Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own any of the characters represented in this fiction that are recognizable.

Wow, I am floored by the response. Thanks to everyone who placed this story on their favorites or on story alert, and certainly thanks to the reviewers. Now that the prologue is over, the fun begins, and we rejoin our ladies in real time where they are set to soon collide.

I hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER 1

Lucy wasn't sure how long she had been stuck in her current predicament, but it had to be past the end of the school day. Still, after-school activities were bound to start soon, so she kept knocking against the locker door, hoping someone would come to her aid.

She heard footsteps approach and knocked louder. To her immense relief, the footsteps faltered and halted. The screeching sound as the locks were disengaged was music to Lucy's ears, and she burst into tears at the thankful flood of light as she was released from her prison.

"Oh my goodness! Are you okay?"

Before Lucy had time to respond, the melodic voice spoke again.

"I apologize. That is an unnecessary and irreverent question. Of course you're not okay. You wouldn't be stuck in a locker if you were okay. I gather you didn't come about this current residence on your own power. And you certainly wouldn't be crying if you were okay. Well you could, but those tears hardly seem like tears of mirth."

Lucy's eyes grew wide as she finally raised her gaze to stare into a pair of beautiful, dark chocolate brown orbs torn with amazement that someone and amusement at the sheer amount of words flooding from the tiny person in front of her.

"I'm okay," Lucy asserted softly. "It's nothing new. They're always mean to me. I'm used to it."

"That's barbaric!" The voice belonged to a petite brunette, barely over five feet tall. Lucy's breath was stolen from her throat. She had seen pretty girls, but this tiny person was beyond anyone she had ever encountered before. Shiny, sepia-colored hair, big brown eyes, and legs that went on forever. Dumbstruck, Lucy simply stared.

The other girl stood before her, swelled with indignation, her fists planted on her hips as though she were making some sort of declaration. "You haven't done anything to them!"

"Doesn't really stop them," Lucy countered. She ducked her head, murmuring almost softly to herself. "I just want to be left alone, to be invisible. But they won't let me."

Her brunette savior's lips turned downward in consternation. With a gentle hand, she reached out, tipping Lucy's chin upward. "Invisibility is for the mediocre," she proclaimed. "Someone as strong and resilient as you are should not settle for such mediocrity." The girl locked gazes with her for a moment before smiling. "You have very pretty eyes."

"Th-thank you," Lucy stammered. She was unused to such compliments. "You…you don't go here, do you?"

"I don't," the girl answered. "I actually go to McKinley. My mother teaches here. I'm just dropping off her dinner before she gets busy with Vocal Adrenaline. She often forgets to eat when they're so close to Sectionals and Regionals and all that. But no, I've never been subjected to the culture of Carmel. Although, I'm sure we have the same brand of uncouth ingrates. The personality of the adolescent boy doesn't vary much, but don't worry. I'm sure the people who are picking on you will one day be washing your car." She looked at the frizzy-haired girl before her and thought for a moment. Lucy continued to stare. She had never heard a single person speak so many words without taking a breath.

The girl smiled again. It was oddly comforting. "You look like you need reminding that karma will one day come back around on them." She ducked down, rummaging in her messenger bag adorned liberally with pink and gold stars.

"Here."

Lucy tilted her head as a keychain was pressed into her hand, a sparkly star dangling from the silver links. "A gold star?"

"They're a metaphor," the tiny, amazing creature explained. "One day the kids in this town will be stuck here, trying to relive their high school years because those years were the best of their lives, and you'll be somewhere bigger and better, shining brighter than they ever will."

It was the first gift someone other than her parents or sister had given her. She hugged it to her chest. "Thank you…"

"You're welcome," the girl answered. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must take my leave before that vile, slimeball St. James hones onto my scent. I swear, he's like a bloodhound in more ways than one. I understand leeching onto talent, but honestly…" The last part was muttered beneath her breath almost absently as the girl disappeared around the corner.

"Wait!" Lucy called, but it was too late. The little brunette was out of range.

"I never got your name…"

"Quinn…"

A pale, slender finger, the nail expertly manicured and painted a pearl shade traced over the gold star inked into the inside of the wrist. She looked to her keys lying by her cell phone, the charm, faded from the years but still clearly a gold star, dangling from the loop. That day the little brunette had given it to her, she had never shown anyone or put it on her key ring in fear that one of her classmates would figure out its significance to her and use it to hurt her once again. It had stayed in her secret box until they had moved. Only then did she add the charm to her key ring where it had never left.

