An Author's Insanely Late Night Ramblings- Good Morning Readers! Just got home from work. At Three in the morning. The joys of having a visit to the store. And guess who gets to go in at Ten? I just finished this today, after finishing most of my paper, and wanted to post it. And as luck would have it, almost a minute after I sat down at my computer, I got this in the old inbox! So, I figured, since I was already up, I might as well post this!
Thanks go out to my two wonderful betas, Sara and Amy. Amy, you are absolutely awesome, your kind words definately made my day. And your fabulous beta skills definately made the chapter. Sara, I thank you so much for all the help in making the first part great. You definately gave me the confidence that I didn't go to far.
Dedication- I don't dedicate stuff to people on aregular basis. Mostly, because very rarely does someone do something good enough to deserve it. But M (Season4.5) definately deserves it. Awhile back, a friend of mine asked me which episode a specific quote came from, and I searched high and low for it, but didn't find it. I involved a few buddies in the hunt, and by the end of the day, we were all going nuts. Then, M came in and saved the day! So, for restoring my sanity, as well as the sanity of a few others, I dedicate this, Chapter Eleven of the last, to you. I told you I'd give you something good for it! My love and affection was only temporary til something much more tangible came out of my brain.
Enough! Now read!
Chapter Eleven- The Kindred Spirit Meets the REAL Master and Commander
"No! No! No!" Mollie cried out again, frustrated beyond belief. She had been attempting to teach Rory to play tennis for hours, but no matter what it seemed like there was no hope for her to learn.
Rory sighed again. "What now?" They had been at this for the entire morning, and she just wasn't getting the hang of it. Rory wasn't used to not being good at something. Usually, she got a handle on new things almost immediately, and it was really starting to get to her.
But it wasn't all her fault. Mollie might be one of the best tennis players according to the state of Connecticut, but she was not the best instructor. Rory was trying her best to follow 'the rules of the game' as Mollie put it, but it was hard. Mollie was explaining the sport over Rory's head, using terminology and phrases that may mean something to an expert, but were confusing to a novice like Rory.
"You're doing it wrong." Mollie called over the net.
"I'm doing exactly what you told me to do."
"No, you're not!"
"Yes, I am!"
Mollie stomped her foot, and took a breath. "No, you're not. I told you to cut up, not sweep across!"
"What?" Rory asked, more than confused. She had no idea what she was doing. How was she supposed to know the difference between the two?
"You have to cut upward!" Mollie yelled a little louder so Rory could hear her better.
"I still don't get it!" Rory was getting ready to give up. Learning to play tennis wasn't worth the aggravation. It hadn't been all that important to her life for the first twenty years, so more than likely, it wasn't going to kill her to be ignorant about the sport for the next sixty or so.
Mollie sighed, and picked up her racquet, quickly demonstrating what she wanted Rory to do. "See?" She asked when she was finished.
"No!"
Mollie let out a cry of frustration and threw her racquet down. "I give up!"
"You can't do that!" Rory complained, hands on her hips. "You're supposed to teach me how to play!"
"That was before I knew you were unteachable!"
Rory gasped. "Hey!"
Lulu and Emily, who had been watching their granddaughters bicker throughout the entire 'lesson', couldn't keep it in any longer. They both burst out laughing at the comedic reactions of both girls. If they didn't know better, they might have thought that it was a routine of sorts.
"What a lovely girl your granddaughter is, Lulu." Emily handed her friend a glass of lemonade before pouring one for herself. "It was so wonderful of her to offer to help Rory with her tennis."
"Well, I don't know how much of a help Mollie is being." Lulu chuckled, watching the girls continue to argue. "Rory doesn't seem to be learning all that much under Mollie's tutelage. If anything, she seems to be getting worse."
"Oh, you know how the Gilmore women are." Emily took a sip, continuing. "They may be quick with their words, but when it comes to athletics, well, it isn't always pretty."
"I hope you aren't including yourself in that statement, Em." Lulu raised an eyebrow. "After all, if it wasn't for you, we would have never won the Smith/Vassar field hockey game our junior year."
