappie #1.
Torn VII:
« Nom? »
« Lorelei Gilmore. »
« Date de naissance?»
"Oct. 21, 1985."
« Passeport et Identification? »
« Voila. » She smiled, handing the lady the small booklet containing her passport and I.D.
In a few short moments the desk clerk had entered the information in the computer and printed up the tickets.
"Bags?"
"Two." Rory said lifting them onto the scales.
"Any narcotics, weapons, illegal aliens . . ." the desk clerk asked as she applied the tags to the luggage.
"Non."
"Anything to declare?"
"I'm going home to my Mama!" Rory grinned cheekily.
The desk clerk grinned back, handing Rory the tickets.
"Thanks for choosing American Gateways. Hope you enjoy your flight."
Walking away from the desk, Rory pulled out the tickets and checked the information. In seconds she'd hurried back to the desk clerk, her eyes wide with worry.
"These are first-class?"
"Oui?" the clerk asked, confusion written all over her face.
"When I'd called to confirm my flight I had Coach."
"Your secretary called last night and requested an upgrade."
"Secretary?" Both Rory and Dave muttered, confusion consuming both their features.
"Oui, a Madame Countenance Rocher. I remember because I took the call. She was very pleasant."
"That wasn't my secretary, I have no idea who she was," Rory explained. "Can I have my seat back?"
"I'm sorry," the desk clerk sighed, "All the Coach seats are occupied. There are a lot of Americans on their way back home for the holiday. And the earliest flight out of here that I can find you is for three o'clock, July 5."
"Thanks anyway," Rory sighed, placing the tickets in her bag.
Within a few minutes, both Lane and Dave had accosted her, both waving first-class tickets.
"Who do you think could have done this?" Lane asked as they made their way to terminal 31C.
"I don't know, maybe my Grandma, but I'm not sure why she would do such a thing," she frowned, perplexed.
"Well, are we at least sitting next to one another?" Dave asked, glancing at Lane's ticket.
"We are," Lane answered, but after inspecting Rory's card, she sighed, "but you're not. You're sitting two seats away from us."
"Bummer," Dave sighed, ruffling back his brown curls.
"I don't know who did this, but I'm seriously pissed," Rory groaned, stuffing the ticket in her bag and taking a seat.
"Is this seat taken?" a voice muttered.
"Whatever," Rory mumbled, totally immersed in her copy of "The Vagina Monologues: The V-day Edition."
Rory, Lane and Dave had already boarded the plane and taken care of their carry-ons. As soon as Rory'd settled in her proffered seat, she'd pulled out the book and waited patiently for the 14 hour ride home.
"What are you reading?" what she suspected her seating neighbor asked jovially.
"'The Vagina Monologues,'" she sighed, snuggling deeper into her seat, half ignoring him.
"I heard it's a great show," he said, laughter lacing his comment.
Turning to give him an incredulous glare, she nearly fell out of her seat.
"Tristan!" she jumped, her eyes wide with surprise.
"Why Mary, I never knew that you were going to be on this flight!" he said with feigned shock.
Sitting across the aisle and beside Dave and Lane was Janlen, chuckling softly.
"Good morning, Rory," he smiled.
She turned to Tristan, understanding suddenly dawning. The cryptic behavior, the sly smiles, the interrogation about her flight, the secretary, first-class ticket-
"You?" she cried, incredulously. "You set this thing up? You're the reason I'm sitting here and not in my previous seat?"
Mistaking her reaction, his lips lifted in that trademark smirk and he replied,
"Mary, with your famous deductive skills, I would have though you'd have figured us out by now. And yes, it was I who came up with such an elaborate, and might I add ingenious plan. Did you enjoy it?"
Her eyes swirled with something he'd never seen before. In a matter of seconds, they'd darkened from sapphire to an almost indigo. Then, her face hardened and her eyebrows formed a slight frown line on her forehead. He'd never seen her so . . . he wasn't sure what she was feeling. Then suddenly,
"I'm trying to read, please leave me alone," she grumbled turning in her seat and facing the window.
For the rest of the 14 hour flight she sat like that, barely mumbling two words to him.
"Wowy!" a small voice called from behind the closed door.
A grin consumed her visage as the door opened and a little boy came hurtling at her, wrapping both his chubby arms around her knees.