"Quinn…"

The finger moved down to the inscription weaving through the star on her wrist. 'Shine brighter,' it stated. Full lips turned downward in a thoughtful frown as the finger continued to trace over the tattoo.

"Quinn!"

Quinn Lucas started, cool hazel eyes shifting to the insistent call of her manager and best friend. "What?"

Declan Riley propped his chin on his fist, surveying his longtime friend with narrowed eyes, a stunning shade of light blue. "Where did you go then?"

Quinn chuckled, shaking her head. "Nowhere important."

He huffed, taking a sip of his iced tea. "I'm gonna take a stab in the dark and assume you haven't heard a word I've said?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, pulling the sleeve of her oversized sweater over her wrist, tilting her head to the imploring ice blue gaze. "No, Declan, I'm sorry."

Declan returned the eyeroll, gesturing to his BlackBerry. "That was Chris Keller."

Quinn tilted her head, picking at the remains of the blueberry muffin beside her plate. "What did he want? I'm not out of a job, am I?"

"Well, it's not you," Declan hedged. "He's recasting Jennifer Wolfe."

"Good," Quinn grumbled with a toss of her head at the mention of the woman Chris had chosen to play opposite her. She wasn't a fan of the former soap actress who embodied pretty much everything disparaging about their business right down to her bottle blonde hair and fake silicone tits. "Opportunistic hag." As Declan snorted his concurrence, she returned her attention to him.

"So who have they chosen?"

"Dunno," Declan answered, tossing his phone on the table and leaning back in his seat. "Chris said they were still working on it."

Quinn frowned, craning her head to the side. She noted the small throng of paparazzi posted across the street, lenses focused on her, intent on capturing this mundane moment in her everyday life.

"What do you think?"

Declan shrugged, running a hand through his curly black hair kept manageable by its relatively short length. "Chris has the pick of anyone in Hollywood," he surmised. "You can have anyone from Emma Watson playing opposite you to what's-her-name from that singing television show."

Quinn sighed. "You think this is worth it, D?"

Declan crossed one long leg over the other, fingers tapping against his thigh. "Controversial material, lesbian storyline, Christian Keller's name attached? This has Oscar written all over it." His gaze softened. "But on a less egotistical note? You have a chance to do something very important work, Q." He nodded once. "So yeah, I think it's worth it."

Quinn nodded, relaxing into her chair. "We do have something important to say, D," she concurred. "But with the wrong voices, it will just be shouting into an empty room."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Christian Keller stormed through the offices of Shaolin Studios until he reached the conference room. The writer/director looked determined like a man on a mission. In reality, he was at his wits end and completely haggard. He hadn't pulled an all-nighter since college but he had stayed awake, alternating between slugging back coffee and Red Bulls as he researched everything he could on one Rachel Barbra Berry. As he absorbed the information – and perhaps it was a byproduct of his severe lack of sleep – a gut feeling that stirred in his stomach. It was the same instincts that secured him an Oscar with his debut feature film, and they grew to epic proportions.

Throwing open the door, he marched straight up to the head of the conference table.

"Forget everyone else we've been considering," he declared, slapping a copy of the New York Times down, pointing insistently with his index finger. "I've found our leading lady."

Ben Brantley craned his neck, reading the name from the article. "Rachel Berry." He lifted his head, one eyebrow cocked questioningly. "The musical theatre chick? You want Rachel Berry to play opposite Quinn Lucas?"

Chris nodded firmly, fingers tapping against his chin as his mind whirled with the possibilities. "She's the one."

"Chris…" Skepticism laced the producer's tone. "She's a Broadway star who hasn't had any screen experience. You have your pick of any woman in Hollywood. Are you sure?"

"She won a Tony award in her Broadway debut," Chris pointed out. He seemed unfazed at the opposition.

Ben looked to the writer/director, scrutinizing him closely. "I don't know, Chris. Broadway's a far cry from Hollywood."

Chris looked to his production team, gray eyes twinkling. "I have a feeling."

Whatever protests arose immediately died on unspeaking lips. By now, everyone in Hollywood knew better than to second-guess a Christian Keller gut feeling. Ben Brantley eyed the young man across from him. Clear gray eyes burned with defiance and assurance. There was a set to Chris's shoulders, a firmness in his posture. It was pretty obvious the young writer/director had made up his mind. Ben was very well aware of the fact that they were taking a very high risk with casting a relative no one in Hollywood circles. But, again, that gut feeling had secured Chris Keller multiple awards in three short years. Ben nodded his head.

