Take the note at the beginning of Chapter One, rinse, repeat. Add that wood-u-like-2-no came up with the idea for Finn's furtive phone fun.
Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. This one is by the Hollies, released as a single in 1972, long after Graham Nash left them to play footsies with David Crosby, Stephen Stills and Neil Young.
+...+
Chapter Two: Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress
Would this be the one where she would finally do it?
Quinn Fabray stared at the spot where the wallpaper was peeling away, high in the corner of the waiting room. It was a room crowded with other women who looked just like her except that most of them were taller. At 5'6", she was on the short side for a role that called for a statuesque and icy blonde.
Icy was in her milieu her agent had said. That was without him knowing of the persona she'd assumed in high school long before the acting classes began. As for the statuesque part, he'd suggested heels. Quinn looked down at her feet. She'd bought them specially. She hoped that the extra five inches that threatened to topple her over and the $200 she could ill afford were worth it. The tight-fitting knee-length black dress she'd borrowed with the modest split at the side and a smooth chignon completed the image.
When Quinn Fabray arrived in Hollywood after five years of theatre in New York, she had beauty, passion and strong principles. So did everybody else who arrived in Hollywood, except for maybe the principles. Quinn still had the beauty in spades, and despite those around her getting younger by the day, she did not doubt it. Years before, she had chosen the face after all and Quinn had taste. Her passion was still there too but it was being pummelled to a pulp by the paucity of her achievements. In three years, she had twelve credits to her name. They were spread across a number of TV shows, a couple of horror remakes, and one very small role in a good movie. It was one of Finn's movies and getting the part marked the beginning of the erosion of her principles.
Quinn had observed Finn's rise to stardom from a distance with disbelief tinged with envy wrapped in fond admiration. Like her, Finn had come to acting late, both manifesting the interest in the closing months of their final year at McKinley. Quinn had followed the sensible path of perceived wisdom. She'd gone to Yale, got her degree, and then, with the financial support of her mom, spent years honing her craft in theatre with supporting parts in plays and in the chorus lines of musicals. She'd done off Broadway, she'd toured, she'd done dinner theatre; she'd done everything right. Finn did none of that. He'd fallen in and out of the army and then fell straight into making it big in Hollywood. If it was an object lesson in anything, it was in the place of sheer dumb luck in the entertainment industry.
When Quinn came to Hollywood, Finn was already a rapidly rising star. Once she was settled, Quinn had called him as an old friend but also in the knowledge that he could be a useful contact for her. Finn was happy to hear from her and to learn that she was in Hollywood. She was astonished to hear that Puck was living with Finn in a luxury apartment complex on Wilshire. She accepted an invitation to join them for dinner there. The evening went well, just the three of them catching up with each other. The wine flowed, particularly for the men, inhibitions diminished, and the reminiscences, seen through more mature eyes, were reflective. With diminished inhibitions came Puck telling Quinn drunkenly that she needn't look too hard for jobs as she could always get parts in Finn's movies. This stung her pride. With reflective reminiscences came Finn speculating on what would have happened if he'd never learned that Quinn's baby wasn't his. This stung her conscience and had a salutary effect on Quinn's desire to use Finn in any way whatsoever. It was on that night that she swore to herself that she would not ask Finn to help her secure roles.
Everybody used everybody, especially in Hollywood, but she kept the oath for a long time. She kept it when the jobs didn't fall at her feet. She kept it when, down to the last two in two different pilots, she was not offered either. She kept it even after her mother remarried. The new husband equated acting with prostitution and persuaded Quinn's mother that Quinn was teetering on the precipice of the burning abyss of Hell. There were times Quinn reckoned that he wasn't far off the mark. Whether he was right or wrong, the financial support stopped. She kept her oath until the day she was offered her first industry job in a month and it was for a Korean commercial for condoms. She said no and called Finn. Finn leapt at the chance to help. The movie he was on was already pretty much cast but he persuaded the producer to try her out for a small part.
Quinn hadn't seen Finn since the movie. He'd been busy being famous and she'd been busy keeping the cockroach population down to under a million in her room at the misnamed Luxury Hills Complex and Motel. Puck had called her a couple of times, trying to arrange for her to come to Finn's place for dinner again and once for a big party. She'd turned him down, not wanting to admit that her evenings were taken up with either waitressing at a downtown diner or performing dinner theatre. The party would have been a great opportunity to get her face in front of people who could help, so it wasn't just her wounded pride. It was necessity. She couldn't afford to lose the jobs that paid. Finn had called a few times too, the last time to ask if she had heard about the auditions for an HBO show he knew about as there was a part that might suit her.