"See," she heard her mother say in the background, "her boobs are totally bigger than mine!"
"Lorelei, I'm not going to look at my step-daughter's boobs!" Luke's gruff voice followed.
"Well you should," Lorelei reprimanded, "she's the one that keeps stretching out that tiny little baby tee that you like so much- ya' know, the one with the monkeys?"
"Mom," Rory grinned, prying off Seth, "stop trying to fix me up with Luke. I'm not Sun Yee and he's not Woody Allen."
"Thank you," he sighed, just as Owen took a hold of her, almost toppling her over.
"Rory," Lorelei grinned, taking a hold of her. "My first born, love of my life, apple of my eye, fruit of my looms- who's that?" she asked, suddenly breaking away from her daughter and eyeing the man behind her carrying the bags.
"Hi, I'm Tristan," he answered for Rory, proffering his hand.
"YOU'RE Tristan?" she asked, casting a glance at her daughter who seemed to be paying them no mind.
"In the flesh, and you must be Mrs. Danes," he grinned, placing a kiss to her hand. "Mary has told me so much about you."
"Well, she obviously hasn't told you enough. I'm Lorelei, Mrs. Danes makes me sound like some happily married woman, that kinda' hurts my dating prospects . . . and the mini-van-" she added.
"Lorelei," Luke warned, watching her as she flirted with Tristan.
"Sorry," she smiled slyly as she made her way towards Luke. "Been married almost seven years, and I still can't seem to get down that no dating thing."
"Wowy, Wowy," Seth and Owen sang, jumping around at her feet. "Guess what, we'we getting a puppy! Daddy said we could! Except, he says that Mommy can't play with it."
"Oh, why couldn't you have been my Daddy?" Rory sighed, giving Luke the infamous pout.
"Well, you remember how oblivious your mother was," he grinned.
"Hey Luke." She grinned hurtling at him and crashing against his chest. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her eyes closed as she breathed in the clean scent of him.
"Hey." He smiled, shocked by the sudden burst of emotion.
"I missed you." She whispered. "I missed your pessimistic attitude, I missed your baseball cap, I missed your plaid flannel, I missed your coffee, I missed your diner, I missed your face, I missed your advice, and I even missed your nagging about how junk food will kill us!"
"It hasn't been the same without you kid." He smiled placing his arms around her and squeezing her in return.
When she pulled away, they both heard Lorelei say to Tristan,
"Don't you agree? Her boobs are totally bigger than mine."
Before he could dignify a response, they heard Luke clear his throat in definite caution, then said, "Tristan, if you answer her, I will have no choice but to rip off your boy parts- if you get what I mean- no matter how much Rory and her mother like you."
Tristan gulped, seeing the sincerity in Luke's brown eyes as he surveyed the young man.
"Hey guys, there are still bags in the limo," Lane cried, heaving up a large bag as she entered the Danes household.
"Laney," Seth and Owen chirped as she plunked the heavy bag onto the floor.
"You guys came in a limo?" Lorelei gasped, peering out the door.
Sure enough, a black limo sat in their driveway behind Luke's old truck and her quasi-nouveau mini-van. Standing beside the limousine was an old, well dressed man and Dave, who coincidentally looked as if he were in a band.
"That's thanks to Mr. Hartford Society here," Rory replied, acidly.
"Who is that outside?" Lorelei asked, not picking up on her daughter's anger.
"That's my grandfather," Tristan said, taking the bag from Lane. "Where do these go?"
"Uh, around the corner, only door on the right." Lorelei said absentmindedly. "Lane, ask Hot Tristan's grandfather to come in." she hissed.
"Mom?"
"Lorelei." Both Rory and Luke said simultaneously.
"Wowy, Wowy." Seth and Owen jumped at her feet, vying for her attention.
"Yes babes?" she asked, finally looking down at the two.
"Come and see our wooms," Owen said, his brown curls dancing atop his head.
"Yeah, Daddy made them up in the attic, so we gotta' climb up the latta' to get there."
"You didn't have to do that." Rory said, looking at Luke.
"You'll always have a room here, Rory," Luke said, "the kids are too small to have a room so far away. It's much easier for them to be in the attic that in your room. Plus, it's a nice guest room."