"Oh, honestly, Lulu, it was a team effort." Emily smiled, her eyes glossing over as she relived the excitement of years past. "You were there too."
"Yes, but I was terrible. They only kept me on because I knew all the dirt. What fun would the road trips have been if not for my gossip?"
"That is true." Emily set her glass down on the table in front of the pair. "Have I told you how happy I am that I came here instead of going over to dreary old Europe?"
"Why, no you haven't." Lulu said, turning to face her. "I must say, you seem very happy today. Much happier than you have been in a long time."
"Well, I have had a lot on my mind lately." Emily acknowledged. "It was such a relief to unload some of those things yesterday."
"Yesterday?" Lulu's eyes narrowed. "What happened yesterday?"
"Oh, well, I had such a nice chat with your granddaughter yesterday on the beach." Emily took a sip of lemonade. "It seems I have found a kindred spirit here at Chateau du Sable."
Kindred spirit? Lulu's eyes narrowed further, realizing what must have taken place on the beach the day before. She, Lulu Carrington, had been scooped.
Well, Mollie wasn't going to get away with that one.
"Girls!" Lulu called over to them, waving them over. "How about a break?"
The two grumbling girls trudged over to the gate off to the side of the court, letting themselves into the small viewing area where their grandmothers sat. Each grabbed a bottle of ice-cold water from the bar in the corner, and flopped tiredly on the bench along the edge of the space.
"Am I really that bad?" Rory asked after a few moments of silence. She took a long swig of water and leaned back against the blue- and green- striped cushion. Her arms ached and her lower back was killing her. How in the world did people do this all the time? Rory could tell that she was going to be in serious pain later on.
"Honestly?" Mollie asked, a little hesitant about giving her opinion.
"Yeah."
"If you were a movie sequel, you would be 2 Fast 2 Furious."
"I can't be that bad!" Rory gasped. She knew that she was no Venus Williams, but still … could she be that horrible?
"Don't take it personally."
"How can I not take that personally?"
Silence fell upon them again. "You know, it had potential." Mollie said suddenly.
"What did?"
"2 Fast 2 Furious."
Rory snorted. "Yeah right."
"I'm serious."
"You're insane."
Mollie shook her head. "All it needed was a better plot … and a better script."
"And a better cast." Rory pointed out.
"No, it just needed Vin Diesel." Mollie smiled. "Paul Walker may be hot and all, but Vin was the best part of that movie."
"So you actually liked The Fast and the Furious?" Rory asked, not quite able to reconcile the thought of someone being able to appreciate the comedy of Arsenic and Old Lace, while at the same time enjoying a movie about street-racing thieves.
"Of course!" Mollie smiled. "Well, maybe just one part."
"The scene with Vin …"
"In the garage …"
"With Michelle Rodriguez?" Rory finished, understanding perfectly.
"With the lifting, and the squeezing …" Mollie trailed off, a dreamy look on her face. Both girls sighed, remembering the scene in question. "I love that part."
"Every woman on the planet loved that part." Rory pointed out. "It's a fantasy come to life. What's not to love about a rendezvous in a garage with a hot mechanic looking under your hood, revving your engine?"
"You've thought about this before, haven't you?"
Rory smiled. "Well, it was Lane's guilty pleasure movie for 2001. She kept a copy at my house so her mother couldn't find it. But it was watched many times, and discussed at length."
Mollie nodded, and went silent again. "I wish I was Michelle Rodriguez."
Rory looked at her. "No you don't."
"No I don't. She looks kind of scary."
"Very true." Rory agreed. "I think it's the teeth, personally."
"Why did she get to do a scene like that?" Mollie wondered. "Why not me?"
"Because at the time they filmed that movie, you were major jailbait." Rory couldn't figure out if she wanted to laugh or cringe at the thought of a fourteen-year-old Mollie playing opposite of the movie star in his mid-thirties.
"So?" Mollie said petulantly. "My ass is so much better than hers."
"Okay." Rory didn't like the turn that their conversation had taken. "I'm not going there."
"Hey." A voice came from behind them, hopefully saving Rory from her ill-fated chat.
