❝SHANGHAI PART ONE❞
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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ chapter thirty-seven,
Gilmore Girls — Season Two

December 20th, 2001

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[ LUCY'S POV ]

     ❝IS IT TOO LATE TO BACK OUT?❞

     I say that, not my Dad. Me! For the past week, I was waiting for my dad to call this off, to say that he didn't want to go anymore, but he's been so ready for this day. I mean, he even bought a new tie just for tonight while I was wearing a dress that belonged to Addy as shopping for a new outfit made me feel physically sick.

     Now we stand in front of the awfully large door to the Dugray house, and my palms sweat against my dress as I try to compose myself.

     Everything is going to be fine. Just go in there, be polite, smile, hand them the stupid bottle of wine and thank them for inviting you. It's not that hard, Lucy, just do it.

     God, I'm insane. Meeting my boyfriend's parents and extended family shouldn't be this hard, right? I mean, there's worse things to worry about like the world ending or Kirk not getting his breakfast in the morning. This is low level, non-panic worthy stuff. I'm just being silly. All is going to be fine. Right?

     Somebody tell me to calm down.

     I look at my dad again, watching as he taps his foot against the concrete, ready and waiting for me to be ready. How is Dad so calm? He also has to meet Tristan's crazy rich parents with the crazy rich house and the crazy rich furniture. How is he calmer than me? It makes no sense.

     "Lucy, this was bound to happen sooner or later." I'd prefer later, like seventy years later. "It's not going to be as bad as you're imagining it to be."

     "You're right, it's going to be much worse."

Dad then chooses that moment to step forward for the doorbell but I yank him back, my hand clutched around his arm in fear. "Not yet!"

Dad turns to me, his face visibly annoyed, and I smile innocently, continuing to hold onto my dad's arm like a lost kid. "Luce, you're seventeen-years-old. Get off my arm, and suck it up."

I sigh, slowly freeing my dad's arm. "But what if—"

"No buts," he interrupts, finally leaning forward to ring the doorbell. "Now, it's going to be okay."

     "I don't like this zen version of you. Can I have the real you back, please?" I beg quietly just as the door swings opens. I clamp my mouth shut, my eyes widening when I see there's somebody at the door— a maid. Hmm. Okay. Since when did they have a maid? I've been here... like, twice, and they never had a maid then. Okay, whatever, this isn't a big deal at all. Calm down.

I don't speak, a little afraid, but Dad takes the lead, "We're here for dinner. Lucy and Luke Danes," he greets, stretching his arm out to greet the maid. My dad, ladies and gentlemen— the most humble man on the planet. "Nice to meet you."

Before the woman can splutter out a response— likely surprised that anyone is greeting her— Tristan steps up behind her, and my mouth falls agape upon seeing him because my, oh, my.

     While he's always been beautiful to me, the way he looks tonight has me quite literally glued to the floor in shock. The dress shirt he wears outlines each muscle in his arms, and I so desperately want to reach out and trace the lines, but that would be extremely inappropriate, especially given that I'm standing next to my father. He suits the simple pants he's wearing, and his outfit is completed with a pair of black loafers. He looks polished, classy and absolutely delicious. I can't believe I just thought that.

     My dad clears his throat next to me, and I reenter this reality, realising I'm not alone. Dad has handed off his coat to the maid, and they're currently waiting for me to take mine off.

     I chuckle softly, somewhat afraid that Dad can hear the promiscuous thoughts I'm having about my boyfriend. Now I feel sick. Brilliant.

     I hand my coat off to the maid, thanking her quietly as she scurries away. Where is she taking my coat? I want it back. Before I can race after her and hide, Tristan steps towards me, his hands taking mine as he leans in and pushes an innocent kiss against my cheek. "Thanks for coming," he whispers.

     "Thanks for..." I swallow the lump in my throat as my eyes scan his outfit closely. My, God. How did I get this lucky? "Thanks for inviting us."

     Tristan smirks, probably knowing exactly what I'm thinking, but then he just turns to my dad, holding his hand out towards him. "Nice to see you again, Luke."

     Insanely beautiful and polite. Damn.

     Dad takes Tristan's hand, shaking it firmly. "You too," he replies gruffly. "Thanks for inviting us. Your home is..." Dad tries to act nonchalant but secretly he loves houses like these. He's an architect freak when it comes to old houses, and I know for a fact that he'll bring up their home as a conversation starter later. "It's nice."

     "Thanks," Tristan replies, shrugging and slipping his hands into his pockets. "It's old."

