Bid

Jess spent the rest of winter break working with Luke. The minimum wage that he earned in the diner didn't add up to much very quickly, but he continued to stash it away so that he would have a small chunk of cash, a safety net for emergencies. He'd done the same in New York when he'd picked up odd jobs here and there. However, on a number of occasions, Liz had discovered his hiding places and stolen what she'd found. Jess had come home to find his things strewn around the small apartment and his mother passed out in her room. Despite not having any privacy in the apartment with Luke, he felt fairly confident at this point that his uncle would not pilfer his hard-earned cash and use it for drugs and booze. Still, he knew he would feel less vulnerable if he had a corner of the apartment that was his, a place where he could put his things away. Luke had mentioned going into Hartford to pick up a few things over the break, and Jess wondered if he could ask for a small bookshelf or chest of drawers.

By Wednesday, his uncle had yet to bring up the trip to Hartford. Jess broached the subject as they closed up that evening. He finished wiping down the last table and went to lean against the counter where Luke was closing out the cash register.

"Hey, uh, Uncle Luke?"

"Yeah?" Luke said absentmindedly.

"You remember how you said you were planning on going into Hartford this week? That still happening?"

"Uh, yeah, I was planning on going Friday morning. Did you think of something you need?"

Jess glanced down at his hands. "Well, I, uh, I could use a couple more shirts, but I was wondering if I could get a bookshelf or something where I can put my things."

"Sure," said Luke, nodding at him.

Jess was taken aback by how quickly Luke had said yes and wasn't sure how to respond. He nodded back at his uncle and turned to go upstairs.

He and his uncle drove to Hartford together early Friday and by that afternoon were heading back to Stars Hollow with new fryer baskets, a small bookshelf, bedside table, and an actual twin sized mattress for Jess. There was no room for a second bedframe in the apartment, but the inflatable mattress had given out days ago, and Jess had been sleeping on the sofa ever since. Jess hadn't complained, but Luke took it upon himself to get one while they were in the furniture store.

As they pulled up in front of the diner, Luke reminded Jess that the bookshelf would have to be unboxed and put together and expressed doubt in his nephew's ability to successfully complete such a task alone. Jess rolled his eyes, remembering the toaster, but was still unwilling to admit that he'd been the one who fixed it, so he bit his tongue. He told his uncle not to worry about it and helped carry everything upstairs before Luke went to help Caesar in the diner. By the time Luke came back upstairs several hours later, Jess had everything set up and was lying on the couch, reading. The surprise on his uncle's face was enormously satisfying, but Jess pretended not to notice. He had rearranged a few things around the apartment and hoped that Luke wouldn't object. His bookshelf sat on the right side of the door next to Luke's fishing and hockey gear, and the bedside table stood on the left. He'd organized his books and meager belongings as best he could, but the apartment was small and cramped, and he wasn't a magician.

"So, you got your things squared away?" his uncle asked, looking around.

"Yep," said Jess, without looking up from his book.

"Looks good," said Luke. After a short pause he added, "So uh, school starts back next week."

Jess put his book down on his chest and glanced at his uncle with his eyebrows raised.

"How are your classes going?" his uncle continued.

"They're going," Jess said evasively, feeling his anxiety rearing its head again.

Luke took a breath and nodded, unsure of how to proceed. He decided not to press the issue for now and started to make dinner.

Jess picked his book up again but couldn't concentrate. Instead, he thought about school. The classes felt useless, but Luke was working hard to help him, and Jess felt compelled to at least try to try. He sat up, grabbed his backpack, and rifled through the books and papers inside until he found the review packet he'd been sent home with by his English teacher. Apparently, they'd read To Kill a Mockingbird before he'd arrived that year. He finished the work quickly and went to shower before dinner, hoping he could hang on to this motivation when school started again.