Rory turned around, relieved to see the cavalry arriving. Surely Mollie would drop it now that Graham and Tristan were here. Who would want to compare their body parts with those of celebrities in front of their cousin and childhood best friend? "Hey guys, what's up?"
Apparently, Mollie had other ideas, and they didn't involve starting a new conversation. "Graham, Tristan, you guys think that I have a nicer ass than Michelle Rodriguez, right?" She asked, an expectant look on her face.
Tristan's nose crinkled in disgust at the thought. "I'm not going there, Molls. It's just way too twisted."
"Fine." Mollie huffed, annoyed, yet understanding of his position. "You are excused on the grounds of being a blood relation. Graham, what are your thoughts?" She turned on him, waiting for his answer.
"Can't I get excused from the questioning too?" Graham looked desperate to escape. His eyes darted from side to side, and he was starting to sweat.
"No."
"Then I plead the fifth." Graham started to back up, but Mollie advanced, not taking no for an answer.
"You can't do that!"
"I just did."
Mollie shook her head. "I refuse to accept that. Come on, one squeeze." She said, turning her athletic frame around to accommodate her request.
"No!"
"Come on, Graham!" Mollie whined loudly. "I'm not asking you to solve world hunger. Just grab my ass!"
"No!" Graham shouted, stumbling back, fumbling with the latch on the gate door and releasing the catch just in the nick of time. He fled, cutting across the lawn and down by the rose gardens, with Mollie close on his heels, still ordering him to feel her up.
"Oh, my God." Rory breathed, still a little in shock from the display they had all just witnessed. "Did that actually just happen?"
"Yup." Was Tristan's answer, his astonished expression mirroring her own. But that was nothing next to the look on poor Emily. The older woman's face looked as if she had been the recipient of a bad brow lift, and if her jaw dropped any lower, it would have had to be detached from her skull.
Lulu, on the other hand, couldn't contain herself. She was clutching the armrest to keep herself from collapsing from laughter onto the tile floor. "I swear, NBC should just scrap Passions and Days of Our Lives and start filming the goings on in this house. Drama, secrets, intrigue, and moments of sheer, unadulterated comedy happen everyday on these grounds."
"Not to mention the attractive young cast, Gran." Tristan smirked, leering playfully at Rory. Yet again, she was wearing Mollie's clothing. He couldn't believe that a simple sleeveless polo and a tennis skirt could be that sexy. Granted, the clothing was Mollie's, so the shirt was slightly too small, and the skirt shorter than average, just the way his cousin liked them, but they still fell under the category of subtly sexy. After all, the outfit still had to be appropriate for the tennis court, not a rave.
Rory rolled her eyes, but try as she might, she couldn't help but smile. It was flattering to hear him talk about her that way, despite the fierce feminism that Lorelai had instilled in her from the time of conception.
"Well, I guess I just wasn't meant to learn to play tennis today." Rory said, relieved that the agony was over. Maybe she could finish that new Melville she found in the library a few days before. "Considering my teacher has deemed me unteachable."
"Oh no!" Lulu clucked her tongue. "And after you worked so hard."
"Yeah, and even after four hours, I still suck." Rory pointed out, hoping to get her point across.
"Don't feel bad.," Tristan smiled encouragingly. "Mollie couldn't teach her way out of a paper bag. She's terrible."
"I guess." Somehow, she didn't think that her torture was over.
"She's amazing on the court." Tristan continued. "Hell, she was the Connecticut State champion two years in a row. Mollie's got more tennis trophies than Andre Agassi. But teaching someone to play and playing are two very different things. Teaching requires a softer touch, and if you haven't noticed, Mollie's got the subtlety of a sledgehammer going into drywall."
Tristan's smile grew wider as Rory laughed. The tension mounting between the two teens was too obvious for Lulu to ignore, and so she decided to take matters into her own hands. "Then it's settled." She said, standing up.
Both Rory and Tristan looked confused. "What's settled Gran?" Tristan asked, not understanding.
"You will teach Rory to play tennis." Lulu announced, pulling a still shocked Emily to her feet. "Come on, Emily, we'll go see about lunch, and leave Tristan to work his magic."
