since it would only let me choose four characters to list in the story's main description, i'd just like to list [by order of appearance] all the characters this fanfic features: Jess Mariano, Rory Gilmore, Lorelei Gilmore, Luke Danes, Richard Gilmore, Babette and Morey, Emily Gilmore, Lane Kim, Sookie Saint James, Taylor Doosey, Lane's twins: Kwan and Steve, Zack, Caesar, Paris Geller, Doyle AND finally, Logan Huntzburger.
CHAPTER TWO / RORY
I touch down in New York at 5am in August. It's a Tuesday and it's raining as the cab driver helps me heave my bags into his boot. I thank him, tucking my hair behind both ears and slipping into the backseat, glad to be out of the rain. My bangs are sticking to the side of my face, going frizzy from getting wet.
I rummage around in my purse for my phone, almost shouting EUERKA when my fingers curl around the familiar cold object the size of my hand. Almost, but not quite. There's no reason to give my cabbie a heart attack as he crosses Brooklyn Bridge. I hold down the lock button, waiting patiently as the iconic white apple symbol sets into the screen, lighting it life once again. There's two missed calls from work and four from Mum, a text from Luke and another from Lane.
Luke's reads "Hey, Rory. Hope you had a good flight. Look, I'll cut straight to the chase, your Mum's driving me batty. Will you please call her back? She's worried sick and googling how many planes have unexplainably fallen from the sky in the last decade…please just let her know you arrived in one piece. Love, Luke." He always signs off his texts like their letters. It makes me smile, but Mum cackle and tease. In a loving way, of course.
I don't bother typing out a reply, knowing he wouldn't expect one. I'll do what he asks, right after replying to Lane since the phone call with her is likely to occupy my time a little longer than quickly jabbing out a response to my best friend. Lane's message is short and sweet, just like her. "Fly safe! So excited to see you! Though, notably not as much as Steve and Kwan are to see their favourite - and only - aunty! xx" I grin and type out a reply, feeling butterflies surge up inside of me at the thought of seeing how grown my best friend's sons have gotten since the last time I visited them. It had been too long.
Next she hits one on her speed dial and barely two rings in, is met with her mother's shrill scream. "RORRYYYYY!" I pull the phone back from being fully flushed against my ear and laugh. "Hey, Mum. You wanna warn me before you do that next time? You may've just rendered your daughter hearing impaired at the rip old age of 27." Now it's Mum's turn to laugh. "Fair call. I offer my deepest apologies and half a pop tart as a peace offering.." "Why only half?" I ask, holding my phone up with my shoulder, while searching my bag again, only this time it's for lipstick. "Because I may be eating the last one at the present moment and I can't guarantee Luke'll make a trip to the Doosey's for more before you get here tomorrow." Half of what Mum says is muffled and drowned out by chewing.
I roll my eyes. "I'll make the trip for you, Rory!" I hear Luke's voice ring out from the background. "Lorelei, what are you telling her that for? You know how much the kid loves pop tarts, god you'll scare her half out of coming if you keep that up!" I laugh.
"It's not my fault Rory's been away all this time and missed out on the last pop tart. I promised her half. That's the best I can do." "You just ate the last half!" "Oh, guess I did. Whoopsie." Mum giggles. "God knows where she got her pop tart addiction from, huh?" Luke jokes pecking the side of his wife's head. "Mum, tell Luke i'll love him forever if he makes it to the market for a fresh box of pop tarts before I arrive tomorrow afternoon, but if not, it definitely won't stop me coming home." I finally cut in. "Got all that, did 'ya?" Mum's voice is faint so I assume it's because she's drawn the phone away from her mouth.
"Yeah, I did." Luke replies. "Well, what d'you want me to say as your response?" "Tell her I—oh this is ridiculous, just give it here." I laugh as Luke's voice suddenly fills my ear. "Hey, Rory. It's Luke." "Hi, Luke. How are you?" I ask, casually. "I'm doing good. Better now that you've called your Mum. I'm telling you she was manic last night." "WAS NOT!" I hear Mum protest childishly.
