Hello everyone :) I know it's been a while but as I've said all along, this story is still a priority for me. It's just that sometimes real life gets in the way of your hobbies and I didn't have as much time to write as I would have liked. Believe it or not, I've been chipping away at this update for a few weeks now, and I'm still not done with it. But then I got to Page 18 of the Microsoft Word document I was writing on and decided to split the update in two. You see, there is more I want to do with this "scene", but it was getting too long for my taste. So think of this update as 39A, with 39B to follow in the coming fortnight.
Another reason why I decided to split the update in half and post this bit now is the sheer number of messages I was getting from people telling me they missed the story and hoping that I hadn't abandoned it. I don't usually respond to reviews/feedback/critiques between chapters, so think of this as a compromise. While Chapter 39A is more a slice of life that tells you more about the characters, Chapter 39B will be the bit that really progresses the story forward. That line isn't meant to be a tease; anyone that's familiar with my style of writing will know that character development is very important to me, because it explains character motivations going forward without me having to justify why someone is doing something. I hope readers that have specifically written to tell me they'd like to know more about the Rachel, Quinn and co in my story will especially like this update.
Before I update, allow me to thank everyone that has written to me after the last update to let me know how much they enjoy this story. It's always gratifying to hear that people take enjoyment from someone you create, and I was blown away by how much people really want me to finish this story. So thank you for all your words, follows and favourites :) I hope all is well with each and every one of you.
And now, here's 39A!
"Rach!"
Rachel looked up to see Brittany waving at her and quickened her pace as she hurried towards her friend. She let go of her suitcase to embrace the tall Englishwoman. "Where's Santana?" the New Yorker asked when they parted.
"Waiting outside, in the car," Brittany replied. "Shall we?"
"Let's go" Rachel smiled, reaching for the handle of her suitcase and rolling it behind her as she followed her friend out of the airport.
"That's her," Brittany said, nodding at a sleek black Audi that was parked in a short-term waiting area. The girls approached the car and put the suitcase in the boot before climbing inside.
"Hi Santana," she said, closing the door and buckling herself in.
Santana half-turned in her seat to nod her head at the newcomer, "Hola Berry. Good flight?"
"Yes, thank you. And thanks for coming to pick me up this early in the morning," Rachel replied.
"No problem," the Latina said, turning around and starting the car. "I usually pick early flights too. Makes it easier to travel incognito."
"I hear you," Rachel nodded.
"Grand Slam champ problems," Brittany said, drawing a laugh from the other two for her spin on 'first world problems'. "I rarely have fans approach me at the airport. And when they do, it's usually to tell me I'm an inspiration to the gay community. That After Ellen interview worked more wonders for my fame than anything I've achieved on the tennis court."
Santana reached over to squeeze her girlfriend's hand. "It's just a matter of time, babe."
"Aww you two," Rachel cooed, making sure it sounded extra sickly sweet.
"Shut it, Berry," Santana retorted, but you could hear the amusement lacing her tone.
The short brunette rested her head against the leather seat, side-eyeing a takeaway cup that was placed in one of the cup-holders that divided the car's rear seats. The scent wafting out of the cup made Rachel's mouth water. "Uh, not to be presumptuous," she began, "but is that coffee for me?"
"Oh, yeah!" Brittany said, as if she'd completely forgotten about it. "We got you a vanilla soy latte on our way here. I couldn't remember whether or not you took sugar with yours, so I grabbed a couple of sachets just in case."
Rachel's mind briefly drifted to the gallery in Istanbul where Quinn had surprised her by knowing her coffee order by heart, down to the sugar-free bit. She glanced at the two sugar sachets in the second holder as she lifted her drink. "No sugar, thanks Brit." Rachel took a tentative sip of the latte to check how hot it was, following it up with a bigger swig when it didn't burn her tongue.
"So," she asked, nursing the cup between her two hands, "how was the joint family holiday?"
"Good!" Brittany chirped. "Mum and Dad got on really well with Sanny's family. In fact, Maribel and Alma are coming to London to spend some time in our neck of the woods before we leave for Australia."
"That's great" Rachel smiled, genuinely happy for her friends.
"How about you? How's your off-season going?" Santana asked, glancing at Rachel in the rearview mirror.
"It's been relaxing," Rachel replied. "I've caught up on most of the TV shows and movies I've missed this year, watched a few musicals on Broadway, spent time with my fathers. We went to the Caribbean for a few days, which was amazing!"