"Well, that's one way to describe it," I say, my eyes scanning the room like I haven't been here before. His home is lovely, of course it is, but I've never been one to deliberate the makings of the house or the structure. The house is just... nice. I have no other words for it.

Tristan places a hand against my back. "Uh, well, my family is right through here and..." Tristan guides me and Dad towards the lounge, and the second we step in, silence falls over us and everyone in the room stares over at us.

Dad shifts next to me, and I wonder if he's contemplating leaving. Can we leave? is what I silently ask him when I glance up at him. When he looks down at me, I think he says, suck it up, kiddo. Now, I'm going insane, right?

I then look back at the room, and six complete strangers sit in front of me. Six!

I open my mouth to speak, but thankfully, Tristan interjects, his hand still on my back. "Uh, guys, this is Luciana— my girlfriend— and her father, Luke Danes." He smiles calmly, and I feel his fingers rub gently against the small of my back.

I lift my hand to... wave. "Hi. It's nice to... it's nice to meet you."

Dad grabs my hand, yanking it down. Thank God he did that. "Thank you for having us," he adds on quickly, and I tense.

"Calm down," Tristan whispers into my ear, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. I can't calm down though, not when his entire family is staring right at me.

     Tristan takes the bag from me— the one that holds the sort of expensive bottle of wine— and he ushers me further into the room. I expect him to point fingers at everybody, introducing them, but then a blonde boy stands from his seat, and he extends his arm to me.

     Not sure if I'm allowed to say this but... wow. People in Tristan's family sure are nice to look at, but while this boy in front of me is attractive in a spontaneous and smooth kind of way, Tristan is gorgeous to me in a charming and flirty kind of way. I can't really explain it. Sure, I can acknowledge somebody's beauty, but I'd never act upon it. So, while this is that stands before me is admirable, Tristan's my guy.

     Regardless, I take his hand. "Logan Huntzberger," he introduces, a witty grin on his face. "Tristan's cousin."

     He oddly brings me a strange sense of calm. I suddenly feel relaxed and prepared for tonight. I shake his hand firmly, smiling politely. "Nice to meet you. I'm Lucy," I reintroduce, my eyes moving from Logan to my dad. "Uh, and this is my dad."

     Logan shakes my dad's hand, and I move through the room to shake hands and smile kindly. My dad follows behind me, shaking hands and smiling too.

I meet Honor Huntzberger— Logan's sister and Tristan's other cousin. She's stunning in every which way, and I compliment her several times, and thank her when she compliments me. She's sweet, and whatever drug she's on, I want it because she seems to be ridiculously happy. Perhaps I just need to smile a little more.

I then meet Tristan's grandfather on his father's side— Janlon Dugray and he's... questionable. I'm not sure what he thinks of me, or if he likes me because all he does is shake my hand, make some gruff comment about tonight and then bow his head at me before taking a long sip of his drink.

Next, I'm pushed towards his aunt— Shira Huntzberger who is currently sipping on a martini and laughing hysterically at whatever her daughter is talking about. From what I can see, she's a drunk. I obviously don't say anything, but I can just tell. She must have a hard life. Okay, I need to stop psychoanalysing people.

Now I have to meet his parents.

Dad is speaking with Tristan's grandfather who seems to have taken a peculiar interest in what my dad does for a living. Tristan keeps a hand on my back, keeping me at his side safely as I stand in front of his mother and father.

"Mom. Dad," he addresses, looking at them. "This is Lucy, my girlfriend." Tristan smiles in my direction, but I keep my eyes focused on his parents who have the same, unfamiliar look in their eyes.

"It's nice to meet you both," I say, my voice hoarse and squeaky. Oh, God. "Uh, thank you for having us tonight. You have a beautiful home."

Tristan's father holds his hand out to me, and I quickly reciprocate. The second he takes my hand, I realise exactly what type of guy he is. A handshake speaks a lot about a person, and Mr. Geoffrey Dugray is the epitome of opulence and indifference. Strong and uncaring.

Tristan doesn't get his eyes from his father, as Geoffrey has steeling grey eyes that are razor sharp and piercing. He wears a perfectly tailored suit, and I imagine he has several shades of charcoal or navy upstairs. Tonight, he wears burgundy, and while the colour bothers me, Geoffrey wears it well, exuding power and authority. I hate that.

As he shakes my hand, I sense a lack of warmth in his presence, but I try to shake his hand just as firmly. "Lucy," he says, his voice frigid and gruff. "Pleasure meet you."