"What are you guys doing awake so early?" "Oh, your Mum wasn't awake, but man, did she shoot up in bed the minute her phone went off." He laughs. "I'm going fishing, so I was in the shower. Always a good idea to catch the fish by surprise, the closest to dawn as you can get will do the trick." He explains solemnly. "Right. Makes sense." I reply, trying to match his serious tone. "Awright, well I'll put your Mum back on, she's practically shuddering with excitement. Good to hear your voice, Rory. You sound happy..exhausted, but happy." He adds. I smile. "Thanks Luke. Same goes for you."
"Don't snatch! What are you, four years old?" Luke's voice is suddenly very far away and I hear Mum blow a raspberry in response. "Awright. I'm leaving." Luke says, his voice getting further and further away, clearly as he heads out the door. "Fine! Have fun!" Mum shouts back. "Mum, did you seriously just blow a raspberry at your husband?" I say, feeling like a third wheel of this conversation, despite being the one who called her. "Yep. Why?" She smacks her lips together on the "yep." I sigh and rub my eyes. "Go give him a hug or something. You shouldn't be so short with him. You know you got lucky with Luke, right? Not every grown man would be willing to tolerate all your quirks." "Ouch." She forges hurt. "Your words are like bullets." She says, throwing in a faux sob for good measure.
I roll my eyes and glance out the window. The sun's only just coming up. "Y'know i don't mean it like that. I just meant, he's good to you." "Yeah, you don't think i know that, kid? But fine, if you insist. Hold on." I hear her thunder down the stairs and throw herself in Luke's arms. It's clear she's still holding the phone, otherwise I wouldn't be able to still hear their muffled voices. I tune out, not waiting for the inevitable smooching sound to echo down the phone line and instead, run my eyes over the collection of skyscrapers we're speeding past. I'd almost forgotten how much I love New York.
"You still there?" Mum's voice cuts through my thoughts about the few visits I made to this city as a teenager, still living in Stars Hollow and with hardly any experience with a city. There was that time that Mum and Sookie took me, Paris, Madeline and Louise to a Bangles concert when I was sixteen and then the day of Mum's graduation from business school when I ditched school to see…Jess.
His name drops like a rock in my stomach. The last words I said to him echo in my head. "Stay with me tonight. Last chance?" I want to slap myself. It was like I'd lost all sense that night. What had I been thinking, asking him to spend the night with me. God. I want to groan and bury my face in a pillow. The humiliation comes rushing back in waves, as though it's the next morning all over again and I'm waking up alone with a splitting headache, a really upset stomach and a tongue which felt like sandpaper. That one hungover alone was enough to swear me off drinking for the rest of my life.
"Yeah, I'm still here." I blurt, finally remembering Mum's still waiting on an answer. "And here I was thinking I'd been the one to put our conversation on hold." She jokes, gently. "Where'd you go, kid?" She prods. And I can't tell her. We've never discussed that night. She never asked me what happened when Jess took me home and I never thought to bring it up. No use dwelling on the past.
And based on our history with boys, Jess specifically, I only really tell Mum the significant stuff. The small stuff, like I don't know - hitting on your ex boyfriend from high school at your mother's wedding to his uncle after having said no to a marriage proposal from your college boyfriend - well, let's just say isn't as important as one might think. I didn't want to make things awkward for Mum around Jess, since I knew it was likely she'd have to face him in at least a few Danes family encounters in the future now that she finally married Luke.
"Nowhere." I reply, yawning. "It's so early." "I know." She sympathizes. "Gilmores don't do early mornings." "Danes' do though." I point out, smirking. "Hush now." Mum rebuts, her voice sharp. I laugh. "Oh, come on. Have a sense of humour, would you?" "I can't have anything at…" She groans, stretching across the bed to check the clock. "5:36am. Jesus." She finishes. "Well, I'll let you try and drop back off to dreamworld then. I should go, gotta give the driver more instructions, now that we're in the city itself." "Yeah, okay. Be safe, kid." "Always am, Mum." I chirp. "Was the flight good?" She asks, flopping back into her pillows.