"Yeah, Brit-Brit wants to go to Jade Mountain too after seeing your Instagram pictures," Santana commented as she came to a stop at a red light.
"You should! Heck, I'll even come back with you, if you don't mind a third-wheel tagging along," Rachel stated, only half-joking.
"Mmm, I'm sure we could find someone to keep you company," Brittany said, sharing a smile with Santana before the Latina put the car into drive and turned right when the lights turned green. "But yes, we'll coordinate the trip with you."
"Thanks Brit," Rachel said, deciding to let her friend's first comment slide. "So, have you two played much tennis this past month?"
"Not really," Santana said. "I like to give my body a few weeks off in the off-season and don't start training till the first of December. But I do stick to my usual gym routine. No point losing muscle and stamina."
"You should probably have a hit before the exhibition match though," her girlfriend pointed out.
"You're right," Santana agreed. "I'll take my rackets to Q's today, and we can have a hit on her court. That bitch is probably in great nick. I'll never understand why that woman only gives herself two weeks off in the year."
Rachel was well aware that Quinn had started training for the 2013 season thanks to the text messages the two had been swapping as well as the videos the World No. 1 had put up on her social media pages. She wouldn't lie; seeing Quinn's dedication to the game had made her second-guess her own decision to take the rest of November off, but she trusted Shelby's judgment that she needed a few weeks away from the court to recharge her batteries after her grueling freshman year on tour.
"What about you? Are you hitting yet?" Brittany asked.
The teenager shrugged. "I've rallied with kids in the junior groups at the BJK Center at the end of the training sessions I've been to and demonstrated some strokes to them but, yeah, I haven't hit per se. Unless you also count the matches I've played against Daddy and Papa, which, if you ask them, they've won fair and square," Rachel deadpanned.
The two women in the front of the car laughed. "That's still more than Brit and I have been doing," Santana smiled. "I think it's great that you're doing the USTA thing, by the way."
Rachel bobbed her head, bashful at the praise from the Spaniard. She looked out the window, staring up at the last stars as they disappeared from the sky. "Have you seen Quinn since she got back from seeing her father, Santana?"
"I picked her up from the airport on Tuesday night," Santana nodded, keeping her eyes on the road.
"Was she... did she seem ok?" the New Yorker asked.
Santana didn't answer immediately. "She was... quiet-ish on the drive back to her house, but not worryingly so. Quinn has her contemplative moments and in my experience I've found that its best to leave her to work through her thought process. I'm confident she'll turn to me, or, you know, any of us, if she needs to talk about something."
Rachel nodded, still looking out the window. "I texted her last night to say I was flying out to see some family in Ohio today. Figured I'd cover my tracks, just in case someone took a picture of me at the airport and she sees it when she wakes up."
She watched Santana's head move as the Spaniard nodded. "Smart thinking. I wouldn't put it past Q to stick to her routine and check tennis news first thing in the morning, even on her birthday."
"Mm hmm," Rachel agreed, a fond smile gracing her lips. "So, what is the plan for today?"
"We're going to swing by San's for breakfast before we head to Quinn's at around ten. Sanny wanted to go straight there from the airport, but I thought it might be a bit cruel to show up unannounced at someone's house at seven am," Brittany said, shooting at unimpressed look at her girlfriend. "Especially on their birthday!" she added, for good measure.
"I still think we're missing out on a great opportunity to get some epic video footage," Santana muttered, earning another glare from the blonde. "But yeah, Brit's right."
Rachel giggled. "You're so whipped, Santana." That earned the New Yorker the finger, which in turn earned the Latina a gentle smack on her arm from her co-passenger. "How long is the drive to your house, Santana?"
Santana glanced at the clock on her dashboard. "About another forty-five minutes. So get some shut eye if you want."
Rachel nodded. She had woken up just past two a.m., and the movement of the car was lulling her to sleep. "I think I will. Wake me up when we get to yours," she said, closing her eyes and turning her head to the side to get more comfortable against the seat. She was asleep in seconds.
Santana leaned out of the window and punched a code into the keypad that was fitted into the wall. Rachel watched with interest as the two giant wooden halves of the gate parted, giving the teenager her first glimpse of what stood behind the blockade. All she could see was a long driveway that curved right and disappeared. Santana drove the Audi through the gate and continued slowly up the road, giving Rachel time to marvel at the perfectly manicured trees, hedges and flowerbeds that lined the private road.
"Wow," Brittany remarked, a reverent quality to tone. Rachel looked ahead to see if the passengers in the front of the car could see anymore than she could, but she could still only see the driveway. The Englishwoman was clearly just as awed as her American friend.
