What do you know?! I did manage to knock another chapter out this week! And I think it's a good one too! Before I update, it's time for my weekly observations...
Thank you again for all the reviews, as well as follows and favourites. My health is much improved this week, and my ego is happy with all the new people that have subscribed to the story. I don't like when I say its much appreciated.
I remember a few people questioning Santana's meltdown in her match against Rachel. Ironically enough, the young Kyrgios went through a similar meltdown a few days ago at Wimbledon, and might now be fined for tanking a few shots. See, it does happen! Kid's gotta toughen up his head, I say!
Also, a few people have pointed out that I use character names from Harry Potter and Legend of Korra. I went that route because Glee only has so many names I can use in this larger than life setting, and it made more sense than confusing readers by using actual tennis player names. It's also less blasphemous to tennis fans like myself! As much as I love the Quinn I am writing, I wouldn't go as far as to say she defeats Serena Williams on a regular basis!
That's enough rambling from me for now. Don't hesitate to hit the review button, because I really do like knowing what you think :)
"If you could just sign here, that'll be that," Jesse said, sliding a piece of paper over to Rachel, and indicating the spot that required her signature as he passed over his own Montblanc pen for her to use. The young brunette ran her eyes over the document, giving it a cursory once over; her father's had taught her to never put her name on a document unless she knew exactly what it said. Happy with the print, Rachel inked the deal, absentmindedly marveling at the pen's smoothness. "Great," her agent said, pulling the paper back and gently blowing on the signature to hasten the drying of the shiny wet ink. He replaced the lid on the pen while he waited, placing it in the breast pocket of his suit before putting the now-dry contract in a file, and stowing away the file in his leather man-bag. His movements reminded Rachel of Santana's almost obsessive-compulsive pre-match and court routines, and she sensed that Jesse always did things just so too.
The agent cleared his throat before turning his blue eyes onto his client, "I think you'll be happy with that investment. They opened six new international offices earlier this year, and word is that they're opening another one in Sydney this November. And then they're heading into Singapore and the rest of Asia. It might take a couple of years to really bring in dividends, but trust me, you're going to make a killing when the company announces its initial public offering."
Jesse took a sip from his glass of white wine, and Rachel nodded. This had been the one investment that her father's weren't completely certain about, but then again, neither of the Berry men had ever looked at investing in an Internet startup before. Still, they had supported their daughter when she'd zeroed in on the company, and after reading the literature Jesse had provided as well as asking some of their own banker friends, were as convinced as Rachel that it was a good place to put a portion of her earnings.
The brunette finished off the last of her serve of Abigail Street's delicious falafel dish before leaning back in her seat, a satisfied smile on her lips. Shelby came back from the restroom and retook her seat, smiling at her young charge, "Happy?" Rachel smiled at nodded, looking up when a waiter approached their table.
"Were you interested in any dessert tonight?" the young man asked the trio.
"No dessert for me, but I'll have a Ristretto, thanks" Jesse said, giving the server a cursory glance.
"You're a brave man, to be drinking coffee this late," Shelby commented, before looking up at the waiter, "Could I please get a green tea?"
The waiter nodded then looked towards Rachel, who shook her head, "I'm good, thank you."
Shelby spoke again when the waiter took off, "What time do you leave, Jesse?"
"My flight's at 8:48, so I'll head straight to the airport after this," Jesse said, taking another sip of his wine. "This was just a quick business trip to check-in with a few of the players I manage," he added, "speaking of which, have you given any thought to how you'd like to proceed when it's time to renew your contract with Rachel?"
Rachel looked at her coach, knowing that her business manager was referring to his proposal that Shelby switch from being exclusively on a base salary during a meeting that had taken place between the teenager, her father's, Jesse and Shelby in IMG's New York headquarters. Rachel had been vocal about the fact that she was happy with whatever Shelby decided, and was comfortable with, and the veteran player had promised to consider the new proposition. Now she stifled a yawn as she nodded her head, "Sorry, I'm really tired tonight. But yeah, I'd be happy to change it around to a combination of a base salary plus a take of the winnings and performance-oriented bonuses. I'm confident I have myself a winning horse here" she threw in with a smile in the young brunette's direction.
"As am I," Jesse said, seemingly happy with her answer. "Ok, I can draw up a mock-contract, and we can start tweaking it when I see you guys back in New York in a couple of weeks. That way we should have everything in place by November." Shelby nodded, and Jesse raised his glass of wine towards her, "I love it when business is simple" he said, before throwing back the last of his drink.