"Will it be okay if I put these two to bed?"
"Ok?" Lorelei asked, finally hopping into the conversation, just as Janlen entered the house. "It'd be a miracle. We've been trying to get them to bed for the last hour, but they've been too excited, waiting for you to get in. I almost think you were right," she said looking at Luke. "I guess we shouldn't have told them Rory was coming. We could have made it a surprise."
"After twenty four years, you finally admit I'm right," Luke exclaimed. "Will you finally agree with me that coffee's bad for you?"
"Blasphemy!" Lorelei gasped, covering her ears.
"Lorelei." Luke tried.
Everyone watched in amusement as she suddenly began chanting the Meow Mix song, trying to drown out his lecture.
"Lorelei."
"Meow meow meow meow, meow meow meow meow, meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow," she sang.
Taking both hands of the boys, Rory led them upstairs to their new room.
"Hey, Rory, you didn't tell us that they were coming." Lorelei cried as soon as she bounded into the living room.
"Well I didn't know," she said indifferently, taking a seat beside Dave.
"Well, I invited them to stay at the Dragonfly Inn," she started, and then turned to Rory, her eyes wide with shock. "Did you know they were going to spend thrice as much money on some fancy shcmancy hotel out in Hartford? I told them, if you're going to be spending all your time here, then that's a big waste. So they are getting half-priced rooms; complementary of the co-owner, Mrs. Lorelei Danes."
"So, Lane, are you sleeping here tonight, or are you going home?"
"Home, Mama wants to see me, make sure I'm not possessed by the devil or have defiled my body with piercings and tattoos."
"So basically its, let's see how much praying she can get done before sunrise?"
"Basically."
"Oh, and mom, are you going to the Gilmore's Annual Independence Day Gala?"
"Yeah," Lorelei groaned. "Mom roped me into it yesterday. But I'm going to sweeten the deal by bringing the babes along with my darling hubbie."
"I'm not going." Luke said with his arm around her shoulders.
"Yes you are," she smiled, placing a kiss to his cheek.
"No I'm not. Caesar doesn't work on holidays, and neither do those damn kids, Jayden and Morgan. Jess definitely isn't going to volunteer so that leaves me in the diner with Kirk who needs his toast sliced in exactly the correct manner or he threatens to tell his mom. God I hate that man."
"Just close the diner, Luke." She sighed, looking at him. "Let Kirk tell his mom, its not like she can really hit ten miles an hour on her walker. Just throw a chair in her path and make a run for it- come!"
"Lorelei, no, you have to wear a jacket and tie to one of those things."
"So, you look good in a jacket and tie. Plus, you need to get out of that flannel every once in awhile. Please Luke, please!"
"No Lore."
"But Luke," she whispered, her eyes starting to water and her lips pouting, "please? Pwease, peas and carrots?"
Janlen grinned, remembering Rory use that same statement a couple of nights ago.
"Pwease," Lorelei beseeched. "You did it for Nicole (A/N: was that the name of that lawyer chick? I forgot)..."
"That was low," he sighed, giving in.
Everyone watched the interaction, and grinned. Finally Lane said,
"I've got to try that on you sometime." She smiled to Dave.
"It was a great turnout, huh?" Lorelei asked Rory who'd just grabbed a flute of champagne.
"Sure." She sighed taking a sip.
"Your dress is beautiful, where'd you get it?"
"Yolande's sister, Francoise, is a designer. She makes clothes for me in order to perpetuate business. People always ask me where I get my clothes and I always hand them her card."
"I never knew you'd be such a label," Lorelei teased.
"Well, Yves Saint Laurent says a lady must have a little black dress, its essential."
"And how many little black dresses do you own?"
"Seven," she replied sheepishly.
"One for everyday of the week. I think you've been hanging around here for too long."
"Mom, Hartford Society had nothing to do with it."
"Rory, you have to have gotten this from somewhere."
"Have you seen this dress? I'd totally sell my soul to the devil for it."
"Speaking of Tristan, what's with the cold shoulder?"
"What cold shoulder?"
Lorelei sighed, "C'mon, fruit of my loins-"
"Mom, eww!" Rory gasped.