If I'm being entirely honest, I'm not sure if it's actually a pleasure to meet me or if he just has to say that. Don't overthink it, Lucy. Stop.

     "You too, sir." I have no idea what to call him. 'Sir' seems like the correct word, but perhaps I should be more formal. Ah! I hate this.

     "Please, call me Geoffrey," he insists, and I let out a small sigh of relief. I feel Tristan squeeze my hip, and I glance over at him with a relaxed smile. Before Tristan was... fine, but now I can't really explain what he's thinking or feeling. He looks uncomfortable, a little unsettled, and I don't know why. Everything is going fine. Right?

     From what Tristan has told me about his parents, I should hate them, but Tristan's father has been kind to me so far— strong emphasis on so far.

     Perhaps Geoffrey's intentions aren't actually kind. Maybe he'll make tonight a living hell for me. I guess I'll find out soon.

     Anyway, pushing all thoughts of Tristan's father away, I turn to his mother— Mary. She's nearly as tall as her husband, and her beauty is unmatched to anybody in this room. I realise that Tristan and Lisa look just like their mother, only share some qualities with their father. At fifty years old, Mary Dugray wears a simple but fashionable black dress, one that just scrapes the floor. She has a sweet smile on her face, one that doesn't look forced or fake, and when she touches my hand with a delicate touch, I feel welcomed.

     While his cousins made me feel safe and unnerved, Mary Dugray has shown me something entirely different, and I can't figure out what. It's an odd feeling, but I feel completely relaxed just from a simple touch of her hand. It's reassuring.

     "Lucy," she beams, holding my hand in hers tightly. "Tristan's told me a lot about you. It's a pleasure to meet you."

     Tristan sighs next to me, and I feel his arm relax around my waist. Good. I squeeze Mary's hand, offering her my kindest smile. "It's lovely to meet you too," I utter.

     "You look beautiful," she comments, her eyes scanning the fabric that covers my body. I wear a cascade of midnight blue satin with a lace bodice which, in turn, has a delicate floral pattern. The dress hugs the curve of my hips, and rests just against the floor. Thank you, Addy is all I'm thinking. "That dress is gorgeous."

     "Thank you," I reply. I like his mother.

     "I agree," Tristan says, and I blush. My face then reddens when he pushes his lips against my cheek softly. "Have you meet Luke, guys?"

     Dad appears behind us, his hand on my shoulder for a brief second. "Luke Danes," he says simply, holding his hand out to shake Geoffrey's. Again, he holds it firmly, his eyes blaring into my dad's but Dad doesn't even look intimidated. He looks calm.

     Having my dad act this calm should make me feel a little safer, but I have this nervous pain in the pit of my stomach. I can't explain it.

     Anyway, I just want this night to be over regardless.

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IF LISA DUGRAY DIDN'T EXIST, this dinner would be silent and awkward. Seriously, the girl is only eleven, but she sure can talk about anything and everything. She talks about dancing, about school, about her drawings that she wants to show us later, and then she goes on a ten minute tangent about how carrots are her favourite vegetable at the moment.

I find it sweet that she's so passionate about everything, and Dad even whispers, "you were just like her at that age," and I take that as the kindest compliment one can give. Lisa Dugray is a ball of freaking sunshine, and I wish I was still as bubbly and sunny as her.

     I imagine Lisa Dugray is going to break a lot of hearts when she's older.

     While she's been keeping the conversation going at one end of the table, the end that I sit on has been deadly silent. I'm sitting in between Dad and Tristan, and the only source of comfort I feel right now is from Tristan's hand that rests on my thigh. I sit across from Logan with Geoffrey and Mary taking each head of the table.

     I've never sat or seen a table this long.

The first question that is thrown my way is said by Logan. "So, Lucy, Tristan says you're going to go to Yale."

"Yeah, that's the plan," I reply.

"Oh, Logan is going there next year," Shira— Logan's mother— gushes, patting a hand against his. Logan retreats his hand, shuffling on his chair uncomfortably. Hmm.

"What are you hoping to major in?" Logan asks, moving the conversation forward with a topic I actually feel comfortable about.

"Uh, English. Hoping to go to Stanford Law School after I graduate," I tell him and the rest of the table, but nobody seems all that interested.

Logan grins. "I like your determination. Always good to have a lawyer in the family, T."

"I agree," Tristan chuckles, squeezing my leg softly.

"Uh, what are you majoring in next year?"

"Econ," he replies, jabbing his fork into his food. "Never really been one for school. Figured econ wouldn't be too bad."

"Fair enough," I chuckle.

