Chapter 37

Quinn sat on her back deck watching the waves roll onto the shore. She had a glass of wine in one hand and a closed book in the other. She couldn't concentrate and she'd pushed her reading glasses up on top of her head. She felt lost in the sea. Things were going to get ugly back at home, but her sister was supportive. It meant a lot to her. The more she thought about the more she wasn't that upset about the movie. She knew that Santana was going over the contract and the legality of it all again and again, but now, she wasn't worried. She actually felt...liberated. She felt good.

"What's that smile for?" Santana asked as she walked up the stairs to the back deck and joined her.

Quinn didn't have time to answer her. Santana saw how relaxed she looked and decided to join her. She reached over and took the bottle of wine, grabbed a glass out the house, poured herself a glass, and sat down beside Quinn. She took a sip of the wine and sighed. It was the perfect seaside California night. She took another sip before she set the glass down on the table between them.

"I've got some news about the movie for you."

"Yeah?"

"You've retained the rights to the story and you will get a screenwriter's acknowledgement plus royalties from the movie. However, you cannot stop it from happening. You can speak out against it, but that is about it. It seems that you've got a big stake in the royalties though, so I wouldn't give it too much bad publicity."

"Is that all?" Quinn asked as she took another sip.

"Nope."

"What else?"

"I managed to get them to send me a script if you want to review it."

"You know I do," Quinn stated as she turned and gave Santana a look.

"I knew you would, which is why I got it."

Quinn held out her hand. Santana produced the script and handed it to her. She smiled at her blond friend. She wanted to giggle as they both reached for their wine and took sips. Their mannerisms were too much alike sometimes, Santana mused. Too much time together has caused it.

"So?"

"So, what?" Santana asked.

"I know you read it. You couldn't help yourself. I know you read the book, too. So, what did you think about the script?"

"It's good."

"That says a lot coming from you," Quinn quipped as she started flipping through it with one hand as she brought her glasses down and onto her face with the other.

Santana laughed. She was known for her sarcastic nature and quick wit, just like Quinn was. Her main defense was that she sent didn't sugar coat things. She told everyone what she thought about them as she thought it. And, sometimes her mouth had gotten in her trouble, but it was never something that she couldn't talk her way out of. Santana was oddly endearing when she needed to be, straight laced for the most part and frightening when she had to be. And, Quinn loved her for it.

Quinn reached for her wine. She noticed as she took a sip that Santana had refilled the glass. She flipped back to the beginning of the manuscript and started reading in earnest.

"I'll get the munchkin and keep her at out place until your done. Come find me when you're finished and we'll talk about it. You can still tweak it," Santana stated as she stood up.

Quinn gave her a nod and a non-committal grunt as she turned the page. San smiled. She grabbed her wine glass and took it back in the house, washed it and set it in the sink. She was glad that Quinn was actually giving it a chance. She could only wonder how long it would take before Quinn picked up a pen and started editing it. She left on that note with a smile on her face. She knew that her friend would be okay.

Quinn started reading the script. She had to admit that it was weird reading her words written by someone else. She wondered if this was what biography subjects felt when they read about themselves.

The dialogue flowed freely. That was good. It would make the conversations and the scenes seem more realistic and not forced. The only thing that could make it better was good actresses and actors that could actually play the parts without destroying the character. She'd seen that too much, a character decimated by an actor's performance.

She sighed as she flipped the pages. It was good. She could actually say that she was proud of it. She could actually be happy to put her name on the movie with this script. Of course, she would demand to be on set for rewrites and such. But, there were only a few areas that she wanted to tweak. She wanted to be mad about it, but she couldn't. It actually drew her in and kept her attention. Even if she didn't know the story or have written it, she would like the script. It pissed her off to no end because she wanted to hate so she could keep in rewrites to try to delay things, but she liked it.

She flipped back to the beginning and started reading it again. Each time she got to the part where Hunter and Chris met in the library she couldn't help but smile. It was excellently written and it followed her novel completely. It was almost as if she wrote it herself. She wanted to meet the man that wrote it, because he moved her. And, if he could do that with this novel, she wondered about the rest of her works. She shook her head at the thought. Could this one film make her sell out? Only time would really tell.

She grabbed the script, the now empty bottle of wine and her glass and headed back into the house. She dropped the bottle into the recycling bin as she made her way to the sink. She sat the script down on the bar as she washed out her glass. Then she grabbed San's from the sink and put them both in the dishwasher. She picked up the script and headed into her home office in the front of the house.

