At first, Santana couldn't understand Rachel's sudden change of heart over letting Zizes join the band. After her audition, Rachel had all but written the girl off as imposing and rude. But everything clicked when Santana saw the blonde waitress slide her phone number to Rachel with a wink as they were leaving the diner.

"Well-played, half pint," Santana said, nudging Rachel with her elbow as they headed for the subway.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Rachel said coyly, tucking the slip of paper into her pocket. On the ride home, she continued to pull the note back out and look at it every few minutes, the grin on her face spreading gradually until she was beaming widely.

"What?" she asked defensively when she realized Santana was staring at her, her dark eyes narrowed in concentration.

"It's sort of cute how worked up you are over scoring some hash-slinger's digits, that's all," Santana said, raising her eyebrows and cocking her head to the side.

"Hmph!" Rachel responded, pursing her lips and stuffing the number back into her pocket.

As it turned out, Zizes was probably the best choice for the band. She was a skilled drummer, and her complete lack of interest in Rachel, Santana, and really the band itself, kept the usual dramas from erupting. She would never be able to replace Tina, who had become more like family to Rachel and Santana than just a band mate, but given the alternatives, Zizes was a good match for them. The three girls managed to get a set list together for Sam's Labor Day party in record time, and before any of them knew it, they were having celebratory drinks at Stix.

Zizes promptly ditched them upon arriving at the bar, not that Rachel or Santana minded it. They both just shrugged, watching her push her way through the crowd, then took their seats at the bar and started in.

"I should really pissed with you, you know," Santana said hours later, smoothly downing a shot of tequila.

"Why is that?" Rachel asked with a bit of a giggle, aglow from her third rum punch of the night.

"Because the only reason you're even into this gig is because you're trying to deflower some dishwasher."

Rachel let out a full laugh then. "I love how her job gets more degrading every time you talk about her."

Santana just huffed and rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "Fucking waitress."

"Oh, come on, Santana. Don't be jealous," Rachel teased, playfully running a hand up Santana's arm. "You had your chance."

"That's disgusting," Santana growled, swatting Rachel's tiny hand away. "Not to mention, beside the point."

"So what is the point then, huh?" Rachel asked with feigning innocence and taking another sip of her drink.

"Forget it, Berry," Santana said with a shrug before gesturing to the bartender for another round. Rachel folded her hands in her lap and pouted.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, don't do that! You know I hate when you do that!" Santana shouted at her, exasperated.

"Don't be mad at me, San," Rachel said sincerely, her eyes fixed on the floor.

Santana winced at the sound of the rarely-used nickname, then sighed. "I'm not. That's the thing. I should be fucking furious with you, but I'm not. I actually hope you and the waitress get it on every which way after the show. Believe me, I know you could benefit from a good, hard-,"

"Please try and contain yourself," Rachel interrupted, smirking, a deep blush rising to the surface of her cheeks.

Santana's voice dropped to almost a whisper. "Just...don't quit the band yet, ok?"

Rachel smiled, "I won't. I wouldn't do that to you. You know that."

Santana just shrugged. "Oh, and Berry?"

"Hm?"

"Do it at her place, alright?"

Rachel smiled again, clinking her glass against Santana's. "Deal."

After one more round, they decided it was time to go.

"Where's Zizes?" Rachel asked, scanning the crowd from her seat at the bar.

"Who cares?" Santana replied. "Let's just go. I'm sure she can take care of herself."

"Santana!" Rachel exclaimed. "It's important that we try and foster a healthy relationship with Ms. Zizes if we want retain her drumming services into the foreseeable future!"

"Well, it looks like Ms. Zizes has things under control," Santana said, finally spotting the girl at a booth near the back. From what they could tell as they approached her, it appeared their new drummer was engaged in an arm-wrestling match against none other than Artie Abrams, their long-time nemesis. A few other bar patrons were standing around, watching with rapt interest.

"What's going on?" Rachel asked with concern.

"Shit. Don't distract her, Berry. I wanna see this," Santana said, placing a hand on Rachel's arm to quiet her.

They watched as Artie struggled to keep his composure as beads of sweat dripped down either side of his face. "Just a moment more, and I'll have it," he wheezed, trying desperately to sound confident and upbeat. "Just needed to get my bearings here."

With that, Zizes chuckled and slammed his hand down onto the table with ease. Artie just stared at his crumpled mess of a palm as it lay on the table between them like a wounded animal.

"So, do we have a deal?" the girl asked flatly, folding her arms across her chest.

"Yeah," Artie responded quietly, nodding his head.

"What was the bet?" Santana asked, noticing that no money had exchanged hands.

The drummer looked up at her smugly. "We play here Friday after Labor Day and take the full cover. He gets nothing."

Rachel turned to Santana, her eyebrows raised in a combination of shock, horror, and anticipation. For her part, Santana smiled broadly, clapping Zizes on the back and hooting, "Way to go, chica!"

Two days later, Rachel summoned up her courage and retrieved the slip of paper the waitress had given her from the little star-shaped box on her dresser. She ran her fingertips delicately over the numbers a few times, smiling to herself as she admired the confident lines and loops of the blonde's handwriting.

"Quinn." That was her name. Rachel said it out loud to herself a couple of times, trying to get used to the shape of the word in her mouth, wondering if this now unfamiliar name would one day fall from her lips with ease.

After a long drink of water and a few deep breaths to steady her nerves, Rachel picked up her phone and dialed the number. It took three rings for the other girl to answer.

"Hello?" Quinn said. It sounded as if she had just finished laughing at something.

"Yes, hello. This is Rachel Berry. I don't know if you remember me-,"

"Of course I remember you, Rachel," Quinn husked. Rachel lusted after that voice, that tone that sounded as if Quinn somehow already knew all her secrets.

Rachel swallowed hard before continuing. "Of course. Well...you mentioned you might be interested in seeing the band I'm in sometime? Anyway, I don't know if you're free, but my roommate and I are playing at this party over the Labor Day weekend. Sort of an end of summer thing...," she trailed off.

"Roommate, huh?" Quinn probed.

"Hm?" Rachel questioned, not understanding at first what Quinn was getting at. After a second, it dawned on her, and she nervously launched into a frantic explanation. "Oh! No! It's not like that. We're just regular roommates. I mean she's...and I'm...we're just friends! She sleeps on the couch! So...,"

Rachel was rewarded for her efforts with the delicious, honeyed sound of Quinn's laughter. "I'd love to hear you sing, Rachel," she said at last. "But are you sure it's alright for me to come to this party?"

"Sure," Rachel said, blushing feverishly. "The host is a friend of mine...sort of. I'll make sure you get in."

After giving Quinn the details of the party, Rachel floundered. The two girls sat in silence for few moments. If Quinn felt as nervous and uncomfortable as Rachel did, she didn't let on. Finally, Rachel inhaled deeply, preparing herself to end the call. But before she could say anything, Quinn took the lead.

"I guess I'll see you soon, then?"

"Mhmm," Rachel replied, dreamily.

"I'm looking forward to it."

"So am I."

"I guess I should go."

"Ok."

"Bye, Rachel."

"Bye, Quinn." Rachel stayed on the line until she heard the click of the call ending, then threw herself face down onto her bed, and squealed her excitement into the pillows.