Santana hummed. "Q takes a lot of pride in her home. She had the whole place professionally landscaped from scratch when she first moved in, and has the same company come in to look after everything once a fortnight."
"Wow," Brittany repeated. "Oh, look! There's the house. Hmm," she paused, sounding uncertain, "I'd imagined the house would be bigger."
This drew an amused laugh from the Latina, "That's the office, B. Quinn had it specially built for her interviews and business meetings because she didn't want strangers in her actual home. Which makes sense; some things have to be private. That's why I built the separate entrance to the office at mine. But yeah, if I move then I'm definitely going to take a page out of Q's book and keep the office in a completely separate building to the living area."
Rachel listened to her speak, keeping her eyes on the small single level building as they drove past. She shot her eyes forward when seconds later Santana said, "That's the main house."
The teenager's eyes went wide. She had thought Santana's house was large, but Quinn's seemed to supersede the Latina's Palm Beach Gardens mansion. The horticulture around the driveway changed as they pulled up to the imposing structure; here, palm trees lined the road in two neat rows. There must have been almost two-dozen trees on each side of the driveway, following the curve of the road before it disappeared behind the house.
Santana brought the car to a stop under the porte-cochère and undid her seatbelt. Rachel took that as a cue to undo her own buckle and climb out of the car. The three women had just come together when a middle-aged lady with short red hair walked out the double doors that led into the house. "Santana," the woman smiled, approaching the group.
"Red," Santana smiled back, leaning down to welcome a hug from the woman before turning to her companions. "Brit, Rach, this is Red, uh, Galina."
"Don't vorry," the woman said in a strong Russian accent, patting Santana's arm, "I prefer Red."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Red," Brittany smiled, putting her hand forward to shake Red's hand. "I'm-"
"I know who you are," Red smiled, ignoring the Englishwoman's hand and pulling her in for a hug. "I votch every match Quinn plays," she added, as way of explanation.
Rachel was prepared when Red pulled her in for a hug too and smiled at the woman when she pulled away. "It's nice to meet you," she said politely, earning a nod from the redhead.
Red turned her attention back to Brittany, appearing to give her a once over from over the rim of her glasses. "If this vun here," she said, jerking a thumb in Santana's direction, "gives you a hard time then you come to me. I vill set her straight," she said, earning a humph from the Spaniard.
Rachel laughed. Maribel had warned Santana not to be a brat before they'd left the Latina's house twenty minutes ago and had told the out-of-towners to let her know if her daughter was painful while they were gone. Clearly Santana got the same spiel from all the mother figures in her life.
Brittany shot Red a blinding smile. "I will, Red. Thank you."
"Anyway," Santana cut in, letting out an exaggerated sigh, "where is the birthday girl?"
"Vith her marigolds," Red replied. "Go find her. I vill be in the kitchen, preparing pelmeni for tonight."
Santana's eyes lit up. "You're the best Red."
Red kept a neutral face but a smile danced at the edges of her lips. "Yeah, yeah. There is borscht to cook as vell."
The Latina licked her lips, making a smacking sound. "Mmm, I'm telling you Red, if I didn't already have this one..." she said, putting an arm around Brittany's waist.
The cheek earned her a smack on the back of her head. "Besstydnyy! Go now, I have vurk to do." Red turned on her heel and walked back into the house.
Rachel and Brittany shared a smile as Santana rubbed the spot where she'd just been hit. The trio started to follow the path the redhead had taken when Rachel stopped. "Um, San. What about our bags?"
Santana turned to look at her, still rubbing her head. "They aren't going anywhere. Let's go see the birthday girl first, then we can come back to grab our things."
Rachel nodded and continued to follow Santana into the house. The taller brunette walked into the foyer and kept going straight, looking right at home in her surroundings. The New Yorker gave the room a curious once over, spotting a grand staircase leading upstairs in the far left end before exiting the foyer through another door.
"This would be a great house to play hide-and-seek in," Brittany commented as they passed through a sitting room that was bigger than Rachel's parents' entire home in New York.
Santana walked through a doorway and turned left, heading down a wide hallway that was lined with yet more doors. Rachel peeked into the ones that were open, and was sure she spotted Quinn's trophies in one. She made a mental note to ask to take a look at the room later if her host was alright with that.
The trio came upon a timber door with glass panels at the end of the hallway, which Santana pushed open to reveal an outdoor entertaining area that overlooked a large swimming pool. Rachel noted with interest that the driveway from the front of the house continued round the back here, before ending in a cul de sac. She was broken from her observations when Santana said, "There she is."
