She sat at the head of the conference table with a commandeering façade, never breaking face as one of her employees draws out yet another plan for their next step towards taking over the magazine industry in New York. There's a slideshow of a poorly made cover, just the way she likes it, like a collage of ideas patched up.
"… And so we can branch out to wider areas and audiences with this new plan. A music magazine where up and coming musicians and A-listers can be interwoven together…"
She drowns out the voice as she thinks back to almost eight years ago. At 18, Lucy Quinn Fabray left her old, rebellious and pitiful self in the town of Lima ten years ago and moved on to New York after finishing her English degree for four years in Princeton, with her new, true self. Now at 24, she started Scribbles and Shots Publishing, a travel magazine, "Wandering Eye", which became an instant hit and then expanded to a fashion magazine, "Spotlight", which she all has hands on influence and final approval. Now at 26, the head bitch is still so in charge minus the immaturity of her words. She rarely spoke a lot but when she did, it always made sense. There, she built a wall of protection so that her private life and public life were two separate entities that existed separately. The private one being the same Quinn who loved to sing and dance, who loved to go to art museums and would rather waste her free day at Barnes and Noble reading books, who preferred traveling to Europe on her long vacations to take pictures of places she stuck on her bedside wall, the Quinn who never forgot the New Directions, the club that brought out the best and worst in her, the club that opened opportunities to her that she never thought she would, the club that introduced her to her heart's desire that she so idiotically screwed up.
Samuel Michael Evans.
"Miss Fabray?" A voice snaps her out of her reverie. She looks towards the source of the voice, her assistant who sat next to her in the form of her second-in-command, Santana Lopez. The Latina jerked her head towards the people waiting for her final say. She had five investors here, including herself.
"What do you say about that Miss Holiday?" She asks her former Spanish and Glee adviser substitute, who she so happens to have stumbled upon over at an acoustic bar one night and a friendship bloomed from there on.
"You know how much I love the music, Miss Fabray," Holly replied, smiling at the other blonde. "It's a yes for me and if we can get that thing rolling in perfect shape, I would very much prefer that."
Quinn nodded as Santana jotted down on her notepad. Quinn never thought Santana would settle to being second best but the Latina had no choice when her abuela kicked her out a decade ago for being a lesbian and when Brittany went on constant tours, dancing for famous people that they split up, leaving a heartbroken Santana that she went to Quinn for support.
"Mr. Chang?" She asked the old Asian man who is the father of one of her close friends, Mike. He opened up to the arts when Mike got into Baltimore School of the Arts and somehow, Brittany informed Mike of Quinn's plan to launch a magazine and Mike knew his dad would be on board any business with potential.
"I have doubts with this one seeing as there are numerous amounts of music magazines out there such as Rolling Stones and all that but I think if we went to the right people to be the monthly content and if we have an incredible advertising team, that we can actually do this thing, so it's a yes," the Asian man replied confidently.
Quinn once again nodded. "Mrs. McGuire?" She asks her old journalism professor who had so much influence on her writing whom she happens to have opened the idea of launching her own magazine. "I'll be a third yes to that."
And finally, she looked over to the last investor, surprisingly, the rock star that was her baby's daddy, Puck. "No need to ask the Puckasaurus because as the only legitimate rock star in this conference, I say yes!" Everyone chuckled at his antics, as his words are all true. He dropped out in his junior year in a community college in Lima as his own four-man rock band made it to open a local Fueled By Ramen band and things worked out from there. Well at least, it did in New York. Puck's band "Four O'Clock Sharp" is only known in that area but that was good enough at the moment.
"I guess this was a positive conference then," Quinn said, voice still all too powerful. "Kyle," she addressed the project manager who was now smiling with relief as his product got approved. "I want you to form your teams and show us an initial issue in a month. This meeting is adjourned." Quinn stood up and left without so much as a word and straight to her office.
She went straight to the wide glass overlooking the streets of New York. She loved looking over this view as it made her forget shit, made her think of new art musings she could make, and it calms her soul. That was until her black oak door shuts quite loudly, making her thoughts disappear. She turns around, meeting a pair of dark eyes. This wasn't her assistant looking back at her. It was her best friend.
"What do you want, San?" She says rather annoyingly as she pulls out her extra large chair to sit on.
"Mind telling me what's up?" The Latina remarks as she sits down one of the plush black chairs.
"It's not really-" the Latina cuts off Quinn.
"And this isn't what I'm getting paid for but this is what I signed up for when I decided to be your best friend. So what the fuck is going on?"
