"So I tell you your wife's a gangster and your solution is to go hang out with all of her gangster friends," Santana shook her head with what Rachel assumed was annoyance. She'd been harping on the gangster thing since Rachel had poked her head into the room. She was almost starting to regret coming down. At least if Brittany were here Rachel could find a way to change the subject but she was back at the blackjack tables counting cards and making money, or losing money depending on what her plan was.

"Look, Quinn isn't a gangster. It's all a big misunderstanding." Rachel had been trying out different things in her head. Lies to tell the people close to her that would explain why she was in a relationship with someone with such an unsavory reputation. Nothing seemed to work, not even when she did her best to delude herself. She thought it best to instead just give the company line.

"There is no mafia."

Santana laughed. "That's what we're going with? There is no mafia? The FBI will be more than happy to disagree with you. I mean it's not like they're not lingering around here someplace."

Rachel hadn't seen anybody that even remotely looked like an FBI agent. Quinn had said she might and that if they spoke to her she should simply ignore them and tell her right away. Rachel wouldn't suspect this would be a problem but what did she know?

"Can we talk about something else please?"

Santana ran her fingers through her long black hair and gave Rachel a half scowl. "Fine, we can talk about the video of you on TMZ. The NEW video posted earlier today of your bodyguard punching a guy out in front of two dozen witnesses and you laughing about it."

"That was a misunderstanding. It was taken completely out of context," Rachel said halfheartedly.

"Oh, because I thought you got a kick out of it. Good thing it was just a misunderstanding."

The video was getting lots of hits on the internet and within a few hours was sure to go viral. There was nothing Rachel could do to combat it now. First the barista video and now this. According to the world she was a monster.

"It's not like I told him to punch that guy. Everybody is so damn sensitive all of a sudden."

"Maybe you should send him some flowers or something." Santana, despite her mean streak was a pro at damage control. With her fiery Latin temper and over all mean streak she had to be good at mitigating the damage her poor behavior caused her. "I mean if he sues or presses charges things will go from bad to worse."

That was a good idea, Rachel had to admit. Ivan had in fact broken his camera. Maybe she should replace it and send it to him. That would show the world she wasn't all bad. That couldn't be turned against her.

"I took care of it. Don't worry about that reporter. I replaced his camera. He won't be a problem. I bet he'll want to just put the whole thing behind him as soon as possible," Quinn smiled that golden smile of hers. "He probably just wants to move on with his life. I doubt he'll even be a problem."

Rachel wanted to ask questions but knew better than to put herself in that position. Quinn had said asking questions just created issues. It was always better to sit back and enjoy the ride. It was nothing more than manipulation, Rachel knew that much, but it was still correct. Knowing too much never did anyone any good.

"Are you sure your friends will like me?"

Quinn nodded with confidence.

"Just be yourself. You have a strong personality and everybody knows it. You don't have to lay it on thick or anything but feel free to be yourself. You're famous after all," Quinn had whispered the words into her ear but Rachel felt as if the entire world could hear them.

"I don't want to embarrass you."

Quinn pulled her close and gave her neck a gentle kiss. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Everybody will love you."

Rachel doubted that. Lately everybody had been annoyed by her. One minute she was a happy, famous, financially stable Broadway star, and the next she was hated by everybody. One mishap with a barista and the entire world had turned on her. Never mind the fact that the idiot had put whole milk in her latte instead of skim. Rachel had made a big point of it and the moron had nodded along like she was paying attention but instead had just put in the first milk she could grab. When Rachel complained she'd been told to chill out, which incensed her and sent her off on a rant. In typical fashion the cell camera taping the incident had only recorded her rant and suddenly she was public enemy number one.

"This isn't what I would have expected," Rachel admitted. When she'd heard the word party she expected something in a bar like in the movies. In the gangster movies she'd watched through the years the parties were always at someone's house or at some bar owned by somebody close. This party was taking place in an upscale restaurant off the strip.

"A friend of mine owns this place. He's letting us use it tonight. We'll have the whole thing to ourselves. Lots of food and wine. I even had him create a list of vegan dishes for you to choose from."