Rachel followed the Latina's gaze to Quinn, who was crouching amidst a sea of orange and yellow flowers in the distance. The bed of marigolds was shaded by a large tree, which to Rachel explained why the baseball cap on the blonde's head was turned backwards while her glove-clad hands worked the soil. The teenager kept her eyes on Quinn's profile as Santana led them through the fence that surrounded the entertainment area, drinking in the sight of the woman she had thought about constantly over the last few weeks. Her reaction to seeing Quinn like this, dressed in overalls that even from a distance looked dirty, was a clear giveaway of just how much she felt for the blonde.
A movement just beyond Quinn caught Rachel's eye and she saw a large white dog sitting up and looking at their small party with interest. 'Quinn never told me she had a direwolf' was the first thought that crossed Rachel's mind, and she unconsciously slowed her pace. A bark alerted Rachel to the presence of another large dog, a massive black beast, standing just a few paces away from the white one, its coat camouflaged in the shadow of the tree. 'Make that two direwolves' Rachel thought. Nothing Rachel had seen on Quinn's social media accounts had prepared her for how large the World No. 1's beloved pets were in real life.
Rachel's gaze drifted back to Quinn, who had turned her head to look at her dogs when both animals started to approach the newcomers. "What's up, guys?" she heard Quinn ask the pair when they were close to her, the blonde keeping her eyes on the two dogs as they walked past her.
And that's when Quinn noticed her guests. Rachel melted a little at how quickly the blonde's hazel eyes widened in surprise.
Rising quickly Quinn turned to fully face the newcomers, slipping the bright red wireless headphones off her head and onto her neck and distractedly dusting herself off. "Rach, Brit," she began, following her dogs to the trio, "what are you doing here?"
"Surprise!" Brittany said, throwing her arms around the shorter blonde when she was within touching distance.
Quinn locked eyes with Rachel over Brittany's shoulder, her expression still one of complete befuddlement. The brunette just smiled at her and shrugged, trying not to freak out when the two dogs sniffed at her legs while she waited her turn to embrace her friend. "Happy birthday, Quinn," she said moments later, standing on her tiptoes to hug the other woman and hoping Quinn couldn't feel her erratic heartbeat when their bodies made contact .
Quinn kept a hand on the brunette's arm when they pulled back. "I don't understand. Weren't you- Raja, Rani, that's enough!" she scolded her dogs, who immediately quit their overzealous sniffing of Rachel's knees. "I thought you were in Ohio! And you," she said, turning to Brittany, "are you seriously going to tell me that all of Santana's whining from two days ago about how she couldn't wait to see you on the weekend was all made up?"
"I wasn't whining," Santana defended herself, earning an eye roll from the birthday girl. "And hey, show some appreciation! I didn't have to go through all this effort for your birthday, you know?"
Quinn softened at that. "Seriously? You guys are just here for my birthday?"
Hazel eyes met Rachel's, looking for confirmation. "We are," Rachel smiled, her heart still beating fast at being so close to Quinn again. "Santana organized it when we were in Istanbul," she added.
"Actually, she planned it when we were in Moscow," Brittany clarified.
Quinn walked up to Santana and wrapped her arms around the Latina, "You're the best San."
"Ain't that the truth," the Spaniard smiled, returning the embrace.
When Quinn pulled back she had a regretful look on her face. "But, you really should have told me. I wouldn't have made other plans if I knew you guys were coming..."
"What? But I thought-" Santana started, sounding confused. Even Rachel was worried, till she saw Quinn's poker-face crack and the mirth creep into her eyes. It wasn't long before Quinn was grinning from ear-to-hear, the happiness not fading even when Santana smacked her arm. "Bitch!"
"You had us there," Brittany laughed. "So, did you want a hand with the flowers?"
"Nah, I'm pretty much done for the day Brit," Quinn replied. "I just need to put the mower away," she added, nodding at the small ride-on mower sitting in the shade of the tree, "and call Elliot to tell him that I will take my birthday off, like he suggested I should. And then we can do whatever it is you guys have planned for the day. Speaking of which, what do you have planned?"
"Red's cooking a nice homemade birthday dinner, and that's about as far as the planning goes," Santana answered. "Was there anything in particular you wanted to do?"
"Let's just go with the flow," Quinn said, eyes darting from Brittany before coming to rest on Rachel.