"It's nothing bad, S," she gives in to her friend. Santana lolled her head to the side, giving her blonde friend another chance to open up to her. The blonde internally debated whether or not to open up to her friend. "Okay, fine. It's the fourteenth of March if you must know and less than 10 years ago-"
Santana's mind zoomed back to the date and it clicked. "And it was when I stole him away from you." Sam's name was taboo to them, in an unspoken agreement. The same way Brittany was taboo to them as well.
Quinn pursed her lips. "I'd really like to be alone now."
"I was sorry for that, Q," Santana explained but was cut off. "He was-"
"What you did was long forgotten and to be honest, it all still boils down to me. It was my fault. I just… I didn't expect to still be this hung up on him."
"Let's go have fun tonight," Santana brightened. She stood up and took Quinn's arms as the blonde protests. "Come on, Q. It's Friday, I know your schedule and that meeting was the last of it for now."
"It's five in the afternoon!" She argued.
"And so? Do you have a fucking curfew? No, you don't. We share an apartment, woman! Puck's here and we're hanging with him and his friends!" The Latina argued back.
"I'm not sleeping with any of them! You and Puck need to stop setting me up with his friends!" The blonde shrieked but one full pull and she knew she lost the fight.
"Who says you have to? Now come on! I heard Tina's coming with Mike and Berry's gonna try to catch up after her show. Let's just go!"
He riffled through some ads as the afternoon coffee shop wasn't as busy. Sam juggled on multiple jobs between being a barista in the morning, a delivery boy in the afternoon, and a musician at night. He's on the process of recording some oh his old stuff so he can try and distribute his music to people who has influences. Living in LA has made his life quite a hassle. He did college at CSUN for four years, taking Music, and so far, he's gotten quite a few nightly gigs here and there which supplemented his income. However, he hasn't cemented his name yet out there. The blonde had a couple of contacts, most of whom are budding artists like him whom he tries to collaborate as much as he could, posting Youtube videos online, doing gigs and all that. He refused bands because he likes working alone most of the time. He didn't want the drama of it all.
He sighs. He wanted more. More from the Hollywood life he doesn't exactly want but the need to be out there, to be heard. He just wants his music to be something people sang along with.
His break begins in five minutes as his phone rings. He figures he'd take the call seeing as it was a slow day for them and so he heads to the back room to sit down and answer the call.
"Yep?"
"Hey Sam!" The voice from the other line greeted.
"Hey, how's it going?" The two exchanged a few niceties a few more seconds before the person on the other line went straight to the point.
"So listen, remember how I moved here to New York to work for a magazine? Yeah, they approved my project proposal of branching out to the music stuff and I instantly thought of my old room mate who endlessly woke me up at night recording stuff on his computer."
"Oh wow, congratulations!"
"Thanks! Now, I wanna get your input this stuff. I have to have the initial issue in a month so we're trying to get a lot of people on board."
"That sounds really awesome but between my two jobs, I'm not sure how I could help you out as much as I want to," the blonde replies to his old friend.
"Hey man, no worries. I'm offering you a killer position here. I'm making the final team list and if you grab this job, you'd be in for a pretty nice life."
As much as it sounds tempting, Sam can't help but reply an "I'll think about it" line on his friend before going back to work. Uprooting his LA life in favor of a much more expensive NY life can be a tough decision to make especially when you're 26 and with no stable job.
His iPhone pinged, signaling a new message. Just as his old friend said, Kyle had emailed him the information for the job. They wanted him to be an article writer and correspondent based in either LA or New York, all expenses paid for the first month if he chooses the latter.
Sam really wasn't the writing time because he only wrote for his music. He didn't know what's going to happen to him in New York. At least in LA, he knew what's going to happen in his daily life, like he had this routine down for the last couple of years in his life. What does New York have that LA doesn't?
Later that night as he sat in his bed, he scoured the Internet to learn the basics of New York, comparing them to LA, doing the whole pros-cons list just so he can decide. He could've said no in an instant but somehow, it's like his mind is telling him to reconsider. He asked himself, what did New York have over LA again and again when BAM.
He suddenly came across an article about a charity show by a band called Four O'Clock Sharp in Central Park, the starting sentence being "Noah Puckerman of the band Four O'Clock Sharp shares…"
And just like that, he calls Kyle back, confirms the six-month job stint and accepts the offer. After all, it's just 6 months and if Puck could've made it to New York, then who knew who else from the New Directions made it to the Big Apple? He wouldn't admit it but he missed his old club greatly and Puck is one step closer to home.
If home meant Quinn, then that's what's pushing him to move to New York.
A/N: Hi! So this has been on my mind for quite some time now. Slow start but I needed to build stuff up. I can't promise daily updates because of school but I'll do my best especially when I'm inspired. Happy 2012! Reviews?