"Yeah, t'was fine." I mumble, sinking back against the carseat. "I love you, Rory." Mum's voice turns serious, though it's soft and I realise I'm losing her to sleep. "I love you too, Mama." I whisper and end the call. I glance up at the driver. "All good?" I ask. He clips a nod, not drawing his eyes away from the road. I smile, knowing I got a good one and feel safe to lose myself in my thoughts again. You never know these days, whether you'll get a driver who knows what he's doing and can safely - and independently - guide you to your destination or if you'll get one of more inexperienced ones, fresh out of the coup, and needing constant confirmation they're taking the right exit or have turned onto the right avenue.
I should probably send an email through to work, letting them know I landed safe and sound and that I'll get to the meeting at 3pm this afternoon at the NYC office. Leaning down to unzip my backpack, I pull my MacBook from it's case and lift the lid, signing into the company's mail homepage.
"Here we are, Miss." The cabby's voice cuts through my mind and my eyes flutter open. "Oh, I'm so sorry for falling asleep." "No problem. That'll be $15.80." He taps the meter and I nod, prying my wallet from my bag and handing over the cash. "Keep the change," I add as his fingers close around the $20.
"Why, thank you, Miss." He replies as I unbuckle and open my door, stepping out and stretching. Without a second thought, the driver's opening the boot and lifting my bags out. "Do you need help taking them inside?" He offers, squinting up at the hotel he's pulled up in front of. "No, I should be fine. But thank you." I pull the handle up from my suitcase and plant my backpack firmly on the top, wrapping the straps around the handle and giving my suitcase a nudge so that it tilts and rolls willingly.
"Have a nice day." I call, waving over my shoulder. "You too." He whistles, recognizing the hotel brand and ducking his head as he climbs back inside the taxi. I don't watch the yellow car pull away from the curb but rather head straight inside. The doorman dips his head, holding the lobby entrance wide open for me. I thank him and smile in response, moving quickly through the doorway.
I head up to the counter, glad there's no cue this early in the morning. "Name?" The concierge barks, not glancing up from the computer screen. "Gilmore, Rory." I recite and pull my passport from my bag to offer as identification as well as my credit card, though the company pays. I watch as his fingers fly across the keyboard, spelling G-I-L-M-O-R-E and then how his hand flies to the mouse, swift and rehearsed actions as though he's done this a million times, which is likely to be the case. By his lack of enthusiasm and cheeriness, I doubt this is his first day.
"Ah, yes. We were expecting you at 6am sharp." "Yes, that's right. I flew in from Monaco this morning, you see and got caught in traffic travelling back from JFK airport." I explain and he nods, disinterest plain across his face. He reaches for my passport and flips it open, eyes flickering from the photo to my face. I try to smooth my hair down in an attempt to look remotely presentable and realise my breath is really bad.
The concierge clicks his tongue and flips my passport shut, sliding it back across the marble reception desk to me along with my room keycard. "We hope you enjoy your stay at The Surrey hotel." He forces a grim smile and then with a flick of his wrist, our interaction is granted over and a gruff businessman in a suit with only carry on luggage is hustling up behind me. I hastily grab ahold of my bags and move along.
Luckily the lifts don't take too long to come down and the ding is almost immediate. I'm glad when the doors slide shut and it's just me shooting up to the 5th floor, lacking the company of the grouchy suit and briefcase man from before. I don't bother unpacking anything since I'm only here for one night and dump all my stuff against the cupboard. I slump to the floor to unzip my boots and carefully place them off to the side so I don't trip over them later. Moving over to the windows, I search for the familiar greenery of central park. The Surrey's view never disappoints and it only takes me two skims over the view to spot the treetops. I sigh and bring the curtains shut, wanting nothing more than to just collapse and sleep off the jet lag.