A few weeks later, he'd mostly succeeded. He had brought his grades up so that he was now scraping by, but the unseasonably warm weather they had been experiencing for a few days made it difficult to be inside. As he walked towards the diner after school one Friday, he noticed signs going up for some kind of basket festival. He was beginning to suspect that this town had created a festival for every week of the year. As the townspeople came in to eat at the diner during his shift, he pieced together what "Bid-a-Basket" referred to. His mind wandered to Rory. He hadn't bumped into her much since the dinner at the inn, other than at Luke's, but he was sure that she and her mother were busy putting their baskets together. He rolled his eyes and glanced outside. The thought of Dean and Rory having a picnic in the town square made him feel ill. He heard Luke call him from back in the kitchen.

"What?"

"We need a couple things from Doose's. Here."

He handed Jess a list and told him not to doddle.

He was heading through the aisles at Doose's to get the super glue when he saw Rory and Dean making out at the end of the aisle. He leaned lightly against the shelf and picked up a pack of chips, crinkling the bag as loudly as possible.

"What? Taylor?" asked Dean as Rory pulled away from him. He turned around.

"Jess." Dean's voice was filled with disgust.

"Sorry to intrude," said Jess insincerely.

"Why did you?"

"Well, you were having your vertical From Here to Eternity moment right in front of the super glue."

"Oh," said Rory apologetically.

"Not that that's not an appropriate place to be doin' it in front of, but…" Jess let his voice trail off.

"Here's your glue," snapped Dean.

"Thanks. As you were."

Jess stayed within earshot and smirked when he heard Rory try to recommend him to Dean. When Dean left to keep working, Jess circled back around and behind Rory, feigning interest in the super glue again as she looked after Dean.

"God!" she said as she turned around, surprised at Jess' sudden proximity.

"Sorry. Two-for-one sale," he said, grabbing another tube of super glue.

As he walked back into Luke's, he noticed it was slow. Caesar was coming in soon, and Jess had had an idea. He pulled the bag of things he'd bought at Doose's out of his jacket. When Luke came out from dry stock, Jess handed him the bag.

"You won't need me once Caesar gets here, will you?"

"I guess not, but–."

"Okay."

He grabbed the coffee pot and walked quickly away from Luke before he could argue. He filled up a few coffee cups and put in a couple of orders, but when he saw Caesar walking up the sidewalk later, he quickly went upstairs. He had put the money he'd earned at the diner in an envelope which he'd hidden behind the books on his bookshelf. He pulled it out and considered how much he should take with him. He counted out a hundred dollars, shoved it in his pocket and headed back downstairs and out the door.

As he walked across the street to the square, he noticed that the basket bidding had already started. He saw Dean towering over everyone, though, so he knew he hadn't missed anything. He stood a distance away from both Dean and Rory so that he wouldn't be spotted and waited. When he heard Dean bid for the small basket with blue ribbon and flowers, he waited for Taylor.

"Five dollars, do I hear ten?"

"Ten dollars," said Jess, curious what the reaction was going to be.

"Okay, I have ten dollars, do I hear fifteen?" said Taylor as Dean gaped, totally taken aback.

"Twenty," Jess said quickly, enjoying the shock on Dean's face.

"Twenty dollars, do I hear twenty-five?" Taylor called out.

"Thirty!" said Dean, catching up.

"Alright, see, you boys don't seem to understand the way this thing works," said Taylor.

"Forty dollars," Jess said, cutting Taylor off.

"Fifty dollars," countered Dean.

"Excuse me, have either of you noticed how tiny this thing is?" asked Taylor, bemused.

"Seventy-five," Jess said, noticing that Dean had begun to hesitate.

"Eighty," said Dean.

Jess knew he was close.

"Ninety."

"Ninety dollars, is that the final bid? Okay, we've got ninety going once, ninety dollars going twice." Jess smiled as Taylor knocked his gavel against the podium.

"Sold! To the nice, young hoodlum in the back for ninety dollars."

Jess walked up to claim his basket and looked around. As he'd expected, Dean was towering over Rory, talking animatedly. He walked over to them.

"I gotta tell ya, of all the nutty, barn-raising shindigs this town can cook up, this one wasn't half bad," said Jess.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Dean said sarcastically.

"Yes, I did," Jess responded. Then he shifted his gaze to Rory. "So, shall we?" he asked.

"'Shall we' what?" interrupted Dean.

"Shall we go," Jess said slowly.