Rachel wasn't surprised at all by Quinn's attention to detail. She didn't miss a trick. "Thank you."

Quinn ran a finger down Rachel's cheek and gave her wink. "Don't get too drunk tonight. I'm gonna want sex later." Before Rachel had a chance to respond Quinn was stepping out of the car and adjusting her jacket.

What was she supposed to say to that? I'm gonna want sex later? How incredibly unromantic.

Quinn's friends consisted of tattooed men and young beautiful women in skimpy dresses and expensive jewelry. The men were more than a mere stereotype. All of them were in fact Russian, but some were tall, some short, some skinny, some fat, all covered in tattoos and all with a woman on their arm that looked extremely high maintenance.

Quinn introduced her to everyone but she couldn't remember any of their names. They all knew her name without having to be told but after an initial introduction none of the men spoke to her at all. Rachel thought for a moment that she had done something wrong but after a few minutes of taking in her surroundings she'd began to notice it wasn't just her.

The men in the room had a pattern. Each man focused his attention on one specific woman in the room who the other men promptly ignored. Quinn and she fit this pattern causing Rachel to deduce that the group had some sort of rule against socializing with the women of other guys. It was a question for later.

A tall skinny blonde with striking blue eyes and model looks, Ekrem's girl, introduced herself to Rachel as Mina. Her dress was short, too short for Rachel's taste but undoubtedly expensive. There was a diamond necklace dangling between her cleavage, and from the looks of it the thing cost a fortune. She gave Rachel a polite smile then arched a suspicious eyebrow.

"So how did you lock that one down?" Mina's accent was thick and Russian, a fact that didn't surprise Rachel at all. She seemed to be the only one here who wasn't from Russia besides Quinn.

Rachel shrugged. The true story was likely sort of embarrassing. Getting married in Las Vegas was nothing to be ashamed of, it just wasn't the most romantic story to tell your friends.

"We've been dancing around it for a while. Last night we just started having fun and decided it was the time. It's true alcohol was involved but what's a girl to do?"

Mina laughed. "I should have made Ekrem bring me with. He offered but I wanted to see Celine Dion instead. Maybe if I had gone we'd both be new brides." She tilted her head with contemplation. "It doesn't matter how you get the ring, once you marry them they never get a divorce."

Rachel nodded not sure what else to say.

"How long have you been together?" It seemed a fair question, a safe question.

"For almost one year. Ekrem moved me into his place last month, I cook and clean and do the job of a wife and enjoy all the perks but it's not official. Some of the men don't want to be married. This is silly of course because Clev has been with his woman for nearly thirty years but they never married. They have four children they raised together and yet no ring."

Rachel assumed Clev was the white haired gentlemen everyone seemed to be fawning over. If he was anybody he was the boss. He'd introduced himself to her by name, admired her ring but walked away just as quickly. Now all of the men, and Quinn, had retreated to one side of the restaurant while the women chatted on the other. It reminded Rachel of a junior high school dance.

"How many of the girls do have the ring?"

Mina shrugged. "There are three of you." There were at least a dozen women in the room. "The ones with guys who are American Russians, like your Quinn, they like to marry. The guys born in Russia, like my Ekrem, they don't marry. She's from Idaho, but she's Russian."

"Ohio." Rachel corrected her.

Mina nodded. "Right. Lima Bean Ohio."

Rachel almost laughed but thought it might be considered rude.

"You live in New York?"

Mina nodded. "Little Odessa. We all live in Little Odessa."

Rachel almost groaned. Brooklyn? Quinn couldn't possibly expect her to move out of her Manhattan condo into some place in Brooklyn. Surely that was asking a little bit much.

"Everybody?"

Mina shrugged. "It's where we're all from. Don't worry. Now that you're starting a new life with Quinn she'll buy you a new place. A nice place. You get anything you want. The men are very proud this way. She'll buy you a house and let you make it a home for the both of you. Anything you want, she'll pay."

That didn't surprise Rachel at all. Quinn had said as much earlier when she'd gone shopping. Don't worry about how much things costs or who pays for anything, she'd said. Still it was a strange thing to be told.

"I don't need all that much. A job maybe, that's it."

