Episode 4, Chapter 3:
Something was off the moment she walked in the room. She heard a high pitch laugh, and her world stopped turning. She wasn't having a terrible nightmare yet seeing it didn't make it any less nightmarish. Kurt was dressed in some high fashion piece that probably came out of his own wardrobe and was doing the Rose pose he encouraged his friend to do yesterday on a Fabray-designed couch. He laughed before switching to attitude and posh.
"How was I so stupid?" she mumbled. Kurt found her and waved her over, but when she stormed away instead, he called for ten.
"Quinn! Where are you going? Why do you look upset? I've been waiting for you."
"You've been waiting for me? Really Kurt? You expect me to believe that! Can you go a day without stealing something from me? You can't even help yourself, can you? You take my boyfriend, my mom, my job, and I know, you're nosing for my popularity."
"Q, none of that is true! They told me once I got here that I was doing a couple shots with you. That you decided to include me in your shoot!"
"It didn't seem suspicious that I wasn't the first one here? You never got my message that I was fired? They were going in another direction. I should have known it meant you!" she would have thrown something at him if she had anything in her hands.
"I wouldn't have been here if I'd known. Don't you trust me enough? I wouldn't hurt you like that. I wouldn't spoil this for you. I don't care about this. It doesn't mean anything to me."
"I can't believe I trusted you—I was so stupid. You ruin everything!" she stormed away, running into Blaine, who'd been on the other side of the door coming out of the elevator. Kurt yelled for her to come back, but it was no use.
He didn't understand until now why she was so defensive around him. It clicked now. Things just came to him. Kurt was lucky. Quinn had always been his friend, but looking back, he noticed how often she stood by while something good happened to him. Blaine watched his perfect face turn into hardened grimace before Kurt went stomping up the stairs.
Spotted: Lonely Boy's rude awakening. Upper East Side queens aren't born at the top. They climb their way up in heels, no matter who they have to tread on to do it.
Blaine was only two steps behind Kurt as he confronted Judy Fabray.
"How could you lie to me like this?" he started off. She hurt him most by breaking their confidence. "I quit," he said not waiting for her to answer or explain her actions. He'd just made progress with Quinn only to have it taken away in a second.
"You don't mean that Kurt. You're a star. You have so much potential. I just wanted to help you!" she yelled as he stormed away. He passed Blaine on his way, but didn't dare look him in the eyes as he was still fuming for being taken advantage of like that. Kurt went straight to his dressing room and began taking off the eye makeup they'd put on him to stand out in the flashing of lights.
Blaine stood nervously in front of the door. He knocked and Kurt's voice rang out.
"Go away!"
"Um, Kurt, it's Blaine."
"Oh Blaine! Come in," he said half-heartedly.
The shorter boy entered slowly. Kurt got one look at him and noticed that he'd dressed like they were going on a date in a green V-Neck Pique Sweater, a gray bowtie, patterned green shirt and blue slacks. [makeover 4x03] He had on an over-the-top getup that he had been encouraged to put on once he arrived. It was a Walter Van Beirendonck Menswear Painted Check Suit, Costume National Metal Cap Toe Oxford shoes and a David Yurman Silver Horse Ring. [makeover 4x03] He couldn't hate himself more, as he turned back to the mirror. Blaine put a careful hand on his shoulder. Kurt looked at Blaine through their reflection in the mirror and reached out to hold his hand.
"I really appreciate that you came here. I wanted to apologize for missing our date last night. I thought this would be fun, but this morning is not going as I planned," Kurt continued speaking to Blaine's reflection.
"Don't worry about it. I understand," he said warmly. Feeling more comfortable, he sat on the vanity so they were face-to-face. "Whatever happened last night... I'm past that. Do you want to talk about it?" he asked slowly and confidently. Kurt looked away as he spoke.
"How do you tell your friend that her mom didn't want her around? There's no way to put it that makes me seem less like an ass!"
"If this wasn't your idea—"
"It wasn't!" Kurt interjected,
"Then, you're going to have to tell her what she doesn't want to hear then."
Blaine didn't know what to do. He'd gotten dressed up for a date, but instead it seemed he might have to save a friendship. He found himself walking in the hallway that Quinn was sitting in dejectedly.
"If you're supposed to be my middle man, I request another," Quinn said hoping to push him far away. He didn't cave easily. She was beginning to dislike and respect that unstoppable resilience. It made her think of how soft she could be sometimes. "You're not fooling me. I know about furnishing. You can't hide where you're from by dressing the part."
