London

The Wookie and The Lucky Outfit

The tarmac in New York City smelled of rubber and polluted air- ah, the familiar scents of the United States. Airplane coffee in one hand and my work phone in the other, I juggled responding to emails and downing my fifth cup before setting off to Paris' five story Brooklyn home.
My heels clacked along the airport tile floor as I dragged my carry on suitcase behind me and tossed my coffee in a nearby trash can. I made a beeline for the transportation exit of the NYC airport and hopped straight into my uber.
I walked in to Paris' sophisticated home and was immediately greeted by her two kids whom I was often responsible for babysitting. I hugged them and let them run upstairs, plopping down on her brown pleather couch. Letting out a sigh, I let myself relax for a split second before I heard the unmistakeable sound of Paris Geller's heels clacking along the tile floor, barking orders into her phone.
"No! Cut him off... she can't be a surrogate, she's too old... her eggs aren't fresh!" I saw Paris round the corner as her face lit up a bit, as she finished off her confusing call.
"I have to go. Take care of it." She said sternly, pulling her phone away from her ear and slapping the end call button.
"They can't identify an old woman from a young woman. Just do your damn job!" Paris yelled passive aggressively as I pulled her onto the couch beside me. She sighed and gave me a tired look, and I returned it with a knowing sigh.
I was interrupted by the blaring ringtone of my personal phone. I stood up and stepped outside of Paris' house into the brisk Brooklyn air. I smiled with relief at the ever so familiar name on the incoming call.
"Five stale coffees later and my mind is still buzzing. You?"
"Beat you to it at 7. I've missed my favorite daughter!" The cheery tone of my mother put me at ease, something that will always stay constant in my unpredictable life.
"And your only daughter!" I shot back.
"Still my favorite! Hey, you want company this weekend?", Mom asked.
"I'd love some! I'll book us a hotel. I'm doing a story on lines." I explained the whole line story to her from my meeting with Condé Nast, hoping it leads to a bigger job. After some talk about Luke and Paul Anka, we decided on a place and time to meet tomorrow morning for our line hunting adventure. I hung up with a good feeling in my heart- the feelings of being home.
-
After many coffees, crodonuts, and some wines later, I stumbled into our yellow hotel room, waking a napping Lorelai Gilmore.
"Did I fall asleep? I guess so," my mother said, finally fixing her gaze on my disheveled appearance.
"What happened to you?" She asked, sitting up and patting a spot next to her.
"I slept with a Wookie!"
"Huh?"
"Oh, yes, you heard that right. I slept with a Wookie. My first one night stand was with a star wars character!" I exclaimed, pacing the too-small hotel room. My brown hair lay in crushed curls around my face, and sweat and a little dirt stuck to my chest, pairing well with my untucked shirt and opposite shoes. I flopped down on the bed next to her and gave her my patented career rant. I've got that down to a T now.
"Rory, honey. You've hit a rough patch! You'll get back on your feet, I promise. So, your mid life crisis one night stand was with a Comic-Con character? Yikes...", my mother tapered off, as I rolled my eyes and stood up a bit wobbly.
I began hunting for my lucky outfit in my hard case suitcase, asking frantically if my mother had it in hers. "Nope, sorry hon. I've got a Wookie onesie though!" She replied with a patented Lorelai Gilmore giggle which I did not find cute or charming at this moment in time. I scrambled through my suitcase again to no avail. "Dammit! I must've left it at-" I stopped myself there, realizing what I'd just walked into. I felt an anxious feeling creep into my stomach and bowed my head a little.
"At... DeeDee's?" My mom asked normally. "DeeDee? Who's DeeDee?" I asked, turning to face her with my hand on my flustered and hot forehead. She gave me a funny look before responding. "Um, DeeDee? Your tea drinking British friend?" She remarked, mimicking a pinky's up sip of her imaginary tea.
I took a deep breath and sat across the bed from her.
"Oh, come on mom. You have to know."
"Know what?"
"You know."
"No, Rory, I don't."
I sighed again and said, "DeeDee's completely made up. I don't have any British tea drinking friends."
"Then where do you stay in London? OH! Do you have a tea drinking beau that I don't know about?" She asked, a hopeful look in her eyes.
"Well, does Logan count?"

...I can't believe I just told her.
"Logan... Huntzberger?" She asked.
"Yup. The one and only. I stay at his place while I'm in London." I said, flopping back on the bed. "Logan... wow." She whispered to herself. "Why didn't you tell me? I'm all yours, girlfriend. Remember, the infamous mother daughter duo who tells each other everything?" She remarked, not a hint of anger in her voice.
"You're not mad?" I asked. "For not telling you, I mean. And about Logan too." I smiled a sheepish grin, crawling over to her bed and hugging my mom tightly. "Of course not." She responded, returning the hug just as powerfully.