Hello readers!
Well, I was thinking (as I so often do...) and I started wondering what Shelby and Cassandra's story would be like. Or, at least, what a story of theirs could be perceived as, so I took a stab at it.
Takes place in season 4 of glee, A/U in the fact that Cassandra and Shelby have known each other since before college, and the fact that Shelby didn't adopt Beth, though she had the ability to (that will all be revealed later on in the story). So, kick back, relax, have a seat, grab some popcorn, and I hope you enjoy my story!
Reviews are encouraged-they help me so much, and i'm always forever thankful for them!
Disclaimer: I don't own glee, for if I did, it would be mostly Shelby, Cassandra, Rachel, Santana, Kurt, and Blaine.
~~hayleynymphadora
Chapter 1: Don't be Such a Bitch, Cassie
Shelby Corcoran let out a soft sigh as she dragged herself out of bed, very early in the morning. Yes, she was used to having to get up for work, but six a.m was ridiculous, especially for a dance class, and on a Saturday! Who was up and ready to go with that much energy by six thirty? NYADA was pretty tough, she supposed, and Rachel was lucky that her mother still cared about her enough to go with her to her class. Technically, all Shelby had to do was sit in and watch, for moral support. Rach had been dying to introduce Shelby to her dance instructor, who apparently was a hard ass.
Every time Rachel told Shelby some horrible story about her teacher, (whom Rachel usually referred to as her "Mortal Enemy") she insisted that Shelby had to know the woman to fully understand her obscenity. Half-heartedly, and mostly out of reason that Rachel wouldn't give up until Shelby looked in on a class, Shelby agreed.
Stifling a yawn, Shelby threw open her closet to find something to wear. What was one supposed to wear when going to a NYADA dance class, even if only just to watch? Especially if said dance class's teacher was so easy to judge people? She was too tired to care at this point, and realized that the only thing that was going to keep her looking alive was a large cup of coffee, so she shuffled to the kitchen to make one.
She cringed at the loud sound of the coffeemaker, half tempted to cover her ears. Everything seems loud, and annoyingly so when you're too out of it to function.
Once the coffee was halfway gone, she attempted to find an outfit again, panicking now that it was twenty till and she wasn't even close to being ready. Eventually, five minutes later, she decided to go with something simple and Shelby-casual. This of course meant looking professional without over-doing it, as she slipped on her knee-length black skirt, blank tank-top, and long sleeved full-lace over shirt. A simple silver chain necklace worked very well with her attire, so she put in on, fumbling with the latch.
At approximately 6:20 she was completely ready to go, and after applying a last touch of make up and slipping on heels, she grabbed her purse and stalked out the door, shoulders back, chin up, and trying to look at least half-way presentable.
When she made it to the dance room, she spotted Rachel immediately. Rach was taking off her jacket and laying her bag in the corner on a bench. Shelby made her way towards her daughter and greeted her with a smile, placing her own purse next to Rachel's bag.
Across the room, Shelby spotted the person who must be Rachel's instructor. She wasn't facing Rachel and Shelby, but her hair was long and blonde, 'very pretty, too,' Shelby wasn't hesitant to add in her mind. The teacher was dressed in a black leotard, an over skirt accompanying it, her long white legs showing through fish-net stockings underneath. Shelby smirked to herself, thankful that she wasn't over or underdressed.
. . . .
Rachel glared at Her Mortal Enemy. She couldn't believe her mother didn't hate her automatically, just by looking at the woman's hair. Ms. July's hair was too perfect, and it made Rachel jealously irritated, in which case, Rachel felt it was necessary that Shelby be irritated about it, too.
When Rachel had asked Ms. July's permission to let her mother watch in on the class a week ago, The Monster had replied mockingly,
"Aw, has Little Miss David Schwimmer been complaining to Mommy? Is Mommy upset now?"
To which Rachel had answered, with a forced smile on her face,
"She's just anxious to meet you; I've told her so much about you, Ms. July."
Ms. July had rolled her eyes, muttering an, "I'm sure you have, Ohio. Let her watch, by all means, but don't expect me to be cordial with her."
"Why would I ever?" was Rachel's innocently scathing response, before she returned to practicing her pirouettes.
Now Shelby was here, in the classroom, and Rachel was starting to think this was a bad idea. Sure, Shelby would finally get to see what Rachel meant about how evil her teacher was, but now her own mother was open to her instructor's ridicule, and Rachel wasn't sure that Shelby deserved that.
Ms. July advanced towards the mother and daughter, and Rachel recognized that she was too late to be having second-thoughts. It was happening whether she willed it to or not.
. . . .
