A/N: Sometimes when the muse calls, you have to answer! I hope you enjoy this first chapter of 'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy!' Don't worry, I'm still writing Together We'll Be, and I promise this fic won't interfere with updates! I just want to thank all of my girls for encouraging me, but want to send a special shout out to Sma, Gabi, Deb, Ems, my bee Ava and OF COURSE to my beloved, perfect twinsie for being my Beta, putting up with me and my rambling in the wee hours of the morning1 Love you all! Don't forget to follow me on tumblr: ladeefinchel. Please enjoy, and let me know what you think!
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"He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way;
He had a boogie style that no one else could play!"
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November, 1941.
Rachel tugged her burgundy coat tight around her small frame, holding her white pocketbook to her chest as she kept her head down against the harsh early November wind. The buildings did little to block the Autumn bluster, coming together to form an almost dangerous wind tunnel instead. She reached up to hold her pillbox hat to the top of her head as she turned the corner, relaxing when she was no longer walking into the wind. She sighed, straightening her coat and hurrying up the avenue, her cream heels clipping daintily against the filthy concrete. Rachel kept her eyes peeled for "Club Norman," one of the up and coming nightclubs in uptown Manhattan. She had been offered the audition after a broadway director decided she would be better suited for his brother's club than his musical. Rachel had never imagined herself singing in a nightclub, although she had to admit the idea sounded rather glamorous. She lost herself in a hazy daydream, hope filling her heart as she imagined herself wearing a beautiful evening gown, fronting a brilliant orchestra led by a trombonist like Jimmy Dorsey. Perhaps a beautiful couple rivaling Fred and Ginger would awe the club's patrons as they twirled on the dance floor in front of her, inspired by the brass notes of the band and her soulful voice.
By the time she spotted the neon sign, the blue and pink dull in the light of day, Rachel had dreamt up her whole career. She would hit it big in the swing and jazz circuit, and soon she would travel to all of America's beloved cities. New York, Chicago, Los Angeles. A hot shot, cigar-chomping producer would spot her and snag her for his next picture, where she would capture the heart of America. Rachel stood in front of the heavy club door, carried away by the beauty of her dreams.
"Gonna go in, girlie?" A slim gentleman asked, pushing past her to open the door, "You one of them dames comin' in for singin' auditions?"
"Yes sir," Rachel blushed, caught off guard, "Are you the manager? A Will Schuester?" The man laughed, shaking his head.
"Oh, God no. I'm the bartender at this here joint. The name's Jake." He held out his hand, still holding the door open with his foot. Rachel, always one to be polite, took his hand.
"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Jake," she said quietly, "My name's Rachel Berry."
"Whoa now, little miss," Jake chortled, "Drop the mister, will ya? I've already got enough gray hair to make me feel like an old man. Don't need pretty dames like you callin' me 'mister' helpin' age get the upper hand. Now come on in before we catch our deaths, yeah?" He nodded into the club and, taking the hint, Rachel hurried in front of him. She unbuttoned her coat as she let her eyes adjust to the dim interior light, charmed by art deco façade and merry color scheme.
Yes, she could definitely imagine Fred and Ginger 'dancing cheek to cheek' in a place like this. Her eyes fell on the glittering stage, where a decent sized orchestra was setting up their instruments. Were they actually going to have her audition with the full band? Rachel bit her lip nervously, watching as a tall man with his back turned to her wrote notes on a sheet of music. The words printed on the front of the sleek black drum kit read "Finn Hudson and his Orchestra." Finn Hudson. Hudson. Why did that name sound so familiar?
"Gotcha another one, Schue," Jake said, squeezing Rachel's shoulder before slipping behind the bar, shrugging off his coat and bowler hat. Another man with curly, sand-colored hair stepped forward, offering Rachel his hand.
"You hear for the songbird position, sweetheart?" He asked, giving her hand a squeeze before letting go. Rachel nodded, tearing her eyes from the orchestra and the broad shoulders she guessed belonged to the mystery man, Finn Hudson.
"Yes sir," she said sweetly, pulling off her dainty white gloves and tucking them into her coat pocket, "Where should I put my things?"
"Oh, we're having all of you ladies wait in the back room," he said kindly, nodding over his shoulder before leading the way, "Had a bigger turn out than I expected. Guess the word is getting out about my little club and the talent I've been able to wrangle up."
"Oh, there are other girls here now?" Rachel asked, "I had been under the impression that it was a scheduled audition." Will glanced back at her, raising an eyebrow.
"Scheduled? What do ya think this is, the New York Ballet?" He laughed under his breath at his own joke while Rachel bristled. She had been under the impression that the undeniable talent the broadway director had seen in her landed her a scheduled audition at Manhattan's newest hotspot. She huffed as she followed the manager to the back, embarrassed that she had let her pride and belief in her own talent steal her away from reality yet again. Of course the director had just given her the time and date of an open call, probably just eager to get the ambitious young woman out of his auditorium.