"Don't tell me you haven't noticed the way he's been staring at you all night? Hell, everyone's been noticing the way he's been staring. Marilyn Cavalary is ready to kick your ass for taking all of his attention. She's been throwing herself at him all night, along with the countless others."
"Then why doesn't he pay attention to them, I'm sure they'd like it. That jerk."
"When did you start hating Evil Tristan?"
"What do you mean when? I've always hated him," she groaned, a frown marring her features.
"From the way you've been gushing about him on the phone for the past month, I'm guessing you're lying." Lorelei smiled.
"I was bamboozled. I was led to think that he'd changed. He duped me into believing that there was an actual person behind that façade he'd put up in Chilton. He tricked me into being his friend." She sighed looking away, tears sparkling in her eyes.
"Babe, what'd he do?" Lorelei posed, wrapping an arm around her daughter's shoulder.
With her impeccable timing, Emily Gilmore intruded on their conversation.
"Rory darling, what a fabulous dress! Where did you get it?"
"A friend of mine is a designer. She designed it for me. If you like, I could give you her number?"
"Why yes, after the party of course," she laughed like a delighted little schoolgirl.
"Are you having a good time," Rory asked, nodding to the glass of wine in her hands.
"Oh yes, a wonderful time," Emily smiled, swaying to the music as if she were thirteen.
Rory watched her grandmother and wondered what could be making her so carefree tonight. For the first time that she could remember, her grandmother was acting like her at a party and she was acting like her grandmother.
She was unhappy. She hated being here, and the only reason she was was because Emily had asked her. Otherwise, she'd be in Star's Hallow, watching Kirk light the fireworks while being reprimanded in the background by his mother.
"So Rory," Emily began, her eyes roaming over her guests appreciatively. "Have you noticed the attractive young man in the corner staring at you?"
"No Grandma," she lied.
"Well, everyone has. We're all waiting for either of you to ask one another to dance." She swayed; her voice wistful. "It is a beautiful night. It's not too hot, the breeze almost caresses you, it's the perfect night for a dance by candlelight."
"I don't dance with strangers, Grandma."
"He's hardly a stranger," Emily scoffed. "He attended Chilton, I don't know if you've met, but I believe he was in your year. His surname's DuGrey. He belongs to a very good, upstanding family. In fact, I was told by his mother that he is currently working in Paris."
"Wow, he sounds perfect," Rory feigned enthusiasm.
"Oh Rory please," Emily chastised, "Would it really kill you to be civil just once? I swear, you become your mother more and more every second!"
"Amen to that," Lorelei belted, raising her glass of scotch. "Sorry, I've been quiet for awhile, it scared me." She explained before Emily could rebuke.
"I'm going to get some fresh air," Rory mumbled before turning to leave the beginnings of an argument.
Just as she left the two, Janlen popped up out of nowhere, blocking her path with a generous grin.
"Dance with me."
"Excuse me?" she said, shaking her head as she felt the tell-tale signs of a migraine threatening to revel itself.
"Dance with me."
"Janlen," she sighed.
"There's a slow song coming on, and you haven't danced all night. You're the most beautiful woman here, and you haven't danced all night." He repeated. Then, his eyes grew hard and he ejaculated, "I'm going to kill that Grandson of mine! He has no manners."
As he led her to the middle of the makeshift dance floor, she sighed. "Even if he had manners and asked me to dance, I doubt if I'd say yes."
"Why not?" he asked as they swayed to the live band.
"I don't know," she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, "he's not who I thought he was, I guess."
"And who is he?" Janlen whispered.
"Tristan Dugrey," she breathed, "King of Chilton."
When the song ended, Rory excused herself and slipped away from the party.
He watched her as she stood before him, silhouetted against the rapidly setting sun.
Since the very moment she'd arrived with her parents and siblings- who were currently asleep- she'd captured his attention and had so far hadn't failed in making sure they were only on her. She was by far the most beautiful women in the room. The dress she wore, tailored to accentuate her simple beauty. The black dress stopped at the bottom of her knees where a stripe of sheer black had intercepted the two opaque pieces. The neck was high, skimming her collarbone and was held together by two thick straps. Her dark hair was pulled into a fancy ponytail which was high at the top with a single curl against her forehead. She wore no make-up; only mascara and lip gloss with a smart black scarf around her slim neck. On her feet were strappy black pumps. And through it all, the blue of her eyes seemed to glow with an intensity that no one could ignore.
