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chapter nine: ro-day-o drive

a/n:

rory acting as rich as she is >>>

tw(s): the start of rory and goldberg's beef, boys being gross, rory has a slight mental breakdown, and rory's a little mean.

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After their post-game nail appointment, the girls, having returned to their room, watch Rory pace the floor, her fingers combing through her hair.

She's been trying to make a phone call back home to Detroit for almost twenty minutes now. Every time it sends her to voicemail, her face pinches even tighter than it was and her footsteps get quicker, but, instead of leaving a message, she just hangs up and calls again. It makes Connie and Julie look on with concern, their eyes tracking her movements so closely that they start to get dizzy.

On the seventh or eighth try, someone finally picks up. She stops walking, and both of her roommates startle, slightly.

"You've reached the Myrtle residence. How might I help you?"

"Mr. Beaumont, hi! It's me. It's Lorelei." She breathes a sigh of relief at the sound of the butler's voice.

He drops the attitude almost immediately, and she can hear the smile in his tone. "Oh! Miss Lorelei. It's nice to hear from you. How is the City of Angels?"

"It's, uh, pretty cool, actually. The coach is decent, and my teammates are nice, and I've got my book."

She ignores the teasing coo that comes from Connie in favor of twirling the cord around her finger.

"That's wonderful, madam. Everyone here at home has been rallying for you."

The majority of the staff that works in the Myrtles' Detroit home have been in Rory's life for as long as she can remember. Due to grandfather's increasing need for more and more specific care, and her father's paranoia that the whole world is out to get them, the staff members who understood how things needed to work in the house were granted their own form of tenure and a bed in the smaller house behind the main one.

Mr. Beaumont and Joe are an exception in the sense that they have known her father since he was her age, but the rest of them were forced to start when Rory's mother divorced Oliver and left her behind.

"Thank you, Mr. Beaumont. Tell them all I say hi, please?"

Meaning that the majority of them are, in their own way, Rory's family.

"I will." He hums pleasantly. "Now, what is it that you called about?"

"I wanted to know if I could speak to my grandfather-- but only if he's awake. I don't want to disturb him."

Rory pinches her thigh to keep herself from chewing on her nails as he takes a moment to pull away from the receiver and ask about Eli's condition.

"Yes. Kim says he's alright enough to talk. I'll connect you to the line in his bedroom."

"Thank you. Bye!"

After a beat of silence: "What? Who's this?"

Rory winces and pulls her face away from the phone momentarily. She gives him slack because phones when he was a teenager, were coin-operated and public.

"It's me, Pop. It's Rory. Your granddaughter!"

Elijah Myrtle is ninety-eight years young. He's rude, and he's unbecoming, and he hates quite literally everyone besides her, but she loves him anyway. He taught her quite a few things -- how to swing on the swings, how to play chess, and how to tear a grown man's world apart in just a few choice words.

"Rory?"

"Yeah." She keeps her voice just loud enough that Julie snickers in the corner.

"Oh! My Rory. How've you been?"

Emotions swell in her chest at the sound of his voice. She didn't realize how badly she missed him.

It didn't dawn on her until now.

"I've been good, Pop."

"Good. I watched you on the tube. You, uh, you played well!"

"Thank you. Did you enjoy it?"

(Sometimes, Rory really wonders just how desperate she sounds.)

"Of course. Your father never did get the hang of it, did he? Hockey, I mean."

Something squirms in her gut. "He tore his ACL twice."

"Yes, well, he wouldn't have done that if he knew how to play, would he?"

Rory doesn't respond to that.

"Did your father tell you that slimy brother of mine sent some of our things from the Great War?" In the background, she can just hear the people on the television. "He hasn't had a bloody word for me in decades, but he's not above writing you."

She twirls the cord even tighter around her finger. "I'll call Uncle Ewan and thank him."

"Did I ever tell you about the time in the Battle of Mons--"

He's told her this story before. He's told her every story about the 'Great War' that he's got. Still, she stays quiet, feigns ignorance, and lets him continue -- it makes him happy to know that he's indulging in her interests (because he feels like he's one-upping her father), and she's just happy to see him happy, so she ignores the memory lapses and just nods with a smile.

She pulls the receiver away from her face and covers it for good measure, and then turns to the girls.

"What do I wear if I want to prove a boy likes me?"