According to my clock, still being on Monaco time, I've lost five hours. I shimmy out of my coat, fling it over the chair by the window and pull back the covers, messing up the perfectly made bed and dropping some of the huge decor pillows to the fluffy carpeted floor. Climbing up into bed, I let myself finally relax and realise how much tension I'd been holding in my shoulders as they start to ache. Flinging out my arms, happy for the cold smooth comfort the fresh sheets bring, my hands collide with something small, round and hard. "Chocolates!" I exclaim, gleefully and tear off the gold wrapping, not checking the brand or flavour.
I'm happily surprised as I bite into the middle and a coffee coco flavour fills my mouth, melting on my tongue. "Life is good." I whisper, closing my eyes tight and sleeping off the nine hour flight.
I wake up, with my eyes slightly sticky and my head spinning. It isn't great but I stumble out of bed anyways and make for the bathroom. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, combing my hair and applying the slightly bit of makeup, I move back into the bedroom and think to check the clock. It reads 1:58pm and I almost topple over. I slept for almost eight hours straight, without even meaning to. I mean, it wasn't like I didn't get any sleep on the flight over. I think I was out for maybe three hours or so. Still, it seems I needed to rest more than I realized.
I kneel down to my suitcase, pushing it on it's back and unzipping the lid, groaning at the mess it's become. I meant to pack it neat and tidy..but well, time got away from me on my last morning and before I knew it the driver that was sent for me in Monaco was downstairs to take me to the airport and I had to get a move on quick smart.
In ten minutes flat, I've chosen an outfit, got changed and swapped the purse I'd been using at the airport and on the plane to a more practical tote bag that can fit my computer and my folder. I check that I've got my company card and click it onto the hem of my pants, where it belongs. Not bothering to check my face in the mirror one more time, I head out and leave the heavy hotel door to click shut behind me in it's own time.
I take the lift down to the lobby and bypass the reception desk altogether, slipping through the revolving doors. With August being the last month of New York's summer, the rain this morning surprised me but thankfully it seems to have cleared up now. I decide to wander down to Central Park on foot, thinking I'll flag down a cab after exploring a bit. I check the watch I quickly clipped onto my wrist before heading out, doing the calculations in my head to leave enough time to make it from the park to 22nd avenue before my meeting starts.
There's a lot of families about playing ball games or having picnics, women pushing strollers and skinny people jogging by the river that runs through the west side of the park. I pass by a bench where an elderly lady feeds the ducks and another where a teenager - who's likely skipping out on school - sits with a macbook balanced on his crossed knees and chunky headphones over his ears. I decide to go off the path and through the trees, seeking out the heart of the park and when I glance over the boy's shoulder, I see that he's mixing beats through protools. That makes me smile. While, I don't support kids avoiding school, at least he's doing something constructive. It's probably his passion, too.
I hear his voice before I see him. It's not loud exactly but the wind carries it far and I find myself stopping still, weak at the knees and with a bubble of denial floating up inside of me. There's no way, it can't be. I must have heard wrong, I think as I scan the crowds scattered across the open area I've come to.
There's a woman running with her dog, there's five people, in their early twenties maybe, two girls and three guys kicking a footy to the far left of me and then there's a girl struggling to walk three or four dogs since each lead is tugging her limbs in different directions. Okay, so none of them are him, I breathe in and out, calming my racing heart and spinning head. It's the remainder of the jet lag playing tricks on you, I think to myself and raise a hand behind my head to make sure the french braid I've perfected from my school years at Chilton is still in place.
But no, it seems I missed a whole group of guys from my early assessment of who's in the park. They come into my vision now, and it's unmistakable that the voice I heard is real and coming from the honest flesh version of him rather than the memory which exists inside my head. He stands with three other guys, under a tree and laughing.
I can't move from this spot, I can't remember where I am or why I'm here. If you asked me what year it was right now, I wouldn't put it past me to say 2006 instead of sixteen. It's like my whole body is suffering from a chemical reaction just at the mere sight of him. He hasn't had this effect on me since that day I got home from that summer student government program in Washington Paris and I went on in high school to see him pressed up against a tree with Shane.