"Are you just going to stand there and look at me?" her voice asked, taking him from his thoughts.
Looking up, he was surprised to see her back facing him, she hadn't even turned around.
"How'd you know it was me?"
"Who else would come to this party to stare at a girl who wanted nothing to do with him?"
Not letting her know how much the words actually stung, he asked,
"Why are you mad at me?"
"Because of that."
"What?"
"I hurt you and you just let me. You don't get mad, you just let it deflect off that damn DuGrey shield so you don't get hurt. You always carry that damn shield and never show any true emotion."
"That's why you're-?" he began, perplexed.
"And weren't you the one saying you hated this world? Wasn't it you that despised what this place represented, what this place did to people? Wasn't it you that got sent to Military school just to get away from this?"
"What are you talking about? What is 'this'?"
"This world, where everyone stabs one another in the back, but blows kisses to one another's faces. This world where it's ok to treat people like trash and anyone without a place in Martha's Vineyard is inferior. This world that shuns out anyone who speaks up for themselves!" she exclaimed to the sky.
After many long moments, he answered her questions.
"Yes, that was me who said all those things."
She turned to him, the tears burning her clear blue eyes.
"Then if you hate this world so much, why are you doing your damnedest to put me in it?"
"I don't understand what you're talking about?" he said, his brows knit.
She sighed and leaned back against the cement railing of the balcony.
"Everything that I own, I work for. Everything that I do is for me and those that I love. Sure, I get a little extra money at the end of the month from my inheritance, but I don't spend it on extravagant things. Right now, I'm saving up to buy a house in Star's Hallow; not something extravagant, but someplace that I can call home during my holidays or when I finally decide to move back.
"I travel all around the world for my job. I've got good friends who would do anything for me. I've got a family who cherish me. I love my life, I love the way I live, and I love the fact that everything I do is my choice. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Nope, not a clue," Tristan said almost comically as he came to stand beside her.
"I'm saying, I didn't buy a first-class plane ticket, not because I can't, but because I don't want to. I don't go to parties like these, not because I'm not invited, but because I don't like them. I don't wear jewels and expensive clothes, not because I can't afford them, but because that's not who I am."
"What are you trying to say?" he asked, her words baffling him.
"I don't want to be Cinderella when she'd found her prince, I'd much rather be Lorelei. I don't want to be some socialite. I want you to understand that I don't care. I don't care about the money that you have, in fact, I'd rather you had none. I don't care for the extravagance. I'd rather simple. I'd rather a daisy to a red rose; I'd rather a promise to a colorless diamond; I'd rather my friends to an expensive present."
"So in other words: coach good, first-class bad?"
"Exactly," she smiled, her eyes still swirling with sadness.
"So all this was over a plane ticket?"
She shook her head and turned to him.
"All this was a freak out because . . ." she mumbled, inaudibly.
"Excuse me?"
"You scared me."
"How?"
"P. J. Harvey. The way you thrust those tickets at me, forcing me to go; the same way you did with the place ticket. You'd made me think you hadn't changed. You made me think you were still that guy from Chilton that wouldn't let himself be told no to and that only cared about his pride and no one else. You made me afraid that I'd grown to love only a mere mirage." She finished quietly.
He looked down at her, suddenly understanding. She didn't want to get hurt. She'd wanted to like him for so long that she was afraid he would let her down.
Gently placing a finger to her chin, he guided her face upwards so their eyes met.
As soon as their eyes clashed, he could feel all the air escape his body. Suddenly, he felt as if he were trapped underwater and couldn't breathe. The blue of her eyes were wrapping around him, and strangely, he didn't care for breath- only the feel of her beside him.
Her eyes fluttered close as their faces drew closer. She could feel his warm breath tickle her skin, cradling her in his warmth. His lips had barely brushed hers when-
"Hey guys, the fireworks are starting!"
TBC . . .
A/N: Don't you just hate it when you're locked in a tender embrace and some asshole ruins the whole moment? Well, this is by far, one of my crappiest chapters, well, except the end. The end was ok. But I'd like to know how you feel about it, so R&R pwwwweaaaaasssssse!!!!! Peas and carrots?
W/ Luv,
Yo-yo