Julie blinks at her, clueless, but Connie gets up from her spot on her bed and rushes to her suitcase. As Eli recounts his experience with Britain's entrance into the First World War, Connie pulls a top from the depths of her belongings with a flourish and a ta-da! It's sleeveless and black, and a Hello Kitty face is bedazzled across the chest.

"This," She says, tossing it onto the bed where she once sat, "and those cute jeans you've got-- Oh! And we should do your hair."

As Connie returns to rummaging through her things, Julie, with her face scrunched, tilts her head.

"Why do you have to prove he likes you? I'm pretty sure everyone knows he likes you."

"Because..."

She doesn't know how to explain it.

"Do you... like him?"

"No. I just need to prove it, okay?"

Julie just continues to stare at her like she's insane and Rory, for a moment, wonders if she might just be.

She doesn't like him, does she?

Sure, she's always spending time with him, and telling him things because he's easy to talk to, and always holding his hand, but that's all in good fun, isn't it? Everyone else is weirdly affectionate, too -- Connie will just hug anyone, and a handful of the boys tend to grab Rory to lead her places rather than instructing her with their words, and both Luis and Dean are always throwing an arm over her shoulders.

Therefore, everything she does with him is strictly platonic, right?

Or, at least, it should be--

Eli finishes his story, and that puts a pause on Rory's crisis.

"That was a great story, Pop. Really." She tries to smile, the expression warbling as she pushes unwanted thoughts to the back of her mind. "I have to go now, though."

"Oh, alright then. Call again? I've got nothing to do without you around."

"I will." (He won't remember that he's expecting a call from her.) "I love you, Pop."

He makes a humming sound but doesn't say it back. After a murmured goodbye, Rory hangs up the phone.

When she turns back to her, Julie has crossed her arms over her chest.

"What?"

"You never answered my question." She points out. "Do you? Like him, I mean."

"I don't--"

"It's perfectly fine if you do." Connie says, a triumphant smile on her face as she unwinds the cord from her curling iron. "I mean, it's a little too Can't Buy Me Love for my taste, but it's sweet."

Rory mouths Can't Buy Me Love? but neither of them answer her. Connie just shoves the tank top into her arms and starts to push Rory in the direction of the bathroom.

"Averman isn't Patrick Dempsey."

"No, he isn't. He's more Chuckie from The Rugrats."

"Hey." Rory interjects. "That's not nice. He doesn't look like Chuckie."

"Yes, he does--"

Julie cuts Connie off. "What was that about not liking him, again?"

Rory rolls her eyes as a snickering Connie closes the bathroom door behind her.

Her defending him isn't any sort of proof. She defends Goldberg all the time, and she really doesn't like him.

About an hour later, when Connie deems Rory's look good enough to be seen by the general public, Rory flees the room for the lounge.

Their designated meeting space has a few more people than she expected. The four boys that were waiting for her sit on either side of Fulton and Kenny as they play some boxing game on an old console someone must've brought. Luis sits on the couch and he encourages Kenny as Goldberg eggs Fulton on.

Luis is also the first one to notice that she's there. His eyes snap up at the sound of her knocking on the doorframe and he grins, whistling a low, playful whistle.

"Lookin' good, Ror." He winks before going back to watching the game.

She smiles, face flushed. "Thanks."

Kenny rolls his eyes at Luis but tells her she looks good without even looking up from what he's doing, and Fulton glances up to smile at her before returning his attention to the screen.

Goldberg, whether he hears them or not, doesn't look up to acknowledge her.

She clears her throat and fidgets under the gazes of the remaining boys. "Well, are you ready to go?"

Dwayne jumps up from his seat and wipes his hands down the thighs of his pants, and Goldberg gets up after him. Averman is too busy staring at her, eyes wide and expression awfully dreamy, to notice that they're leaving until Jesse sighs shortly and tugs him off the floor.

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They have to take a train from the hotel to a bus to get to Beverly Hills.

When a seat opens up, Jesse and Dwayne all but force Rory to sit. The boys watch as she, shaken by the new atmosphere and the loud sound the train is making, looks around the car with wide eyes. She's trying not to meet the gaze of the man who talks to himself about God in the corner but it's proving to be a greater task than she'd like.

She's never done this and her inexperience has left her on the precipice of panic.