"Go where?" asked Dean, angry and agitated.

"Go eat," said Jess.

"Excuse me?" Dean asked, nonplussed.

This third question was too much. Jess couldn't rein in his impulse to mock the towering, glowering figure in front of him.

"The person who buys the basket wins the company of the person who makes the basket for lunch," explained Jess, enjoying speaking to Dean as if he were a child. He shook the basket at Dean and said "Basket." Then he gestured at Rory. "Basket maker." Finally, he motioned at Dean and said derisively, "Guy who didn't bring enough money."

"You think this is funny?" asked Dean.

"Well, it's no Lenny Bruce routine, but it has its moments."

"Bye, Jess," snapped Dean.

"Where are you going?" said Jess innocently.

"You're the one who's going."

"As soon as Rory's ready."

"She's not going with you," Dean said with a strong note of finality in his voice that Jess ignored.

Rory, meanwhile, was flashing back to Donna Reed again. Dean had yet to let her get a word in edgewise, even when she was addressed directly.

Jess seemed to read her mind. "Really? Is that true?" he asked, looking at her.

"Yes, it's true!" Dean answered for her again.

Jess was getting frustrated. "Excuse me, Edgar Bergen, I'd like Charlie McCarthy to answer now," he said, wondering when Rory was going to start talking for herself.

"Shut up," Dean spat.

Rory finally found a moment to step in.

"Dean…" she said, unsure what to say exactly, but confident now that she was definitely going to have lunch with Jess.

"What?" Dean asked angrily.

"Well…" she muttered, gesturing at Jess and her basket, which Jess enjoyed immensely.

"Oh, come on!" shouted Dean.

"It's tradition!" Rory replied.

"I don't believe this," Dean said, and Jess had to agree that it was a flimsy excuse.

Rory pressed on. "It's true! My mother and I have been doing this every year since we moved here."

"So buck tradition!" Dean replied.

"Are you kidding? Do you remember how mad Taylor was when I was sick and couldn't go to the turkey-calling contest?"

"This isn't school! You're not getting graded."

"Just…don't make this into a big thing."

"Don't go," Dean pleaded, and his puppy dog eyes were too much for Jess to handle.

"Oh, jeez, man, she's not shipping off to 'Nam."

"You so need to shut up now," Dean said threateningly.

"Look, Dean, it's a picnic," interjected Rory again. "It's lunch. We'll sit, we'll eat, it's over."

"No," Dean said flatly.

"What do you think is gonna happen?" asked Rory.

"Yeah…I think I'd like to hear this one also," Jess said.

"I don't want you to go," said Dean with a desperate note in his voice.

"Dean–" Rory started.

"Fine! Forget it. Go," snapped Dean.

Jess watched Dean walk away in a huff and Rory follow after. After they exchanged a few more angry words, Dean finally stormed off, and Rory stayed behind. She stood there staring down the path Dean had taken, visibly frustrated. Jess walked up behind her.

"You know, there's nothing there," he said.

"Yes, I know," Rory said with a sigh.

"You going after him?"

"Not right now."

"So, then, shall we?" asked Jess, getting back to his original question.

She looked around at him, and he shook the basket again.

"Fine. Come on," she huffed. She turned on her heel and walked away quickly. Jess smiled at her attempt to seem annoyed with him and caught up with her. She slowed down once they were out of sight of the square and seemed less sure of where she was heading. He noticed they were walking directly towards the bridge, which was one of very few parts of the town he enjoyed.

"So, where ya wanna eat?" he asked innocently.

"Don't care," she grumbled, keeping up the pretense of being annoyed.

"Okay," said Jess and he veered suddenly off to the left toward the bridge.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Thought you didn't care," he reminded her.

"I'm not jumping in the lake," warned Rory.

He chuckled. "No underwater dining, got it." He slowed down and came to a stop in the middle of the bridge.

"Now what?" asked Rory.

"Now we sit," he said, gesturing at the bridge.

"Here?" she asked, surprised.

"Yep," said Jess as he sat down and swung his feet over the water.

"On the bridge. That's where we're going to eat." From the tone of her voice, Jess wondered if she'd ever sat on the ground.

