"Rachel," Quinn glanced up as the young woman slipped into her office, "thanks for coming. This is John Palmer." She nodded at the earnest looking young man in a three piece suit standing from the chair he'd been sitting in. "He's the studio rep for the film we've got you in line as the female lead for."
"It's nice to meet you, Mr Palmer," Rachel murmured, shaking his hand and taking a seat. She'd been subdued since Santana had broken things off with her and Quinn didn't like it but didn't know what to do about it either.
"The pleasure's mind, Ms Berry." He smiled charmingly, smoothing his jacket down as he took his seat again. "I asked Ms Fabray here to set up this meeting to discuss some... troubling rumors that have come up about you."
"Rumors?" she asked curiously.
"Yes. Personally, I'm sure they're just the mindless babbling of a few gossipers," he smiled at her reassuringly, "but my studio is very family oriented and well, we do have to be careful."
Quinn looked down at her papers, she knew that she and Rachel hadn't been discrete about their relationship when they were together. She also knew that she looked like a hypocrite for allowing this to happen.
Rachel smiled confusedly. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Mr. Palmer. If you'd care to elaborate?"
He smirked, crossing his legs and folding his hands on his lap. "There's been foolish rumors that you've been, well... involved with women in the past. As I'm sure you understand, this isn't something that makes my studio very happy. We're a family-oriented company with very traditional values and our stars need to reflect that."
Her eyes narrowed as she began to catch on. "So... you're saying that if I was romantically linked to a woman - if I were a lesbian, I suppose you're saying - I wouldn't be able to work for your studio?"
"Well, I wouldn't put it quite like that." He chuckled briefly. "You'd still be able to work for us. We don't discriminate after all. We simply wouldn't be able to find the money to produce and distribute a film with you as the romantic lead. At least, certainly not a romance film." He smirked, laughing as if she'd follow along. "After all, what would people say seeing a openly gay woman attempting to play a straight woman in a romantic relationship with a man?"
"They'd say she's an amazing actor," Rachel snapped. "What is this about?"
"About? Ms Berry! Rachel, can I call you Rachel?" He didn't wait for an answer before grinning and continuing on, "Thanks, call me John, please. Rachel, what this is about is simple. You make us look good, and we put your name on the top of our posters. All you need to do is... diffuse these rumors."
"So... you want me to deny them?"
"Deny them? God no. That would just make them more believable." He shrugged, smoothing his tie down. "We want you to show them to be obviously false. Cultivate your relationship with your co-star. Let the cameras see how into him you are. The two of you have obvious chemistry after all."
"So," she glanced at Quinn almost accusingly, "you want me to date Ray Gomez. Is that it?"
"I knew you were smart when I first saw you," he smirked at her.
Quinn looked down, she clutched the pen in her hand. "I just don't understand why she needs to 'date' him... That stuff doesn't work, it just makes the media tear them apart. I don't want Rachel's first feature film to be tainted."
"Tainted?" He looked surprised. "Nonsense! The media loves a good romance. especially between romantic co-stars. After all, you know passion off the screen is passion on the screen." He grinned, looking between Rachel and Quinn. "Don't look like I kicked your puppies, alright? You're getting to be paraded about on the arm of one of Hollywood's up and coming most eligible bachelors, Rachel. You know that'll make you look good. Girls everywhere will be dying to be in your shoes."
"Yes, because I need a man in my life," she seemed to agree, speaking mildly as she leaned back in her chair, "to give me credence as a major actor. Like Katie Holmes?"
"Exactly," he smirked at Rachel. "Smart girl, you've got here, Quinn."
"She didn't say that as a compliment," Quinn muttered. "Look, what if I don't want my client doing this? She's busy on stage and seldom does anything but work on her hit show."
He smiled at Quinn as if it was obvious. "Then we'll find an actress who can be the star we need. We're not asking that she releases a sex tape or anything with the man." He laughed, glancing at Rachel with a smirk as if he were joking, "Though if you want to leak one, the press would be amazing. Lots of women becoming famous through sex tapes you know. The Kardashians. Paris Hilton."
Rachel raised a brow and crossed her arms over her chest. "I thought you were a family oriented studio, Mr Palmer."
"John, sweetheart, call me John." He smiled integrating, "And we are. But you've got to admit, nothing says you're straight like a sex tape with a man as handsome as Ray Gomez."
"Please stop sexually harassing my client," Quinn demanded. "So we're just saying a few coffee dates and maybe a dinner?" She sighed. "If that's all you want I can discuss it with Rachel and set up another meeting with his publicist and manager."
"What I want, sweetheart," he smirked at Quinn, "is for your client to stop playing house with that little friend of hers and start acting like a proper heterosexual star."
"Oh," Rachel murmured, "so my being friends with my assistant is the problem. I see." She nodded for a moment as if in thought, then shrugged. "That... won't be a problem any longer. I'll talk to Ray. We'll see."
"I knew you'd see things my way, Rachel." He grinned, reaching over to pat her knee before standing and straightening his jacket again. "Ladies, it's been a pleasure talking with you. I hope to have the pleasure again some day. You two have a wonderful day now." Giving them one last overly whitened smile, he nodded to first Quinn then Rachel and headed out the door.
