Hi guys! I know, I know, I know. I really have no real excuse as to why the first chapter took so long to get up after the prologue, but I wanted to make sure everything was right and I really had a lot of trouble trying to figure out where to leave it. Anyway, here it is!

Thanks so much for all your kind words and I hope you enjoy this! Please read and review! :) Xoxo.

Chapter 1: Ruthless Publicity

Four years ago, when she had first moved to the city, Quinn Fabray would have been absolutely terrified of driving in Los Angeles. But then again, she certainly didn't have the same life four years ago. It had started with moving to San Francisco for college, where she had also decided to join the drama club. Once she found her place as a thespian, Quinn was quickly signed with a talent agency and suddenly, she was shuffling between San Francisco and Los Angeles at least once a week for auditions, commercials, and guest roles. It was only when she turned 20 years old that she landed her big break – the role of a privileged, innocent, virginal character on an already famous TV show about feuding families with dark secrets. Since then, it was goodbye San Francisco and hello, Hollywood.

Everything had fallen into place almost magically, almost fatefully, and she had never questioned it – she never did. Instead, Tina was the one who constantly reminded her of how lucky she was to be working in the business. Not as a struggling actor, but just as someone who had a stable job. And having a stable job in Hollywood meant learning how to become a true LA girl – from battling gridlock traffic to driving just insanely enough to not get caught.

And it was on a perfectly clear, bright Californian morning that Quinn decided to pay her good friend – and ruthless publicist – a visit. Parking her car with ease, she rode up the elevator and headed straight for the glass-walled office in the back.

"Morning," she chirped, holding out a latte in a to-go cup. Santana Lopez, a fiery, beautiful Latina, held up a finger to Quinn to shush her and grabbed the coffee, cradling a phone in the crook of her shoulder. She took a large sip, smiled satisfyingly, and put it back down.

"No, I told you to retract that statement. There's no way a credible source could have told you anything, because as far as I'm concerned, my client is training for next season – and unless you've got a name, which I could also probably dismiss, I suggest you take that stupid little article out of your trashy magazine or else there will be consequences," Santana snapped at the person on the other line, before slamming the phone back down. "Good morning," she smiled, turning to face the blonde girl perched on the edge of the sophisticated leather couch.

"I've seen you do this for three years and it still scares me," Quinn laughed.

"Well, that's what they pay me for," Santana joked. "What's up?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about a couple upcoming projects. Tina said I had to run them by you so we don't mess up the scheduling,"

"Sure,"

"There's this movie I want to do. It's a small part in an indie flick, but I don't know about the timing of everything, like if the promo tour is going to interfere with filming," Quinn shrugged. Santana frowned, reaching across the table for her BlackBerry, her fingers typing away furiously.

"Send me the details and I'll see what I can find out," she muttered. "Is that it?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch together. I'm bored," Quinn whined. After a stressful week of going on talk shows and premieres, not to mention shooting the show well into the night, Quinn was exhausted. But in true, workaholic fashion, she had taken two days off before complaining that she had nothing else to occupy her time with.

"Sorry, Q. I've got a lunch meeting with a client," Santana shrugged. "Rain check?"

"Yeah, sure," Quinn sighed.

"Aw, is little miss Hollywood bored of the good life?" the Latina teased.

"Well…kind of. Tina's in summer school and all my other friends are off in Cabo or Hawaii or something,"

"So go to Cabo or Hawaii or something,"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "As if. You know I hate traveling alone,"

"If you want, I've got something you could do tonight," Santana offered, laughing when Quinn immediately straightened at the proposition. "Do you know who Sugar Motta is?"

"As much as I don't want to admit it, I do," she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Her dad's super rich and she was on a reality show, right? I saw her featured on E! once," she shrugged offhandedly, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "Isn't she super bratty and spoiled?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. Her daddy throws her all this money and she's incredibly entitled, but unfortunately, she's got a sweet side, so you can't help but feel sorry for her. She just doesn't know any better," Santana grumbled. "Anyway, I just signed her – or rather, she was assigned to me – and she just booked the role in a Lifetime movie that shoots in town,"

"So you want me to babysit her?" Quinn snorted.