"Here we are," Will said kindly, opening a door and stepping aside to let her in, "We'll be back to get the first girl as soon as Hudson's got the orchestra warmed up." Rachel nodded, jumping a little as the door closed with a snap behind her. She smiled at the other girls in the room as she shrugged her coat off of her shoulders, sighing inwardly when she counted at least ten would be "songbirds." She found an empty seat on a paisley sofa next to a busty blonde, her neckline barely decent for public. Glancing around the room, Rachel suddenly felt rather inappropriately dressed herself. The other women were sultry, wearing dark colors and scandalously cut dresses. She glanced down at her own tan pencil skirt and neatly tucked-in black blouse, biting her lip as she absorbed the difference. She reached up to unpin her hat from her hair, setting it on her lap as they waited for the auditions to begin.
"Did anyone get a good look at him?" she heard one girl near the front door ask her companions, dabbing on more rouge to her already flaming cheeks, "Hudson? Yowza is he a tall one."
"A lot taller than he looked in the pictures!" Another girl piped in, fiddling with her earring, "that's for sure! I wonder if he's handsomer, too."
"More handsome, Lydia," the first girl corrected, rolling her eyes as she smacked her gum, "Jesus, how are ya gonna get a job when you say dumb things like that. Anyway, yeah. I wouldn't toss him out of my dressing room. Don't know about you ladies."
Rachel sat in shock, listening. Finn Hudson. Finn Hudson and his Orchestra. Of course his name sounded familiar. The young, handsome trumpet player from out Chicago way was quickly becoming a household name across the country, known for the numbers he and his orchestra performed in pictures with such notables as Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland, Bing Crosby, and even the same Fred and Ginger she had imagined spinning across the art deco dance floor. She patted her cheeks, trying to cool the blush. Rachel Berry was rarely nervous when she went on auditions, but this was fast becoming one of the few exceptions. She knew a chance to work with Finn Hudson could help get her name in the spotlight, earn her an audience with the entertainment industry's biggest players. She imagined the way he had smiled before playing his trumpet in the last Rooney/Garland film she saw, and her heart gave a squeeze for a new reason. How was she supposed to stay professional if he shot her a smile like that?
A professional looking young lady, Will's assistant or secretary Rachel guessed, called the first girl up to audition. She blew her friends a kiss before following the secretary out the door. One by one the young women were called into the main room to sing until only Rachel and two others remained. Ignoring the others' empty gossip, Rachel reapplied her fire engine red lipstick, blotting her lips delicately on a white hankie. She tucked her compact and make-up back into her bag, going over her song in her head as she waited. She sighed when she was finally left alone in the room, dabbing at the hint of sweat on her forehead. At long last, she was called back onto the dance floor for her audition. Rachel took a deep breath as she stood, smoothing her skirt and making sure her blouse was properly tucked-in.
With her head held high, Rachel followed the other girl into the main part of the club. She breathed evenly, reminding herself that she was a star in the making and that she had been on too many auditions to count on her fingers. Surely this one would be no different. She flashed Will her brightest smile as she crossed to the stage, her cream heels tapping against the linoleum of the dance floor. She glanced up at the bandstand, where Finn Hudson stood watching her. He smiled easily when her eyes caught his and he held out his hand, taking hers gently.
"I'm Finn Hudson," he said simply, his deep voice both masculine and melodious. He squeezed her hand gently before dropping it and asked, "Know what song you would like us to play Miss…?" He raised an eyebrow, still smiling.
"Berry," Rachel said quickly, her confidence soaring under Finn's gentle gaze, "Rachel Berry. And could you please play 'The Glory of Love' in the style of Benny Goodman? Only, if you could pick up the pace a little bit, that would be fantastic." Finn nodded, amused.
"Of course, Miss Berry." He winked at her then turned to his orchestra, giving them notes on how to play the song. With another blinding smile Rachel stepped towards the microphone. Will leaned back in his chair and whispered something to his secretary who nodded and began to jot down notes on the legal pad in her hand. The manager nodded to her, encouraging her to begin.
"My name is Rachel Barbra Berry," she said, her voice strong and confident, "And I'll be performing 'The Glory of Love' as made famous by the flawless Benny Goodman and his orchestra." She nodded over her shoulder at Finn who immediately turned back to his orchestra, tapping his toes against the stage to count them in before lifting his trumpet to his lips to join them. Rachel felt a little thrill race down her spine as the trumpet began playing, pulling the arrangement together. She grinned, bobbing her shoulders in a cute little dance, vamping as she waited for her cue.
"You've gotta give a little, take a little," Rachel sang, twisting her hips lightly to the brass rhythm, "and let your poor heart break a little. That's the story of, that's the glory of love!"
She smiled as she belted out the popular tune, the familiar energy that came with performing coursing through her veins. She lifted her arms and moved side to side as she sang, ignoring her audience and losing herself in the upbeat song.
"You've got to laugh a little, cry a little, until the clouds roll by a little," she continued, shooting a coy wink in the general direction of the manager, "That's the story of, that's the glory of love."