She dropped the script on the desk. She grabbed a red pen. It was once the bane of her existence, but now it would mark the changes that she wanted to add to the script. This time she was the one wielding the dreaded "Red Marking Pen." This wasn't an assignment. This was her life, in words about to be on the big, silver screen. She wanted it to be right. She wanted to still represent what the novel had for her so many years ago: closure and peace.

She opened her laptop. She went to Pandora and selected a station. Once the soft strains of music filled her office, she leaned back in her leather desk chair and put her feet up on her desk. Once she was comfortable, she grabbed the pen and the script and set to work. She knew that it would be much. She didn't want to make the pages "bleed." She just wanted to make things seem more like "her."

She was lost in the story when she heard a familiar ping from her computer. She lifted her glasses up some and looked at the laptop's screen. She couldn't help but smile. It was an instant message through the Hathor Pages from Rachel.

She dropped her feet and set the script down beside he laptop. The red pen holding her place as she turned her attention to the screen before her. She pulled the chair up as she prepared to answer.

MB: Are you actually there?

LW: Yes

MB: Good.

LW: What's up?

MB: I was reading lines with Kurt, but now, I am just relaxing.

LW: Don't worry about the audition. I am sure that you'll nail it. You're awesome.

MB: Thank you for saying that.

LW: I mean it. You can sing. I've looked up some of your performances online. YouTube is a wonderful thing.

MB: It can be. It can also be awful. It depends on the content.

LW: Well, I didn't see anything with you in it that was bad. That should at least count for something. By the way, I loved the dog park fundraiser concert.

MB: Are you serious? There are videos of that. I so do not google myself enough.

LW: You were cute and I am sure that you helped raise enough to get what you needed.

MB: We did, but...now, I am going to go look at those videos.

LW: Oh stop, you were fine. You looked great and sounded better. They couldn't have picked a better singer to help with that. What are you up to now?

MB: Enjoying a glass of wine and reading over my lines for the audition.

LW: Still?

MB: I never stop until the performance and even then, I keep a copy in my dressing room to refer to as needed.

LW: I doubt you need it.

MB: Usually, no, but I like having it there just in case.

LW: ...

MB: What?

LW: Sorry I was lost in thought about this script I'm reviewing.

MB: Script?

LW: From my book, they are making it into a movie.

MB: The one you don't want?

LW: Yeah.

MB: Is it bad?

LW: No.

MB: But?

LW: I actually like it and I don't want to.

MB: I guess that could be a bad thing. But, you like the writing and how they are presenting the story? Are you still going to be involved with the project?

LW: I really like the writing, which makes me mad, but whatever. I am currently sitting at my desk with my little red pen tweaking it like a teacher would grade papers. I am soooo glad I didn't decide to do that with my life. Don't get me wrong, I respect teachers, but I sooo could not do that job. I would have strangled a child by now. As for working on the project, the contract that I signed for the story says that I am allowed. I think I might. I think that this will be a good experience for me. A step in a new direction.

MB: Do you need that?

LW: I don't know. I am happy with my life for the most part. I just wish that I had someone to share it with.

MB: I know what you mean.

LW: I want you to stay here, but I know that you have life in New York. It would be fair for me to ask you to give that up just for me. I would want you to do that because you chose to do it.

MB: I know. I want to stay, but I don't know that I can. What if I don't get this part? What if I do? I don't know what I am going to do. Coming out here was something that I really just did on a whim. Don't think that I haven't enjoyed our time together, because I have...immensely, but I have to be realistic, too. Broadway is my home and my first love. I don't know if I could just run away from that and stay away. The stage is calling me even now. I already have offers for shows. Directors are calling Tina daily asking when I am coming home. They all think that I am just on vacation.

LW: You needed the break.

MB: I need a life outside the stage.

LW: But, you shine so bright.

MB: Even stars eventually burn out, Quinn.

LW: And, Hollywood is full of that. You don't need Hollywood or New York. You shine on your own. Sing. Make an album. Do something that you love for you and not the masses.

MB: I am.

LW: What?

MB: I met you.

Quinn stared at her screen for a minute. She wasn't really sure what Rachel meant by that statement. She hoped she knew what Rachel meant, but she didn't want push her into actually saying those words...at least not yet.

Rachel was right. They needed to be realistic. They needed to keep themselves slightly guarded until they actually knew what they were going to do. Was Rachel going to stay? Was Quinn? Could she move? Could she live on the East Coast? These were all questions that they would have to answer together and they needed time in order to answer them.