Mina's brow crinkled. "You don't have to work. Not anymore. Anything you want she'll get. We keep busy with other things. Everyday it's something different. We get up and make breakfast for the boys, get the children ready for school, then we go and exercise, every day exercise. Then we shop, or play cards. Sometimes we do something special. Take the children to the museum, or in the summer we go to the beach. Go home make dinner, and the next day we do it again. It's not a bad life. Nobody works."

That didn't sound encouraging at all. Rachel couldn't imagine her life without performing. She'd spent her life trying to get to Broadway and now that she was there she wasn't going to willingly give it up. On the other hand at the rate things were going she may not actually have a choice.

Rachel inched closer to Quinn extricating herself expertly from the casual small talk and idle chatter she'd been exposed to with the other women. The lives of the other women seemed to revolve around the men in their lives. They woke up in the morning and made them breakfast then got them on their way, afterwards they kept themselves busy all day while waiting for them to come home.

She couldn't imagine living her life that way. She'd been keeping herself busy for years in New York. Making it on Broadway wasn't a walk in the park. It wasn't like any other job in the world. It meant being on stage in front of an audience six days a week, twice a day on the weekends. She didn't have time to sit around and wait for anybody. She definitely didn't get up early and make anyone breakfast. It occurred to her that of all the conversations a couple should have before getting married, expectations about work and lifestyle were the most important. If Quinn wanted a wife who would wait on her hand and foot she was in for a cruel surprise.

Rachel found Quinn sitting at a table engrossed deep in conversation with Clev. Both of them were leaning forward and speaking in hushed tones but Rachel had always been blessed with superb hearing. It was one of the perks of being a world class talent. Excellent pitch, hearing, and diction.

"I've got seven people working full time now but I think that may be as much as we should do. It takes me forever to find the right person. Most people are greedy. They'd rather get a large payday once than a thousand small ones over the course of a few years." Quinn sighed and sipped her drink. "I used that guy Karl sent to me, Evan, and he got caught the first day because he didn't do what he was told. He thought he knew best and he put everything at risk. I had to let him go. Karl won't be happy."

Rachel watched Clev nod. "I'll take care of Karl. As for the other thing I agree with you. We keep it small, quiet. Between Las Vegas and Atlantic City we're making quite a bit of money. I don't want to risk that by trying to push some new kid we can't trust through. What about your Professor friend, does she have anything else to offer us," Clev asked?

Quinn shrugged. "No. Not that I can tell. It took some threating to get the full scam out of her but once she talked she told me everything. I promised her it wouldn't land on her if things went sour. I want to isolate her as much as possible and leave her to her business. She taught me how to make money, and she's an old friend. Unless she becomes a problem I say we forget she ever existed. "

Clev nodded again. "Understood. Nobody knows about her but the two of us and she doesn't know about me. She'll be safe." Rachel watched as he gave Quinn's shoulder a pat and pushed himself away from the table. She diverted her attention back to the room as he sauntered away and as he slipped past back towards his lady friend he gave Rachel a polite smile.

"Rachel hey, come and sit down for a minute," Quinn said as she gave the chair a push with her foot. Rachel didn't hesitate to sit down and for the first time tonight allowed herself to exhale. "You having a good time?"

"I'm having fun," Rachel said quickly. A little too quickly for Quinn's tastes because she frowned.

"You're not having a good time? Why not? This whole party is for us. Is somebody not being nice?"

Everybody had been extremely friendly but Rachel got the impression that if somebody had been behaving badly telling Quinn wouldn't have been a good idea. Brittany had made a point of telling her that Quinn wasn't the same girl they had gone to school with back in Lima. That it turns out was a very accurate description. When Quinn had seen the video of Ivan punching the photographer instead of getting angry about an overuse of force she commented on how photogenic Rachel was.

"I'm having an okay time. I just heard from Mina that none of the girls work. Some of them aren't allowed to."

Quinn snickered. "They don't want jobs. Their jobs are keeping their stomachs flat for beach season. Those women don't want to work Rachel. If they did the guys would find them jobs to keep them happy. But this way they can use the guys as an excuse to spend their entire day working out and shopping."

