Rock a Little
chapter two
Rachel giggles at her reflection in the mirror. She's having a hard time believing that the girl staring back at her with an expression of bewildered awe, the girl in the top with the plunging neckline and the skin-tight black spandex pants, is actually her. She's learned enough about makeup at school to know how to create smoky, alluring eyes, how to accentuate the shape of her full, pouty lips, but the tips she's gotten from Kurt have really put her look for tonight over the top. After spending the previous night playing board games and watching her opening night performance of Funny Girl on DVD with her dads, she's more than ready to take a night for herself and cut loose, at least as much as it's possible to do here in Lima. She's got a feeling that it's going to be a good night.
When she struts into the living room, the shocked looks on her fathers' faces send her into such a paroxysm of laughter that she has to sit down to catch her breath. Not that it's easy to do in these curve-hugging pants, but somehow she manages.
"My God, Leroy," her father Hiram exclaims to his husband, whose jaw still hasn't come back up off the floor. "Stop. You're embarrassing our little girl."
"I don't see a little girl here, Hi," he replies tartly. He turns to his daughter with an expression of such grave concern that's so ludicrous it almost sets her off once again. "Rachel, sweetheart, where did you get those clothes? Does Pat Benatar know you've raided her wardrobe?"
She rolls her eyes, drawing a mildly disapproving glare from her father, which she pointedly ignores. "Oh, please, Daddy. Remember when I auditioned for Grease at NYADA, only to be told by the director that he didn't think I 'looked like a Sandy?' This is the outfit I wore for that enjoyable, albeit unsuccessful, audition."
"I don't remember Sandy looking quite like...like that either," Leroy frowns.
"Sure you do," Hiram offers, amused by his husband's dramatic behavior. And they say our daughter gets it from me. "At the end, when she and Danny sing You're the One that I Want? She's got an outfit just like that."
Leroy's frown deepens. Rachel tries and fails to stifle a chuckle as Hiram winks at her, then schools his face to a more solemn expression when Leroy nearly catches him.
"You – you condone this?" he asks, rounding on his husband. Hiram just shrugs in reply.
"Oh, come on, Daddy. I'm a big girl now. If I'm old enough to win a Tony Award, I'm certainly old enough to dress up for a night out at a club."
"She's right, Lee. Let her have her fun," Hiram says. Apparently he needs to break out the private photo albums that show what he and his husband used to wear for their nights out back in their younger days, just to remind him. "She'll be back to going to bed early every night because she has a show the next day soon enough."
Rachel winces at this, feeling guilty that she hasn't yet discussed with them the idea of taking a little time away from the stage to record an album. She's barely even talked about it with Sue and Shannon, but her dads are still her first and best advisers. Fortunately, no one catches it, and Rachel is able to disguise her momentary discomfort with a beaming 'show smile.'
Hiram returns the smile, and Leroy finally softens, not immune to his daughter's ability to charm. "And besides, I think she looks, as the kids say these days, pretty hot. No doubt every young lady in the place will be either jealous or interested."
Blushing, Rachel cries out, "Dad!" As she covers her face with her hands, Leroy turns to his husband and says through a smug grin, "Now who's being embarrassing?"
Having endured quite enough, Rachel stands, huffs and says, "Bye, Dads. See you later. Don't wait up." Moments later, she's out the door and in the car, heading out into the promise of the waiting night.
Show nights are always nerve-wracking for Santana. Her gut twists, her heart pounds and her hands sweat. Tina's like a freaking Zen master, so calm and cool and collected that it drives Santana crazy – she doesn't even know where the girl is right now - while Quinn affects her usual pose of indifference, blowing bubbles and tapping her drumsticks against every available surface in their small but comfortable backstage dressing room.
Will Schuester, the owner/proprietor of "Will's House of Rock" and "Will's House of Music," is here tonight, accompanied by his tall, dark and beautiful wife Shelby. That's not a surprise - he's usually there for their shows - but Shelby's appearances are far more infrequent, drawing a raised eyebrow from Quinn and a shrug from Santana. Will's unfailingly positive, almost irritatingly cheerful personality has made him something of a mentor to hundreds of young musicians in the area over the years. They're always in the club begging for a gig, or in the store for a break on the price of a new amp, and Will's usually agreeable – provided they listen to his advice and promise to work hard afterwards. Of course, not all of them do, and so the wheat gets separated from the chaff pretty quickly.