And Jesse is amused at her expense. "Ain't you from Detroit?"

"Rochester Hills." Rory corrects, swallowing thickly. "I live in Rochester Hills. Everybody just thinks I'm from Detroit."

Goldberg snorts at her admission.

"You've got the staff to cater to your every need, dontcha?"

Cheeks flushing, she averts her gaze.

"Oh, shit, you do." His voice is light, and he, with his hand on the bar over her head, leans down over her. "How has nobody snatched you up yet?"

Her face flushed even more. "Well, it's not like nobody has tried."

Averman elbows him full force in the ribs. He hisses and straightens up again, and elbows his best friend back. They glare at one another, and Goldberg rolls his eyes.

Dwayne looks at Rory with furrowed brows.

"What's Jesse talkin' 'bout? Who's tryna kidnap you?"

"Nobody's trying to kidnap me, Dwayne." Rory informs him, her face cooling down, with a soft smile. "It's a turn of phrase."

"What?"

"A, uh, well-- it's an expression. A phrase people say to, like, express an idea."

"Oh."

"Yeah, and he's making fun of Rory 'cause she's never done this before." Goldberg says. "She's like a little filly standing on her wobbly knees for the first time."

Rory kicks him in the shin as he pinches her cheek.

"Leave her alone, Goldberg." Averman is quick to give up his fight with Jesse.

"Yeah. Don't be a dick, man."

"What? I was just-- you were just--"

"Yeah, but she's our girl, so we're allowed to make fun of her."

Her heart gives a slight flutter at Jesse's words.

"You don't get that privilege." Averman hums.

Goldberg scoffs and looks to Rory for help. She just smiles snarkily at the team's second-best goalie. Dwayne nods his head.

"Yeah!" He smiles, but then the smile falls from his face. "I don't get it..."

Averman hangs his head to laugh, pushing his glasses up his nose as they start to slip, and Rory reaches out to pat Dwayne on the arm sympathetically.

Jesse, meanwhile, breathes a laugh, "Goddamn cowboy."

"What? What?"

"Don't worry about it, Dwayne."

Dwayne continues to frown but stops asking for fear of further mocking.

When they reach their stop, Averman grabs Rory's hand to make sure they don't lose her in the crowd of people that get off, too. The screaming man, however, stays behind, and she feels a little braver for having survived the ordeal.

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Their first step onto Rodeo Drive is christened by Rory having to grab both Goldberg and Averman by the arm to keep them from getting hit by an oncoming car. She looks around at the droves of people -- her people -- as they walk and, for the first time in a few weeks, wonders just how out of place she looks amongst them in her bedazzled shirt and low-rise jeans, trailing behind a group of boys who gawk around like they're tourists in New York City. The boys' lack of etiquette does make the panic rise within her yet again and she gnaws on her bottom lip as a group of passing Beverly Hills socialites look down their noses at them.

(How on Earth did they think they'd survive this part of town without her?)

"This don't look like no rodeo to me." Dwayne squints up at the street sign.

Rory, biting her tongue so she doesn't spew some you'll get wrinkles rhetoric that she no doubt heard from her mother, offers him the second pair of sunglasses that she keeps in her purse but he doesn't take them.

Averman's quick to reply. "No, this is Ro-day-o drive."

"You can't fool me. I saw it on the sign." He points for emphasis. "It says Rodeo Drive."

"No, see, there's an accent on... Never mind." He gives up, quickly, as he sees that he's losing Dwayne.

Rory loops an arm through Dwaynes and relays what she knows about the street's history to him as they mosey along, Averman periodically glancing back at them.

Her eyes linger on the storefronts and the people they pass. Along with her mounting fear of her family's image suffering damage because she was spotted with kids who don't know how to act in Beverly Hills comes another, more relevant fear.

Any one of these people could be her aunt.

She'd rather the paparazzi drag her family through the mud than get caught off guard by Peggy Bancroft.

"I don't get it. This is Beverly Hills." Jesse shoves his hands in his pockets. "Where's all the hills?"

"Under all the concrete, I'm assuming." Her joke earns her a sour yet frisky look that's shot over his shoulder.

Goldberg continues his friend's complaining. "Where's the 90210 school? What about the Hillbillies? Where are the movie stars?"

And Rory just can't help herself anymore.