"You don't know anything about me," he said taking a seat. "I don't know anything about you, but let me say that in basically every conversation I've had with Kurt, you've come up. He always says the nicest things, even when I don't believe him. He really cares about you."
"He's not good at showing it."
"He tries hard to show it," Blaine asserted. Quinn huffed. "Kurt gets what he wants most of the time, but this he didn't want. I was just talking to him, and he's beat up by this. You're one of the best friends he has, Quinn. I've been through some times when I lost people I cared about, and if they'd bothered talking to me, I might have some closure. Before you let this ruin your friendship, and you close the door on it for good, you should talk."
Sam got drunk before the crowd of disproportionately gay men and women came in. He couldn't determine much, but he did notice that.
"What's with all the gay dudes? Puck would laugh and kick my ass if he saw where I was at right now," he joked, taking a shot. Sebastian smiled at his drunken prey and then reacted.
"Oh my God Sam, I'm sorry I didn't even realize we must have come on men's night!"
"What does that mean?" Sam burped.
"It means the strippers aren't women; they're guys." Sam's eyes widened as he took in the environment. The guests would make more sense. "Does it matter to you? We could go if you want. You might be the type to be offended."
"No, no trust me, I'm cool with gay guys."
"You say that like you have experience. Care to elaborate?"
"I can't exactly tell you that. I've been sworn to secrecy," he said. Sebastian smiled that could make this whole night a lot more interesting.
"You know they pay the dancers good money at these places. You could get about $60 from the crowd alone in 15 minutes."
"Really, huh?" Sam surveilled the stage curiously.
"I'll give you six-grand if you get on stage right now."
Sam beamed. He wasn't an ounce sober. He'd been gone five drinks back. He wagged his finger. "You want to see me without a shirt Sebastian. I'm sorry, but I'm not that smashed!"
"I would disagree," he smirked. "If you're scared, you can say so. I won't judge you. It takes a confident man to get on that stage; someone who knows what he wants and is in complete control of his future. For you, it makes sense not getting on stage. You're having daddy issues, something about college and supporting yourself. It's either that or you don't like gays." Sam went to defend himself, but by doing that he gave Sebastian more to his case. There was no reason he couldn't get on stage, but his own inhibitions.
The show started and the first guys came out completely loved by the audience. Sam had never done anything this crazy and with his reserves slashed, he lost his excuses. Sebastian called the owner over to get Sam in backstage. Within twenty minutes he'd made it to the platform under the stage name: 'White Chocolate'.
Sebastian watched from the bar slowly walking around the back. Sam was delectable, but too blonde for his tastes. The women and gays loved him, but he couldn't help think of all the better musclier lays he had. He took out his camera phone, adjusting the lighting and hit record. He would get on Photoshop and cut a few pictures after. Sam had a talent. He knew how to sell sex. Maybe that is what he would caption it when he sent it to his grandmother? This was the blackmail you made high six figures out of.
"I think you'd better turn off that camera before I punch a hole in your skull."
Sebastian didn't have to turn around to recognize the voice. He stopped the footage and turned to Puck.
"Well, well, well. Look who crashed the party."
"You crashed mine first. You know I might have forgiven you for stealing my rare French stash a couple year back, but this—this is a new low, you get my friend drunk to videotape him at a gay strip club? That's unforgivable. I want you out of our lives... tonight," he said threateningly. "You're getting rid of every picture you took, and I might not call the police."
"They can't arrest me for taking pictures. That's all I did," Sebastian laughed in his face.
"And stole from me, of course, when you dropped by my hotel. Don't you remember?" Puck seemed to get taller and more menacing by the second. Sebastian hadn't planned for him to be such a pain in his ass. "I'm pretty sure I could dig up enough dirt on you to make your life a bigger hell than it already is," Puck said, snatching the phone out of his hand and throwing it against the wall. The thud it made was nothing compared to the Mellencamp playing through the speakers. He threatened him one last time before walking to the stage nudging away all the very touchy hands and yanking the blonde away. He almost tripped, but Puck caught him and carried him out. Sam blacked out once Puck pushed him into the backseat, and the car sped off.
Sam woke up with a massive headache in Puck's suite the next morning. His friend filled him in on how he'd figured out where Sebastian was taking him and exactly what the whole night had been about. Sam promised to pay Puck for damages.