Tina and Santana look at him as more like a peer or a friend, not just as their boss. He's always up for a discussion about their musical influences and ideas, generous with his time and honest in his thoughts. They may roll their eyes and chuckle over the man's undying love for classic 80s Journey hits, but damn if they don't invariably find themselves quietly singing the chorus to Don't Stop Believin' at least a couple of times when he's around. Will revels in it, and they all share a good laugh over it every time.
Quinn sees him as more of a father figure, for reasons she doesn't like to discuss, but it's obvious that there's something deeper between them. The two of them have spent hours behind the closed door of his office at the club or the store, just talking in low, serious voices, and though Santana's loathe to invade her friend's privacy, she's heard Quinn crying softly behind those doors more than once, and Will consoling her, being exactly the kind and supportive adult male type she's always needed. Santana knows exactly why - but Quinn being Quinn, they rarely talk about it.
Tina appears out of nowhere at Santana's side, silent and sudden as a dark ghost, newly touched up blue streaks in her black hair fairly glowing, making Santana jump in surprise when she says, "I have a feeling about tonight."
"Damn, Tina, don't fucking do that!" she hisses, glowering at the placid expression on Tina's face, the calm in her obsidian eyes. Santana is certain she's had some ninja training. "And you always have a quote-unquote feeling about tonight every time we play a show, and nothing different or unusual ever happens."
"That's true," Tina replies. "But this time...it's different, somehow. Stronger. Like, something really big's being stirred up, right in the pit of my stomach."
"Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn't have eaten those goddamned spicy noodles earlier."
Tina shrugs off Santana's annoyance. She knows it's just a symptom of her pre-show nerves. "Whatever, San. Just watch. Tonight's going to be...I don't know, special somehow. I can't explain it."
"You've been spending too much time with Artie," Quinn teases. "All that talk about fate and destiny and crap. If tonight's going to be special" - she draws the word out - "it'll be because we made it special by kicking outsize amounts of ass, not because of some mysterious outside force or event."
"We'll see." Tina is unmoved, even when Quinn taps her lightly on the arm with one of her drumsticks and Santana murmurs whatever. She doesn't care that the others don't agree with her; she knows what she knows, and she trusts her feelings. Always has, always will. After all, that's what got her here.
There's a knock on the door, and when Santana snaps, "Yeah?" Sam, their tech, cracks it open and pops his blond, blue-eyed head in through the opening. He gives them his trademark goofy smile and says, "Five minutes to stage, guys. It's gonna be a good show tonight - I can feel it."
Quinn gives him an incredulous stare, like he's just grown another eye, and Tina smiles wide as she hefts her bass. "See?" she says, pointing at him. "I'm not the only one."
"Um, I have no idea what you're talking about," Sam says, pouting at being left out of yet another inside joke. "Mike's got sound and Rory's handling lights tonight. And you now have three minutes - so if you need to throw up, San, do it quickly."
"Yeah, yeah," Santana shoots back, dismissing him. "Get out of here before I start the evening's ass kicking with yours, Trouty Mouth."
He nods and hurries to his position behind the amps. He's got a pretty complex job, handling all the guitars and Quinn's sizable drum kit by himself, but they've worked together for long enough now that they don't actually worry about it too much anymore.
"Well, ladies. Shall we do this?" Quinn asks, cracking her gum and a smile at the same time. Her adrenaline's been pumping for a while already, but now it's spiked to a new level, as it always does right before they hit the stage.
Strapping on her guitar, Santana smiles back, her nerves all but gone when she hears the roar of the small but fierce crowd. She still can't believe that all these people are here just to see them play, to watch them do what they love more than anything else in the world.
Tina offers her fist. Santana bumps it with her own. The smile vanishes, replaced by the fierce Santana Lopez game face that they all know, love and fear.
"Yes," she replies. Will Schuester's voice, introducing them, is only a dim echo in the back of her head. The crowd grows even louder, impatient for the band to appear on stage. "We shall."
And then they're on. The crowd erupts in a thunderous roar. Quinn pounds out the intro beat to the first song, and there's no more thinking.