"Make it happen then."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel Berry sat cross-legged on the bed of her New York loft, flipping idly through the scripts her agent had dropped off throughout the week. Inwardly, she smirked. A good dozen prospective jobs lay before her, and she had her pick of the productions they represented. A steady rumble distracted her for a moment, and she smiled as her gray tabby cat, Reno – named after Reno Sweeney (what could she say, Sutton Foster followed her everywhere) of the musical Anything Goes – leaped onto the bed and into her lap.

"So what do you think, Reno?" Rachel posed. "The troubled heroine in the gritty, straight play or the ingénue in the rock opera?

Reno eyed the choices before turning around pointedly and settling herself on a pillow. Rachel giggled.

"Nothing suits your fancy either, huh?"

Rachel sighed, returning her attention to the scripts before her. It was overwhelming to believe that these options wished to have her name attached to their productions, but she wanted something different, something that could really expand her horizons as a performer.

Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser, baby, so why don't you kill me?
Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?

Rachel glanced down at her phone in confusion at the unfamiliar song. She rolled her eyes as she saw the picture of her agent adorning the screen. Santana must have messed with her ringtones again. She answered the call, one eye still on the scripts before her.

"Hey, Don."

"Hey, Rachel." Her agent's rich baritone filtered through the speaker. "Have you looked at any of the scripts I sent over?"

"Yeah. Nothing's popping out at me," Rachel answered, lifting the page of a script for a guest spot as a dying patient on one of those medical shows. "I'm not too sold on any of them."

"Good."

Rachel frowned, recoiling back to look at her phone. He shouldn't be pleased that she was being so picky and he certainly shouldn't be pleased she was currently unemployed. "How precisely is that good?"

Her agent, Don Garrett, sounded wholly triumphant as he crowed into the phone. "Because I literally just got an offer that you if you refuse, I will shoot you."

Rachel's brow furrowed. She wasn't sure she liked where this was going. "Okay?"

"Chris Keller wants you."

Well, she surely wasn't expecting that. "As in…?"

"Yes, that Chris Keller," Don reiterated, the smug tone not leaving his voice. "The Chris Keller who won at Sundance at the tender age of nineteen, the Chris Keller named 'The Visionary of a Generation' by Time, and the Chris Keller that has had a blockbuster film every year for the past three years. Yes, my dear, that Chris Keller." Don let out a whoop of laughter, easily imagining the paycheck he and his client would accrue.

Rachel's breath caught in her throat. "Oh."

"He wants you in his latest movie," Don explained. "The chick he originally cast didn't work out, so he's looking for someone else. Don't know how he came across you, but he did, and he called me asking if you were available. Of course, I informed him you were currently looking for another project. Expect a call within the hour."

Eyes wide, Rachel didn't have enough brainpower to formulate a word beyond a single syllable. "Oh."

"Rachel," Don's voice grew serious. "You wanted a medium to expand your acting profile. This is your chance. Nothing will catapult you better than a Chris Keller project."

Still slightly dazed, Rachel nodded. "Yeah…sure, Don."

"Make me proud, babe!" was his parting before the dial tone sounded in her ear.

Rachel stared at the phone in her hand. Eyes wide at the revelation, she scrolled though her messages until she found the contact she needed, sending a quick message.

CODE RED! Get here NOW!

She took in a deep breath, letting it out again. Okay. So Chris Keller was expected to call. Well, that wouldn't happen right away. Alright. She had time to compose herself.

All eyes on me when I walk in
No question that this girl's a ten
Don't hate me 'cause I'm beautiful
Don't hate me 'cause I'm beautiful

Rachel jumped at the sound of her default ringtone and glanced down at the screen. It was a 323 area code.

Shit.

She took a couple of deep breaths. Game face, Berry. Do NOT screw this up.

"Rachel Berry."

"Hi, Miss Berry, my name is Christian Keller. I hope your agent forwarded my message to you."

"Yes, Mr. Keller, Don said to expect your call. It's Rachel, please."

"Chris then." Chris Keller didn't waste any time and jumped right to the heart of the matter. "Rachel, have you heard anything about the next movie I'm currently filming?"