"Don't be an idiot! I don't want your money," he chuckled and smacked Sam on the back.
When he had his right mind again, he logged onto his bank account. He thanked God that his grandmother would never see money missing from his trust fund before he could put it back. While that should have been the biggest problem, bigger than that was the fact that there was nothing in the account. Zero. Sam shook his head knowing that was wrong, and last time he looked there had been a quarter of a million dollars. He called the bank man who did not make him feel better but worse.
Sandy had drained Sam's trust fund over a week ago.
Quinn angrily stormed back into the room where her mother fretted with Isabelle about the pathetic campaign. She ignored their groveling to speak with Judy privately.
"Oh darling, I'm so sorry about this," she said putting hair behind her daughter's ear. Quinn rejected her touch.
"Were you behind this? Did you choose Kurt and lie about it?"
"You know how important this shoot is to me—us. Our lives will change once I'm booked at this store. I had to make some sacrifices."
"Sacrifices! For who?! You? You didn't even consider how I would feel about this. Of all people, you pick Kurt. He's not a model any more than I am. You did this to hurt me."
"I did not. Everything went wrong with him anyway, but we can start again. You'll be my star like you should have been in the first place."
"You're the boss, mother. You made the call. You did!" Quinn left hearing her mother calling her 'Quinnie' once she'd stepped outdoors. She couldn't stand being a runner-up all the time. It was maddening to only be a backup plan and never the star of her own story.
You didn't hear it from us, but in every girl's life, there comes a moment when she realizes that her mother just might be more messed up than she is.
Blaine should have just gone home and dealt with Upper East Side drama another day, but as usual he felt compelled to stick it out. Kurt still hadn't gotten all of his things packed to leave the shoot. Blaine knocked and entered before he could turn him away.
"I'm sorry. I'm not gone yet, and I just want to know if you are okay?"
"I'm fine, Blaine. Thank you for worrying about me. I was upset before—you're too kind to me. Most of the time I don't even deserve it" he smiled, and the two stepped closer to each other romantically.
"I may be absolutely crazy, and reading the room all wrong, but do you want to get out of here?"
Kurt's eyes drooped.
"Any other day I would love that," Kurt said putting his hands on his arms cautiously. Blaine's eyes darkened and Kurt's deepened to a rich blue. "You can pick me up Friday. Take me anywhere—just not another movie."
"Can do," Blaine smiled coyly. Kurt would have kissed him if Quinn hadn't barged in on them at the moment.
"I may like you, Blaine, which is the only reason I'll allow you to go on a date with my best friend. But you need to do something about…this," Quinn said not finding a place to lay her fingers and gesturing instead to the whole package. With her there, he knew his time was up, and he gave Kurt one last longing look before rotating on his heel and exiting out the door.
"He's not bad, but you could still do better," she mumbled bluntly.
"I'm really sorry Quinn. You knew me better than I knew myself; however, cliché that is, it's true. I was stupid to think you planned this. Something was off."
"It's okay. It was an important lesson. I'm not good on listening to things I don't want to hear, but today I heard loud and clear. It was my mom's fault," she shrugged.
"We should take this opportunity to do something fun," he poked her shoulder playfully, looking at all the other accessories the stylists had brought to the shoot.
This just in: K and Q committing a crime of fashion. Who doesn't love a five-finger discount, especially if it's the middle one?
It didn't matter that Kurt had better stuff at home. It didn't matter that they were thieving and could get in trouble. It didn't matter that Quinn learned how quickly her mother would turn on her. It only mattered that the look on her face when she saw all the clothes to dress whatever fresh face, they invited to the shoot were missing would be priceless.
Everyone knows you can't choose your family but you can choose your friends. And in a world ruled by blood lines and bank accounts, it pays to have a pal. As much as a BFF can make you go WTF, there's no denying we'd be a little less rich without them. And Kurt and Quinn? They do besties better than anyone. No, that's not a tear in my eye. It's just allergies. Without you, I'm nothing. —Gossip Girl
TO BE CONTINUED
~A.N. I wish there could have been more Kurt and Quinn scenes in Glee. It would make all this writing and planning a lot easier to see their characters relationship play out. Also, quiz time: did anyone recognize the name Candace Dystra that Judy Fabray's company referenced? The name was one of the Glee Competition judges in Season One!