The place is small, hot, sweaty and very, very loud. Rachel's surrounded by a crush of long-haired guys and girls in denim and leather, hooting and hollering and calling out the band's name. She's got a big, beefy bouncer type guy named Dave using his large shoulders and elbows to carve out a path through the crowd for her, escorting her to a prime spot right up front, where she won't have to deal with some seven foot tall giant blocking her view. (Her fathers' insistence that she call the club ahead of time to let them know that the famous Rachel Berry was coming to the show has paid off handsomely.) She reminds herself to thank Will Schuester again when she meets him after the show, as he'd requested when she'd spoken with him earlier.
She's surprised when Dave parks himself right behind her so he can make sure no one tries to interfere with her in any way. She smiles her thanks at him, and he just shrugs back at her as if to say Hey, it's my job.
The second the band hits the stage, she's stunned both by the nearly overwhelming volume of the music and the remarkable attractiveness of the three young women playing it. In the theater, she's been around a lot of pretty, even sexy, women, but this trio is hotter than anything she's ever seen backstage on Broadway.
The guitarist, who's also singing lead, is a stunningly beautiful Latina in a scandalously short, tight sleeveless dress. Rachel's mesmerized by the girl's whipcord arms, the way her fingers dance up and down the neck of her guitar with amazing fluidity. Her long, dark hair flies around as she shakes her head in time with the thunderous beat, and when she plays a solo, it's as electrifying as the lightning that flashes in her eyes. Rachel blushes (although absolutely no one is looking at her) when she catches herself wondering what other skills those magical fingers might possess.
The beat is generated by a pale blonde who's got movie-star looks and a smile of pure, incandescent joy, surrounded by an intricate assemblage of variously sized drums and cymbals. It's only when the light hits her a certain way that Rachel sees the streaks of pink woven through her tousled hair. This girl's arms are bare as well, revealed by a sleeveless T-shirt, and Rachel bites her lip at the play of muscle in her forearms as she bashes her way through each song with equal parts fury and finesse. Rachel's grown up on show tunes and pop songs, and this music is anything but that - yet she finds herself swept up in the energy, the sheer power of it. As the set rolls along, she finds herself surprised to realize how complex and dynamic it actually is, driven by the percussive pixie with the incredibly quick hands.
Filling out the lower frequencies is an intriguing Asian whose blue-streaked hair is done up in pigtails on either side of her head. She sways behind her bass, her eyes closed in concentration even when she's singing harmony, nimble fingers plucking along, building sonic bridges between the guitar and drums. There's a lot going on in this music, Rachel realizes, and it's all being held together by this girl with blue eye shadow and black polished fingernails; without her, everything would fall apart. It's a high-wire juggling act they've got going on here, with a whole bunch of balls flying around, and yet not a single one ever gets close to touching the ground.
All too soon, the set ends, and Rachel's both exhausted and exhilarated. She's never experienced anything like this before, and she wants more than anything to experience it again. She feels dazed, almost as though she's been in a trance. So much so that it startles her when Dave takes her arm and shouts in her ear, "Come on. Will wants you to meet the band."
She's led to a door somewhere at the end of the labyrinthine backstage area with a sign on it that says "Office," and when she steps inside, Dave closes the door behind her. The walls are covered with posters and pictures. There's a curly-haired man in a vest sitting behind a large desk, and he instantly leaps up from his chair and greets her with a warm, broad smile, extending his hand for her to shake. She notices that there seem to be as many Broadway-related decorations as there are rock-related ones.
"Hi, I'm Will Schuester," he says. "It's an honor to meet you, Miss Berry. I'm a huge fan!" She takes his hand, and the smile and the excitement in his voice are so sincere that she knows he can't possibly be faking it. She likes him immediately.
"Please, call me Rachel," she replies, and she plops down into the chair he offers, happy to be off her feet. "It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Schuester. You have an amazing place here."
He resumes his seat, still smiling. "It's Will, and thank you. It's not often that we have Tony-winning Broadway stars in the audience at one of our shows. I realize it probably wasn't the sort of thing you're used to, but I hope you enjoyed it all the same."
"Oh my goodness, yes! Yes, I did," she laughs, still giddy with residual energy, and he laughs along with her. "Those girls...they're incredible. Very talented musicians, and excellent vocalists as well. I'm extremely impressed. I recognized a handful of songs that a...very good friend of mine used to play all the time, but most of the rest were completely unfamiliar. I take it those were original compositions of theirs?"
