Chapter 7
Rachel swam the length of the pool, standing up in the shallow end, smiling peacefully and enjoying the soothing water that surrounded her.
"Wow; that was some dive!" Sam admired, swimming up beside her.
"Thanks," Rachel accepted his compliment. "I was on my high school swim team; my event was the 100 meter Butterfly. A lot of people were surprised that there was more to me than good grades and show tunes," she admitted, "but I've always loved to swim…and I've always been extremely competitive"
"I'm impressed," Sam admitted. "My sports were primarily on dry land, although one year, I was on the synchronized swim team."
"Isn't that usually a women's sport?" Rachel playfully queried.
"Yeah," Sam admitted with a grin. "It was a great way to meet girls."
Rachel laughed, agreeing, "I'm sure it was." Momentarily ending the conversation, Rachel swam a single lap, returning to the shallow end where she pulled herself out, dangling her feet in the water.
"Back when we were in high school," Rachel reminisced, "Noah used to have a pool cleaning business. Even if it was primarily a means to gain access to the beds of the 'horny housewives of Allen County'…" she wrinkled her nose distastefully at the recollection as she continued, "…he decided that when he was an adult, as soon as he could afford it, he'd have a pool of his own. Sometimes," she recalled, "after a party or an industry event, we'd come out here for a moonlight swim," concluding to herself, "and end up in the pool house…"
"And now, you'll do that with your fiancé," Sam concluded, pulling himself out also and sitting down next to Rachel.
"Actually, probably not," Rachel corrected (a little dejectedly), returning from her momentary nostalgic lapse. "Sebastian's not much of a swimmer; he claims that he 'doesn't like to get his hair wet'. I swear, sometimes he reminds me of my friend, Kurt…"
"Well, I'm always up for a late night swim, Rachel," Sam offered with a wink.
Rachel giggled, replying, "Although I appreciate the offer, I don't think Quinn would like it. Aren't you two a couple?" she gently pried.
"Mr. Ben-Israel considers fraternization grounds for dismissal, so, no," Sam glumly answered.
"But you'd like to be…" Rachel coaxed.
"Yeah," he admitted with a defeated sigh, "but the job pays well, and I need the money."
"What would you rather do?" Rachel inquired. "Anything has to be better than exposing other people's 'dirty laundry' to the world."
"Well…" Sam hesitated briefly before disclosing, "Most boys want to be 'Spiderman' or 'Wolverine' when they grow up; I wanted to be Stan Lee and create characters like 'Spiderman' and 'Wolverine'."
"So, you wanted to write comic books…" Rachel gently encouraged.
"Yeah…still do," Sam admitted. "The industry is almost impossible to break into, and my parents strongly discouraged a BFA in art. We compromised, and I got my BBA from the University of Kentucky in Marketing and minored in 'Digital Media and Design', which, for me was primarily videography and graphic design. I did have a cool senior project, though…" he mused.
"What was that?" Rachel politely inquired.
"A group of us designed and published a comic book through the school paper, 'The Kentucky Kernel'. This'll sound ridiculous," he sheepishly admitted, "but the hero was a high school teacher who coached show choir. He became 'The Choir Master', and his super power was telepathically forcing criminals to stop whatever they were doing and sing show tunes." He looked at Rachel, who had begun laughing, grinned, and concluded, "We'd all been in our high school glee clubs, and it was more tongue-in-cheek than anything. We were able to put out three editions before the semester was over, and we got an 'A', so it couldn't have been all that bad…"
"You're not gonna believe this," Rachel admitted once her laughter had subsided, "but I saw that, and thought it was really clever."
Astonished that anyone outside of his circle of friends had seen it, let alone remembered it, Sam exclaimed, "You've gotta be kidding!"
"No, not at all," Rachel confirmed. "A group of us decided to go to the Kentucky Derby when we were in college…I think it was on somebody's 'bucket list'…maybe Noah's…I can't remember…" She glanced at Sam, his face a mask of disbelief, and she grinned, recalling, "Anyway, somebody found a copy, and since we were all in our school's show choir…2012 National Show Choir Champions, by the way…" she added, "…we thought it was fantastic, because we all could relate to it. Actually," she paused thoughtfully before musing, "if I'm not mistaken, Noah kept a copy, and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he still has it."
"Wow, I never met anybody outside of school who actually read it," Sam commented.
"Small world, isn't it?" Rachel coyly commented. "Now, how about I race you? Let's see if that synchronized swimming paid off."
"You're on!" Sam agreed, playfully splashing Rachel as they returned to the water.
"So, 'Wheels', what did ya' find out?" Noah curiously prodded Artie immediately after entering the office.