Going with the flow started with a leisurely walk around the massive property, where Rachel and Brittany marveled out loud at the perfectly manicured lawns and gardens. The teenager noted that their host seemed to take special pride in the vegetable patches, which were honestly more like mini-fields of healthy goodness, that separated the main house from the two guest cottages down the back.
Rachel had asked Quinn if she and Brittany would be staying in one of the cottages tonight, and Santana had replied before the blonde had the chance. "Ha! No way in hell! We're all partying in the main house tonight! Besides, I have my own room at Q's."
The New Yorker had turned to see Quinn's reaction, sure the Latina was kidding. "It's true, she does." Hazel eyes took on a mirthful shine, "She showed up with a small suitcase of stuff the day after I moved in and asked which one was her room."
Brittany let out an incredulous laugh, "Sanny! You didn't!"
"What?" Santana defended herself. "It's an eight-bedroom house! And I spend half my time here when we're in Miami anyway!"
The walk around the property was followed by a hit on the hard court at Quinn's, where Santana took a whole five minutes to work off the rust. It turned out the World No. 1 had a hard court and a clay court side-by-side, next to which was housed a state-of-the-art gym that Santana also frequented when she was in Miami.
A thought struck Rachel when the foursome were taking off their tennis shoes after the brief session. "Did you ever consider putting in a grass court too?"
"I did," Quinn replied, undoing her laces. She sat up a moment later, turning to face the brunette while taking the visor hat off her head, "But it didn't really make sense in the end. I spend enough time at home between tournaments to actually use these two courts but the small gap between the French and Wimbledon means I do almost all of my grass court prep at actual tournaments. And if I do need to do some grass court training, like in the lead up to the oh-nine Fed Cup quarters against Germany in Halle, then I go to the Fisher Island Hotel here in Biscayne Bay. It's like, twenty minutes away."
Rachel nodded. That made sense. Santana asked Quinn a question about lunch, and the blonde looked up to reply to the dark-skinned woman standing in front of her. Rachel's eyes caught a glimpse of a lone bead of sweat that was slowly making its way down the side of Quinn's neck, and she found all her senses focused on its downward trajectory.
In all of her years of playing tennis Rachel had never thought of human perspiration as sexy until she'd met Quinn Fabray. Seeing the World No. 1's glistening arms did funny things to Rachel's stomach and she thought she never looked better than when her damp bangs were matted to her forehead. And the scent of Quinn's sweat mixed with the strawberry smell that seemed to follow her everywhere she went... The brunette took a deep breath to inhale that very scent, subconsciously chewing on her lower lip as the glistening bead of water slowed down and finally came to a stop at the curve where Quinn's neck met her shoulder.
She was brought back to the present when Quinn turned to look at her when an expectant expression. "Does that sound ok?"
"Uh," Rachel said, realizing that she had absolutely no idea what she was being asked. "Ok?"
Fortunately for the brunette, Quinn had only been asking if she was ok to come for a drive with her to pick up some takeaway for lunch while Santana and Brittany stayed back to do something the Latina refused to tell Quinn about. "You better not just be having sex while we're gone," the blonde had half-heartedly warned the couple before putting her Range Rover into first gear and driving the car up the driveway.
The New Yorker watched her with interest for a moment. "I don't think I know anyone else my age, or thereabouts, that drives stick. I'm impressed."
Quinn glanced at her with a smile, reaching out to turn on the radio before putting both hands back on the wheel. "Thank you. My father insisted that Frannie and I both learned how to drive manual. Just in case we ever got jobs that required us to have a manual license."
Rachel matched her smile. "I think it's safe to say you won't ever actually need the skill for your line of work. Driving down the line is pretty different in tennis."
Quinn chuckled at the pun, and Rachel gave herself a mental pat on the back for drawing the throaty sound from the blonde. "Do you drive?" the older woman asked, glancing at her co-passenger from the corner of her eye.
Rachel shook her head. "No. But I do have a learner's license and have been driving with my parents these last few weeks. I'm hoping to pass my test next month."
"Manual?" Quinn asked.
Rachel shook her head, "Automatic. I'm not as brave as you."
"And I don't see you every working a job that requires a manual license either," Quinn quipped with a smile, glancing into her rearview mirror. "It's interesting, but a lot of my friends that grew up in the heart of New York don't have their drivers licenses," she commented while spinning the wheel to turn left. "Is it because public transport is so easily available?"
"Probably," Rachel agreed. "And also, traffic. It isn't uncommon for a twenty minute drive to turn into a two hour ordeal."