Will nods. "They were. Santana Lopez, the guitarist – of course you know their names, they introduced themselves during the show, sorry – she writes most of the music, sometimes collaborating with Tina. And Quinn writes the majority of the lyrics."
"Really?" Rachel's eyes widen in surprise. "That's very impressive. Beautiful and smart." Her cheeks redden – she hadn't meant to speak that last part out loud.
If Will's caught her mistake, he's polite enough not to show it. "Yes, she is. Quinn is...very special. They all are. Young and incredibly talented. Meant for big things. Most of the bands around here – they're good, but they'll probably never play anywhere but here and the surrounding area, maybe in Columbus and Cleveland." He sighs, leans forward in his chair. His eyes kindle with fervor. "These girls, though...I really think they've got what it takes to go further. A lot further. They're ready to record and release their own album. As you heard, they've got the songs. They've got the talent, and then some. All they need now is the right person - with the right connections - to take a chance and believe in them."
An idea forms in Rachel's head at Will's words. It's crazy, maybe impossible even, but...yes. It's perfect. She'll have to work to sell Sue and Shannon on it, of course, and her dads will think she's lost her mind. She doesn't care. The corners of her mouth quirk up in a wide grin.
"Mr. Schue – I mean, Will," she begins, and her heart flutters with excitement at the complete, utter absurdity of it all. "I think -"
She's cut off by the opening of the office door behind her. An indignant female voice squeaks out, "Get your hands off me, you big ape!" There's a light smacking sound, as of a small hand impacting against someone else's flesh. Dave's deep, rumbling voice follows.
"Sorry, Will – Ms. Berry. I tried to stop her," he says, glaring at the woman. "I told her you were busy, but -"
Will waves him to silence. Rachel turns to see a petite, red-headed woman with impossibly large, round eyes standing there in a business suit, wearing an amusingly offended look on her face.
"That's okay, Dave. Go and get the girls in here, would you? They should have been here already. Let me guess - Sugar and Kitty are with them, right?"
Dave nods and shrugs again, but this time there's an apologetic tilt of his head accompanying the gesture. "Yeah. Sorry."
"I thought so." Will sighs, chuckles, runs his hand through his hair. "Tell those two to wait in the dressing room and bring the girls along. All right? Go."
"You got it, boss." Dave says as he withdraws, closing the door. The red-haired woman blinks owlishly. Rachel thinks she looks like a delicate bird.
The woman's voice is soft and lilting when she finally speaks. "Mr. Schuester, my name is Emma Pillsbury. I spoke with your business partner, David Martinez, earlier today. Did he neglect to tell you I'd be here tonight?"
Will lowers his head, pinches the bridge of his nose, scrunching his eyes and face up in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Pillsbury. Apparently he did."
Emma nods, accepting the apology. Then, noticing the other woman in the room, she gestures with her head towards Rachel. "And who's this?"
Rachel gets up, vaguely surprised that the woman doesn't know who she is. Then she reminds herself that not everybody follows the theater, although in her opinion everybody should. She feels slightly awkward in her outfit now, but doesn't let it show as she rises from the chair to formally introduce herself.
"Rachel Berry," she says, putting on her patented show smile and extending her hand for Emma to shake. "Tony Award-winning star of the recent - and highly successful - Broadway revival of Funny Girl, and soon-to-be recording artist. Very pleased to meet you."
"Oh," Emma squeaks. Yes. Definitely a bird. A faint blush colors her cheeks as she delicately shakes Rachel's hand. As she does, Rachel notices that she's wearing white gloves for some reason she can't fathom at the moment. "Please excuse me. I didn't mean to be rude. I – I'm just here to discuss a very important business proposition with Mr. Schuester, and I - I didn't know you would be here."
"No problem whatsoever," Rachel replies airily, wanting to put Emma at ease. "I was just about to put forth an exciting idea of my own, actually, when -"
The door opens again, and Santana Lopez, Tina Cohen-Chang and Quinn Fabray pile into the office, laughing and smiling, their skin still glowing with sweat. They're even more beautiful up close.