Just over a quarter of an hour later the two women bade the sports agent a safe journey as he climbed into the back of a cab, before beginning the short walk to their temporary home in Cincinnati's gorgeous Over The Rhine neighbourhood. It was a pleasant summer's night, and the pair enjoyed the walk back to the apartment block that housed the service apartments they would stay in as long as Rachel was still alive in the Western & Southern Open. The two chatted amiably about the young American's first-round win from earlier today, and Shelby suggested not having a very grueling training session the next day, considering that Rachel's body and mind would have to be prepared for five straight days of competitive tennis if she was to go on to win the tournament.
The women walked out of the elevator on the seventh floor, still talking about Rachel's second-round opponent, Tina Cohen-Chang. They each pulled out key cards to their own adjoining apartments, as Rachel expressed quiet confidence in her ability to beat her familiar South Korean opponent. Shelby nodded along, "Yeah, I like your chances too," she said, opening the front door. "Ok, I'm gonna see if Ken wants to watch a movie before I call it a night. You girl's make sure to get an early-ish night, and I'll see you bright and early."
Rachel mock-saluted her, which earned the teenager a soft smack on the arm. The two women bade each other a good night and Rachel let herself in to her own apartment, where she was greeted by the sight of Brittany, Santana and Quinn eating what appeared to be Chinese takeout. "Quinn! When did you get here?" Rachel smiled, dropping her keycard onto the small table by the door.
The blonde rose from the couch, placing her takeaway container on the coffee table in front of her, and met her fellow American in the middle of the room, where the pair embraced. "About an hour ago" Quinn said, pulling back from the hug and returning to her spot on the couch while Rachel sat in another armchair.
"Want something to eat?" Brittany asked, her legs entangled with Santana's.
Rachel shook her head, "I just ate at Abigail Street. They have some fantastic food."
"Yeah? Maybe we should go eat there this week?" the Englishwoman asked more than stated, her gaze directed at her girlfriend, who shrugged.
"If you're ok with that," the Latina replied, bringing her chopsticks to her mouth again and chomping down on some noodles.
"Well, tennis players eat out together all the time, so I don't think it would raise any eyebrows" Rachel said. "And the restaurant seems to be popular with the players. I just saw Sato, the Patil twins and a few of the guys in there."
"Yeah, I've eaten there before too," Quinn said, "the food's delicious."
"So that's decided then", Rachel said, standing up, "I'm gonna make some tea. Anyone want some?"
Quinn nodded, but also rose from her seat, "I'll come help." The blonde followed her friend to the kitchen, pulling out cups from the cabinet Rachel pointed out while the brunette put some water on to boil. The younger American pulled out a bag of green tea before offering the little box to Quinn, who opted for some ginger tea. The two women stood across one another, leaning against the countertops while they waited for the water to be done.
"So, how was today?" Rachel asked, looking at Quinn.
Quinn took a deep breath, "Pretty horrible, really. Dad took a plea deal."
Rachel nodded. Everyone at the Lindner Family Tennis Center had been talking about the Russell Fabray case earlier today, so it was hard to miss the details when they'd emerged shortly after Rachel's win. It hadn't taken long for journalists to write pieces about how the father of the world's top-ranked female tennis player had opted to take a deal over facing the uncertainty that a multi-week trial would have brought. They had also, unnecessarily in Rachel's opinion, shone the spotlight on Russell's history of personal problems like alcoholism and a rumoured abuse of prescription medicines. The man had officially been sentenced to four years and four months in prison, but was currently out on $2 million bail. News channels had played and replayed footage of Quinn walking out of her father's lawyers offices, the blonde responding to reporters' questions with only the words, "Haven't you guys got enough?". The footage had broken Rachel's heart, and she was extremely happy to have Quinn around her again, away from the prying eyes of the merciless paparazzi.
"Will he actually have to go to prison?" she asked, just as the water finished boiling.
The blonde nodded, watching as Rachel poured water into their cups, "Yeah, he'll have to serve at least half of his actual sentence before the authorities consider reducing the sentence for good behaviour. The time he spent under house arrest will count as time served, though."
Rachel was going to ask the blonde is she was ok, but stopped herself, thinking it was a ridiculous question given the circumstances. So instead she opted for, "How are you?"