"I have," Rachel answered. "From what I understand, it is the story of a lesbian Marine following the repeal of Don't Ask Don't Tell."

"That's it in a nutshell," Chris concurred. "Well, to be frank then, I would like you in my film, Rachel."

Don had prepped her for the announcement, but actually hearing it for the first time from the source was a bit overwhelming to say the least. "Are you sure?" She slapped her forehead. Nice, Berry. That was stupid.

Chris Keller chuckled. "You'd be surprised how often I've been asked that in the last couple of days," he answered.

"Mr. Keller, this is highly irregular," Rachel countered. "I apologize if I sound overly skeptical or ignorant but in my experience, one is simply not offered a role in a blockbuster film on a whim. Especially not an actress of my burgeoning status with a slightly limited fan constituency."

"There is no one else," Chris answered. He sounded quite firm. "I want you."

Rachel's head snapped up as the door to her loft opened and Brittany and Santana burst in. She pointed to the couch, imploring them to sit as she continued her pacing before the living room couch. Two sets of eyes followed her path as she paced in front of them.

"Uh, surely you mean like in a small role? A background character?"

Chris chuckled. "No, Rachel. I want you to play the second female protagonist, the Marine's romantic interest."

Wow, this was heavy. "Again, Chris, are you sure?"

Chris Keller, bless his soul, was patient with her skepticism. "Rachel, I know this isn't normal and I understand your skepticism. All I know is that I trust my instincts as a director and as a writer. My instincts tell me you are exactly what I need."

"Well, Chris, if that's a line, it surely has me sold."

"Glad to hear it, Rachel." Chris grinned. "And if that isn't incentive enough, we're willing to pay you…"

As Chris named a figure, Rachel dropped heavily on the sofa between her two friends. She could only let out a squeak. "Oh wow. You can't be sure about that."

Chris laughed. He could already tell working with Rachel Berry was going to be an adventure. "Nothing about this proposition is uncertain, I can tell you that honestly, Rachel. I'll have the studio get in touch with your agent concerning the logistics. If you can get out to LA by next week as soon as you can, that would be perfect."

"LA by the end of the week," Rachel recited. "I'll have my assistant get right on that." Rachel shot Brittany a significant look, and the blonde nodded, moving to where Rachel's laptop lay charging on the coffee table.

"Don't worry about flights or anything, we'll send a jet. It's the least we can do, right?"

"If that's the least, I eagerly anticipate something more significant," Rachel joked, finally regaining a bit of her equilibrium. "I'll have my assistant call you when scheduling is set."

"Awesome. I will see you in LA, Rachel."

"Thank you, Chris," Rachel found herself pleased to have corralled the breathlessness in her voice. "I look forward to seeing you soon."

She looked to her best friend and manager as she punched the touch screen, ending the call. Santana looked bewildered, having heard only half of the conversation. She could certainly surmise at least a part of what had just occurred. Santana stood, moving in front of Rachel, speaking slowly and deliberately.

"Berry. What. The FUCK. Just. Happened?"

Rachel smirked at Santana's characteristic eloquence, thankful she had the Latina around to keep her sane. Don nearly had a conniption when she insisted on hiring Santana as her manager but there was no one she trusted more with her well being than Santana Lopez. Not surprisingly, the fiery Latina turned out to be supremely gifted. And of course, where Santana went, Brittany followed, so Rachel thought it only prudent to make the blonde her personal assistant. For all her ditzy ways, Brittany was a whiz at organization. Rachel shuddered to think of what would happen if Brittany ever quit because no other person would be able to decipher the coding system the blonde used to keep track of Rachel's daily life. To anyone else, it made absolutely no sense whatsoever. Naturally, Brittany understood her system just fine.

Rachel bit her lip. "Do you want the long version or the short version?"

Santana crossed her arms, one meticulously manicured eyebrow inching upward. "Give me the version I'll understand the best."

Rachel nodded. "Chris Keller wants me in his movie."

"No shit?"

"No shit," Rachel affirmed. She winced. Santana's more crass parlance was rubbing off on her.

Santana whistled through her teeth. "Anything with Chris Keller's name attached is almost a guaranteed blockbuster and an Oscar nomination. You'd be halfway to your EGOT, midge. What's the movie about?"

"An American Marine living an out life with the repeal of Don't Ask Don't Tell," Rachel answered. "I would be playing the Marine's love interest."

"And you're okay with that?"

