When Rachel had finished her piece, she pulled her hands off the keys and hung her head.
"Aw," Jesse cooed. "It wasn't that bad."
"Not that bad?" Rachel frowned. "It was awful! I'm terrible."
"You're not terrible," Jesse contradicted. "I'm positive that you had at least fifty-six percent of that piece right."
"A fifty-six is a failing grade, Jesse! You just called me a failure."
"Did I say fifty-six?" Jesse backtracked quickly. "I meant sixty-five. Did I ever tell you that I'm dyslexic? True story. I used to have to have my agent read my scripts to me, and one time-"
"Stop," Rachel whined. "We both know you're not dyslexic, and even if you were it doesn't effect you're talking."
"Fine," Jesse said. "But, seriously, that wasn't bad. You've got to lighten up on yourself. You've only been playing for a few months, and you're self taught."
"How long did it take for you to master the piano?" Rachel demanded.
"Point taken, but you can't just give up!"
"Give up?" Rachel's frown deepened. "I don't give up. I am simply admitting defeat to the foreseen conclusion that piano is just not the instrument for me."
"Then we'll make it the instrument for you," Jesse insisted.
"Why are you so hung up on this?"
"I refuse to be the one person who made Rachel Berry admit defeat. Not gonna happen. I'll give you lessons for the rest of the week and then give you stuff to work on until you come back."
"Thanks," Rachel muttered. She had to admit that the relief that came from not having to admit to inadequate skills took a load from her shoulders.
"No problem," Jesse grinned. "You're dream is to be one of the best, right?"
Rachel nodded.
"Right. Well, I'm just trying to help you turn those dreams into inevitabilities."
Rachel smiled brightly, and Jesse laughed.
"But don't think I'm going soft on you. I'm going to have you running scales until you're fingers beg you to cut them off."
"As much as I feel a deep, personal need to have that serious connection with the detachment of my fingers, I'm afraid it will have to wait. I promised my dads I would call before the day was over to ensure them that I'm fine. I'm sure they're both freaking out by now."
"Using your get out of jail free card this early in the game, Berry? I must say I'm a tad disappointed. But, I digress. There's a house phone on your bedside table if you want to use it."
"Thanks," Rachel said again, and she headed off to her room.
Jesse, assuming that the talk with her dads would last for a while, went ahead and pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked for any missed messages. He noticed 2 new texts both from the almost ever present contact, Ronnie.
I got the audition set up, and they're really excited for it. -R
I hope you're not playing me, Jesse. This is a big opportunity, and I pulled some major strings. I'll have the script in your mailbox by tomorrow morning.
Jesse smiled at the first message, but it faltered slightly at the second. Managers... He thought over his word choices before responding.
You can trust me, Ronnie. I've never been so sure of anything in my life.
Jesse placed his phone back into his pocket and stood from the piano bench. He wandered out into the hallway where he could here rachel talking enthusiastically to either of her dads from her room, and smirked slightly to himself. He trudged down the steps and into the kitchen where he began to pull out the ingredients from his cupboards to make spaghetti.
He was over halfway done with the meal when Rachel made her presence known from behind him.
"Sorry," Jesse said as he turned around at her subtle, and cliché, grunt. "I hope you like Italian because, one, I already started making it; and, two, spaghetti is the only thing I know how to make."
"You don't mean to say that I, Rachel Berry, have been let in on the one fault of the omnipotent Jesse St. James?"
"I hardly call a lack of culinary skills a fault. I simply have never been able to take the time to learn more than what I currently offer. Given the proper training, I'm sure I could give Bobby Flay a run for his money in one of those "Throw Down" shows."
"So humble."
"Pot and kettle."
"Sustained."
Rachel helped Jesse finish cooking, and they managed to only throw spaghetti noodles at each other once... each. And, after assuring Rachel that there was nothing anti-vegan involved with any of his ingredients, they sat at the "breakfast table" and began to eat.
"So," Jesse began, "How are you liking LA?"
"It's amazing," Rachel sighed. "So much better than Lima, but then again, what isn't?"
"Safe to say you don't hold a tight grip on the theory that there's no place like home?" Jesse asked.
"You could say that," Rachel nodded. "Not to say that I don't love my dads and what they've provided me with because I do. Lima's not all that bad either. I do have glee, and that's at least something to keep me in the spotlight. I like to look as my suppressed life as a great background story. Someday, I'll get to tell millions of how I grew up in Smalltown, USA and worked my way to the top. Nothing warms the fans like an upward climb against the odds."
"Understandable," Jesse agreed. "But if you were given the opportunity right now to get a start on all those dreams of yours, would you take it?"
"Would I take it?" Rachel repeated. "Absolutely. Fame's first to me, and I know better than to give up any opportunity that comes along that could help me get there."
"So you're saying you would be interested in started your career now?"
"Yeah," Rachel said, and their was slight confusion in her tone. "I feel like I just stumbled into the Spanish Inquisition. What's with all of the hypothetical questioning?"
"It's not hypothetical."
"What do you mean?"
"There's a television series in development right now that just got picked up for a pilot. Given, obtaining a pilot doesn't guarantee that the show will get picked for a season, but I've heard a lot about the prospect of it. I've worked with some of the writers before, and my manager knows the producer. If they do it right, it could be a big hit. Huge, even," Jesse explained. His eyes twinkled slightly, and her interest peeked.
"Where are you going with this?"
"I got you an audition."
"Are you serious?"
"The show's about a girl who wants to make it big on Broadway. It'll film here in Hollywood, on the Paramount lot where I spend a good bit of time. And it will do occasional, on location shooting in New York. It's mostly an acting gig, but there's some singing in it too. They're looking for unknowns with outstanding talent. This could be an enormous chance for you. It's not often that promising prospects like this go for new comers, but Ronnie called up some people. Bottom line, you've got an audition in a month."
"You can't be serious."
"As a heart attack. Ronnie's going to drop the audition script off tomorrow morning. I can run some lines with you, help you pick out an audition song, or whatever else you need. You can take it all home, and I'll pay for you to fly back out next month."
"Jesse," Rachel said, "this is huge. I don't know what to say."
"Then just say yes. Come on, Rach, this is your dream. A successful TV series can open the door to so much more."
"I- I can't. I mean, I want to. But, I can't. How do you- What am I even supposed to-"
"Rachel," Jesse interrupted, "I'm not asking you to do this on your own. I've done hundreds of auditions. I know how this kind of stuff works. This kind of chance comes along once in a lifetime. And to succeed in this business you have to be ready to grab it whenever it does. So, are you ready, or aren't you?"
They sat in silence for a few moments, and Jesse watched Rachel's facial features change with her thoughts. Her eyebrows pushed together a final time, and her lips pursed for a split second before she answered.
"I'm ready."
Chapter Nine this quick? Promise kept.
Okay, so I know it's short, but it's really just a filler chapter to get me where I've been headed with this story all along.
Oh, the things I have in store for you my fair readers!
Thoughts?