"Yep," he said happily.

"Okay," she said skeptically as she sat down.

"I like this place," he said mildly.

"Oh, wow, a place in Stars Hollow you actually like. I'm stunned," she said.

"It's got some good memories. See right over there?" and he pointed back to where they'd come from.

"Yeah."

"That's where Luke pushed me in," he said, hoping to divert their conversation away from the basket festival.

"Huh," she said, unimpressed by that story.

"Yeah."

"That's nice," she said with affected politeness.

"It is," he agreed.

"So, why'd you do it?"

"Do what?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"Outbid Dean like that," she explained, refusing to let him off the hook.

"I don't know. I guess it started as a joke just to bug him, but then he just got so mad, y'know, and he is so tall, and I just was looking at him and he's standing there all tall and mad, and I just…I don't know, it was…it was really funny," he said, revealing only half of the truth.

"It wasn't funny," she said flatly.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I didn't intend to do it," he lied.

Jess looked at Rory and noticed she still seemed doubtful, but of what, he couldn't tell.

"Does that make you feel any better?" he asked.

Rory hesitated. "I just don't wanna be in a fight with Dean," she said.

"I'm sorry about that. You wanna push me in the lake? It's cathartic, I hear," he said, attempting to change the subject again.

"Maybe in a little bit," Rory said cheerfully.

"Whenever. So, when do we open this thing?"

"Go ahead," she said, looking forward to his reaction.

He opened the basket and poked around. He'd expected it to be disappointing, but it looked like they'd used the basket festival to clean out their month-old leftovers.

"Wow…not one thing in here that I would remotely consider eating," he said, wary of what was in the Tupperware.

"Well, I didn't make it for you. I made it for Dean," she said.

Jess popped the top off of the Tupperware and laughed incredulously.

"And Dean would've eaten this?" he asked.

"Yes, he would have," she said confidently.

Jess grabbed a fork and cleared his throat. He knew this was going to be bad, but when he put the forkful of whatever the food used to be in his mouth, it was much worse than he was expecting.

"Dean is an idiot," mumbled Jess around the mouthful of food. He had finally gotten her out with him, so he fought the urge to spit the food into the lake, but he found he had trouble swallowing it too.

"Dean never would have fallen for that," said Rory, laughing.

Jess laughed and somehow managed to force the mouthful of vile mystery casserole down his throat, wondering how badly he would suffer later. He put the Tupperware down and decided they'd need real food later.

"So, did you reread your newly annotated copy of Howl?" he asked, turning to face her.

"Yes," she said shortly, ignoring the thrill she felt as she remembered it.

"And?"

"And…you have nice handwriting," she said evasively.

He cocked an eyebrow at her but didn't push. "So, then, what else have you been reading lately?" he asked.

She made a face. "We have to read For Whom the Bell Tolls for class next week, so, that."

"What, you don't like Hemingway?" Jess asked, incredulous.

"Not really," she said, and pulled her legs back up on the bridge so she could face him, cross-legged.

"Not even The Sun Also Rises?" he asked, still working through his surprise.

"I barely made it through The Haves and Have Nots, and I haven't tried anything else. The way he writes…it's, I don't know, too…cold."

"No, but that's the point! He was reacting to the war, telling the truth, and turning against the flowery, 19th century stuff."

"I know, but somehow I always find my mind wandering when I start anything of his, usually to why the English canon is so full of misogynists."

He smiled and nodded, acknowledging her point. Still, he asked, "Do you have The Sun Also Rises?"

"No."

"If I get it for you, will you try again?"

"Is it really that important to you?"

His eyes met hers, and he turned the question over in his mind.

"Hemingway is one of my favorites. I'd like to know what you think," he said.

She considered him briefly. His eyes were warm and steady, and his mouth, usually tipping into a sardonic smirk, was curved into a very slight, asymmetrical smile. She seemed to be the only one who ever got to see that particular expression on his face. This thought cheered her, but she also wondered why.

"Alright, I'll try again," she said finally. "How about you? Who do you not like?" she asked.

