fool (lester averman)

chapter seven

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chapter seven: the king of wishful thinking

a/n:

fun fact, you're not allowed to judge the complicated feelings rory has for her father if your dad has the emotional capacity to tell you he loves you and mean it, not just because he's being manipulative :) thank you.

tw(s) -- continued mentions of poor parenting/abuse, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of generational trauma, self-deprecation, and rory's oblivious as fuck.

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Once, in the middle of a family vacation to Boca Raton, Rory's first cousins, Charles and Greg, snuck her from her hotel room and didn't bring her back for two whole days.

Oliver claimed it was a kidnapping. (Which, in a legal sense, it was.) For weeks after, he dragged his nephews' names through the mud, telling anyone who asked that they'd done something insane and exposed his five-year-old to the filth of the wretched. In reality, though he'd never bothered to ask, there wasn't any partying. She, though this would give any normal parent nightmares, went willingly into her abduction. After all, all the brothers did was take her to Disney World and throw the weight of their family name around until she was walking the streets of Magic Kingdom like she owned the place.

To this day, Greg still tries to spin the story, but Rory has always known that the trip only happened because dear old Chuck was tired of spending his last spring break golfing with his father and his uncles.

She doesn't mind that fact, though.

Either way, the two-day excursion was the best thing that happened in her childhood, and she learned a whole lot from it.

Most importantly: how to safely sneak out of a fancy hotel when the whole world is watching.

When Averman finally returns, shoes on his feet, Rory takes him by the hand and uses the distraction of the two enforcers' poor behavior to sneak past the teammates that have accumulated in the hall. Without a word, and like a woman on a mission, she drags him into a back staircase that looks practically unused -- old carpet muffles the sounds of their footsteps, and lights buzz overhead, and the air feels stagnant as Averman silently curses himself for how clammy his hands get just because one is touching hers.

If she notices, though, she doesn't mention it, and it eases his worries as he wipes the free hand's palm down the thigh of his pants.

"Hey--" He finally finds his voice when they reach what feels like the bottom floor, but stops in his tracks when she turns to him and puts her fingers to her lips.

Rory then opens the door in front of them and, comically, like she was in an episode of Scooby Doo, sticks her head out to look. Averman watches her, fondly amused.

They slip out into the Los Angeles night when she deems the coast clear.

"There's so much police presence around the hotel because of the games that we should be fine for about three blocks." She says as she walks them both through the parking lot. "Which should mean we'll be safe to go to the seven eleven I saw."

He nods, mirth still swimming in his eyes. "Where the hell did you learn how to do all this?"

"A lady never shares her secrets." Rory shrugs, head haloed by the street light behind her.