"Cassandra July," Shelby's eyebrows were raised, but she spoke with a tone of finality. "I should have known, the way my daughter was talking about her teacher, that it had to be you."
"Shelby Corcoran," Cassandra's expression was laughable, but Rachel dared not to tempt it. "Schwimmer is your daughter? With the resemblance, you'd think I'd have guessed." Her lips curled up into a grim smile as she eyed Shelby's outfit and body in approval. "It's been too long. Aren't you supposed to have made something of yourself by now? Wasn't that always your plan?"
Shelby's expression turned a little puzzled, what had Cassie called Rachel? But it wasn't really important. Not at this moment, anyways. Students started to gather around the three women, as class was supposed to get started, but Cassandra was too immersed in the conversation she was having with her old friend.
"I could say the same for you," Shelby responded to Cassandra's condescending tone.
"Me? Honey, I'm a dance instructor at NYADA, the school that turned you down. Tell me, Shelbs, what have you actually accomplished?"
Shelby laughed. "You haven't changed a bit, Cassie. I've only won six national championships coaching Vocal Adrenaline, and a second place award the year afterwards."
Cassie grimaced, clicking her tongue. "Second place? And you, Shelby Corcoran, settled for that? I can't say you haven't changed…"
"Start your class, Cassandra; we'll talk about who's a failure at life and who isn't once it's over, alright?"
"It's a deal with me if it's alright with Schwimmer, Shelbs." She turned to her students, "What the hell do you think you're staring at? Grab a partner and start the Tango!"
Rachel shuffled to her corner, confused and irritated as the music started to blare through the sound system. Of course Ms. July would have them all Tango on the day her mother came to watch. Ms. July refused to ever let Rachel Tango, claiming that Rachel didn't have the sex appeal for it. Cassandra spotted her old best friend's daughter making her way to her corner and motioned for her to join the rest of the class.
"Not this time, Ohio. Snag a guy and show off to your mother, but do NOT disappoint me, got it?"
Rachel nodded feverishly and took the willing hand of a boy she didn't really know or care to know, never taking her eyes off of her mother. Why didn't Shelby ever tell her that she already knew Cassandra July? Thinking back on all of the conversations Rachel had with her mother, she realized she probably never mentioned her dance instructor's name, to her disdain.
Shelby watched, amused, as Cassandra seductively swayed her hips to the music, walking around the room and clapping her hands to the beat, examining everyone's work. "You're all sloppy! Straighten up and dance sexier! That's what the Tango is all about: I've said it too many times to have to repeat myself again!"
Cassie's outfit did wonders for her body; something Shelby had always been admittedly envious of. When the Tango ended, Cassandra snapped out, "Get into groups, choreograph a Tango number, I want to see it performed and done excruciatingly well by next Thursday without complaint. Weston, get your talented little ass away from Schwimmer's group, you don't belong over there and you know it plain as day."
The boy named Brody Weston briskly changed directions, heading towards a different bunch of people, much to Rachel's apparent disapproval, Shelby couldn't help but notice. Rach seemed to have a pretty big crush on the kid, and it was obviously noticeable to both her mother and her teacher; something that Cassandra was quite happily using to her advantage.
Since the class still had another half hour, the students started chatting and working on their numbers right away, meanwhile Cassandra walked over to where Shelby was leaning up against the wall, watching intently.
"So how have you really been, Shelbs? You're looking a little rough."
"No rougher than you, really. You should try to lay off on the bitch-mode for a while, though; you're freaking out my daughter."
"Is that all you came to tell me? That Ohio is being pushed to her limits? I could've told you that…" Cassie's smile was devilish and familiar. How Shelby missed that smile of hers.
"I came because she told me, and I quote, "Mom, you have to meet The Monster to fully understand how horrible she is, I can't just explain it to you,"."
Cassandra choked back a laugh, and Shelby joined her.
"Thus," Shelby concluded, "I'm here."
"I can't say I'm upset that you came to see me, Shelbs, but I can't say I'm happy either."
"Of course you can't, otherwise I would think you're sick or something," Shelby rolled her eyes mockingly. "You and I should go out sometime. Or else you can come over to my apartment so we can catch up."
"Yeah, I might work it into my schedule,"
Shelby grabbed Cassandra by the hand and wrote her number on it in black sharpie. "Well, when you figure your schedule out, Miss I've-always-been-better-than-you, let me know,"
Cassie was tempted to hug Shelby and tell her just how much she had missed her best friend over the years, but thought better of it, remembering that there were students still in her classroom who weren't aware that their teacher wasn't allergic to the whole spectrum of human emotion. "I will," she promised.
Rachel glared with disgust.
Thanks again, and don't forget to review and tell me your thoughts! :)
~~hayleynymphadora