"Mmm. Traffic in Miami can be a nightmare too," Quinn said, coming to a halt at a red light. She turned to face Rachel, "But yeah, get your license. It'll give you more freedom when you're on tour too, and just want to go off and do your own thing."
"That's what Papa was saying too," the teenager said. "I think it's become his mantra while I've been here. Along with, 'You should look at real estate while you have time off, Rach'.
Quinn shot her an interested look before putting the car in gear and moving forward. "I take it you aren't so keen on, and I'm just guessing here, moving out?"
"Your deduction would be correct," Rachel said, her eyes facing forwards.
"Do your parents want you to move out?" Quinn questioned, curiosity lacing her tone.
Rachel let out a deep sigh. "I don't think they want me to move out, per se. It's more that they believe investing in property is a good idea. But I also think, and this time I'm the one that's guessing, that they'd like me to buy a place I could maybe see myself living in down the line."
The pair fell silent as Rachel waited to hear what Quinn thought of that. Finally Quinn spoke, "I used almost half of my winnings from my first Grand Slam title in oh-nine to buy a house."
This was news to Rachel. "I didn't know that" she said, her eyes now fixed on the driver of the car.
"Mm," Quinn said, bobbing her head up and down without looking at the brunette. "A nice five-bedroom waterfront house in Delray Beach. I stayed there for over a year with Mom and Frannie. Mom still lives there, and her boyfriend, Peter, moved in a month ago too."
"Is he the one you were telling me about in Cincinatti?" Rachel asked, the mention of Judy's boyfriend ringing a bell.
"You remember," Quinn said, sounding pleasantly surprised.
"I do," Rachel nodded, pleased with herself. "But maybe it's my young eighteen-year-old mind that remembers things better. Should I expect that to start changing at twenty-two?" she asked, all faux innocence.
"Oh hardy har har," Quinn said, with an eye roll. "You can save the old jokes for when I turn thirty. They don;t land as hard when you're the top ranked tennis player in the world."
"Touché, Fabray," Rachel said with a grin. She glanced at Quinn's arm as the blonde put the car into third gear and fought the urge to reach out and lay her hand on the sinewy forearm, the way Brittany had rested her hand on Santana's arm that morning. Clearing her throat, the brunette thought about what they had been discussing moments before. "So tell me, why did you buy the house?"
Quinn shrugged, "I wanted to spoil my family after everything I felt, and still feel like, they sacrificed to help get me to that position. I rented out a nice place for dad too, and then when I won the Australian Open six months later I bought him a condo too. My dad's more of an apartment kind of guy."
"Does he live in Miami too?" Rachel asked without thinking. She realized her mistake as soon as the words had left her mouth, and stumbled to fix it. "I, I mean, you know, before..."
Fortunately Quinn saved her from her misery. "It's ok Rach, I know what you mean. Yes, the condo's here, in Miami. In South Biscayne Boulevard."
The pair fell silent again. Quinn seemed focused on driving, and Rachel was afraid she would somehow put her foot in her mouth again. Again, it was the blonde that broke the silence. "He was happy to see me, you know, on Monday. As shocking as this might sound, prison has actually been good for him, in a way."
"Yeah?" Rachel asked, wanting Quinn to proceed, or not, at her own pace with this revelation.
"Yeah," the blonde replied. "He seemed less...tense? It's probably because he hasn't had a drink in months. Rehab, the prison edition," Quinn joked, lightening the weighted feeling that had set in within the confines of the car. "But yeah, he works in the prison library, so he's been reading a lot. He told me he'd started reading a Protestant Bible the week he started serving out his sentence and for a minute I was scared. Dad can be a little...extreme in some of his viewpoints, and you hear about people turning to God when they're incarcerated and yeah, I was afraid he was going to turn into a Bible-thumping fanatic before he was let out." Quinn paused here for a moment.
"But then he said he thought about how he and Mom used to have opposing viewpoints on their faith, so he figured he'd use this opportunity to understand where she was coming from by reading the King James Bible. And then, while he was at it, Dad decided to learn more about what might have prompted Frannie to turn to Buddhism, so he's currently reading the Tripitaka. And, and this is what really amazed me, he says he's going to read the Quran, Torah and the Bhagvad Gita next too," Quinn finished.
"Wow," Rachel said. "That's...pretty incredible. Is he reading them because he wants to learn about other faiths?"
Quinn nodded, "Yeah. He says he doesn't want to live a prejudiced life. I think he's come across a lot of men practicing different faiths in there too and, I don't know, maybe it's opened up his eyes to the world a little more?"