A call to her agent about the HBO show led her here to this room with the crowd of look-alike women and the wallpaper peeling away in the corner near the ceiling. She sighed and really hoped that the shoes didn't send her flying. The next name was called. It wasn't hers. She stared at the door that another icy blonde disappeared behind and idly wondered again whether in the room beyond was the person to whom she'd finally force herself to offer sex in exchange for a part.
+...+
Finn rubbed the back of his neck, trying to massage the tension in his muscles. Maybe Amy was right, he conceded, maybe he was taking his role as exec producer too damn seriously and he should just go home and be one of the actors. He was more here for Ben. Amy had banned Ben from the process on the grounds that writers were pains in the neck in general and in particular when they were too attached to the physical appearances of the characters they'd created. Amy couldn't, or didn't want to suppress Finn's active involvement so he saw it as his job to try and get a balance between what Ben would find acceptable and what Amy demanded. To placate Ben, he was furtively recording some of the more promising candidates on his phone to show him later.
They'd been casting for two weeks. Today, they were looking for Sophie Cantor and the guy they were pretty sure was going to play Theo was sitting at the side, ready to read with any likely candidates. Normally, they would do this at call backs but time was pressing on them and they were starting to take shortcuts.
Finn wasn't impressed with the woman in front of them but he would never show it. He'd done auditions and he had too much sympathy for the actors going through them to evince negative reactions. So he had to hide the relief when Amy didn't ask her to read with John Iverson. Amy thanked the actress who simpered for a moment, throwing Finn a clear invitation to fuck her, and then left.
"Everyone agree she's not right?"
It was Amy's call but she had the grace to get opinions from the others along the table, the assistant producer, the casting director, one of the guys who'd signed up to direct the first three episodes, a man named Wally Worth which amused Finn greatly and who was the liaison with the network, and Finn. Finn nodded along with the rest.
"Okay," Amy said, "next?"
The door opened and Finn's eyes widened in joy. "Quinn!"
Finn leapt up from the table and ran over to her, picking her up with his bear hug. He kept hold of her when he set her down, immediately feeling that she wasn't steady on her feet.
"F-Finn," she stuttered, "I-I had no idea you were actually attached to this."
"Yeah," he said, releasing and running his hand through his hair. "It's starting to get out there but we're not making a big thing of it yet. Anyway," he said quickly, darting a glance back at the table where eyes watched them with a mixture of interest and impatience, "we must have dinner, catch up, okay? Promise me!"
Finn knew she was aware of the audience and that he was forcing her to agree but he wasn't sorry for doing it. Both he and Puck wanted to see her again socially and she kept fending them off. This was the perfect time for cornering her.
Quinn nodded and Finn bent to kiss her cheek. "Great," he said. "For now, good luck!"
He gave her the thumbs up. Quinn nodded, taking deep breaths to get back the focus that Finn's appearance and extraction of her promise had shattered. Finn raced back to the table and retook his place, looking forward to seeing Quinn's work, his finger hovering over his phone.
+...+
"Quinn Fabray," Amy said, scanning her photo and résumé, "don't I remember you?"
"Yes," said Quinn, her breathing steady and her confidence rebuilding, "yes, I hope so, Ms. Trudeau. You hired me for Mimi on Traders Drift." She quickly tried to assess the likely identities of the three women and the other two men staring at her.
"Ah, yes, I remember." Amy cast a sidelong glance at Finn. "You did a good job on that. It was a tiny part but I remember you really connected with the screen. And you were…" Amy rustled through the papers on her desk. "That's right. You and Finn went to high school together?"
Quinn nodded. "Yes, in Ohio. We, uh," she paused, glancing at Finn who in turn was staring at Amy. He clearly wasn't anticipating the interest in their mutual past. "We were in glee club together."
"Yes," Amy mused. "I remember now. I seem to recall something about you being sweethearts once or something wasn't it?"
Quinn saw the left eyebrow of one of the unknown men on the panel rise in interest. She hurried to correct the impression of puppies and rainbows that he seemed to be imagining.
"Not for long," she said. "Finn dumped me," she added cheerfully, keeping it light-hearted, "twice."
