Title: The Stripper and Publicist Chronicles
Author: iluvmylowandbaseball
Rating: R/NC-17
Chapter: Two - Jess
Prompt: Tequila
Set: 30
Claim: Rory/Jess
Summary: She was a stripper; he was a publicist. She was out for money; he was out on the eve of his wedding. As simple as it may seem, neither expected the chemistry that sparked between them that night and left them breathless. Literati. AU.
Disclaimer: I don't own. Never have, never will.
Author's Note: Well, it's been a while since I've actually written a long story because I've written many one shots since FtS. But I'll give you guys my all. I appreciate the reviews and I'm happy you wanted me to continue.
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Talking to the media is his worst nightmare. Holding press conferences is a close second. Actually writing for an author who can write for himself is what puts him over the edge.
Sitting at a computer is his favorite aspect of his job. Having a company-owned car that will be his in less than a year is highly satisfying. Paying only fifty dollars for his five thousand minute plan makes him jump for joy when he receives his bill.
And meeting people who can continue to skyrocket his career?
Priceless.
---
His nose was glued to a book at the age of seven. By then, his mother had lessened her responsibilities and his dad had booked. Actually, his dad booked when he was born, so it makes no difference.
By eleven, he'd skipped the sixth grade and jumpstarted a tumultuous seventh year. He spent less time at home and more time on the streets, usually ripping off newsstands and stealing knowledge by sitting in the corner of a large bookstore for hours.
Now that he reflects on it, he realizes what a pubescent boy he'd been.
His freshman year was difficult on him; his mother attempted to regain his trust by going into drug rehab. She returned with a new main squeeze. A bottle of Tequila.
That container of troubles opened a new can of worms: boyfriends. Deadbeat boyfriends that lasted no more than two weeks. Deadbeat boyfriends that trashed their apartment and foul-mouthed his mother.
Deadbeat boyfriends that made sure to wring his mother clean and leave him with funds that only paid bills and crappy produce.
It was what motivated him, beyond everyone's doubt, to graduate high school and leave his roommate behind. After all, he couldn't call her much of a mother, could he?
He ended up going to Columbia on an academic scholarship. It paid for half the school year each year and he took out a student loan while receiving other, less notorious grants.
Communication was his major and creative writing a minor. He contributed short stories to a monthly, school-published literary magazine while interning at Lexus R. Management, the agency he now dominates.
Graduating in the top ten percent of his class was the most exciting moment he'd experienced in twenty years of life. And as he shook the dean's hand and looked into the crowd, only a face he'd seen in pictures made his moment fade.
"What are you doing here?" he hissed, leading the man into the glorious entry of the Columbia campus.
"I'm your father."
Shoving aside his extended hand, "I know who you are but what gives you the right to show your face here? You don't even know me."
"Your mother invited me."
"Yeah. And she didn't even show up."
"There's a reason for that."
"There's always an excuse for her and I don't want it to ruin my day."
"I'm sure she didn't mean to—"
"—Do you even know Liz Danes?"
"We dated for quite a long time, Jess."
"But do you know she's an alcoholic who couldn't even maintain her son when he was growing up?"
"She was sober."
"For how long?"
"Until now."
"Well, then great!" he scoffed, throwing his hands in the air only to rest them atop his head.
"You don't understand."
"Why the hell are you here, Jimmy?"
"Your mother had an accident."
"Pissed herself again?"
"An overdose, kid. Your mother's dead."
---
Liz Danes didn't have a funeral. Just a burial where her estranged brother accompanied him while sending his mother into her well-deserved grave.
She wasn't a big loss to him at the beginning. Her absence didn't affect him until he sold their crappy apartment three months later. And as realization set in, his sub-par roommate was all he had really had in the world.
Afraid of being alone, he took a plane to LAX and met Jimmy at Dante's Inferno. He hadn't seemed surprised and offered him a home on the couch until he decided to leave.
Jess squeezed the offer for six months, helping Jimmy at the stand and helping with bills by working at a local bookstore. The moment he decided to leave, Jimmy promised him they'd be in touch.
And they have been.
---
At twenty-six, he is the most successful publicist Lexus has had since the 1980s. He always manages to find unknown authors and make them international superstars. Well, not necessarily superstars. But they are famous now, thanks to him.
His salary isn't something that can buy him an apartment in Long Island but it puts food on the table, clothes on his back, electricity in his breakers and water in his plumbing.
It also allows him to spend a good amount of money for Kelsey's ring.
Kelsey has been his girlfriend for one year, his fiancée for another. She's a psychiatrist, graduated from Northwestern in the top twenty-five percent.
He met her at a release party. Her green eyes sold her and he couldn't hesitate to speak with her. It just so happened she was his client's shrink and had been invited.
Now, two years later, they are getting married.
Tonight is his last night as a spinster and his friends (including his father) decided to celebrate at the Bark Bar.
He never considered it to be a strip club.
"You should've told me we were coming here."
"What would be the fun in that?" shouts Phil from across the table, waving over a skimpy waitress.
Riley, the man who found him an apartment when he returned to New York, pounds a fist against Jess' back. "We never would've got you out of the apartment, man."
"I think it's time you had yourself some justified action. You never know when Kelsey will—"
"—Stop right there, Jimmy." Chuckling, he runs his hand through spiked hair.
"When you see these girls, you will see it's worth it," Brad drawls, pointing a finger at Jess' chest.
"There are some hot asses on that stage, man. Just wait and see." Smacking a hand to the table and licking his lips, Kenny wiggles his brow.
A smile tugs at his lips. "You guys have been here too often."
The redhead, Jason, retorts, "You have that straight, buddy."
"Kel—"
Kenny cuts him off. "—Kelsey is probably out there doing the same thing. There's no need for you to feel guilty and no need for you to get mad at each other."
"It's not like these chicks are allowed to do you in public. They can't do you on the premises," Brad chips in, nodding.
"There's nothing to worry about, son. Just enjoy the ride." The table erupts in vibrant laughter, each sloshing their drinks.
"To Jess!" Riley raises his glass and the others follow. "For being such a good man and refusing what every one of us would kill for. A lap dance. And some non-home-wrecking sex."
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End Note: If you're going to add this story to your favorites, can you at least leave a review? It'll make me happy and the happier I am, the faster I write. I hope you guys liked this even though I don't feel this chapter matched my previous one in content. Next chapter will be both Rory and Jess perspectives. Please review!