"Hmm," the teenager started, "does he know you're agnostic?"
"He does," Quinn said. "He's known for a few years now. He wasn't happy about it when I first told him but on Monday he said that maybe I was the one that had the right idea."
Rachel's eyebrows went up at that. "Wow," she repeated for the second time.
Quinn turned to look at her quickly. "I know right?" she smiled, eyebrows arched. "And you know what's really funny? Dad said he reads Paradise Lost for a bit of light reading when he's taking a break from the religious texts!"
Rachel joined the blonde as the pair laughed out loud. "I think that's the first and only time I'll ever hear someone call Paradise Lost light reading," she giggled.
"You're telling me!" Quinn chortled. The blonde pulled up across the street from a shop front that was painted bright yellow with the words 'Pizza Girls' prominently displayed on top. "Did you want to stay in the car while I run in and grab our order?"
"Sure," Rachel nodded. She watched Quinn climb out of the car, her gaze trailing down the blonde's form as she crossed the road. The birthday girl had stepped out of her overalls before they'd toured the grounds of her home; it turned out she was wearing a pair of short shorts and a torso-hugging singlet under her gardener's attire, and Rachel was beginning to realize that she found Quinn attractive in just about anything. She watched Quinn disappear into the shop and sat back, closing her eyes as she leaned her head against the headrest. 'Honestly, she could wear a chicken suit and I'd still think she was Hera come again,' she thought.
All day the New Yorker had felt her gaze following the blonde around like a moth to a flame, and quite a few times she'd found herself looking straight back into hazel eyes. The lingering glances had been fuel to the fame of hope in Rachel's heart, and she found herself really believing that her affection might be returned; if nothing, there was certainly a spark between them. She had briefly considered just baring her heart in the car but in the end she'd decided she didn't want Quinn to be distracted when she brought it up. Rachel had waited this long, she could wait a few more hours. The nagging voice of doubt at the back of her mind that insisted she was imagining the shared looks and this was all really just one-sided had nothing to do with her putting the conversation off till later. No siree, Bob.
She opened her eyes when the car door was pulled open mere moments later. "That was fast," she said, glancing at the stacks of boxes Quinn was bearing in one hand and the two plastic bags she was carrying with the other one.
"The order was ready and I'd paid over the phone," Quinn offered as explanation. "Would you might holding on to the pizzas? I can pop the bags in back."
Rachel nodded, reaching out for the pizzas as she did. Quinn passed her the four boxes, put the bags in foot area of the backseat and climbed into the car. "Are we expecting the entire armed forces for lunch?" Rachel asked while Quinn buckled herself in.
The blonde laughed. "You have seen Santana eat, right?"
Rachel grinned and inclined her head, conceding the point. Her phone beeped, and she pulled it out of the pocket of her dress. It was a text from Santana informing her that Finn and Marley had arrived with the balloons and the whole place was set up for Quinn's impromptu party, so it was safe to bring Quinn back home now. She also said that Frannie had rung to say she wasn't able to get in touch with Quinn because the younger Fabray wasn't picking up her phone.
Rachel quickly typed out a reply letting the Latina know they were on their way back and pocketed her phone. "Your sister called Santana to say you aren't answering your phone," she told Quinn.
"Oops! I forgot it was still on silent. Would you mind seeing if she texted? My phone's in the dashboard," Quinn said, nodding her head at the spot she was talking about.
Rachel opened the small compartment before her and saw two phones, one with a red case and one with a black one. "Which one?" she asked, her hand hovering over the two devices.
"Red," Quinn replied while changing lanes.
Rachel pressed the home button and the screen lit up while still locked. "You have three missed called from Francine, but no text messages."
"Mmm, ok. Would you mind checking the other phone too? In case she texted me on there?" the blonde requested.
"Sure," Rachel said, replacing the phone in her hand and picking up the black one. Her eyes widened as soon as she pressed the home button. "Uh, Quinn...you have one-hundred-and-twenty-four messages here, and forty-two missed calls. I can't tell if any of them are from Francine unless I unlock the phone."
Quinn didn't seem the least bit phased by the number of attempts people had made to contact her. "Yeah, I get a lot of calls and messages on that number on my birthday and when I win a major."
"Ah," Rachel nodded. "And the other one's a more private number, is it?"
"Yeah," Quinn said. "Only my family and closest friends have that one. Thanks for checking Rach, I'll just ring Fran back when we get home."