Quinn thought she could see Finn squirming in the corner of her eye. The man with the eyebrow was moving his head back and forth to stare at each of them appraisingly.
"In my defence," Finn said plaintively, "I was pretty stupid in high school."
Everyone in the room laughed, including the two former Lima students, and the awkward moment was over.
Amy pressed on. "Okay, Quinn. Let's see what you have for us today."
In preparing for the audition, Quinn had thought about what they might be looking for. Everything pointed to them wanting an icy blonde with layers and Quinn reckoned that was either Chandler or Hitchcock, so she'd spliced two scenes from Marnie to show off that character's initial reserve and her later breakdown when revealing her childhood. It was risky. Her agent had suggested going classical, suggesting Ibsen, but she got much more of a film noir than cracked façade vibe and stuck with her instincts.
When she had finished, she stared at the panel, trying to gauge reactions. Finn was grinning, but that might not mean much. He was an old friend.
"Thank you, Quinn," Amy said. "Um, would you take a couple of minutes to look at this scene, please?" Amy held out a piece of paper and then pointed to a man at the side. "This is John Iverson," Amy continued. "He's here to help us by reading Theo for us with prospective Sophies. I'd like to see you two give this a go – not all of it, of course, but enough for us to get the idea. And don't worry about Finn recording it. I'm confiscating his phone before we finish tonight."
Quinn had no idea what the woman was talking about so she simply smiled, taking Finn's deep blush and the phone in his hand in with a sidelong glance. She turned to the actor Amy had introduced and nodded a greeting before looking down at the script. All she could think as she perused it was, "Help me, Jesus!"
Drumm: Chapter Two
1pm
"What's this?"
Theo Drummond was feeling hot, sweaty and bothered, mostly bothered. His temper was never sweet. Today it was astringent. Sid was used to it. He only ducked when it was caustic.
"What does it look like?"
Theo glared at the large brown envelope he was holding up in his hand. "It looks like an envelope."
"Well, that's probably what it is."
"When you were my sergeant, you could talk to me like that. When I'm your boss, like now, you're supposed to give me respect, old man."
"When you deserve it, you'll get it," Sid replied as he made his way to the door.
"You move awfully fast with that cane when you want to, old-"
The door slammed shut. Theo smiled to himself. He and Sid went way back, to Theo's first days on the force. Sid had been invalided out when his arthritis crippled his hands. He'd joined Drummond Investigations as office manager the next day. His greatest worth was in the contacts he maintained in the police and how many he could persuade to pass him useful information. Officers who would shun Theo, loved Sid.
Theo sat at his desk, staring down at the envelope. He wasn't expecting anything, he didn't want anything – his plate was overfull – and he knew unknown packages often contained nasty surprises. He ripped open the envelope and spilled the contents onto his desk.
"Go, baby brother," he breathed as he scrutinised the photos before remembering to be mad at Sid who could have just told him that it was the report on Harvey Williams. He read the report and sorted through the pictures that clearly established that Mr. Williams was a dirty boy.
He punched the intercom.
"Sid! SID!"
"What do you want," Sid barked, followed an appreciable pause, "boss?"
"Call Cliff. Tell him we've got the proof he wanted for Mrs. Williams' divorce. And next time my brother hands you a report to give to me, just tell me, will you?"
"Sure. Boss. Uh, tell you when Drumm hands in reports. Got it. You want that in person or by mail? Either way, I need the overtime." Sid punched the cut-off button, the location of which was a mystery to Theo. Theo wondered if a phone could be strangled.
Everybody called his brother "Drumm," everybody except Theo who thought it was a stupid nickname just because Tommy played the drums. Even Theo's ex-wife Lisa called Tommy "Drumm," just one in the long list of reasons why she was his ex-wife. It was bad enough for Theo when people tried to stick "Bulldog" on him, something Sid did sometimes to wind him up. He'd warned Sid that the day the others started calling him "Bulldog," he'd blow Sid's head off as an act of euthanasia. Alyssa and Mitch had a bet on whether Theo would actually do it but the possibility that he might made them both avoid using the name except under their breaths when they thought he couldn't hear. He'd made it very clear that if they insisted on giving him a new appellation, the only one he'd approve was "Sir." Mitch laughed so hard in response that a blood vessel burst in his eye, sending him to County General on Theo's dime.