"Look, as much as I would love to run into Keanu Reeves from ten years ago or Jonathan Brandis, you're thinking in fiction, Goldberg. The 90210 school is an actual place, like, twenty miles from here, and most big wigs live in Calabasas and Malibu."

They all stop in their tracks and turn to look at her, Averman's eyebrows still furrowed with that emotion she can't quite read.

"What?" (Somewhere in her room is a poster that the whole cast of 90210 signed.) "I'm sorry to break it to you but the Hills are just full of people like me and my family-- old, rich, white guys and the ungrateful cretins that live off their money."

The corners of Jesse's lips turn up. When he keeps walking, the rest follow.

"I think you might have a slightly different skill set than most of these people." Averman says pensively, watching the group of girls that walk past them with his eyebrows at his hairline.

The girls aren't much older than them, dressed in the latest, biggest brands with their little purses full of even littler dogs. They're excitedly chittering about something, homecoming or senior prom or a sweet sixteen, and they hardly acknowledge the members of Team USA as they push past them.

Well, they acknowledge Goldberg. He smiles at one of them, almost flirtatiously, and gets a mocking laugh in return.

"... yeah. Not all of us get raised to have any real expectations in life." A third stressor, the reminder of her upcoming sweet sixteen, makes the bile rise in her throat. "And not everybody's going to eventually inherit a two-billion-dollar company, I guess."

Jesse, thankfully, changes the subject. "Hey, you guys, let's go check out some stores."

Rory cocks an eyebrow at that. Of course, she brought her wallet just in case, the need to have her identification on her at all times trumping the fear that she was going to get mugged, but will any of them be able to afford anything in any of these stores?

"Great. I gotta buy my mom a T-shirt from Beverly Hills, man. She'll love it."

"Uh, guys, I don't know about this." She watches Jesse walk up to the nearest door and tug on it. It doesn't open. "You've never been shopping in a place like this before. This isn't Edina."

She's ignored.

"Maybe they're not open."

"No, they are. Look."

That time she gets their attention. He follows her finger as she points, staring at the people inside in bewilderment.

"Hey, there's a doorbell here."

"Guys--"

Goldberg steps to the side and presses the button. Rory sighs sharply through her nose as Averman grabs her arm and pulls her to the side, too, as a man's voice comes through the speaker.

"I am sorry." His tone is so soft and honeyed that Rory's the only one who realizes that he's being condescending. "We do not allow unsupervised children into the store."

I told you so, she thinks in a sing-song voice as they all blink in surprise.

"Can you make an exception?"

"No. Now go away or the police will be called."

Pulling herself from Averman's grip, Rory takes a few steps back from the intercom. The last thing she wants is for the police to be called on her because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people (even if the look on Oliver's face would be glorious, and their money has proven to be able to bribe dirty cops out of letting any charges stick.) She lets them follow suit.

"If we were in Texas, this wouldn't have happened." Dwayne pouts a bit.

"We'll find another store." She says, hands in her pockets. "If you guys would just--"

Dwayne rests back on the door of a parked car and trips the alarm. With startled cries, the boys all jump away and scramble down the street, leaving the car-- and Rory-- in their dust.

The brunette blinks a few times. Did that just happen?

Sucking her teeth, she keeps her shoulders back and her chin high like she was taught to, and she follows them down the street at a walking pace. They're all staring at her owlishly when she catches up to them and Dwayne shrinks, slightly, under her gaze.

"That was super heroic, guys." She says dryly.

"Sorry, Rory, but it's not our fault you don't know to run."

Jesse nods, panting. "Goldie's right-- what even was that?"

"The paranoia of the rich, that's what that was." Averman huffs.

Rory just watches them, her arms crossed over her chest, and figures that she never should've come on this trip.

"I told you guys that you'd never survive without me, and when I tried to warn you, you ignored me and almost ended up in police custody. Twice."

Goldberg's nostrils flare and he waves her off.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Look, if you morons actually want to do any shopping today, feel free to listen to the words coming out of my mouth. You seem to forget the fact that--"

For the second time in less than five minutes, Rory gets cut off by a sound that comes from a car.

More specifically, the honk of a car horn. A horn she finds, when all five of them turn to look, has been honked by a boy.