"But-," Rory protested, seeing her relaxing afternoon of reading slipping away quickly. Plus, she didn't know how good of an idea it was to be so near Tristan right now. After all, she hadn't quite made a decision, despite the way she felt around him.
"I'm not taking no for an answer." Lulu said firmly, leading her best friend, who was finally starting to come around, to the gate. "Have fun!"
"You don't have to do this." Rory suddenly felt shy around him, like she had regressed four years and was now her sixteen-year-old self, standing before Tristan in the halls of Chilton. "I mean, you can, if you want, but I don't want you to feel-."
"Wow." Tristan couldn't help but smirk. "You still haven't mastered speaking in clear, succinct sentences yet, have you?"
"Hey!" Rory narrowed her eyes, annoyed. "I have mastered the art of speaking just fine, thank you!"
"Then try it." Tristan stepped closer, anchoring his hand on her chin, using his fingers to move her bottom lip as he spoke for her. "Say, 'Tristan, I would love for you to teach me how to play tennis. Thank you so much for the offer.'"
Rory nearly jumped when he came in contact with her skin. Such a simple gesture, not at all meant to be sexual, and yet, so simply sensual. "Tristan, I would love for you to teach me how to play tennis. Thank you so much for the offer," she repeated, forcing her voice to remain syrupy sweet.
"Now, was that so hard?" Tristan asked, grabbing his racquet from the bench, and leading the way back to the tennis court. "Shall we?"
Still smiling innocently, Rory passed through the open gate, but not before the butt of her racquet came in contact with Tristan's gut, catching him off guard. He doubled over in shock and slight pain.
"Oops!" Rory covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm so sorry Tris. My racket must have slipped. Can you ever forgive me?"
"Of course." Tristan nodded. "It was an accident, right?"
"Of course." Rory turned, going toward her side of the court. She leapt ten feet in the air when she felt the taught strings against her butt. "Hey!" She cried out, whipping around to see a very smug-looking Tristan Dugrey staring back at her, not even bothering to feign innocence as she had only a moment prior.
"Oops!" Tristan shook his head sadly, waxing apologetic. "My racquet must have slipped." He mocked her further; barely able to contain his laughter at the way her face was turning red. "Can you ever forgive me?"
&--
Lulu's grin broadened as she watched the scene before her unfold. Almost there, she thought to herself. Tristan had better come through, or I've been sitting in these bushes for the past twenty minutes for nothing.
It occurred to her that it might be a little abnormal for her to be hiding in the shrubbery spying on her grandson. But then, Lulu Carrington was never one to do anything the normal way. And besides, she had just handed Tristan a perfect opportunity. She had to see what he would do with it.
"Hey Gran!" Mollie hissed, pushing low branches out of the way before kneeling on the ground next to her grandmother. "Have you seen Graham? I almost had him for a second, but he slipped away somewhere around the dogwoods. He's in pretty good shape."
"Don't you think it's a touch unladylike to be chasing a boy around so he can 'grab your ass,' as you so eloquently put it earlier?"
"Says the woman squatting in the dirt so she can spy on a couple of teenagers," Mollie countered, flashing a grin.
"How did you know that I was even here?" Lulu asked. "You left before I set them up."
"Gran, you are a woman of many, many talents, but covert ops are definitely not one of them." Mollie moved a patch of foliage out of the way so she could get a better view of the happenings on the tennis court. "You suck at the spy game."
"Shh!" Lulu and Mollie sat still as stone, praying that Tristan wouldn't spot them when he ran over to retrieve a wayward ball. Both let out a sigh of relief when he jogged back to his place beside Rory, ball in hand. "That was close."
"Way too close."
"Now, why are you so hell bent on tormenting poor Graham?" Lulu asked quietly, trying not to garner any attention from the two on the court. "What did the boy ever do to you?"
"All I want is a simple answer to a simple question." Mollie shrugged, as though the answer was more than obvious. "I didn't realize that it was going to require a lifeline of some sort."
"Mollie darling, you should have seen the stricken look on his face." Lulu admonished softly. "You were being completely evil, and you know it."
"So?" Mollie whispered back. "What about me?"