"You go to a public school, correct?" I turn my head towards the end of the table where Tristan's father sits. His voice startles me, especially after I just had a pleasant conversation with Logan, but I still focus my attention on the man at the end of the table. "Not a private school?"

I nod. "Yeah. Stars Hollow High."

"It'll be hard to get into an Ivy League." He scrapes his knife on the plate, and it makes a horrible noise that itches at my skin.

Dad clears his throat next to me. "She's a hard worker," Dad defends. "She will get into Yale."

     "I think that's lovely," Mary speaks up, and I smile over at her. She seems reserved and quiet whenever her husband takes the conversation, and I feel sympathy for her. I like to imagine that she once had life, character and charisma before she became the wife of him at the other end. "You know, I went to Yale just like everybody in my family."

Before I can speak about my admiration towards her, Geoffrey speaks from the other end, "Also studied English, didn't get you very far, did it, sweetheart?"

My skin crawls hearing him say that.

Mary chuckles softly, reaching for her wine. "Think I did the best I could for my family. Besides, my money payed for the house and... chair you're sitting in right now."

Geoffrey chokes on his food, and I grin, amused by her defence. Go, Mrs. Dugray.

     Mary Dugray used to be a Huntzberger before she married, and everybody has heard of the Huntzberger's. Mitchum Huntzberger— her eldest brother is a big-shot in the newspaper industry and is very wealthy, so I'm not surprised Mary is or was the provider for this house. I never heard of the Dugray family before meeting Tristan, and while I know they come from wealth, the Huntzbergers have status and money and fame.

     I don't know why, but I'm strangely fascinated with this woman that Tristan calls his mother, and I'd actually like to know her. She seems like a kind woman, and now that I think of it, Tristan never really said anything bad about his mother. His upset was always directed towards his father, as it should be.

Geoffrey composes himself, and he moves on from the comeback his wife uttered. "My son will be attending Princeton," Geoffrey speaks, his voice bellowing as he chews down on his food. I peer from him to Shira who is on her fourth drink of tonight. I hope, for her sake, that one of her kids is driving. I'm unsure on where her husband is, but I don't ask questions.

     Tristan squeezes my thigh, obviously tense from the mention of him and Princeton. "Tristan can go wherever he'd like to go," his mother says, and Tristan hums, sipping on his drink. "Personally, I'd prefer if our son went to the school of his choice rather than his father's choice."

     "He will go to Princeton, Mary. We've discussed this," he grumbles, jabbing at his food again.

     "Geoffrey, he—"

     "Mom, it's fine," Tristan interrupts, placing a hand over his mother's to reassure her. I think she defends him a lot from what I'm looking at, but I'm not entirely sure. "And Dad, can we not talk about college? I don't know where I'm going to go yet."

     "Come to Yale. You can act as my twin, and I'll send you to my classes," Logan jokes, and I smile lamely. Honestly, Tristan and Logan could act as twins or at least brothers. They look alike in some ways, but I don't think Logan can hide from his classes and send Tristan.

     Tristan chuckles, and is about to speak, but then Geoffrey throws his cutlery down onto his plate. The clinking noise rings in my ears, causing us all to turn and fall silent.

     "It's always been Princeton, Tristan. That will not change. You can't go to Yale just because your girlfriend might be there," he spits, and I feel Tristan grip my leg tighter. "Hardly doubt it if she's at a high school in a town that small."

     "Excuse me? If you have something to say, say it louder," Dad speaks, dropping his fork on the plate. "I don't care who you are, or if you invited us to your house, you will not talk about my daughter like she isn't sitting right here."

     "Dad, it's okay," I assure, placing a hand on his shoulder even though it's far from okay.

     "And she has a name," Tristan speaks, his voice clear and cutthroat. "And this isn't about Lucy. This is about my future, Dad. Not yours. I don't want to be you."

"Tristan, let's just—"

"Princeton is a remarkable school, Tristan," his grandfather speaks over Mary, and I frown, wishing we could hear Mary's opinion. "I went there, my father and grandfather went there, and your father went there. It only makes sense for you to go there."

"Grandpa, it's my life," Tristan argues. "It's my choice, not his. He gets no say in my freaking life. He never has."

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, boy." I plant my hand down over Tristan's, letting him know that I'm here— that he's okay. "You will go to Princeton. I don't want you ending up like the rest of your sorry family who went to Yale."

"You mean like Mom? You mean like the Huntzbergers? News flash, Dad, they're the wealthy and successful side of my family last time I checked. Is that the side you mean?" Tristan scoffs, looking from his father to his mother. "I'm going to lead my own path, Dad, and you'll just have to live with that."