"Have a seat, Puck, and I'll fill you in," Artie replied, gesturing to the guest chairs opposite his desk.
Settling himself, Noah prompted, "OK, Artie; let's have it. What's this guy's deal? Is he on the level?"
"Well…not exactly," Artie cautiously responded.
"I knew it!" Noah exclaimed. "He's after her money, isn't he?"
"I wouldn't say that, Puck," Artie answered. "From what I gathered, it sounds more like her connections."
Leaning forward slightly, Noah proclaimed, "I'm all ears, man…"
"In the first place," Artie revealed, "his real name is 'Steven Smith', and he's from Muncie, Indiana, not Philadelphia. He comes from a middle-class family; his dad owns a tire shop and his mother runs a daycare. They're nice people from what I gathered, but definitely not the 'Main-Line-Philadelphia-old-money' background that he claims." Artie glanced at Noah, making eye contact. "I'm sure you'll find this interesting: he's bisexual…usually dates men, but he had a steady girlfriend when he was in college…which was at Ball State, by the way, not the Wharton School of Business."
"Unbelievable…" Noah muttered, shaking his head.
Artie continued, "He's a realtor; that much is true. He met Rachel at a 'Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS' fundraiser that he attended with his then-boyfriend. He was there to make business contacts, and his date was celebrity-stalking…well, maybe stalking's too harsh a word," Artie reconsidered, "but trying to meet celebrities."
"Why?" Noah wondered.
"No idea, man…to each his own, I guess," Artie reflected. "I got most of this information from him, and that's what I garnered from our conversation."
"How'd you find him?" Noah curiously probed.
"That, my friend, is a trade secret," Artie commented with a sly smile. "Like I said yesterday, nobody suspects 'the guy in the wheelchair', and most people will tell just about anything to a stranger, especially somebody who listens."
Noah nodded in understanding, and Artie continued: "In any case, the boyfriend saw Rachel and recognized her immediately. Smith…Smythe, whatever…on the other hand, had no idea who she was, but figured she could be a 'ticket' into the entertainment industry…wealthier clients…bigger commissions…"
Rolling his eyes, Noah interjected, "Yeah, I get it."
"Well," Artie resumed the anecdote, "Smith left his date, introduced himself, and talked her up until they exchanged numbers."
"Is he still seeing the guy?" Noah pointedly asked.
"Only as friends, from what I gathered," Artie assured him. "He's not in love with Rachel, but he's truly fond of her, and he told his ex- that he wouldn't cheat."
"From the ring she's wearing, he must be more than 'fond' of her," Noah commented.
"Oh that?" Artie chuckled. "The guy confided that his friend bought an engagement ring from one of the TV shopping channels. It's a CZ."
"You're shittin' me, man," Noah incredulously reacted.
"Not according to my source, Puck," Artie confirmed. "I guess he got a Tiffany ring box from eBay and tried to pass it off as the real thing. Your ex- is probably none the wiser."
"Based on the way she was admiring it the other day, I'm sure you're right," Noah concurred. He thought a moment before asking, "Do you have any idea what this 'wait until the wedding night' bullshit is all about? That was a big 'red flag' to me."
"Funny you should ask that, Puck," Artie remarked. "It seems that Smith was kinda 'testing the waters', because he's really more into men than women. He was pretty happy that she didn't pressure him, and figured that Rachel must be either frigid or asexual." Artie looked at Noah, noting his incredulous expression before speculating, "I got the impression that if she was more assertive, it would have scared him off."
"Man, I gotta tell ya', Rachel may be many things, but frigid is definitely not one of them," Noah admitted.
"And that, my friend, borders on 'too much information'," Artie jibed.
"Which is why that's all I'll say on the subject," Noah assured him.
"So, now you know what I know," Artie concluded.
"Thanks, man. I appreciate your getting back with me so quickly," Noah acknowledged.
"If I may ask, what're you gonna do about it?" Artie curiously probed.
"That is for me to know and you to find out," Noah evaded with a smirk. "I do have to get going, though. What do I owe you?"
"Sugar will settle up with you, Puck." Artie explained. "Thanks again for the business." He reached out his right hand, and Noah stood up, approached the desk, and joined Artie in a warm handshake.
"Thank you, Bro," Noah sincerely replied. "I'll be in touch." With that, he left the office and stopped by Sugar's desk to pay the remainder of his bill.
Walking toward the elevator, he placed a call. "Hello, Judge Bernstein? This is Noah Puckerman…yeah, great to talk to you, too…yeah, you're welcome…always happy to help out for a worthy cause…are you in your office? Perfect…may I stop by? Thanks, I appreciate it…no, I'll explain the whole thing when I get there…Thanks, again; see ya' soon…"