Rachel cocked "Why wouldn't I be? I have–"

"I know, I know," Santana cut her off before Rachel could go on her PFLAG rant. "You have two gay fathers and relish any opportunity to advocate the rights of all LGBT individuals. And you know I love Daddy and Poppa B. I'm just saying it's something else to play a gay character."

Rachel smiled. "I appreciate the concern, but yes, I'm fine with that." Rachel frowned thoughtfully. "I have always believed sexuality is fluid; my flow has just been of the more heterosexual variety."

"You know, that's the movie Quinn Lucas is set to star in," Santana commented. "You'll be swapping spit with the most sought-after television star in America." She leered. "Nice."

"Quinn Lucas…" Rachel breathed out. "I will be starring in a movie with Quinn Lucas."

"She's super hot," Brittany commented idly, searching through her phone calendar for the closest possible date Rachel could get to the coast.

"Looks aside, Brittany, she's accrued quite a reputation in the few movies that she's worked," Rachel countered. "She's not unkind but intensely private, very reclusive, and very aloof. They call her the Ice Queen."

"Calmaté, Tiny," Santana soothed. "I'm pretty sure the rumors aren't true and she really doesn't eat her costars for greeting her without explicit permission."

"Not helping, Santana," Rachel murmured weakly.

"Rachel!" Santana moved closer to the girl she had known since the fifth grade. "Dammit, Berry, you are a professional! And if you're gonna let some ice queen bitch ruin of the dream you've had since you were four, Barbra Streisand would slap your ass silly."

The pep talked worked, and Santana stepped back as the familiar steel glint encompassed Rachel's dark gaze, the little diva sat a bit straighter. "You're right, Santana. You are absolutely right. Regardless of the tenuous feelings I may have for Quinn Lucas, feelings that are for all I know completely unfounded since I have never personally met the woman, I should be able to conduct myself in a professional, respectful manner. She deserves the benefit of the doubt."

"Yeah, she's totally gonna be okay, San," Brittany giggled, her hands whirling as she moved appointments around to open up the end of the week. "She's saying a lot of really big words really, really fast." She turned her attention to Rachel.

"Okay, moving your interview with Paul Wontorek for his Show People segment up to tomorrow. That leaves just the concert benefit for Thursday. We can be out to California by Friday."

Rachel nodded. "Book it and call Don with those plans. That way he can meet us out there." She turned to her two best friends. "Let's give Hollywood hell."

"That's my girl, midge," Santana smirked fondly. At Brittany's pout, she nudged the blonde's hip. "My other girl…"

xxx-xxx-xxx

Across the United States on a private Santa Monica beach, Quinn Lucas walked along the pale sands. She was afforded the luxury of isolation, her nearest neighbor about a mile down the coast. The slight wind ruffled her short, tousled bob as she meandered along after her dog bounding through the sand in front of her. In her hand was the latest issue of Vogue, her face splashed across the cover.

JUST LIKE OLD HOLLYWOOD

Quinn Lucas is bringing back the old-time glitz and glamour

That was the title of the article. Quinn wasn't normally one for indulging in vanity, but even she could admit that Vogue was a very big deal. They had gone with an old Hollywood look to the article and photo shoot, mimicking some of the more classic styles of such as Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly. She looked elegant and glamorous, certainly a far cry from comely, frumpy Lucy Fabray.

She wondered if anyone back in Akron recognized her as mousy Lucy Fabray, the girl they so callously dubbed Lucy Caboosey. She wondered what ever happened the tiny brunette who had comforted her so long ago. If fate had been kinder to her than it had to Lucy, the girl had made it out of the small town with no problems. It would have been one of fate's greatest travesties had the tiny girl had remained stuck in the Lima Bean. She wondered if they would have been friends if the Fabrays hadn't relocated to San Diego for Russell's job. Maybe she dwelled a bit too much on her short time at Carmel, but Quinn had very little people offer her any kindness. The brunette she remembered the clearest, and the mystery of the girl's name had stuck with her all these years.

The big chocolate Labrador traipsed up to her, laying his head on Quinn's lap. She sighed, running her fingers through the soft fur. She laughed as he rolled to his side, his legs kicking as he found a comfortable spot. She swore that Charlie was a human in a dog's body with the way his mannerisms often mimicked something she had seen from her friends and family.

Charlie wuffled, laying one paw on Quinn's knee, his big brown eyes imploring her steadily.