Pulled up beside them, in the middle of a bus lane, is a black convertible. The boys who sit in the front seats, both of whom are closer to eighteen than they are to their age, are looking at them, too; the one in the passenger seat leans toward her, one arm over the edge of the door, and leers.

"Hey, there, sweetheart."

Her eye twitches. She really is growing weary of the male sex.

Their disrespect, the fact that they've decided that they know her better than she knows herself, and their inability to declare their feelings for her--

"Hi." Her response is rather terse. The boys gather behind here

"Say, these boys were causing a bit of fuss." The driver speaks this time. "Why don't you get in the car with us? Have some real fun with some men."

Men?

Her skin bristles and her eyebrows lift to her hairline. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

As if she can feel the responses that are about to burst from their mouths and, thus, start a fight, she sticks both of her arms out to keep the boys behind her.

"I'm good here." For emphasis, she grabs Averman's hand and holds their clasped hands up. "Thanks, though."

(No matter how inappropriate the timing, Averman's face flushes at the implications.)

The passenger makes a derisive sound. "With these lowlifes?"

Something burns under the surface of her skin and Rory, ignoring Jesse's indignant shout and then all of her boys' worried whispers of her name, releases Averman so she can approach the vehicle.

The boys in the car smirk and exchange a glance.

She pushes her sunglasses up her face and puts on the facade of a girl who's gone to boarding school with boys like them her whole life.

"What kind of car is this? A Porsche?"

Down at her sides, Rory clenches her fists so tightly that her nails dig little crescents into her palms.

The driver nods. "A nineteen-ninety, baby. Mint condition." His chest puffs out like a bird's as he boasts.

When Rory smiles, the sun and malicious intent glitter on her teeth. Her laugh is a throaty, mirthless sound.

"Nineteen-ninety? Really?"

"Mhm."

"You don't drive a vintage?"

The passenger chuckles. "The car's only four years old, sweetheart. So, no, it isn't vintage."

"I know." She tilts her head and her nose scrunches patronizingly. "My father owns twelve cars, and just about six of them are well over twenty years old. I just wanted to make sure that you knew that your buddy wasn't driving anything impressive."

That catches both of them off guard.

"See, since your car isn't vintage, and it isn't the newest model, that would just make it outdated, wouldn't it?"

Their smirks ebb from their faces and glee swells in her chest at the sight.

"And that would mean that you interrupted my conversation by honking at me because you're some daddy's boy who thinks he's above women, hit on me, and insulted my friends all the while sitting in an outdated car." Her eyes flit down to the passenger. "And it isn't even yours."

Silence.

"You can drive off now. Hopefully to a car dealership."

The passenger gives her the finger as they do just that.

Immediately, Goldberg starts to cackle. "Holy shit, did you see the look on their faces?"

"I know that felt good." Jesse slings an arm over her shoulder and physically turns her away from the street.

Averman is staring at her again. His eyes are wide, his lips are parted, and he smiles, woozy, when she lifts a brow at him.

"You're so awesome."

"Thanks." She clears her throat and shifts from one foot to the other. "Now, as I was saying-- you're on my turf now. Let me help you."

As they continue walking, Jesse abandons Rory's side so Averman can saddle up next to her.

She's so busy telling them that they are wrong to notice that she automatically slips his hand into hers.

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"What's so special about this place?" Rory asks, looking at the door of Les Habitudes, her eyebrows pinched, slightly.

(Well, other than the fact that her aunt's boutique is right across the street.)

"We just want to go in." Goldberg shrugs, bouncing from one foot to the other. "You said you'd get us into a store, and we want to go into this one. That's all."

She squints doubtfully behind the lenses of her glasses. After twenty-ish minutes of watching them mess around with the store owners and their doorbells, she's struggling to find a reason as to why they would suddenly be ready to shop.

Averman squeezes the hand she's still holding. "C'mon, he just wants a shirt for his mom. Let him realize he's too poor for it so we can move on."

"...Alright." She drops his hand and steps up to the plate. "Watch and learn."

They crowd around her again as she finally presses a button.

"I'm sorry. We don't allow any unsupervised children--"

Rory cuts the woman off, once again using the voice she uses whenever she's talking to these (her) people. "Well, I'm sorry, too, because my father, Oliver, will be terribly upset to hear that his only daughter and her friends were treated with such disrespect."