Quinn picked up her mug, nursing it in her hands, "I feel sad. Like, really sad." She looked down at her drink, not lifting her gaze as she continued, "My dad used to be a car salesman, and mom was, is, a middle-school teacher. We lived in a small townhouse in Chicago, and I remember them being happy. At least, I think they were happy. We did something, as a family, every other weekend, Dad, Mom, Frannie and me. One day we went to the park with some of Dad's work buddies, and my sister and I found someone's tennis rackets lying by a picnic blanket, so we grabbed the rackets and went to the tennis court." Quinn stopped to take a deep breath, looking back up at Rachel, "Dad came up and saw us laughing and trying to hit the ball across the net, and to this day he swears he knew I was a natural then and there. Anyway, long story short, I started going to tennis classes, and Dad would take me to the park four days a week to have a hit after he'd come home from work. I was eight."
Quinn blew on her tea before taking a sip, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Rachel didn't interrupt, and quietly mimicked her by drinking her own tea. After a few seconds of silence, Quinn went on, "Dad started reading a lot of books, you know, about tennis coaching, and how to be a better player. Our family outings grew less and less frequent, because all Dad wanted to do was take me to the court for a hit whenever he had the chance. I became dad's project. The park was pretty close to home, so we'd walk there, and Dad would talk about how rich I was going to make the family when I became the number one player in the world. How we'd own the biggest house, the best cars, how I was going to be rich and famous."
Rachel's heart almost broke again, thinking about how unfair it was for a grown man to be putting that much pressure on a young girl's shoulders. She racked her brains, and couldn't think of a single occasion when her own father's had said anything in a similar vein. In fact, they encouraged her to find hobbies besides tennis, wanting her to enjoy her childhood while it lasted. The thought just confirmed what she already knew; she was incredibly blessed to have the parents she did.
"Dad decided to move us all to Miami when I was about to turn ten, saying it would be better for my tennis career to train at the McKinley Academy," Quinn said. "I loved playing the game, so I was happy to go anywhere as long as I got to play, but looking back I realize how hard it must have been for Mom and Fran, who's three years older than I am. I think she resented me for being the sole focus of dad's attention, and we drifted apart for a few years. And I think Mom felt really bad for Fran, because the two of them started doing their own thing on the weekends. So it became Mom and Fran, and Dad and me."
"I only realized how dysfunctional the situation at home was when I came back from training in Barcelona. Fran was away at college by then, and I think being away for so long helped me notice that my parent's didn't really talk anymore. And I guess Dad didn't know what to do with all the spare time he suddenly had when I left, because he was drinking very heavily by the time I returned." Rachel noticed that Quinn's eyes had begun to glisten as she reminisced about what sounded like a painful past.
"Mom applied for a divorce when I was sixteen, and Dad didn't put up a fight. That's when it first hit me that he'd practically sacrificed his marriage, and his relationship with my sister, for the sake of my tennis career, and I felt horrible Rachel. And so guilty," she added, her voice cracking.
"Oh Quinn! You shouldn't feel guilty! It's not like you could have grasped what was going on at that age" Rachel said, her tone passionate.
The blonde seemed to regain the composure she was on the verge of losing, "The logical part of my brain understands and accepts that as the truth, but it still hurts to think that something I love so much also took so much away. I'm a world champion, but it cost my parent's marriage. And, to an extent, my own relationship with my mother and sister. At least Fran's making a real effort to get to know me now. Things with Mom can still be…weird."
Quinn looked thoughtful, "But, and this might sound strange, I rationalized that sure, my career was partially responsible for making a mess of our family life, but it had also given us so much. All four of us would never want for anything again; I bought us all nice houses, paid for Fran to go study at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris and I'm about to open a restaurant with her later this fall. Dad was happy to see me succeed, even if we didn't always see eye-to-eye on his methods sometimes. He really seemed to enjoy managing my career too. Mom's dating this really nice new guy, and seems genuinely happy with where her life's at. So it wasn't all bad. And then this happens. And again, I'm left thinking about how much the sport I love to play has also taken from me. And like I said, it makes me sad. My career was supposed to make things good for the Fabray's. This isn't good. My dad in prison for four years is not good."
Quinn sounded so small that Rachel finally gave in to the urge to offer her physical comfort. She crossed over to where the blonde was standing, placed her mug on the countertop behind her, and wrapped an arm around the slightly taller woman's waist as she stood beside her. The blonde seemed to welcome the comfort on offer, leaning her head on Rachel's shoulder. The brunette was engulfed by the smell of strawberries as the strands of Quinn's hair tickled her nose.