"Yeah, Charlie, I know. But you don't count, big guy. You'll be with me as long as I keep the Beggin' Strips coming."

Charlie gave her a look that indicated her the assertion was correct. Dog, like mistress, had a severe weakness for bacon. He tempered the gesture with a soft, affectionate head butt to Quinn's chest.

The blonde hunkered down, placing kisses to her beloved companion's fur. "Lucky for you, there will always be Beggin' Strips, buddy."

Charlie gave a bark of approval, laying his head back down on Quinn's knee. She laughed, turning her eyes to the waning sun disappearing down into the horizon.

Yeah, I'm chilling on a dirt road
Laid back, swerving like I'm George Jones
Smoke rolling out the window
An ice-cold beer sitting in the console

Quinn glanced down to her phone as her ringtone sounded. Sliding her thumb across the screen, she raised the device to her ear. "Hello."

"Hey, Quinn, Chris Keller."

Quinn rubbed an idle hand against Charlie's belly. "Hey, Chris, what's up?"

"I'm sure you've heard, but Jen Wolfe wasn't working out for us, so we recast her role."

Quinn hummed her affirmation. "I did hear that. Declan told me."

Chris huffed out a chuckle. "I figured he would. Well, anyway, we found someone fairly quick, and she'll be here by next week when we start shooting again."

"And who is this mystery woman?" Quinn ventured, slightly apprehensive to whom Chris could have found on such short notice.

"Rachel Berry," Chris answered.

The name wasn't even remotely familiar to Quinn. "Yeah, I've never heard of her."

"She's a theatre implant," Chris explained. "Won a Tony in her Broadway debut."

Quinn frowned. Wonderful, a green starlet with no prior film experience. This surely was bound to be interesting. "You sure about this, Chris?"

Chris snorted. "Why is everyone asking me that?" His tone held wry amusement. He hastened to assure his lead. "I have a good feeling about this, Quinn."

Quinn merely smiled, aware he couldn't see the gesture. "Keep on with that feeling, Chris. It hasn't steered us wrong yet."

"Thanks, Quinn. I'll see you Monday."

"Bye, Chris." Ending the call, she looked down at Charlie, scratching behind his ears. "I'll tell you this much, buddy," she drawled. "This is certainly a lot more interesting that the set of Queen ever was."

Charlie only grumbled his agreement.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel Berry had certainly heard of Christian Keller. There wasn't anyone in the entertainment business that hadn't. With the amount of success Christian Keller had accumulated in the sort time since his entrance, A-listers were clamoring to be part of his casting short-list. Rachel wasn't exactly sure what she had done to get a direct call from Chris Keller, but she certainly wasn't about to second-guess it now.

She felt like a tourist, but she couldn't help but take in the sights of Hollywood as her car cruised down the freeway on the way to the Shaolin Studios lot where Chris Keller and the production team was set to meet her. Between the luxury SUV she was currently seated in and the jet the studio had sent to transport her, Brittany, and Santana to LA, she surely felt like a princess. The Range Rover came to a stop right outside the lot door. Wasting no time, the driver exited his side, coming around to her door and escorting her out. Taking a moment to compose herself, Rachel took a deep breath, making her way to the production team of Duty and Honor.

Christian Keller was in the front of the small group, and Rachel took the time to take in the famed director. He was fairly tall, just a shade shy of six-feet, and moderately good-looking. The most remarkable thing about him, however, was the sparkle of undeniable intelligence in his pale gray eyes framed by a pair of wayfarer-shaped spectacles. He was nothing like what she expected from a big-time Hollywood director. With his brown chinos, checkered blue shirt, and navy blue blazer, Chris Keller looked like he would be more at home in a university lecture hall than behind a camera. Still, Rachel knew better than to underestimate him. This could very well be the man to send her into a whole other realm of superstardom.

The two stood toe-to-toe, Rachel looking up the height distance to the sparkling gray eyes. Chris smiled, radiating a warmth and openness that immediately put her at ease.

"Miss Berry," Chris greeted her, one hand outstretched. "Welcome to Hollywood."

Rachel grinned, taking the offering.

Welcome to Hollywood indeed.

And there you go! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Up next, Quinn does a little research on her new leading lady to interesting results. Rachel and Quinn will also meet, and it's quite the experience. Plus, as they begin filming Duty and Honor, we get a bit of the story about American Marine Sloane Gerard. Hope you all stick around until then!

*ISP