The knowledge that she had both numbers made something swell in Rachel's chest. She wasn't even sure if Brittany had Quinn's other number. "So, I know we've digressed from the conversation a bit but earlier, were you suggesting that I buy a house too?" she asked, replacing the phone and closing the glove compartment.
"Oh no," Quinn said quickly. "That's just what I did. But I think your situation is different. From what I understand your parents already have a lovely apartment in a nice part of New York. My beginnings were," she paused here, looking for the right word. "...humbler, so I think it was sort of natural for me to want to buy us nice things as soon as I could really afford to. I mean, when we moved to Miami we lived in a small townhouse an hour away from where I trained, with this tiny patch of concrete in the back that passed for the backyard. Do you get what I mean?"
"I do," Rachel nodded.
"On the other hand Santana moved her family here when she won her first major. She put the money in the bank and got the paperwork together to prove that she could afford to look after them. She didn't actually buy her own place till she won her second French. So yeah, everyone does different things with their money," Quinn explained. "The one thing I will recommend is that you invest your money in something. It's better than just having it sit there in the bank."
"I have been investing portions of my money," Rachel replied. "Jesse's very good at bringing me plenty of options and some are already starting to pay dividends. But yes, I do have a fair bit that I've just put into my savings account. And Daddy and Papa seem to think I would be better off tying it up in property."
"Hmm," Quinn said, and Rachel could see a thoughtful look play upon her features. "Have you ever considered," she started slowly, "buying property outside of New York?"
"Not really," Rachel said. "I mean, I don't ever want to live anywhere else in the world, so..."
"Sure, I get that. But, you think your parents want you to buy a house to move into, which you don't seem to want to even start thinking about right now. Hiram and Leroy want you to invest your money in property, which to be fair is usually the soundest investment you can make if you buy the right property in the right place. So maybe buying property outside of New York could be a compromise all of you would be ok with," Quinn reasoned. "A family holiday home, perhaps?"
"I never actually considered that," Rachel said, mulling over the idea. "It might work."
"I'm full of wisdom," Quinn grinned.
"And modesty," Rachel replied drily, earning another husky laugh as a reward.
"Santana and I actually co-invested in a three-bedroom apartment in Paris together early last year," the blonde revealed. "Its in the seventh arrondissement of La Rive Gauche."
"Why Paris?" Rachel asked, although she suspected that she already knew the answer.
"Because we know we're definitely going to be there once a year. And its very easy to rent out when we don't need the place, which makes it a great investment," Quinn said. "Frannie lived there when she interned in Paris."
"And you have an apartment in New York," Rachel observed, marveling at all the homes Quinn had amassed in such a short amount of time.
"That's Frannie's," Quinn said. "The only homes I have under my name are the apartment in Paris and the one I live in here in Miami."
Rachel was silent for a few beats. "I have always liked London... and I will be there every year for Wimbledon. And god knows that rent rates in that city are ridiculous..." she contemplated out loud.
"Hey, don't do it just because I think it's a good idea. Think about it, discuss it with your usual advisors and the people that look after your investments. Weigh up the pros and cons from your perspective. What works for me might not necessarily work for you, or anyone else," Quinn pointed out.
"I will, oh wise one," Rachel smiled. "Thank you for the suggestion."
Quinn shrugged off her thanks. "Here's an easier question for you – what car will you buy yourself when you get your license?"
"Surprised, Q?" Santana asked with a grin, taking a quick picture of the blonde's dumbfounded expression with her phone.
The blonde returned Finn and then Marley's hugs. "How did you guys do all this in an hour?" she asked, looking around in wonder at the room full of balloons, streamers and the large banner that boldly stated 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY QUINNIE'.
"Don't you worry about that!" Santana grinned, clearly pleased with herself. "Just enjoy your big day."
"Thank you, San" Quinn smiled, looking like she was about to tear up. She wrapped her Spanish friend in a tight embrace, muttering something inaudible to Rachel's ears.
"Aww, I love you too, Q" Santana said, before stepping back.
"Thank you all," Quinn said, looking around at everyone. "I have the best friends a girl could as for. I mean, you guys came all the way here just for me," she said, her gaze coming to a stop on Rachel. The teenager felt her heart skip a beat when the blonde reached out to hold her hand. "I feel so special. So...loved."
Quinn gave Rachel's hand a squeeze as she said the words, not letting go after. She turned to look at the rest of her guests, but Rachel kept her eyes on the birthday girl. She wondered if Quinn knew just how loved she really was.
