Do You See Her Face? (A Jess Mariano Fanfiction)

This Ernest Hemingway Thing

Disclaimer: All Gilmore Girls content belongs to Amy Sherman-Palladino.

. . .

"If you don't shut up about this bar..." Jess warned, shooting daggers at Chris over the top of his book.

It was a slow day, and the three of them sat in the common area of Truncheon. Jess read his Sylvia Plath novel as he sat atop the welcome table in the front of the store. Chris was on a rant about why they should buy up the vacant space down the road and open a bar, while Matthew rolled his eyes. Snow fell in thick blankets, the coldest of the winter so far. Jess had opted to drive to work, rather than trudge through the crunchy, icy layer caking the sidewalks. The storm had blown in the night before as a bit of a surprise, leaving the city little time to salt the roads. The lack of customers at the book press was no shock. The large, ornate clock ticked slowly over the door. Only a few more minutes, and it would be time to close up for the day. Jess was glad; he'd be home to Ella soon enough. No matter how much she insisted she was fine, he couldn't help feeling antsy when he'd left her home alone in the morning. His bottom lip was beginning to feel chapped from how much he had been gnawing on it.

Chris sighed heavily, throwing his hands up in exasperation. He was wearing a maroon cardigan over a pullover sweater, and Jess wondered how he wasn't suffocating underneath all the wool. Chris took another sip of his disgusting chai latte before he continued.

"But it wouldn't be just any bar! It would be Cedar Bar Redux!" he exclaimed.

Matthew rolled his eyes, not bothering to look up from the inventory sheet he was reviewing. "Just saying the name over and over isn't gonna convince us."

"Listen, we've already got this Ernest Hemingway thing going here," Chris said emphatically, gesturing to the room around them. "Now, we can have a Charlie Parker thing down the road. We'll play only jazz music there, and only serve drinks with whiskey. It'll be super classy. Super hip."

"Please don't ever say 'hip' again," Jess deadpanned, his eyes back on his reading.

Chris grinned confidently. "One day you'll stop and think, 'Wow, Chris has been a genius all along. Why did I ever doubt him?'"

Jess scoffed doubtfully.

"Sure, man," Matthew said with a mocking nod.

"Hey, you'll see, guys. Just you wait," Chris said, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting at their dismissal of his idea. "If Ella was here, she'd agree with me."

Shaking his head a bit, Jess snorted a laugh. "No, she wouldn't."

"I think she's just pretentious enough to get behind it," Chris argued, shrugging flippantly.

"Actually, I think she's just pretentious enough to call you out for being a poser," Matthew countered, his voice dejected as ever as he continued scouring the inventory sheets for any mistakes he might have made on them earlier in the day.

Chris narrowed his eyes at Matthew, getting ready to rebut. However, Jess spoke up first. He rose from his seat, stuffing the Plath book in the back pocket of his jeans and going to grab his coat and scarf.

"Speaking of Eleanor," he said, "I'm going home. It's closing time, boys. Have fun with the marketing pitch, Matthew."

"Thanks, Jess," Matthew replied sarcastically, still not looking up. On inventory day, he was basically a robot, glued to his paperwork. Not like Jess could blame Matthew, though, considering Jess would have run the business into the ground during the first week had Matthew not been there to deal with the numbers.