A/N: I can't believe all the attention this story is getting! For those that have reviewed/Favorite/Followed this story, you guys rock! You all are the reason I continue to write.
Also I went back and fixed some dumb mistakes in previous chapters. Also for the point of the plot making sense, I changed Blaine from an actor to a director (I figured it made more sense since he is controlling). So if you read the other chapters before 5/09/13 I suggest perhaps going back and skimming through the first two chapters again. If you read the chapters past 5/09/13 this doesn't affect you as for you already read updated and fixed chapter one and two. Sorry for any confusion this causes.
I am currently rereading the original fifty greys and am making a mental outline for this fanfic. I'm making some changes because the repetitiveness of some of the actions/phrases makes me want to scream! Dang it Ana, stop fainting, blushing and saying "oh".
* Now on to the main event- The actual story! *
Fifty Shades of Klaine: Chapter Three (the Interview)
"Good," I say, trying to act and sound as professional as possible. "I have some questions, Mr. Anderson." I smooth a stray lock of hair behind my ear. This wouldn't be doing this if I had hair sprayed it.
"Really?" he says sarcastically, "I had no idea." He's laughing at me. I bite my tongue before I end up saying something I will regret, pressing the start button on the recorder.
"You're very young to be so famous as a director. To what do you owe your success?" I glance up at him. His smile is rueful, but he looks vaguely disappointed.
"Business is all about people, Mr. Hummel; yes even show business applies to this. I'm very good at playing and manipulating different people's emotions. I figure out how they tick, what makes all my characters believable, what doesn't, what inspires them, and how to make them shine. I get people to be intrigued by my characters, and I reward them well." He pauses and fixes me with his piercing hazel stare.
"My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a talented actor. The bottom line is, it's always down to good actors."
"Maybe you're just lucky." This isn't on Rachel's list – but he's so full of himself. His eyes widen in surprise. Obviously no one dared of telling that to his face. Oops. Well he just got a reality check, and I probably pissed him off. Great, off to another fantastic start.
"I don't leave anything to luck or chance, Mister Hummel. The harder I work the better off I seem to be. It really is all about working hard and knowing what people want. I think it was Jennifer Hudson who said 'It's a shame to call somebody a 'diva' simply because they work harder than everybody else. I work hard, and make sure everything goes perfectly."
"You sound like a control freak." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Crap, Rachel would skin me alive if she knew I just said that.
"Oh, I exercise control in all things, Mister Hummel," he says without a trace of humor in his smile. I look at him, and he holds my gaze steadily, impassive. My heartbeat quickens.
Why does he have such an alarming effect on me? Is it his unnaturally good looks? Or is it the way his eyes peer into me? I wish he'd stop staring at me like that. Perhaps I should just stare back. Two can play this game.
"Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things," he continues, his voice soft.
"Do you feel that you have immense power?" yep, definitely a Control Freak.
"I employ over hundreds of people, Mister Hummel. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility – power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested show business and quit, hundreds of young actors would struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so."
My mouth drops open. I am staggered by his lack of humility. And I thought Rachel had a big ego. Holy crap, he's so arrogant. I change tack.
"And do you have any interests outside your work?"
"I have varied interests, Mister Hummel." A ghost of a smile touches his lips. Like he has some inside joke but won't share. "Very varied." And for some reason, I'm confounded and heated by his steady gaze. His eyes darken with some wicked thought.
"But if you work so hard, what do you do to relax?"
"Relax?" He smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. I stop breathing. He really is beautiful. No one should be this good-looking, especially someone as big-headed as him.
"Well, to 'chill out' as you put it – I play music, I box; I indulge in various physical pursuits." He shifts in his chair. "I'm a very wealthy man, Mister Hummel, and I have expensive and absorbing hobbies."
I glance quickly at Rachel's questions, wanting to get off this subject.
"You invest in the arts, why, specifically?" I ask. Why does he make me so uncomfortable? I shift slightly in my seat.
"I like to create things. I like to know how things work: what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I have a love of music. What can I say?"
"That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts."
His mouth quirks up, and he stares appraisingly at me.
"Possibly, though there are people who'd say I don't have a heart."
"But why would they say that?"
"Perhaps it's because they know me so well." His lip curls in a wry smile.
"Would your friends say you're easy to get to know?" And I regret the question as soon as I say it. It's not on Rachel's list.
"I'm a very private person Mr. Hummel. I go a long way to protect my privacy. I don't often give interviews."
"Why did you agree to do this one?"
"Because I'm a benefactor of the University, and for all intents and purposes, I couldn't get Miss Berry off my back. She badgered and badgered my PR people, and I admire that kind of tenacity."
I know how stubborn Rachel can be. That's how she got into NYADA, and also it's why I'm sitting here squirming uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze, when I should be Practicing an audition song for my next NYADA audition, or at the Vogue offices working. If anyone knew how stubborn Rachel Barbra Berry was, it was me.