"Ugh, you wanna talk cold? Ayn Rand. The Fountainhead…?" and he scoffed.

"Oh, I've read that one a couple times! Once when I was younger, and then I read it again a couple years ago," she said.

"Younger? How old were you when you read it the first time?"

"Ten."

"Ten?" he repeated, shocked.

"Yeah, but I didn't understand a word of it, so I had to reread it when I was fifteen," she said.

"I have yet to make it through it," said Jess, clearly not enthused about the prospect of picking it up again.

"Really? Try. The Fountainhead is a classic," said Rory, and the tone of her voice betrayed her excitement.

"Yeah, but Ayn Rand is a political nut," he said skeptically, and the way he pronounced the author's name made it clear what he thought of her politics.

"Yeah, but nobody could write a 40-page monologue the way that she could," she countered.

"Okay, tomorrow I will try again, and you will…" he trailed off, waiting for her to acknowledge her own part of this compromise.

"Give the painful Ernest Hemingway another chance, yes, I promise."

"You know, Ernest only has lovely things to say about you," he said softly, mesmerized by her eyes in the soft light.

She gazed back at him for a moment, contemplating what he meant. Then she asked abruptly, "Why are you only nice to me?"

"Excuse me?" he asked, still distracted.

"An hour ago, you were totally screwing with Dean and now you're totally nice to me," she said.

He chuckled softly. "Well, see, it's the screwing with Dean that's an important step to getting here so that I can be nice to you," he said, inadvertently betraying how premeditated his actions had been.

"So…it was a plan," she said.

"What?" asked Jess, his reverie broken.

Damn. Change the subject.

"The whole…bidding on my basket. It was a plan," she repeated.

"Okay, I'm officially starving," he said, cursing himself and ignoring what she'd said.

"And officially evasive," she observed, watching as he started to fidget.

"Come on. I'll get you a pizza," said Jess.

"Answer my question," she said, dropping the teasing tone she had used before.

"Do you like pepperoni?" he asked, unwilling to give another inch.

"You're not going to, are you?"

"We could just get it on half," he continued as though she hadn't spoken.

"Okay, I give. Let's go," she said and stood up quickly.

"If you insist," he said, relieved.

Rory was already up and back across the bridge when Jess glanced down to grab her basket. He noticed a leather bracelet lying where Rory had been sitting. It looked handmade. He picked it up and considered calling out for her to tell her she'd dropped it, but then decided against it. He wasn't exactly sure why he wanted to keep it and didn't give himself long to think about it. He put it in his pocket and caught up with her.

"So, where do you go for a pizza around here?" he asked.

"I know a place," she said.

Jess glanced at her warily and asked, "Are you a deep-dish person?"

"No," Rory said, making a face.

He smiled happily at that. As they walked, conversation came easily and amicably. But by the time they ordered and were waiting for their pizza to arrive to their table, Jess noticed Rory hesitating to ask a question.

"Everything okay?" he asked, worried she was going to bail.

"Oh, yeah, I was just...wondering something."

"About...?"

"The night you came over to my house for dinner and disappeared."

"Ahh...," said Jess, and it was almost a groan of regret.

"What happened between you and my mom?"

"What, she didn't tell you?" He was surprised.

"No, she did. It's just...I can't piece together what she said you were like with how you are, y'know...with me."

"Yeah, well. It was a weird night, and...I was so pissed at my mom, at Luke, at being there...so when she tried to tell me I was lucky, I guess I snapped," he said, shrugging, and grabbed another slice of pizza.

Rory regarded him and wondered how many questions he'd be willing to answer. She reached for another slice, too, and they both ate in silence for a minute.

"What is your mom like?" she asked timidly.

Jess smiled cheerlessly, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms. "Well, she's nothing like yours, let's put it that way."

Rory nodded and gave him a small smile, accepting this vague answer for the time being.

"What was it like in New York for you then? With her?"

"New York was great. Going home was the hard part, so most of the time I just...didn't. I crashed with friends a lot."

"And your dad?"

Jess shrugged. "He didn't stick around, so I don't know. I've never met him."

"Oh. I—I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's no biggie." He didn't want the conversation to turn down this sad road.