"I want you to come out with us tonight. Elixir is launching and the company's sponsoring, so I've got a VIP table. If she gets photographed with you or any other legit celebrities, maybe she'll be taken more seriously," Santana shrugged.

"That's ruthless,"

"That's publicity," she corrected, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder with pride. "So, will you come? I'll invite Tina and Kurt and Blaine, so it won't be a total snooze fest," she rolled her eyes.

"Alright, count me in," Quinn sighed, getting up from her seat. Crossing the room, she gave her friend a quick hug. "It's not like I have anything better to do tonight anyway,"

Santana laughed, shaking her head as Quinn headed out the door. "You're like, the worst TV star ever."

Several minutes later, Quinn walked down the hallway towards the elevators with a slight bounce in her step. She hadn't been kidding when she said she was bored – shopping and going out for lunches with her friends were fun, but when it was coupled with trying to dodge the constant paparazzi, it got a little old. As she brought her unfinished latte up to her lips, Quinn's mind was already in her ever-growing wardrobe, figuring out what to wear for the night out. With Santana, it had to be something eye-catching and fashionable, so Quinn made a mental note to call her stylist. Head lost in her to-do list, she turned a corner, her coffee cup still resting on her lips, and that was when she felt it. A firm, lean body slammed into hers and she staggered back, just surprised enough that her latte sloshed out of its little container and splashed all over her white blouse.

"Crap!" she squealed, the lukewarm liquid soaking through her shirt. She dabbed at the stain with just her hand, when she heard chuckling from the man who had slammed into her. Snapping her head back up to meet his, Quinn narrowed her eyes. He was tall, muscular, and incredibly good-looking, but his big lips curled into a carefree smirk that made her feel like she was being mocked. "Thanks a lot, by the way," she spat.

"Hey, maybe you just need to watch where you're going," he shrugged, running a hand through his short, blond hair. His voice was familiar and Quinn frowned, trying to remember where she had heard him before. "Coffee's a good look on you," he chuckled.

"I'll keep that in mind," Quinn rolled her eyes, unfazed by his smooth demeanor.

"You're Quinn, right? Quinn Fabray?" he asked, offering his hand. Her eyes widened at the sudden softness in his voice and she forced back a scoff. She knew guys like him too well. They were either living off of their parents' money or they were so desperate to break into the business that they'd charm and sleep with every celebrity they could find. She had had experience with both kinds and maybe it was because she was so focused on work, but Quinn had given up on trying to find something that even resembled true love in Hollywood – everybody was too superficial and headstrong anyway.

"And you are?" she tossed her hair over her shoulder effortlessly, refusing his handshake.

His eyebrows shot up in disbelief and he pulled his hand back, stuffing it into his jeans pocket. "Seriously?"

'Oh, wonderful. He's an arrogant one, too,' Quinn thought, sighing in frustration. "Am I supposed to know who you are or something?"

"Yeah, you are," he spoke confidently and surely, his head held high. She noticed a mischievous glint in his eyes, a fleck of gold glinting amidst the bright green and she frowned, suddenly unable to get a read off of him. "I'll see you around, Quinn Fabray," he nodded his head at her, his voice a soft, sultry whisper, before walking right past her, leaving Quinn completely and utterly dumbfounded.

Sam loped into Santana's office with ease, flinging his body onto the leather couch and sinking back comfortably. Propping his feet up onto the glass coffee table, he grabbed a piece of gum out of his pocket and chewed it loudly, until he saw Santana's eyes glare at him from across the room. He was, by no means, an obnoxious artist. But when a record contract falls into your lap at the mere age of 18, there was a certain thick skin that had to be built in order to stay out of the bad tabloid headlines. Which was exactly where Santana Lopez, LA's most notorious publicist, came into the picture. She, along with Mike, had helped build Sam into Sam Evans – world famous solo artist.