Averman rests his chin on her shoulder and sticks his tongue out at the woman on the other end of the camera.

"Oliver? Oliver Myrtle?"

"No, Oliver Cromwell-- Of course, Oliver Myrtle."

The familiar sickly, sweet taste that comes with using her father's name like this sticks to her tongue like a spoonful of honey. She chokes on the taste as it burns behind her nose and springs tears to her eyes, but the excitement that buzzes through the boys that flock her serves to rid her of the feeling.

She's only doing this for good. Goldberg can get his mother a shirt, or not, but the intention is good.

This is a good thing, right?

The boys stifle a laugh as the door swings open almost immediately, and a blonde middle-aged woman appears, frazzled around the edges, to welcome them warmly.

"Now, I want you to make yourselves comfortable. Carol, beverages."

A brunette woman nods and rushes off to get them drinks.

"And I will be with you in a moment."

They're made to sit on a leather couch and Carol returns with a platter full of glasses full of orange liquid. Rory takes one of the flutes, encouraging the boys to follow in her footsteps silently, and takes a small sip without thinking.

It hits her immediately.

Mimosas? Really?

"Oh." Her eyes widen a tad but she does keep her voice quiet. "That's... alcoholic."

The boys all put their glasses back on the platter. She cringes and does so, too, but much more slowly.

It's then that the two older women off to the side take notice of them.

"I know you kids, you're um..."

"Oliver Myrtle's kid?" Rory tries unhelpfully.

"No... Team USA Hockey!"

The woman next to her smiles. "You guys are just great!"

Awkwardly, the kids thank the two women and watch as they amble away.

Once they're alone, Rory leans around Dwayne and makes eye contact with Goldberg.

"So, what are you getting your mom?"

Something about the way he grins makes her stomach twist. "We'll see."

Her gaze flits to the other boys. None of them give her an answer.

"Now," The blonde that greeted them returns, her hands clasped in front of her. "A gift for your friend's mother. You'll want something light, airy-- it is summer after all. I'm going to show you my private collection."

She disappears again and three women take her place. Models.

And they are certainly wearing something light and airy.

Rory casts an appreciative glance over the women, her head tilted innocently. Then, as she starts to realize that she's looking at those clothes like she wants to wear them (and, admittedly, at the women's legs, too), she wonders why the hell they're looking at this stuff for Goldberg's mother. When she turns to ask him what the deal is, she finds that they might not have been as clear with their intentions as she thought they were.

All of them are staring at the models with their mouths dropped open and their eyes bulging out of their heads. Any further and their hearts might've started jumping out of their chests like those old Tom and Jerry cartoons.

They aren't here for Goldberg's mother.

"Hey..." She nudges Dwayne with her elbow. He's unresponsive.

"Nah, something else." Goldberg waves a hand.

They're here so they can get away with ogling girls.

As the three models retreat, Rory looks at Averman.

He's staring blankly at the empty space where the women once were-- dazed and confused. Just like the others, his mouth is agape and his eyes are full of stars.

He was looking at them the way he looked at her.

Rory's abdomen aches at the realization and she casts her gaze to her lap as three new women stand before them, dressed in equally scanty outfits.

The differences between herself and the models start to pile in her head so quickly that it takes her a moment to collect her thoughts. Is it possible that she's... a little jealous?

She frowns.

This is preposterous!

She can't be jealous-- there are plenty of boys who think she's pretty, and look at her that way, so why does it matter so much to her that this one also happens to look at other (taller, skinnier, pretty) women the same way?

(Because he's kind to you, the traitorous voice in the back of her head whispers, because he listens.)

Oh, Christ. She does like him. What an awful time to realize that.

Tears burn her eyes as another problem surfaces: she likes him, and he and the others used her to get what they wanted.

All of that progress she thought she'd made...

Unnoticed, Rory gets up from the couch and slips past the models.

"If any of my friends ask where I am, tell them I'm visiting my aunt across the street."

The blonde woman nods, eyebrows knit with what might be concern as the teen leaves the store.

Peggy's Boutique is a much larger store than the name lets on, and Rory finds comfort in that as she walks past the shopping assistant and directly into the rows of clothing. Mindlessly, she thumbs through dresses, the repetitive click of the hanger against the metal bar forming a rhythm with the heart that beats wildly against her rib cage.

Stupid.