LW: I don't know what to say to that.

MB: You don't have to say anything. I was telling you the truth. I came out here because I wanted to. I chose to do this. I did it. I chose to meet you while I was here because I wanted to meet the person that I had been talking to online. I wanted to know what you were like in real person. And, I am glad that I did.

LW: So?

MB: So, what?

LW: Am I what you expected?

MB: That and more.

LW: Are you trying to make me blush, because it's working.

MB: No, but now I wish I could see it. I need to get to sleep. I want to be all bright eyed and bushy tailed at my audition tomorrow.

LW: Alright, goodnight, Rachel. Break a leg tomorrow. I'll be routing for you. I know you don't need it, but still.

MB: Thank you. Goodnight. I'll call you tomorrow after I am done to let you know how I thought it went.

LW: Sounds good. Can't wait to hear from you. Sweet dreams.

Quinn waited to see if Rachel would reply. Her fingers were hovering over the keyboard on her laptop until she saw that Rachel had logged off. It was only then that she closed the Hathor Pages instant messenger program. She pushed her laptop away from her as she grabbed the script and her red pen. She leaned back in her desk chair and propped her feet back on her desk. She went back to the spot where she'd stopped. Looking down at the clock on her laptop, she gave herself a few more minutes before she would call it night. She hadn't realized how late it had gotten.

It was night's like this that she was glad that Santana and Brittany lived so close. They really were the bestest of best friends. There were days that she wasn't sure what she would have done without them. She was glad that Beth had such positive role models in her life. She knew how important that was. Hell, she needed to get Brittany something expensive and pretty soon for taking care of both Santana and her. She was the greatest.

"Thinking about how much Britt-Britt loves us?" Santana asked breaking her thoughts.

Quinn looked up to see Santana standing in her office. She cocked her head and wondered how she got in the house without her knowing. As if Santana could read her mind, she shook her head and sat down in the chair in front of the desk.

"She's sleeping in her room. I brought her back a few hours ago. You were reading and didn't hear me use my key," Santana told her as she dropped her keys on the desk. "The music is a nice touch for the destruction of the manuscript."

"I am not destroying it."

"Tweaking?"

"Yes. They've stayed true to my work as much as possible. It is actually amazing."

"How many times have you read it?"

"Tonight?"

"Well, duh, because I gave it to you today," Santana quipped.

"A few."

"Like?"

"About ten," Quinn finally admitted.

"Good."

"Why?"

Santana smiled at her. She looked like she was the cat that caught the canary. And, Quinn knew that meant one thing: trouble.

"What did you do?" Quinn asked when Santana didn't answer the first question.

"Nothing that your contract said that I couldn't do," Santana replied.

"Which is?"

"I called the studio. They are start auditions tomorrow. You and I are going to be there. You get a say in who is in the movie. Of course it isn't the be all, end all say, but it is something. So, I've given you enough time to play with the script. It is time for you to go to bed. We have an early day tomorrow and I want you ready for it."

"Does that mean coffee in the morning?" Quinn asked sarcastically.

"I will have a big mug of coffee waiting on you, Superstar. Come on. Up to bed with you. I have a lonely pregnant wife at home that I want to snuggle up with."

"What time will you be back for me in the morning?"

"Seven."

"Damn, so early?"

"Hollywood, dear. They wait for no one. So, be ready. By the way, I've already set your alarm by the bed. Now scoot."

Quinn laughed at her friend. She watched as Santana waved through the large glass doors on the back of the house. She waited until she couldn't see her on the beach to cut the outdoor lights off and head upstairs to bed. She knew that tomorrow was going to be a long day.

On her way upstairs, she stopped into Beth's room. Her daughter was fast asleep. She looked so peaceful. She was happy as long as Beth was happy. She knew that she would have to talk to Beth about the movie. She knew that her friends would say something about it when if finally came out. She wanted to get in front of that and that critics. But, she was also glad that Beth would never know the horrors and hardships that she had been through as a child and teenager. She walked across the room and kissed her head gently.

"Never lose your light, my Beth. I love you, Baby girl. Sweetest dreams," she whispered to the slumbering form.

She softly left the room and headed to hers. She changed and got ready for bed. She lay in her big California King and stared at the ceiling. As she started falling asleep, she thought about Rachel and them having a life together. She fell asleep with a smile on her face.