"Can you please stop snapping your gum?" Santana rubbed at her forehead tiredly.

"What's got you so wired?" Sam asked, rolling the gum around his tongue.

"Nothing, it's just…my other clients,"

"Oh, I thought maybe Mike called you about the Katie thing,"

Santana's head snapped up, her eyes wide with confusion. "What Katie thing? Is she writing a tell-all? Sam Evans, if you knocked some poor girl up…"

"Calm down!" he held up his hands, laughing at the panicked look on his publicist's face. Her fingers were already clenched tightly around her phone, ready to attack at any minute. "It was nothing, the cameras just caught her leaving my house a few weeks back, that's all,"

"But that happens all the time. No offense, but you get around," Santana joked.

"Mean," he smirked, pointing a finger in her direction. "I don't know, apparently Mike thinks I need to settle down, try a real relationship. Which is ridiculous, because we live in Hollywood," he grumbled.

"Speaking of Hollywood, do you know who Sugar Motta is?" Santana asked, clasping her hands together and chuckling lightly when Sam shook his head in response. "Reality star. She booked a gig out here in LA and doesn't know anybody, but she's on my roster, so…any chance you can swing by the Elixir launch tonight?" she said, her voice sweet and pleading.

"You want me to hit on a reality star? Like Snooki?" he winced.

"Oh, come on, Sammy, you've hit on worse!" Santana cried. "Please? I just need to raise her street cred a little. You can bring the boys, if you want," she waved her hand dismissively.

"Alright, fine," he relented, his fingers tapping at the worn leather. "You know, I've done you so many favors for your clients, but I don't actually know your entire roster. I'm starting to think you're hiding something from me, Lopez," he teased.

Santana glared at him, a smirk curling her lips. "Oh, please. For some unknown reason, you've sworn off celebrities,"

"Actually, speaking of celebrities, I ran into Quinn Fabray just now," he said conversationally, pausing as he relished the way her name fell easily off his lips. "Can you believe she didn't know who I was?"

"Of course she doesn't, Sam," the Latina giggled, rounding her desk to sit on the chairs across from him. "Quinn's not exactly Top 40. Or country, for that matter. She's more…alternative. Bon Iver, The Neigbourhood, Coldplay, that sort of thing,"

"Well, I listen to that stuff, too. You should tell her that just because you only listen to one type of music doesn't mean you should be ignorant to other types," he said defensively, getting up and making his way towards the door.

"Aw, did she bruise your ego?" Santana laughed, walking back to sit behind her desk as Sam nonchalantly flipped her off and walked out of the office.

Several hours later, Tina and Quinn stood outside of Elixir, the raucous noise from inside getting louder and louder by the minute. They could feel the bass thump in time with their heartbeat and since they came late – fashionably, of course – there was already a steady stream of partiers flowing in and out of the club. Quinn, dressed in a short, black mini dress, fiddled with her bracelets and squinted, trying to find Santana, Kurt, and Blaine in the midst of the crowd.

"Oh, there they are!" Tina nudged Quinn with her shoulder and waved at them, jumping up and down. Kurt Hummel, the ever so stylish fashion designer of the group, kissed the girls on both cheeks and clasped his hands together, a smile stretched across his lips.

"You look fabulous. Both of you," he noted, glancing from Tina and Quinn. Grabbing his boyfriend's hand, they headed inside the club, leaving behind Santana, who was busy rolling her eyes.

"He had two glasses of champagne, so he's sort of shot right now," she muttered, pulling both Quinn and Tina inside. The club was packed with wall-to-wall dancers and Quinn inhaled the sweet, intoxicating smoke from the machines, squeezing her way in between clubbers to keep up with Santana, who had somehow managed to part the crowd like the Red Sea. "Here we are!" the Latina announced, with a flourish of her hands. True to her word, Santana had managed to score the VIP area. The small, secluded alcove on the second level of the club was significantly quieter and offered a birds-eye view of the floor below them.