Quinn sighed. "Fuck," she mumbled as she looked down at the paper. "Tell me now if you don't want to be in their movie. It's still early enough to get out without too much damage."
"It'd be bad for my career to bail on the project without a better cause than a slimy bigot of a representative," Rachel shrugged. "This is why I never went on dates the firm set up before, Quinn. But whatever. It's fine. I'm sure I can talk Ray into playing the part of my boyfriend without too much trouble."
"I'm sorry this is part of your life," she said. "We knew it might happen sooner or later..."
"Please don't pity me, Quinn. You're not sorry. If you were, you never would have insisted on me going to the premiere as Ray's date in the first place." She shook her head, standing up. "This is my job. Looking pretty on a man's arm. You've made it very clear that it's necessary if I want to advance in my industry, so I'll do it. It's what you want, so why not."
"Is Santana going to be okay with this?" Quinn asked, as she realized that managing her best friend was going to ruin their relationship.
Rachel looked at her. "What does Santana have to do with anything? She's my assistant." She shrugged, lips tightening slightly. "That's it."
"Oh..." Quinn said, noticing an obvious change. "Did... did something happen? Santana... she told me that you guys... when we took her kid to the zoo."
"So you knew." She nodded her head slowly, feeling almost sick at the revelation. "You knew and you still made me go on that date." Her jaw worked as she stared at the ground. "What did I do to you, Quinn? What did I do that made you want to mess up everything good in my life? You're finally happy with someone, so why can't I be?" She shook her head. "Whatever. Santana and I... whatever it was we had, it's done now. I don't even get to see Brooklyn any more because of the press. You get to go home to Jay. I get to go home to nothing. I hope you're happy. You've finally got the very career-minded Rachel Berry back. Enjoy it."
"Do you really want to spend the rest of your life hiding?" Quinn demanded, getting frustrated. "Do you really want to give up your dreams of getting a Tony? You know Santana well enough to know that she's never going to be ready." The blonde sighed and rubbed her face. "I love her like a sister, but she's scared and she always will be."
"Exactly how would being involved in a successful Broadway production ruin my dreams of winning a Tony, Quinn?" Rachel asked pointedly. "What does my personal life have to do with my ability to win an award in a field of the entertainment industry that is famous for having homosexual people in it? And who cares if we weren't telling the world as long as we were happy?! We could have figured it out! But you had to push. You just had to. Now I'm going to lie to everyone about who I care about and pretend I have a romantic interest in a gay man so I can be groped by him on the big screen for a family oriented studio movie. And I don't even have the possibility of going home and spending time with Santana or Brooklyn after a day of all that any more."
"Think about it, Rachel." She narrowed her eyes. "You name me one actress that is out. Name me one, Rachel." Quinn looked at her and sighed, "I'm sorry this is how it works. If Santana can't handle dealing with your career? She's not worth it."
"Amber Heard. Portia DeGeneres and her wife. Sarah Paulson. Cynthia Nixon. Kelly McGillis." Rachel glared at Quinn. "I can name more. And the term is actor. My title is not determined based upon my gender, Quinn. Actress is antiquated and sexist."
"I don't know who Amber Heard is, but Ellen and Portia? Ellen got fired for being gay and didn't work for years. She had it in her contract when her show started that she couldn't mention her homosexuality," Quinn pointed out. "Sarah Paulson gets no parts other than the funny sidekick because no one can believe she's straight since she came out and Cynthia Nixon and Kelly McGillis came out after they had defined their careers." Quinn crossed her arms. "I don't like this either, but think about your career before you think with your heart."
"My heart? My heart, Quinn?!" Rachel slapped her hand on Quinn's desk. "My heart doesn't have any say in anything. My heart doesn't matter. Don't you talk to me about my heart, Quinn. Sign the papers or whatever you have to do. I'll talk to Ray later. And while you're at it," she shook her head, "find me some place to live in LA while this movie is being shot. I don't feel like coming back to New York for a while."
"Don't you want to discuss that with your assistant?" Quinn asked softly. "Will you need space for her as well?"
"No. There's no need to disrupt Brooklyn's life any more." She turned away. "Besides she's always been more your assistant than mine. Just finish her training and make her your partner or whatever it is you've been grooming her for since you hired her. I'll be fine in LA on my own."
"Santana has asked to stop her training," Quinn told her, watching her carefully. "She doesn't wish to be a manager in her own right. So, I need to ask you... Do you no longer want your assistant?"
"Don't ask me that." The muscles in her jaw jumped as she tried to contain herself. "Fine. She can be my assistant here. I'm sure there's plenty that will have to be arranged and I suppose someone would need to take over my lease anyway," Rachel bit out. "I can't deal with this. I can't deal with knowing she's right there and I'm not allowed to even touch her any more. We're barely friends any more and I can't deal, Quinn. I need space."
"Yeah... she's pulled away from everyone, but so have you." Quinn sighed and looked at her books. "I'll put her on part time while you're away."
