A Weekend in the Hamptons. Noah Puckerman had a tough decision: protect his best friend's reputation or stop a gossip-mongering TV show from invading his ex-wife's wedding…especially since he was still in love with her, himself.
"The Philadelphia Story" is a play (and movie) about the wedding of a wealthy divorcee to a stuffy "man of the people" and the hijinks that ensue when a reporter and photographer from "Spy Magazine" descend upon the wedding in return for not running a scandalous story about an affair between the young woman's father and a showgirl. The film is a classic; Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant were brilliant as the ex-spouses, and James Stewart won an Academy Award for his performance as the writer. The supporting cast included Ruth Hussey as the sardonic photographer and Virginia Weidler as the precocious pre-teen sister.
In any case, I've loosely borrowed the plot, fitting it within the context of the "Glee" universe, so if you've seen the movie, you already know how it ends (and if you haven't, I'd highly recommend it). Philip Barry wrote the play, and the "Glee" characters belong to Ryan Murphy and Company. As ever, plot alterations and OCs are mine; names were picked randomly and do not reflect on any "real people" who may coincidentally share them.
Chapter 1
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Ben-Israel? What's Blaine Anderson ever done to you?"
"Nothing at all, Mr. Puckerman," Jacob Ben-Israel retorted from behind his large oak desk, his mouth contorted somewhere between a smile and a sneer. "Consider it leverage; we want in at your ex's wedding, and I'll do anything to ensure that, even at the expense of Anderson's career."
"Come on, Ben-Israel, have a heart, here…Rachel doesn't deserve this, and neither does Blaine." Noah looked directly into the shorter man's eyes, volunteering, "If you have to pick on someone, pick on me. I was in that video, too…"
"Puckerman, Puckerman…" Jacob mused. "Let's face it; you're 'old news'. Nobody would be shocked that you appeared in a porno…Hell, they'd probably expect it. But, Blaine…" and Jacob air-quoted "…'squeaky clean host of a top-rated kiddie show' Anderson…well, that's another story, entirely. I'm sure you see my point."
Noah sat down, left arm resting on the armrest. Lowering his head slightly, he raised his forearm until his left hand covered his face as he shook his head ruefully, remembering the incident…
It had been Junior year of college. He, Rachel Berry (his girlfriend), Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson, Santana Lopez, Tina Cohen-Chang, and Dave Ellison (Tina's boyfriend at the time) were chilling out in Blaine's apartment, passing around a joint and a bottle of wine as they unwound after completing their midterms. The radio was set on an "oldies" station, providing a muted soundtrack to their gathering. When Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On" began, Tina burst into a fit of giggles as she cried out "O-M-G…You guys! I have the best idea…let's…make…a porno…"
"I don't think the world is ready for all this," Santana smugly announced, preening as she tossed her hair over her shoulder.
"I don't know…" Rachel pondered, considering the suggestion. Although she hadn't smoked (protecting her vocal cords), she'd been drinking, and, by now, she'd developed a contact high and was almost as "toasted" as her friends. "As an actress, it might be a good experience…as long as it stays between us."
Before she could unbutton the first button on her blouse, Noah territorially intervened: "Sorry, Baby, but 'the Puckster' doesn't share." His arm tightened around her, and he proposed, "Maybe you can be the director…"
"Oh, goody," Rachel exclaimed, grinning widely, "I've always wanted to direct. I can add this to my resume'…"
"Diva, trust me; you will not want this anywhere near your resume'", Kurt gently reminded her.
"I suppose…" she pouted.
By 3AM the following morning, they had a largely improvised, poorly acted, relatively tame (and extremely silly) little film that showed some full-frontal nudity, a modicum of kissing between Kurt and Blaine (expected) and Santana, Tina, and her boyfriend (unexpected), and not much else. They would occasionally pull it out at parties and laugh about their college exploits.
It had never seen the light of day…until now.
Noah looked up, questioning, "How the Hell did you get your hands on that, anyway, Ben-Israel? That was private property…none of my friends would ever…"
"I'm sure they're loyal to a fault, Puckerman," Jacob snidely placated. "Have you ever considered someone who wasn't your friend?"
"Tina's rat-bastard ex-boyfriend!" Noah cried out, suddenly realizing where the leak came from.
"I'm not revealing my sources," Jacob smugly replied. "Let's just say that I have the evidence and leave it at that. Now, either "Spy TV" has full access to the wedding, or the story goes public." He looked at Noah impatiently, prodding, "It's now or never, Puckerman. Your ex-wife's privacy, or your friend's career…"
"I'll talk to Rachel," Noah reluctantly acquiesced.
"Good," Jacob replied. "I'm sure you made a wise decision. Give me a minute, I'll call my team in so you can meet them." He pressed a button on his desk phone, lifted the receiver and spoke into it, "Yes, Ms. Zizes…Please send Fabray and Evans to my office immediately."
"I've agreed to your terms; may I have the disc, please?" Noah requested, his hand outstretched.
"Leverage, Mr. Puckerman, leverage," Jacob reminded him. "You'll get it back once I have my story. And, if I must say so myself, it was quite a disappointment. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of the fair Ms. Berry…"
"Do not ever even think about her like that, you slimeball," Noah hotly cautioned, "or my fist will be having a meeting with your face."
"Temper, temper, Puckerman," Jacob cautioned, grinning slyly. "It's obvious you still have feelings for the lady; this wedding ought to prove even better fodder for my little 'gossip gristmill' than I originally imagined."
A knock on the door stopped Noah's reply. "Enter!" Jacob called out. The door opened, and a woman and man came into the office. "Have a seat, won't you?" Jacob invited, gesturing to two empty chairs next to Noah.
The first to sit down was a woman; blonde, slim, and attractive. In the seat next to her, a young man with a boyish face and a toned physique settled himself.
"May I introduce Quinn Fabray and Sam Evans," Jacob handled the introductions. "Quin is one of our top reporters, and Sam is as unobtrusive as a cameraman can be. Quinn and Sam, this is Noah Puckerman…"
"Say, aren't you 'Puck'?" Sam queried, shaking Noah's hand. "I was at one of your concerts a couple of years ago. It was pretty wild..."
"Yeah…well…I used to be," Noah admitted. "I've cleaned up my act and I've dropped the persona, but thanks for attending. I hope you enjoyed it."
"I did, actually," Sam admitted. "Your band put on a good show."
"Well, I'm sure you're always happy to meet a fan, Puckerman," Jacob interjected, "but I've got 'bigger fish to fry' today. If you'll give me the address, you can expect my team there first thing tomorrow. That'll give them a couple of days to gather background information before the wedding." He paused, looking Noah directly in the eyes before continuing, "Oh, and thanks, Puckerman, for making this so easy."
"Yeah…whatever…" Noah glumly conceded, taking the piece of paper that Jacob handed him. He hastily scrawled the address of his (former) home in the Hamptons and passed it back to its originator. Standing up, he announced, "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you both tomorrow," and walked out of the office.
As he made his way to the elevator, he mused, "Holy shit…I'd better get my ass over there and warn Rach before the vultures descend…"
Author's Note: Like the proverbial "bad penny", I'm back. ;-)