She's so stupid.

An absolute buffoon.

Her bottom lip trembles and she wipes the tears that fall with the backs of her hands.

"Stupid." She whispers to herself. "This is stupid. Stop crying. Big kids don't cry."

If they only want her because she's rich and frivolous, then rich and frivolous she'll be.

"There you are! You really know how to make yourself scarce, Miss Myrtle--"

The shopping assistant cuts herself off with an oof as Rory shoves a brand-name dress into her arms. It's colorful but classy, and she knows Connie will love it.

"Hold this." She sniffs. "But you're going to need help. There's going to be a lot more."

And the girl, who works on commission, nods.

Halfway through their prowl through the women's clothing, there's a commotion by the front door. Rory rounds the corner into the main aisle and finds the boys, who got kicked out of Les Habitudes because they no longer had her name over the staff's heads, arguing with security personnel.

Squaring her shoulders, she walks them.

"Is there a problem here?"

"Yes! This big dope won't listen to me when I say we're with you." Jesse scoffs, but then he does a double take. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Her tone is a little robotic.

Averman frowns.

"Please release my friend."

"I can't do that. We aren't supposed to let unsupervised children into the store."

"But you let me in."

"You're important." The man shrugs his shoulders. "They aren't."

His words get various curses from the boys, but they're being ignored.

(Serves them right.)

Rory sighs heavily and, lifting her chin, prepares to do the ultimate rich and frivolous thing.

"Fine. I want to speak to your owner."

"Oh, god." Averman blinks.

"Our owner isn't in, currently." The girl behind her stutters.

"Then get me the next person in the food chain. I want to speak to someone who's in charge."

The guard and the assistant exchange a glance over her head before the assistant has someone rush off to the back of the store.

"Rory, this ain't necessary." Dwayne starts, but she holds a hand up to silence him.

The boys stare, squirming with unease, as a man appears from the back of the store.

He's a willowy man who stands more than a foot taller than most of them at six feet and seven inches. A suit hangs strangely on his frame, too tight in some places and too loose in others, but it still costs more than the boys have ever seen. That alone makes them say Rory's name, again, and beg her to just back down.

It's not until he pushes the wispy black hairs in front of his eyes back and sees who's in front of him that they realize what's going on.

"Lo?" He smiles, standing a little straighter. "Is that you?"

"Hey, Greg!"

Averman whispers an Ohhhh.

Gregory Bancroft meets his cousin in the middle and hugs her tightly. Rory leans wholeheartedly into the embrace of a familiar and trusted person, closing her eyes as the familiar scent of his cologne tickles her senses.

"Hey, kiddo. Hey." The man pulls back from the hug and holds her at arm's length. "I, uh, haven't seen you since you were, what, twelve?"

"Twelve." She nods, smiling up at him.

"Geez... that's, like, a century."

Rory breathes a laugh and shakes her head.

Greg pats her shoulder once and then squeezes it, tightly, before he turns to the task at hand. He clears his throat, looking between the security guard and the boys staring at him with wide eyes.

"What's going on here?"

"Your security guard refused to let these guys in." She chews on the inside of her cheek. "They're with me, and I promise they're only in here because I need hands to hold my bags."

Someone, Jesse or Goldberg, scoffs at that.

"Well, yeah, they can come in. Any friend of Rory's is a friend of mine."

The security guard backs down with a huff.

"Oh, uh, I'm Greg. I'm Rory's cousin. I realize that looks pretty weird if you don't know that, me hugging her and stuff."

"It's nice to meet you--"

"Yeah, you don't have to worry about them, Greg." Rory cuts Averman off. "They don't actually think that much."

Averman says a what the fuck? in her wake as she turns on her heel.

"Now, before you go back to work, Greg, we should hang out before I leave."

"Yeah. Mom's got this brunch tomorrow, so if you want to come to that and be the one person who talks to me, I'd really appreciate it."

"Oh, of course. I'll fit it into my schedule."

The cousins' goodbye lingers as much as their hello, but it feels like the blink of an eye to the boys. They find themselves rushing to keep up with her as she starts marching through the store, again, with the workers now fully aware of who she is.

"Where's the fire?" Jesse calls out to her, grumpy.

"We have a lot to get through." She hums, glancing around. "Goldberg, while you were busy being a pervert, I found this delightful shirt that your mother might like."