"Have you spoken to your mother or sister today?" Rachel asked, running her hand up and down Quinn's side in what she hoped was a soothing gesture.
"Mmm-hmm," Quinn said, "Fran came with to the lawyers, and Mom came by to see me before I flew out. She's going to come to New York too, to spend time with me."
"That's good then" Rachel commented, and the two women stood in silence for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts. The brunette broke the quiet when a sudden thought came to her, "Just so you know, Brit was under the impression that a ballad was a male duck."
Quinn stilled, before lifting her head and turning to face the brunette, "The Ballad of Little Jo" she breathed out, her eyes bright, receiving a nod from Rachel.
The two locked gazes for a moment, before breaking out into peals of laughter. "Oh God," Quinn finally articulated, holding on to a stitch in her side, "that explains it" she added, before dissolving into more giggles.
"Yeah, you have to think out of the box with Brittany" Rachel said, when their laughter had finally subsided. "When I retire I'm going to write a coffee-table book filled with some of the things that come out of that woman's mouth, and make a killing."
The World No. 1 let out another soft giggle, then placed her hand on Rachel's arm, "Thanks Rach, I really needed that laugh. And thanks for listening to me rant before."
Rachel placed her hand atop Quinn's, "Anytime. And this probably won't help you right now, but you need to know that you have nothing to feel guilty about. Unfortunately, I think your Dad knew what he was doing. And now he just has to do the time for his crime."
"I know," Quinn acknowledged with a bob of her head. "I love him so much, even if I don't always like the person he's turned into. And I really wish I could stop being so angry at him right now too. All the emotions are messing with my head."
"I find that a good hit on the tennis court is a great way to work out any pent up rage," Rachel said, earning a wry smile from Quinn.
"Yeah, it's good to beat the crap out of a tennis ball sometimes," the blonde agreed.
"Who's your first match?" Rachel asked, changing the topic as she picked up her mug of tea and sipped.
"Don't know yet," Quinn said, "I have a first-round bye, and play the winner of the Patil versus Chan game."
"Parvati or Padma?" Rachel questioned.
"Parvati," Quinn clarified, "although I really can't tell the difference between those two."
"They sound different when you speak to them" Rachel said, starting to walk back out to the living room.
"Yeah?" Quinn asked, placing her mug in the sink before following the brunette, "I've never noticed."
Rachel stopped near the couch, her eyes trained on Santana and Brittany who were setting up the Play Station console, "Yeah, Parvati has a slightly deeper voice. And the hint of a lisp."
"You're definitely more observant that me. Then again, I've spoken to Padma twice in my life. Or maybe it was Parvati the second time…" Quinn trailed off with a slight frown, before turning to the couple in the room. "What are you two playing?" she asked them.
"Call of Duty," Santana answered, "do you guys wanna play too?"
Quinn glanced at the clock on the wall, before shaking her head, "Nah, I think I'm gonna go back to our apartment and crash. It's been a long day."
"I'm with Quinn," Rachel remarked, "I'm gonna shower and head to bed."
"Don't forget we're hitting together at 11, Quinn" Brittany said, receiving a nod from her fellow blonde.
"Got it Brit. Alright, I'm off. Good night everyone" Quinn said, making her way to the door. Rachel followed, letting her friend out and watching as she pressed the button for the elevator. "Oh, before I forget Rach, I've got all of Season 2 of Game of Thrones with me."
Rachel's eyes went wide, "How did you manage that?!"
"I know people," Quinn winked, feigning mystery. "Anyway, I missed most of the season while I was on the road, and I thought you might have too?" When the brunette nodded, Quinn continued, "Cool, so I thought you might wanna watch it with me?"
"Yes please" Rachel nodded, excited.
The elevator dinged before the doors slid open, "Ok, did you wanna come upstairs and watch a couple of episodes tomorrow? We could even do dinner at mine and Santana's if you wanted?"
"Count me in" Rachel smiled, earning a grin from Quinn.
"Awesome. I'll see you tomorrow. Night Rachel" she said, walking into the elevator.
The brunette watched the doors close, then walked back inside and shut the door to her apartment. Santana and Brittany were already deeply involved in their videogame, so Rachel bade them pleasant dreams before heading to her room.
