Chapter 10
"Thanks for walking me back, Puck," Quinn acknowledged as they stood in Rachel's foyer. "I have no idea what happened to Sam…"
"Happy to be of service," Noah obliged. "Guess we're lucky that Rachel never changed the locks." He looked around, commenting, "It's pretty quiet around here. Maybe he brought Rachel home and they both went to sleep."
Skeptically raising her left eyebrow, Quinn remarked, "I don't know…they looked pretty cozy to me…maybe we should be worried…" She glanced around nervously, noticing a bright pink something on the floor ahead. "What's that?" she puzzled, pointing at the unfamiliar object.
Noah approached it, picking it up and observing, "This is Rachel's…they must've gone for a swim…"
"Should I be concerned, Puck?" Quinn pondered. "Sam seemed pretty smitten…"
"Well…" Noah hesitantly began, "I can tell you that if you love someone, you have to trust them."
"And you trust Rachel? Quinn delicately probed.
"Implicitly," Noah confirmed. "I can also tell you that when we would go for a 'midnight swim', we usually ended up in the pool house."
"I see…" Quinn dejectedly mused. "And…if something happened…between them…" she hesitantly suggested, "would your feelings change?"
"No, Quinn; not at all," Noah affirmed. "Rachel's an adult, and we're not together, now. I know she'd never do anything consciously to hurt anyone, and Smythe's been keeping her at arm's length. If she can find some comfort with another man, sure, I'd feel hurt…even jealous…but I still trust her," he concluded.
Both parties deep in thought, they wordlessly left the house, Noah depositing Rachel's wrap on one of the patio chairs. As he moved away, the evening's quiet was punctuated by the ringing of a cellphone. Turning toward the offending noise, Noah noticed Rachel's phone where it had been left and, old habits apparently dying very hard, casually answered it.
"Hello? Whatta ya' mean, 'Who is this?' Who's this? Oh…Smythe…yes, this is 'Puckerman'…'Where am I?' Not that it's any of your concern, but I'm outside on the patio…Yes, at Rachel's house…'Where's Rachel?'…Sorry man, no clue there…I'm escorting Ms. Fabray home from the party, that's what I'm doing here…You're coming over? Well, then, I guess we'll be seeing you shortly…" Noah replaced the phone on the table, looking wryly at Quinn. "Asshole just hung up on me. Smythe's on the way over."
"This suddenly got a heck of a lot more interesting," Quinn noted.
"Big time…" Noah concurred.
Within five minutes, the sound of a car pulling up and its door being opened and shut interrupted Quinn's and Noah's conversation.
"Here comes trouble…" Noah acerbically remarked just as Sebastian rounded the corner and made a beeline for the couple.
"Where the Hell is she, Puckerman?" Sebastian bellowed. "What've you done with my fiancée?"
"Like I told you, Smythe, I have no idea where Rachel is." Noah cocked his left eyebrow, posing "You're marrying her tomorrow…well, actually, today. Isn't that your job…knowing where Rachel is?"
"Oh, cut the crap, Puckerman; I know all about your kind…actors and singers and artists…"
"Oh, my…" Quinn slyly interjected.
Casting a scathing glare in her direction, an obviously agitated Sebastian refocused on Noah, continuing, "You live lives of debauchery, swilling alcohol and changing partners like 'normal' people change their socks. I wanted to pull Rachel out of your little 'cesspool', but you and your kind keep trying to drag her back down…"
"What the fuck, Smythe, 'lives of debauchery'? Noah blurted out, laughing incredulously.
Before Sebastian could retort, all eyes shifted toward a distant figure clad in white. As it approached, it became clearer that there were two people, one snuggled in the arms of the other: Sam and Rachel. No bathing suits were visible, supporting the illusion that they were naked underneath.
Sam approached the group, smiling sheepishly until he caught Quinn's wounded expression.
"Why're we stopping, Sammy?" Rachel queried. She opened her eyes and raised her head from Sam's chest, glancing around and noting their audience. "Hi, Noah; hello, Quinn" Rachel greeted them in a soft voice. "Hello, Sebastian," she acknowledged her fiancé, deepening her voice as if to mimic him.
"Rachel, what the Hell! What's the meaning of…of this? I demand an explanation…" Sebastian indignantly declared, sweeping his right arm to gesture at her current position.
"Oh, Sammy and I just came back from a swim; right, Sammy?" Rachel lightly answered, looking up at Sam and giggling.
"Um…right…" Sam answered, a bit startled at the absurdity of his immediate surroundings.
"I'm so tired, Sammy," Rachel confessed with a yawn. "Will you please take me to bed?" she asked with a shy smile.
"Um…sure, Rach," he hesitantly acquiesced. Rachel sighed contentedly, laying her head on Sam's chest once again.
"Good night, all," Rachel dreamily announced.
"Past the top of the stairs, second room on the right," Noah directed Sam, who opened the door with his free hand, entering the house and effectively leaving the drama behind. Noting Sebastian's irate glare, Noah added, "I used to live here, ya' know…"
"Don't remind me," Sebastian condescended.
Sensing that her presence might no longer be welcome, Quinn bid a hasty "Good night" and retreated into the house. Reaching the foot of the staircase, she observed Sam leaving Rachel's bedroom, his bathing suit now in plain sight as he turned toward his assigned bedroom and quietly walked away. Emitting a soft sigh of relief, she also headed off to bed.
Meanwhile, back on the patio…
"Puckerman, look what you and your ilk have done to my fiancée…" Sebastian raged.
Oh, please!" Noah testily responded. "Give me a break, Smythe…Smith…what-the fuck-ever your name is…"
Sebastian's eyes widened at the name "Smith", and he audibly gasped.
"That's right," Noah confirmed, making eye contact, "I know all about you. I know you're using Rachel, and it stops now."
"Or what?" Sebastian countered.
"Those people, Quinn Fabray and Sam Evans?" Noah nodded his head toward the house before staring down Sebastian. "Contrary to what you may've been told, they work for 'Spy TV', and they're here to cover the wedding. What a perfect way for your family back in Indiana to find out that you're married to a famous actress…and that your life is nothing but one big lie. Just think of how proud your parents will be…"
"Shit!" Sebastian whispered, shaking his head ruefully as he imagined his ticket to wealthy clients being mercilessly shredded.
"Shit is right, Smith, and it's up to you to fix it," Noah advised.
Sebastian slumped down on the nearest chair. Head in hands, he pondered, "Why are they here? Rachel isn't a 'media whore', so she wouldn't have done this on her own." He looked up, accusing, "You set this up, didn't you, Puckerman? You just had to get her back, and you went out of your way to humiliate me."
"Don't flatter yourself, Smith," Noah retorted. "Their being here has nothing to do with you." He disgustedly observed, "I can't believe that you could treat Rachel like this…that you actually intended to go through with this sham of a marriage. When were you planning on telling Rachel that you prefer men…on the honeymoon?"
"For the record, Puckerman, I had a girlfriend in college," Sebastian asserted.
"One girlfriend…among multiple 'boyfriends'…" Noah reminded him.
"But…her fathers are gay…she'll understand…" Sebastian weakly argued.
"Accepting people for who they are and being your husband's 'beard' are two different thing entirely, Smith," Noah affirmed. "I'd suggest you go home and figure out what you're gonna do." He glanced at his watch, reminding him, "You've got about seven hours…"
Coming to his feet, Sebastian turned to face Noah, conceding, "Looks like you've won, Puckerman. See ya' around…" He walked off dejectedly, his posture conveying his defeat. The final reminder of his presence was the sound of his car driving away.