"She's salaried, Quinn," Rachel pointed out. "If the idiots here throw a fit, just take her pay out of my contracts. I'm not going to take her means of supporting herself and her daughter just because I can't handle being around her right now."
"I'm not going to let anything happen to Santana, I'll do what I can." She sighed as she rubbed her face. "So you're going to LA... I'll set everything up for you. Your last show will be in three weeks."
"That soon?" Rachel whispered. "Fine." She brought her gaze up to look at Quinn for the first time in the last few minutes. "You know... I was happy. I was happy doing Broadway and little movie and tv roles here and there and having... whatever it was with Santana. I was happy picking Brooklyn up after school when Santana was doing something for you and couldn't so she didn't have to go to a babysitter. I actually almost felt like I had a family for a little bit. I gave that up because you asked me to. So you take care of them. You owe me at least that much."
Turning she headed out of the office. Still a storm out, though less fiery than she used to pull in high school. The door thudded closed behind her, an anti-climatic end to her visit. Quinn dropped her head down to her desk, hating what this was doing to her friends.
And her friendships.
Santana was quiet.
She had been since Brooklyn had been sick and she and Rachel called off their romance. She had been working less and less with Rachel and her not really speaking. She had asked Quinn to remove her from training since she just didn't have time and she wasn't willing to work more hours and get into something that would take her away from Brooklyn even more. She stood in the kitchen distractedly washing the dishes as she tried to think of anything other than Rachel.
"Mommy?" Brooklyn called softly, wandering into the kitchen. "Why doesn't Rachie come over any more? I miss her and your bed doesn't smell like her no more."
"Anymore, it doesn't smell like her anymore," Santana corrected her. "She's busy with her job. Brooklyn, we've talked about this. Adults sometimes have to put work over their friends."
"But I don't ever see her no," she paused, consciously correcting herself, "anymore. Why can't we go see her? We used to visit with Rachie all the time, Mommy."
"She wasn't as busy then." Santana sighed, washing her hands and drying them. "She still loves you, you know that."
"But I miss her, Mommy," Brooklyn pouted, holding the Chilly Bear she'd gotten from Rachel when she was sick against her chest. "And I hafta give back Mr Chilly. How will she remember I love her if I don't tell her like I tell you?"
"She knows, Brooke." Santana sighed. "Baby, sometimes things happen and we can't control it."
Brooklyn pouted and looked worried. "Mommy, did I do something bad? Did I make Rachie stay away? I don't want her to stay away. I'll say sorry. I'll be good!"
"No, baby, you're perfect." She sighed. "It's mommy's fault, please don't worry about it. Would you like to play with playdough?"
"No! What'd you do to Rachie?" She was upset, sniffling. "Say you're sorry! Go say sorry and make Rachie come back! Why'd you make Rachie go 'way, Mommy?"
"Brooklyn, please understand when I say it's not forever. Rachel will be back, she just needs to focus on work right now."
Brooklyn's face crumpled up and she sniffed loudly as she tried not to cry. "But I want Rachie, Mommy. I don't see her ever anymore. I miss her. Make her come back..."
"I miss her too, but right now?" she said, squatting down and looking in her daughter's eyes hating that she was being hurt in all of this. "It's you and me again."
The little girl sniffled, trying to be brave. "I liked it better when Rachie was here," she whispered. "You smiled more. I like when you're happy, Mommy. Rachie makes you happy. Why can't she be with us?"
"I know," Santana said softly. "Right now it needs to me you and me again, I know it's hard but we're gonna have to be brave okay?"
"I think Rachie's sad too." She sniffed throwing her arms around her mom, needing the hug. "Rachie said she loves you, Mommy. Why can't you love her too? Then you could be like Aunt Q and Uncle Jay and be happy."
"Because," Santana breathed, hugging her daughter, "sometimes life's not like we want it to be." She kissed her shoulder. "But we're healthy, we have lots of food for our tummies and we have each other."
"It'd be better with Rachie," she mumbled, crying softly as she buried her face in her mom's neck.
Santana rubbed her back. "Don't cry," she whispered. "Please, baby."
Brooklyn sniffled mightily, trying to force back her tears. "Why can't Rachie be my mommy too, Mommy? I loves her..."
"Because I'm your mother," Santana said as she wiped the girl's eyes. "You are my special gift, remember?"
She sniffed and nodded. "I remember. But Rachie has two daddies. Why can't I have two mommies?"
"Maybe someday." She sighed. "But not right now. Not just because you want it."
"Don't be mean to Rachie no more, Mommy," she whispered, looking up trustingly. "Don't make her go away and not come back. Please?"
"She'll come back, she just needs to work for a bit. She loves you and she'll come back to see you."
"Promise?" she sniffed, wiping at her nose with her sleeve.
"Yeah... Mommy loves you and will be here for ever and ever, you know that right?" Santana said as she wiped her own tears away. "I'm always going to be here."
"Okay," she mumbled, pawing at her face. "Still miss Rachie though."
Santana nodded. "Me too," she whispered as she picked up her daughter and carried her into their bedroom and laid on the bed. She sang softly to her as she rubbed her daughter's back trying to comfort them both.