She gave him a knowing look before continuing. "My dad didn't stick around, either. I know him, at least, but..."

She looked down at her hands, unsure if she wanted to finish her thought.

Jess looked at her, his face serious. "But...?" he asked gently.

She looked up at him before continuing. "But…sometimes I think…I wish I didn't."

Jess studied her face and asked, "Why?"

"He...he knows me, and it's not-" She took a deep breath and tried to find anything to look at other than the boy's face across the table from her. "It's not enough, y'know, for him to stay, so..." She managed to meet his eyes and force a smile. He didn't smile back, but the expression on his face made her pause. Something was there that wasn't usually, or something was missing that was usually there. His expression was soft but serious, thoughtful...open. That was it. His face normally seemed so closed off that it was almost a mask, but now she thought maybe she was seeing something that was for her only. She felt a confusing jolt as the excitement that this thought caused crashed into the guilt that the excitement caused.

"Is it still terrible for you here?", she asked, wanting to change the subject.

He chuckled, mulling over how to answer. "Could be worse," he said finally.

"Oh yeah? How?" she asked.

"Hey, we're not in Texas, right?"

Jess kept waiting for her to give any sign that she was ready to leave and get back to Dean while they ate and talked. She didn't, so as they were finishing up and waiting to pay, he mentioned going to the bookstore to pick up a copy of The Sun Also Rises for her.

"And The Fountainhead for you, don't forget."

"Okay, okay. Let's go then."

In the bookstore, he wondered again why Dean seemed to have such a hold on her. He seemed like the kind of guy who would sit around bored while she looked at books rather than talk to her about the ones she was excited about. He didn't seem like he would take her to concerts, or if he did, it'd definitely be something like Creed or Nickelback or something. He shook his head slowly and kept scanning the titles on the shelf in front of him. Then, Rory walked up to him with a handful of books. He laughed.

"Hey, these aren't all for me," she said defensively. "I've seen you rereading On the Road a dozen times since you've been here, and I think you need some variety before you kill yourself trying to hop a train west," she said, showing him The Fountainhead, Leaves of Grass, and what looked like a collection of Kate Chopin's short stories that she had in the crook of her right arm. "The other ones are for me and my mom," and she motioned towards the books in her left hand.

He felt a strange tightness in his chest as he looked at her, awkwardly holding an armful of books she'd picked out for him. He knew she had taken time choosing each one, and while it was clear she thought he needed more variety on his bookshelf, he was affected by the simple fact that she had been thinking about him while she strolled through the aisles. He pulled The Sun Also Rises off of the shelf in front of him and motioned towards the register. They paid for each other's books and swapped once they got outside.

"Okay, well…" she began.

"You have to get home," Jess finished for her.

"Friday night dinner, yeah," said Rory, almost sadly.

"Okay. See you later, Rory," Jess said with a smile.

"Yeah, see you later," she said.

He turned and walked towards the diner. Rory paused for a moment and watched him walk away before turning to go home.

Later, as he was lying on his bed reading The Fountainhead and wondering what Rory could possibly like about it, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi," he heard Rory say. His heart skipped a beat.

"Hi," he said, surprised. He closed the book and sat up.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Nothin'. You?"

"Nothing."

"Why'd you call?" he asked.

"I, um…I wanted to…", she trailed off, hesitating as excitement and guilt mingled again.

He smiled and said, "I'm glad you called."

"Yeah?" She sounded pleased.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

He chuckled. "'Cause maybe you can explain what the hell this crazy woman is talking about," he teased, looking at the book in his hand.

"Ah, The Fountainhead."

"Yes. Your fault and you will pay," he warned playfully.

She smiled. "I promise. Commit to it one more time, and if it still is awful for you, I will make it up to you."

The open-ended promise she'd just made silenced them both for a moment. Jess picked up the bracelet she had dropped on the bridge and looked at it thoughtfully.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, a slight dare in the tone of his voice.

"Yeah," she accepted quickly.

"Okay. I'm going to hold you to that," he said, turning the bracelet slowly over in his fingers.

They hung up soon afterwards and fell asleep with their heads full of each other.