"What about you?"
"We're friends, he and I."
"Yes, I'm aware of that."
"So, in the spirit of friendship, why couldn't he have helped me out?" Mollie shifted on the ground slightly. "His not assisting me in my time of trial may have caused irreparable psychological damage. I mean really, am I that undesirable?" Mollie pondered dramatically. "Am I unattractive? Unfit? Is he ashamed of me? Should I be walking around Newport with a paper bag over my head, so as not to scar the tiny children?"
"Oh, the lengths you will go to get what you want." Lulu laughed lightly. Sometimes, watching Mollie was like looking into a mirror. "You are shameless." Lulu shook her head. Both turned their attentions back to the court, watching as the 'lesson' went on, the student and teacher unaware of their audience.
"Wow," Mollie commented, tilting her head slightly to the side. "She actually doesn't suck." But as she continued to watch the scene unfold, she gasped. "Hey! You, you, you fink!"
"What?" Lulu looked at her innocently.
"I was supposed to get them together this summer!" Mollie squeaked, trying to stay quiet. "I called it!"
"Yes, but I also seem to remember saying something to the effect of 'Emily is my best friend, it's my job to find out what is going on.' Or did I just imagine that?" Lulu raised an eyebrow. "Mollie, you are quite the little schemer, but never forget who the true Master and Commander is. You have a long way to go before I relinquish that title to you."
"But, but, you cheated!" Mollie punched the dirt in front of her in frustration.
"So did you." Lulu smiled at her. "I had to teach you a lesson."
"That's not fair!" Mollie whined.
"Life's not fair."
Mollie turned back to the court, a resigned look on her face. She couldn't believe that she had been one upped by her grandmother. It really wasn't fair. After all, she hadn't meant to find out all about Emily. She didn't intend for her grandmother's best friend to unload all of her deep, dark secrets on her.
But it had been fun, to learn all the things that Gran so desperately wanted to know. She hadn't exactly stopped Emily from telling her. Mollie had wanted to know all the things that Lulu didn't.
But this, the retribution, was not fun. Not at all.
A rustling in the bushes only a few feet from the set of bushes that she and Lulu were crouched in caught her attention. Probably just a squirrel, or a bird, or something, Mollie thought, looking closer. But then, when did squirrels wear robin's egg blue waffle weave polo shirts? "GRAHAM!" She shrieked, and before Lulu could stop her, she had flown the coop, taking off after the poor boy once again.
"Damn it!" Lulu cried, her hopes for her grandson disappearing as quickly as Graham had around the corner, with Mollie hot on his tail.
This was going to be a lot harder than she thought.
--&--
Taking her stance once again, Rory gripped her racquet and readied herself for the ball that Tristan was about to send her way. Please don't let me miss again, please don't let me miss again, she prayed silently to herself, hoping that some higher power would hear her plea and take pity on her.
Tristan hit the bright green ball, and Rory inhaled deeply, and swung hard. Thankfully, she did make contact. Unfortunately, Rory hit the ball too early, and it careened through the air, hitting the top of the fence before bouncing off somewhere near the bushes.
"See?" She called out to Tristan, who was jogging back over to her after locating the ball. "I suck!" Rory slumped her shoulders in defeat.
"You don't suck." Tristan smirked at her, jumping over the net with ease. Why can't he just walk the extra ten steps around it like every other human being? Rory wondered to herself. But then, Tristan wasn't just like every other human being. There was something about him that was unique, something that made her annoyed at him and attracted to him at the very same time.
"Yes, I do." Rory sighed. "I can't even get the stupid ball to go into the stupid square."
"That'll come later." Tristan assured her. "Accuracy can be taught. You have a decent natural grip, and nice clean swing."
"Seriously?" Rory asked, a bit doubtful.
"Seriously." Tristan smiled at her, and she couldn't help but return it. "You just have to get the timing down. You keep swinging too early or too late."
"Huh?"
"Didn't Mollie go over this with you?" Tristan asked.
"No, she skipped over timing and went straight for telling me that I was doing it wrong." Rory explained. "It was an interesting lesson. Our grandmothers seemed to enjoy it."