"Hey, Will," Santana says, as loose and relaxed now as she was intense and dominant on stage. "What's up? Dave says you have somebody we needs to meet...?" Her voice trails off as she locks eyes with the short but stunning brunette standing by Will's desk. She's only vaguely aware that Quinn is staring at the girl too.
Will stands, bends his back for a moment before stepping out from behind the desk. "Santana, Quinn, Tina – this is Rachel Berry. She won a Tony Award for -"
"Hel-lo, Rachel Berry." Santana cuts him off as she slides into Rachel's personal space. She raises one of Rachel's hands to her lips, placing a feather-soft kiss on it. "Santana Lopez. Happy to make your acquaintance."
Rachel giggles, both because of the kiss and the daggers Quinn is shooting at her band-mate with her remarkably green eyes. Her hand tingles where Santana's lips continue to linger.
"Cut it out, Lopez," Quinn growls, still glaring at Santana. "You just had your mouth all over the microphone for an hour and a half." The drummer's hazel eyes soften when she turns her attention to Rachel. "Sorry for my friend here. She's under a delusion that she's, like, smooth."
Santana drops Rachel's hand and backs away to stand next to Quinn once again. "Screw you, Fabray," she growls. "Just because you have no game with the ladies doesn't mean you have to spoil things for me."
Tina laughs at her friends' ridiculous antics. This is why she's with Mike. He's not all that exciting, but at least he isn't crazy.
"And you're Tina," Rachel says, extending her hand. Tina shakes it. Her grip is very strong, but her smile is warm, open and friendly.
Ms. Pillsbury clears her throat, trying to refocus the room's attention on her. No one seems to notice though, so she clears it again - but her voice is just too soft. Frustrated, she shoots an angry look at Will, who at least has the decency to look sheepish as he clears his throat. That finally gets the attention of both Rachel and the band.
"Everyone, this is Emma Pillsbury. The text message I got from David while you were all getting to know each other tells me that she's with a major talent management company in New York." He looks at his phone. "SBSS Partners, is it? I think I've heard of them."
Oh my god, Rachel thinks. This cannot be happening.
"Yes," Emma says primly. "I'm brand-new with the company, actually. This is my first assignment. I was told to check out the music scene here, since I'm originally from the area, and bring back a report regarding the best up and coming talent." The girls look at her with sudden curiosity on their faces. "I've been in lounges, cafes, clubs and community theaters of all sizes over the last couple of months, and this was the last place on my itinerary. My report is due in New York at the end of the week. I have a couple of offers pending, and I am prepared to make another one right now."
The girls erupt with competing shouts, each one of them clearly overwhelmed by a different emotion.
"Wait -" Quinn says, shaking her head, unwilling to believe that what she's thinking might actually be true. Hope and doubt war within her, and she finds herself trying and failing to slow the accelerated pounding of her heart.
"Hold up -" Santana follows, eyes narrowing, lips pursed. This Pillsbury woman seems nice enough, but her natural instinct is not to trust her, at least not right away.
"I knew it!" Tina exclaims, smiling hugely, all her teeth showing. She jumps up and down like a giddy schoolgirl, oblivious to – or simply ignoring - the annoyed glare Santana's sending her way.
Will waves his arms helplessly in a doomed attempt to get the girls to calm down, but the more he tries, the louder they get. Ms. Pillsbury stands stock-still in the midst of the chaos, squeezing her eyes shut, shuddering with discomfort when Tina momentarily brushes against her.
Rachel huffs and stamps her foot. The situation is getting away from her. She needs to rein it in. Whatever Emma was about to say, Rachel is certain that it couldn't possibly be as amazing as what she's got in mind - and damn it, no one upstages Rachel Berry.
"I want to hire you to help me write and record my album!" she shouts, her stage-trained voice easily projecting above the rest of the noise.
The silence that follows is so acute that the proverbial pin drop would sound like a nuclear explosion...
...until Tina turns to Quinn with a mocking grin, sticks her tongue out and and says, "I'm not gonna say I told you so, but – yeah, I told you so."
A/N: Genuine and heartfelt thanks to all of you who have read, followed and favorited this little story so far. There's way more in store for Rachel and the talented trio of Tina, Quinn and Santana, so please stay tuned - and as always, please feel free to let me know what you like (or perhaps dislike) and what you think might be cool to see in future chapters, either in a PM or a review. Thanks again! You're all awesome. :^)