Quinn grabbed her hand and pulled it to her mouth for a kiss. Rachel wanted to believe her but there was something about the way she smiled when the words escaped her lips. Coolly, calmly and without effort, that gave her the creeps. Everything that came out of her mouth was like a speech she'd rehearsed in her head a hundred times. It was believable and plausible but Rachel didn't believe it. Instead of saying anything about it she decided now was not the time to question her. Not in front of her friends.

"I'm not quitting my job," Rachel said firmly. "Well when I get one I won't quit to make you eggs in the morning. You should know me well enough to not expect it."

"I don't want you to quit. Did I say that? I even found a theatre for you. I want you to have your own show in your own theatre. It's off Broadway but it's one of the big off Broadway stages. You can come up with a show or you can hire the best in the business to write one for you."

Rachel's head was spinning. Her own show? How could Quinn manage to pull that off? Stages on and off Broadway were incredibly difficult to come by. And shows were expensive to produce and terribly hard to predict the success of.

"What stage? You can't just strong arm someone into giving me a stage Quinn."

Quinn smiled. A big confident smile that said yes she could in fact strong arm someone into giving her a stage to produce a show. It should have been silly and implausible but coming from Quinn it sounded somewhat plausible. She seemed to have a knack for getting things done. She always had.

"It's all set up. Eighty seats, intimate, you set your own schedule, everything is all worked out. All you have to do is show up and perform. Don't worry about anything else. We'll get you a staff, hire you a producer who'll keep you happy, anything you need. I don't anticipate you'll have any problems. We've accounted for all contingencies."

Rachel knew what contingencies meant on Broadway. It meant despite what happened on stage you had to prepare for the inevitable possibility that nobody would come and see the show. There was no way to account for that. If nobody wanted to see you then nobody wanted to see you. You couldn't afford to operate a show if nobody cared to watch it.

"Short of pouring good money after bad there's no way to account for that," Rachel said with a raised eyebrow.

"What did I say? Let me worry about who pays for stuff. You just do what you do best."

Quinn decided her bed clothes should consist of men's boxer shorts and a white sleeveless tee-shirt and Rachel couldn't find a reason to complain. It was masculine on her but despite her tattoos and muscled frame she still looked sexy in it.

Rachel had picked up something special for the occasion while she was shopping earlier. A sheer black lace bra with matching panties. Her plan to take a quick shower and slip into them was thwarted by Quinn when she climbed into the shower right along with Rachel and commenced to fondling her instead of washing.

They had sex right there in the shower with Rachel's back pressed against cold wet tiles and Quinn's hands and mouth exploring every part of her body. There were many ways Rachel envisioned tonight ending and sex in the shower wasn't one of them. Somehow something that wasn't even an afterthought an hour ago had cemented itself in her brain as the benchmark for sex in her mind.

Now Quinn was lounging around in bed watching her brush her hair. She hadn't spoken since she'd climbed into bed but by the way she was watching her Rachel knew she wasn't finished yet.

"You look like you want to say something," Rachel teased as she ran her brush through her hair.

"I want you to say something," she said with that cute smirk that all of a sudden was driving Rachel crazy every time she saw it.

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"My name. Over and over again." She chuckled lightly to herself but the smile disappeared almost immediately. "I want to make a life with you Rachel Berry. I want that life to start right here, right now. In this bed, together. I want us to be together but in order for that to happen you need to trust me. My life isn't easy but the two of us together, we can make it work. And who knows. One day I may even surprise you."

Rachel laughed. "Oh you've been surprising me for years Mrs. Fabray."

"Well Mrs. Fabray why don't you put on that little outfit you bought for me and climb into bed."

"You gonna let me put it on this time or are you going to jump my bones again?"

Quinn shrugged. "I haven't decided yet."

Rachel stood up and walked towards the bathroom to get dressed only to have Quinn throw her a curveball that made her skin crawl.

"I need you to buy a black dress before we go back to New York. One of the guys I know died. His name was Evan, somebody shot him. I just got word this afternoon, the funeral's Wednesday. We have to go, it's important we show our support."

Her cool calm words sent a shiver down Rachel's spine.