The temperature in the room is rising or maybe it's just me. I just want this interview to be over. Surely Rachel has enough material now? I glance at the next question.
"Your family is very successful, how far do you think that's shaped the way you are?" Oh shit, this is personal. I stare at him, hoping he's not pissed. His brow furrows.
"Well certainly has raised the bar for me."
My interest is piqued.
"Why didn't you go into business and law like your father?"
"That's a matter of my own interests, Mr. Hummel. I believe that's common knowledge about me." His tone is stern. Crap. Yes of course – if I'd known I was doing this interview, I would have done some research. I move on quickly.
"You've had to sacrifice a family life for your work."
"That's not a question." He's abrupt.
"Sorry." And he's made me feel like a fool. I try again. "Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?"
"I have a family. I have a brother and two parents. I'm not interested in extending my family beyond that."
"Are you gay, Mr. Anderson?"
He inhales sharply, and I cringe, mortified. I can't believe I just asked that! What if he gets offended or is homophobic?
"Ummm, sorry, that can be really personal. I mean not that it's a bad thing, you know.. to be gay. I mean I am." I rambled nervously. Why did I just tell him my sexuality. Great now he might think im trying to hit on him.
"No Kurt, I'm not." He raises his eyebrows, a cool gleam in his eyes. His eyebrows raise up as if daring me to comment on it.
"I apologize. It's um… written here." It's the first time he's said my name. It sounds like a melody coming out of his velvet voice. He cocks his head to one side.
"These aren't your own questions?"
The blood drains from my head. Oh no. He probably thinks I'm an idiot.
"Err… no. Rach– Miss Berry– she made the list of questions."
"That explains a great deal." Now I just feel embarrassed.
There's a knock at the door, and Blonde Number Two enters.
"Mr. Anderson, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes." I make o stand up but he puts his hand up as to stay put.
"We're not finished here. Please cancel my next meeting." She hesitates, gaping at him. She's appears lost. He turns his head slowly to face her and raises his eyebrows.
"Very well, Mr. Anderson," she mutters, then exits quickly. He frowns, and turns his attention back to me.
"Where were we, mister Hummel?"
Oh, we're back to this now. Fine, be that way.
"If you're busy, I can leave." I really don't want to hold him up, plus its getting more awkward by every minute that passes.
"I want to know about you. I think that's only fair." His gray eyes are alight with curiosity. Umm, I didn't agree to this. Where's he going with this?
"There's not much to know," I say trying not to play his game.
"What are your plans for the future?"
I shrug, thrown by his interest. (Why does he even care?) Come to New York, graduate from NYADA,get famous. I haven't really thought beyond one way or another getting in to NYADA.
"I haven't made any plans, Mr. Anderson. I just need to getinto NYAYA." Which I should be practicing right now for future auditions, rather than sitting in your over glamorous office, feeling uncomfortable under your penetrating gaze while you ask me questions.
"I'm sure I can find a way to get you in if you are part of the intership here that is. We run an excellent internship program here," he says quietly. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Is he offering me a job?
"Oh. I'll bear that in mind," I murmur, completely confounded. "Though I'm not sure I'd fit in here." Oh no. I'm musing out loud again.
"Why do you say that?" He cocks his head to one side, intrigued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" I'm not a girl (although have been called one by many).
"Not to me," he murmurs. His gaze is intense, all humor gone, and strange muscles deep in my belly clench suddenly. I lean forward to retrieve the recorder.
"Would you like me to show you around?" he asks.
"I'm sure you're far too busy, Mr. Anderson, and I do have a long drive."
"Did you get everything you need?" he asks.
"Yes sir," I reply, packing the recorder into my satchel. His eyes narrow, speculatively.
"Thank you for the interview, Mr. Anderson." I say politely.
"The pleasure's been all mine," he says, sounding sincere.
As I rise, he stands and holds out his hand.
"Until we meet again, Mister Hummel." And it sounds like he seems sure of it.. I frown. When will we ever meet again? I shake his hand once more, astounded that that odd current between us is still there.
" ." I nod at him. Moving with lithe athletic grace to the door, he opens it wide.
"Just ensuring you makes it through the door Mister Hummel." He gives me smirk. Obviously, he's referring to earlier.
"What a gentleman, Mr. Anderson," I snap, and his smile widens. I'm glad you find me entertaining jerk. As I am walking into the foyer I'm surprised when he follows me out. Is he going to follow me home? His long index finger presses the button summoning the elevator, and we stand waiting – awkwardly on my part, coolly self-possessed on his. The doors open, and I hurry in desperate to escape. I really need to get out of here, I'm getting some weird vibes. When I turn to look at him, he's leaning against the doorway beside the elevator with one hand on the wall. He really is very, very good-looking. It's distracting. His burning Hazel eyes gaze at me.
"Kurt," he says as a farewell.
"Blaine," I reply. The doors close.
A/N: Yay this is the longest chapter yet! Please feel free to leave a review/suggestion. Ta-ta for now -Stevi