When she gestures, the employee holds it up for him to see.

"Uh, Ror--"

"Don't worry, I'm getting it anyway."

They exchange glances behind her back.

"Rory, are you alright?" Averman picks up the pace to keep up with her.

"I'm perfectly fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, but we're getting the vibe that you're angry..."

"I'm not angry. I'm just spending money."

Her tone scares him enough for him to back up.

"You." She points at a worker standing next to a leather jacket. "That jacket, is it full grain?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Handmade?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Well, I'll take one. Extra large." She pauses to tap her chin thoughtfully, sending a glance back to the boys. "Do you think Dean would rather it be black or brown?"

They blink at her.

"Huh?" Jesse asks.

"I'm getting gifts. I've already picked a Calvin dress for Connie, a chain for Luis, and some fine dinner jewelry for Julie, who might need them in the future."

"What?"

"Oh, for Pete's sake-- just give me the black one."

The worker nods and pulls the jacket off the rack, handing it to the sales assistant.

•─────────•❋•─────────•

"Guys, I think Rory blew a fuse." Is the only warning Team USA gets, the words chipped through Jesse Hall's teeth as he stands on the threshold of the lounge.

Before any of them can utter a question, the girl in question, her expression still twinging on deranged, turns the corner into the room. In her hands, an onslaught of bags.

"What did you do?" Adam asks as she shoves one into his hands.

"I bought you guys gifts!"

"I mean, thank you, but why?" Guy peers into the bag, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Uh... for our winning streak."

The boy looks up, confusion still marring his features, as she moves on to the next kid.

"Can one of you make sure Dean and Fulton get these?"

"Uh, sure." Kenny nods, taking the bags from her.

"Thank you. I'm going to go to bed now, but feel free to open them."

With an awkward curtsey, she exits the room as quickly as she came, leaving behind the chaos of her spontaneous spending spree.

Dean and Fulton bump into her in the hall.

"Hi."

"Hey." Dean calls back, Fulton nodding in acknowledgment. "We're gonna break curfew, you wanna come?"

She shakes her head. There's only one person she's willing to get in trouble for and she doesn't really want to look at him right now.

"Not today."

Dean frowns. "Hey, are you--"

Fulton grabs his arm and tugs him along, smiling softly. "We'll get you a Slurpee."

"Thanks. I, uh, bought you both something. Kenny has it when you're ready for it."

She ducks into her room after that.

Her roommates hesitantly enter a few minutes later.

Rory's still fidgeting, the slightest strain on all of her muscles as she, overwhelmed by her emotions, struggles to untie her shoe.

"Hey, Ror, do you want to talk?" Connie asks softly.

Julie just sits next to the other brunette on her bed and helps untie the shoe.

"What's there to talk about?"

"Rory..."

"I am rich. I am filthy, stinking rich, and I am allowed to spend however much money I want, so I might as well be nice about it."

"Jesus, what the hell happened out there?"

Heaving a sigh, Rory sits back and gives up on the shoe, letting Julie take over.

"Goldberg made me bully a woman into letting us into a store so the guys could ogle at models."

"Oh." Julie hisses in through her teeth. "Yikes."

Connie, however, crosses her arms over her chest. "Dinguses."

"And I'm sitting there, watching the guy I like and the others stare at other women, and I can't help but wonder if that's all I mean to you guys."

Julie pauses. "What?"

Recalling it makes her body ache.

"Are you guys only friends with me for my money? I need you to be honest with me." Tears burn her eyes, again, and her voice crackles under the pressure of her need to be liked. "I need to know that I am likable. That there is something likable about me that has nothing to do with my money, or my father, or hockey."

Neither of the girls responds. Julie hugs her, first, and then Connie, sitting on her other side, hugs her too, and that's all the response she needs.

•─────────•❋•─────────•

a/n:

no, I will not be explaining. (goldberg is cartman bc goldberg hates everyone and is constantly mocking his friends, not because he's fat <3 )

ah, d3 rory behavior. isn't it exciting?

the next chapter is going to be all new content! we're going to have rory interacting with her family, the introduction to bombay's transformation into coach blood, and exploration of rory's feelings for les!

comments and votes are super appreciated! they let me know that you guys like my writing and I cannot stress how much they motivate me to continue! thank you