Sid was right about one thing though. His brother was going through an active stage, taking every job Theo would give him. That worried Theo. Past experience told Theo that Tommy usually only cared about earning extra money was when he was doing drugs. The work he'd done spread out on Theo's desk didn't look like the efforts of somebody who was high, but Tommy had learned how to hide his addictions early. He needed to talk to his little brother.
The day Theo had caught Tommy leaving the scene at a drug store burglary, Theo had made a decision about the thing that was most important to him. It surprised to find that when faced with the bald choice, that thing was Tommy, irresponsible, idiotic, infuriating Tommy. Tommy was his mom and dad's afterthought, brought home when Theo was ten. When Tommy was ten, Theo had to bring home the news that Mom and Dad were dead. Tommy was the one who got the real sucker punch. Confronted with the options of locking up his brother, even though it would have done Tommy some good, or letting him go, Theo did what a lot of cops would do and still did. He let him go. Theo took responsibility for his own actions. Never once did he blame his brother for what he'd done willingly and in full knowledge of the possible consequences.
Theo acknowledged that the consequences were just. He was off the force and he had been corrupt. What galled him was the reason why that penalty was enforced. Theo had done no more than thousands of officers, still serving, had done before him and would do after him. A blind eye was almost always turned unless it involved a really serious crime. It was never-to-be-publicly admitted corruption that was accepted by intentionally blind eyes and only acted upon when it came to light beyond the blue wall. Once it did, it was dealt with harshly. If Theo had just been unlucky, he would have taken his lumps without question. Theo wasn't unlucky. Theo was targeted by a dirty cop who made sure it came to light to protect himself.
Theo leaned back in his chair. He's spent the year before he was booted out and the years since trying to nail Officer Christopher Thurlow, now Captain Thurlow. It was a job made much harder by Theo's distance from the force and Thurlow's resemblance to Teflon. Nothing stuck. Theo would get him one day. It was a vow he'd made the day he was discharged. It was a vow that led to an investigation, kept from the others, that was finally starting to pay dividends. The anticipation was sweet.
Theo shook his head. Tommy first, he reminded himself, wondering where the hell he was. Theo stared down at the phone with distaste. He elected to open his door and yell instead.
"Sid! SID!"
Irritated by the lack of response, Theo went into the main and only other office. Sid and Alyssa were in a corner having a heated debate about the woman sitting at Alyssa's desk, hand clutched to that of a small boy. The woman had a black eye, a broken nose and, from the look of her, not two pennies to rub together. Theo ignored her, not wanting to know. He turned a blind eye to Sid and Alyssa running their underground railway for battered women on the run but told them to keep him out of it. He didn't need the headache of rampaging husbands or the shit that would come down on his head and the business if it turned out any of them were kidnapping their own kids.
Instead, Theo paid attention to the other woman, the one standing by the window, the tall, slim blonde one with the icy gaze and the legs that didn't stop.
"Sid! Why didn't you tell me that Miss Cantor was here?"
Sid held a finger up to Alyssa to hold his place in the debate. Alyssa grabbed it and squeezed. Sid shouted back at Theo, "Boss! Miss Cantor's here," before shaking his finger free and resuming the argument.
Theo shook his head and noted Sophie Cantor's fleeting smile.
"I haven't been waiting long, Mr. Drummond."
"I'm so sorry you've been kept waiting, Miss Cantor." Theo said, throwing another glare at his employees. "Would you like to come this way, please?"
She nodded coolly and preceded him into the hall. She knew the way and paused only to allow Theo to be a gentleman at the door. She entered the office and watched without reaction as he locked the door behind him and walked towards her, stopping only when he was so close, she could smell the toothpaste.
Theo slid the suit jacket off her shoulders, tossing the garment onto the visitor's chair. He slid his hands to her waist and followed the skirt's waistband to the tight zipper. He pulled the fastening down slowly, enjoying the sound. The skirt dropped. She was wearing stockings and a suspender belt underneath, nothing more. Theo lifted her onto the desk.
Sophie reached down and released his zipper just as slowly. She stroked the length of him before moving her hips forward to receive him. They never kissed. They never touched beyond where they needed to touch. They just matched thrust for thrust until Theo groaned and Sophie uttered a single sound.
"Ah."
Theo drew back and pulled up his trousers. Sophie reclaimed her skirt and jacket and redressed, quickly and silently. She took the visitor's chair, sitting up very straight. Theo moved to his chair and sat down.
"So," he finally asked, "you here for an update on the case?"