"Yeah, Gran always seems to find pleasure in other people's discomfort." Tristan agreed. "It's part of her charm."
"Yeah, but it's a lot less fun when the discomfort is my own." Rory complained, but taking her stance once more. "Hit me with your best shot."
"I'm not sure you're quite ready for what I've got." Tristan laughed and hit a ball in her direction. Rory waited for it to bounce, hoping that it wouldn't go shooting off into space once more. But once more, it headed off into the air, nowhere near the place that it was supposed to end up in.
"Try it again," Tristan called to her. Rory was surprised at how patient Tristan was being. If someone had told her in the beginning of the summer that she would not only be on a tennis court, but with Tristan Dugrey as her instructor, she would have died from laughter.
But then, at the beginning of the summer, she didn't think she would be an adulteress either.
Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it. Rory remembered the wise words that Lulu had recited the night before, and pushed her past indiscretion out of her head, hopefully for the last time.
"When you hit a backhand, try to bend your knees a little." Tristan instructed before he gently lobbed another ball at her, which she returned awkwardly. "Okay," Tristan walked around the net, setting his racquet down on the side of the court. "Try a double-handed grip. It'll give you more power and control of your stroke."
Rory put both hands on the racquet handle. "It's not a baseball bat, Ror." Tristan smirked.
"Right, because I'm such an authority on the proper ways to handle various pieces of sports equipment." Rory rolled her eyes and tried to adjust her hands.
"Here," Tristan moved her fingers into the correct positions. "Your right hand goes here, and line up the V of your index finger and your thumb with the side of the racquet. Then, put your left hand on top.
"Oh, and watch your feet." Tristan grabbed her hips, twisting her body slightly to a better angle. "Make sure they are parallel to the net."
"Uh huh." Rory murmured, trying to focus on what Tristan was telling her to do. But his hands were on her hips, burning fingerprints into her skin through the thin layer of cotton her skirt provided.
"Swing." Rory was practically on autopilot as his arms slipped around her, his hands covering her own to swing at the ball he dropped in front of them.
A smile spread across Rory's face when the ball sailed cleanly over the net, landing on the other side. "I hit that!" She squealed in delight.
"Felt good, didn't it?" Tristan grinned as she turned in his arms to hug him tightly.
"Amazing." Rory whispered, looking into his eyes. Suddenly, neither of them were talking about tennis anymore. She was more aware than ever before of just how blue his eyes were.
He took a shaky breath, his eyes still locked with hers. What was he so nervous about? Why could he barely breathe? This feeling was so foreign to him, uncomfortable, and yet, he wouldn't want to change anything. Slowly, so as not to startle her, he lowered his head, the distance between them growing smaller and smaller.
She could feel his breath against her mouth, against her cheeks. He was so close to her, and Rory's body was pressed tightly against his. She could think of nothing except for the way that his arms were still securely wrapped around her, and the way that his muscular chest molded so perfectly to her own soft curves.
There was nothing left between them. They were bound together in nearly every other place. Tristan's gaze bore into her own, and she knew that this was it. It was the point of no return. He was going to kiss her.
"GRAHAM!" The loud screech tore the two apart, breaking the spell they were both under. Rory frantically looked around, and caught a glimpse of Mollie in hot pursuit of Graham before they disappeared around the corner once again.
"I, uh, we … um … ." Rory could barely form words. This couldn't be happening. What was she doing? What were they doing? "I'm going to go, um, and uh, see about … ." Rory sighed in defeat. "Thank you, you know, for the lesson," she stammered before she took flight.
Tristan watched her go, frustrated. Why did this keep happening to him? Why did every kiss they shared always end in her running from him? Well, they hadn't exactly kissed this time. They had been close, painfully close, but yet again it had ended in disaster.
When he was younger, he had played baseball during the summer. It was a fun sport, and he had been good at it. Tristan remembered one game when he had been the catcher. An umpire was only a few feet behind him, and over and over he had heard the older man say one phrase.
Three strikes, your out!
Three strikes.
Three kisses, if he counted that last almost kiss.
Maybe this time, he was out.