"As long as there's the two of us, we've got the world and all it's charms!" she smiled at Finn who had paused for a couple of measures, including him in her performance before playing up the audience again, "And when the world is through with us, we've got each other's arms!" The singer and the trumpet player shared a smile as he licked his lips before lifting his instrument again.
"You've got to win a little, lose a little, yes, and always have the blues a little! That's the story of, that's the glory of love!" Rachel improvised a little swing routine as the band played before clapping her hands and slipping into a well-rehearsed time step, her heels tapping against the linoleum floor. She ended by holding a hand toward Finn and the orchestra as they finished the song, grinning at the band leader. He nodded his approval at her as he set his trumpet down, smiling.
"Well done, Miss Berry," Will applauded, standing up and stepping forward to shake her hand, "Quite impressive." He glanced at the young band leader who had come up to stand just behind Rachel on the stage. Rachel looked over her shoulder just in time to see Finn bob his head in a nod, still grinning. Will sighed and turned back to the young singer.
"Looks like we've narrowed it down to you and two other girls," he told her, his voice kind as he shrugged, "If we could ask you to step back into my office while we discuss a few things?" Rachel nodded, risking another glance at Finn who winked at her for the second time that day. Blushing, she followed the secretary into another back room which served as Will's office. The other two girls glanced up when she entered, obviously disappointed that there was more competition. They turned back to their magazines as Will's assistant left, leaving the door open a crack. Rachel sat near the door, hoping to be able to hear the mini-conference taking place in the club. After a few minutes the sound of voices carried into the room, causing Rachel's companions to take notice as well.
"I don't know, Hudson," Will said, "They were all damn talented in their own right."
"C'mon Will," Finn chuckled, "That Rachel girl had a voice that was out of this world. She's got a knack for performing, too."
"Yeah, she was great," the manager agreed as the three waiting girls strained to hear him, "But she came across as kind of a virginal sweetheart, don't ya think? Almost like she belongs onscreen with Shirley Temple, not in a nightclub."
Rachel felt her cheeks flush, sure they were a deep scarlett. She heard the other girls snicker at Will's assessment of her and fought back frustrated tears. It was always something. No, her voice was never a problem. If there was one thing Rachel was sure of it was her talent. Still, she was always told she was too short, her nose was too big, she wasn't pretty enough. Now it was virginal. Well, if she had to dress like a common harlot to procure a job, no thank you.
"That's ridiculous," Finn argued, making Rachel's heart swell with gratitude and affection for the young man, "I thought she looked amazing. Wholesome, I guess. Like a real girl you could meet on the street." Will sighed.
"But what about Leanne?" He asked, causing the blonde next to Rachel to perk up, "She had a rather seductive quality to her performance. She reminds me of Jean Harlowe."
"Her voice wasn't much, though," Finn countered, "And Grace just stood there while she sang. No performance skills. I'm telling you, Will, Rachel Berry is the way to go." Rachel tried not to smile, painfully aware of the glares from the other girls as the handsome young trumpet player championed for her.
"What makes you so sure?"
"Did you not see the way she moved to the rhythm of the band?" Finn asked, "Or the way she interacted with me during the song? Not to mention the fact that she tapped. People love tap. She's a natural."
"You think there's something special about her?" Will asked, resignation in his voice.
"I know there is," Finn reassured him, "Rachel's the girl for this club."
"Alright. Guess there's nothing to do but let them know, huh?"
The girls rushed to make themselves look busy as footsteps began to sound down the hallway. Rachel sat on the edge of a chair, suddenly absorbed in the state of her cuticles when the door swung open. Will stepped into his office, Finn following behind him. His amber eyes caught Rachel's and he gave a tiny nod as the manager dove into a longwinded speech about talent and finding one's place. Finally, he apologized to the other girls and turned to Rachel, smiling.
"So, congratulations to Rachel Berry, Club Norman's new songbird." Rachel stood and shook his head, a wide smile brightening her face.
"I'm thrilled," she said, sneaking another peak at Finn, "When do I start work?"
"You're welcome to begin rehearsing with us this afternoon," Finn said, stepping forward before Will could answer, "Maybe even sing a song or two tonight?" He raised his eyebrows, looking over his shoulder at the manager. "How does that sound, Will?"
"Marvelous," he answered, "Rachel, if you could leave your measurements with our secretary, Maryanne, she'll be able to find you something to wear." With that he ushered the other girls out of the room, leaving Rachel standing alone with Finn.
"I can't believe he picked me," she whispered, trying to see if he would spill about the little meeting she had overheard.
"You're an amazing singer," the trumpet player said softly, his friendly smile setting Rachel at ease, "And I think you're a natural at performing too." He held out his arm playfully. "Come with me, Rachel. We better get to rehearsing if you're going to wow at your Club Norman debut tonight." With a shy blush painting her cheeks a light pink, she slipped her hand through his arm and allowed him to lead her back to the club's stage.
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A/N: The opening quote is from "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy," sung by The Andrews' Sisters, which is the song that inspired this fic. The song Rachel sings is "The Glory of Love" as made famous by Benny Goodman and his orchestra! Remember, Reviews are love!