Silence falls over the table, and I watch as Tristan and Geoffrey have a showdown with one another, daring the other to speak. Neither of them speak, and the only sound we can hear is the sound of Lisa scraping her knife and fork against the plate.

When Lisa says, "Can we leave now?" I nearly laugh because I so desperately want to leave.

"Hey, Lisa, how about you show me those drawings you were talking about earlier?" Honor says, slipping out of her chair to join her eleven-year-old cousin. Lisa jumps up, taking Honor's hand, and the two quickly leave the room, chatting and giggling away.

It saddens me to think of all the arguments poor Lisa has probably had to hear. She's only young, she shouldn't have to listen to this.

     "I'm gonna..." Logan stands, shrugging his shoulders as he can't come up with an excuse. Honestly, I respect that he's not going to lie, he's just going to walk off. I should walk off.

     Shira has stumbled off with another drink, Janlon grumbles some lame excuse and storms off towards the lounge. I now sit with Tristan's parents, Tristan and my dad. Great.

     "Where did you guys say you were from again?" Mary asks, glancing between me and my dad, her nails tapping against her wine glass.

     "Uh, Stars Hollow," I reply, looking around the very empty table. There's no point in speaking any longer, not when half the table has stormed off. This is more awkward than before. "Do you know of it?"

     "Drove through it a few times," she replies, moving her food around with her fork. "It's a nice little town, isn't it?"

     "Yeah, it's nice," I say. "My dad owns the diner in town."

     Her eyes flare in surprise. "Oh! That's nice. What's business like?"

     Mary seems genuinely interested, and while she wants to know us, Tristan and his father continue to glare at one another from across the table. His hand hasn't moved from my leg, and I still hold onto his, trying to keep him calm.

     "Busy," Dad replies bluntly.

     "Will you have enough money to send your daughter to college? I imagine working at a diner isn't all that—"

     "Own the diner," Dad corrects, speaking over him, and Geoffrey tilts his head in surprise. Obviously, not enough people have spoken over him. "I own the diner, and you don't have to worry about how I provide for my kid, thank you."

     Tristan grins next to me, and I squeeze his hand. Mary clears her throat, lifting her napkin to her mouth. "I think I'll help the maid," she says, lifting herself out of her chair. I nearly offer to help, but Tristan looks uncomfortable and Dad looks angry. Either way, I'm not escaping yet.

Tristan's father is the next to leave, and he doesn't even make a sound. He just gets up, and walks off to his study. Good riddance, I say.

When he's gone, I feel Tristan relax next to me, his hand loosening around my leg. "I'm sorry about him," he apologises, looking down at his full plate of food. He's barely touched a thing all night. I didn't realise this was so stressful for him. It breaks my heart to know that this is his life on a daily basis. "He had no right to speak about you the way that he did. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," I whisper.

"If it means anything to you, I don't think you're like your father at all," Dad says, and Tristan smiles the most genuine smile. He looks overwhelmed that my dad would say something like that, and I thank the heavens above that Dad still likes Tristan. How can he not?

"I'm never going to be like him," Tristan defends, looking from my dad to me. "I'm going to be different. I promise. This won't be my life, and it definitely won't be Lucy's." He's speaking to my dad now, and I feel as if I should leave them be, but I'm too afraid to get up.

"You don't have to explain yourself, Tristan. I know you'll be different," Dad replies, leaning back in his chair. "Just don't drag my kid down with this family, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," he replies quickly.

"Guys, I'm right here," I whine, looking from Dad to Tristan. "Like, you can just speak to me."

     Dad chuckles, and then he pushes his chair out. "I think I'm gonna help your mom," he then says, catching me by surprise. "We'll leave in an hour, okay?"

     I nod. "Okay."

Once Dad has moved into the kitchen, away from the table, Tristan slides his arm over the back of my chair and leans forward. "You know, I have something upstairs that's pretty cool... you know, if you wanna check it out."

I glance over at him, my cheeks red, and I grin. "Oh, really?" I tilt my head. "Lead the way."

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authors note:

LONG CHAPTER woah like 4500 words

part one of the family shanghai complete...

yes logan is tristan's cousin blah blah, and tristan's family lowkey sucks (expect his sister).

also...

Kiernan Shipka is LISA DUGRAY

and . . . Julie Bowen is MARY DUGRAY

not too sure who to cast as Tristan's father, but to me, he ain't that big of a deal. just imagine a rlly sucky father figure and that's his dad :)