Santana turned back towards Tina and Quinn, her fingers clenched around three shot glasses and a mischivieous glint in her eyes. "Shots, now," she demanded, handing one to each girl. Quinn looked at it hesitantly, before clinking glasses and pounding it back. The liquid made her throat burn and she was a little dizzy, but as it started to warm her up, Quinn's lips curled into an easy smile.

"So, where's Sugar? I thought we were supposed to meet her tonight?" Tina asked, rolling the shot glass against her lips to taste the salt.

"She's – "

"Here!" a high-pitched squeal came from behind Santana and she turned around to reveal a pretty, petite girl with wide eyes and light brown hair. She was bouncing up and down with excitement, her hair pushed back from her face with a glittering headband. Quinn coughed, holding back a laugh, as she noticed the headband had her name written across it – Sugar. "I am so glad to meet you guys! LA is super scary when you don't know anybody, but Santana was totally nice, setting this whole thing up!" she cried with such enthusiasm in her voice that it made Quinn, Santana, and Tina shrink back against the metal railing in fear.

"Um, yeah," Tina snorted, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Sugar, remember what we talked about? Inside voice, sweetie. There's no need to yell like you're at a rodeo," Santana advised, placing a comforting hand on her client's shoulder. "Now, why don't you talk to Quinn and Tina for a while? I'm going to…go over there," Santana shrugged, shooting her friends an apologetic look, before scurrying away.

"Oh my god, she is such a drag sometimes!" Sugar rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, before casually throwing an arm over Quinn and Tina's shoulders. For someone so tiny, she definitely had a lot of strength. "By the way, I totally love your show, Quinn! I mean, I could never act the way you do, because that would've never gotten me any screen time, but you do virginal so well!" she screeched loudly, throwing her head back in laughter.

"What the hell?" Tina mouthed over the reality star's head to her friend and Quinn bit back a laugh – Sugar was so quintessentially Hollywood that it was hard to take her seriously. Suddenly, she understood why Santana was so desperate for all of them to hang out together.

"Um, Sugar, why don't we go and sit?" Quinn suggested, guiding them towards the plush couches. Settling down, Quinn poured out another round of drinks and offered one to Sugar, who shook her head vigorously.

"I only drink Cosmos," she informed them seriously, causing Tina to roll her eyes at the small girl. "So, I was thinking, we should totally get together for fro-yo one day, you know? We could…" Sugar's sentence was cut off abruptly when she started shrieking and flapping her hands up and down wildly. Quinn's eyes widened at the sudden onset of emotion and she cringed, hoping desperately that no cameras were around.

'She's nuts! She's absolutely crazy!' Quinn thought to herself.

Following Sugar's line of vision to see what had gotten her so worked up, Quinn found herself staring at a familiar figure – a taut, muscular torso that was unfairly covered up by a white V-neck, underneath a suit jacket. Sucking in her breath, she let her eyes travel upwards, exhaling slowly as she noticed those same, mesmerizing green eyes – it was the man from Santana's office earlier that day.

"Sam Evans! Oh my god, you're Sam Evans!" Sugar's high-pitched voice cut through Quinn's thoughts and the blonde was shoved back, as the petite reality star launched herself towards him. "I love your music! Your new album like, totally described my life, you know?" she cried, hugging his bicep tightly.

Sam's green eyes widened at the sudden interruption, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Um, I guess you're Sugar Motta," he chuckled, looking down at the girl attached to him. "Santana sent me," he shrugged. Slowly, but painfully so, his eyes dragged across the room and reached Quinn, who was examining him closely, her right eyebrow quirked.

"Don't you know who this is?" Sugar shrieked, turning towards Quinn and Tina, her arms flailing wildly.

"Sam, I think?" Tina chuckled, holding out her hand for him to shake. "I'm Tina and this is…" she pulled her hand back to gesture towards Quinn, who was glaring up at him, her lips pursed into a thin line.

"Oh, we've met," Sam grinned.