Rock a Little
chapter three
The silence in the room is so absolute, it's almost stifling. Rachel has never done well with silence; she hums to herself even in her most reflective, contemplative moods. Everyone's standing around awkwardly, staring at each other, staring at the ceiling, at the floor – no one can hold anyone's gaze for more than a few seconds. They're all overwhelmed with a myriad of emotions, knowing that what has just happened has the potential to change all of their lives forever. She wrings her hands, hoping that the girls will accept her offer, worrying that they won't for some reason she can't even begin to imagine.
There's excitement and fear, joy and apprehension visible in the eyes of each person in the room. Santana's dark orbs are filled with a wary trepidation mixed with quiet pride. She's concerned about the potential danger involved in signing on to be Rachel's band: the possible loss of credibility among their growing fan base, the danger of embarrassment if the project fails, and so on. Yet she also has to admit to herself, if not out loud just yet, that this could also be a tremendous boon to them. It's more exposure than they were ever going to get playing in Lima, Cincinnati and even Cleveland, for sure. After all, Rachel is America's sweetheart, the most beloved young star currently treading the Broadway stage, poised to soon dominate the nation's movie and TV screens. There are few such personalities in their age group these days, and hitching their wagon to her blazing trail could well be a smart move, despite the potential pitfalls.
Plus, says a small corner of Santana's mind, the girl is pretty hot.
And with that, her decision is made.
"I'm in," she declares, breaking the oppressive spell of silence, hoping that she sounds more confident than she feels. "Let's do it."
"Yes!" Tina cries exultantly. She'd known that Santana was the X-factor in all of this. Quinn's go-with-the-flow personality meant that she would ultimately agree with whatever Santana decided, because she'd rather accept that than fight or argue over it. And as for herself, well, she had always been the true believer, the unshakable optimist, the one with the unflagging, indefatigable resolve. Let Santana worry, let Quinn float along with the tide – Tina's got enough belief for all three of them. She feels the tears spring to her eyes, lets them come streaming down. This is the happiest she's ever been, and she's reveling in it.
Santana turns to the last member of their trio, who's leaning against the wall as though she'd fall over if it wasn't there, drumsticks hanging loosely from her right hand. The normally cool and collected blonde's walls appear to be completely down, and her shock at this unexpected turn of events is plainly written on her beautiful, now even paler than usual, face.
"Quinn? What do you say? Ready to show Little Miss Broadway here how to rock?"
The drummer's far-away eyes clear – God only knows where her mind had been, although Santana thinks she has a fairly good idea – and the shocked expression morphs into a slow, soft smile of wonder. Santana's seen this one before. It's her favorite of Quinn's many smiles, the one that always makes her think of a sunrise breaking through the still-dark morning clouds.
And from the corner of her eye, she sees that Rachel's stepped back from the bear hug in which Tina had wrapped her, and is now staring at the way that smile is breaking across Quinn's face with her own look of wonder. Yeah, that smile can do that to you. Then Rachel feels Santana's eye on her and averts her gaze, her cheeks flushing with heat at being caught.
"Yeah," Quinn answers finally, in the soft, breathy half-whisper that's broken everybody's heart at least a thousand times since they've known her. "I...I think it could be fun."
Will Schuester laughs from behind his desk, then navigates his way around it to draw the three girls he's thought of as his own daughters into a fierce embrace. This is everything he could have hoped for them, and more. He doesn't know Rachel Berry, or Emma Pillsbury, but somehow, he knows that they're good people who can be trusted. He's got a certain sense about these things, call it instinct or whatever.
He doesn't feel Emma's curious eyes watching him as he whoops out a hearty "Congratulations!" to the girls, nor does he notice the tears glistening in Rachel's. All he knows, or cares about, right now is that a dream is on the cusp of being realized right here in his office, and he couldn't be happier if it was his own dream coming true and not that of the three girls simultaneously cheering, laughing and crying in his arms, their heads resting against his chest.
"Wonderful!" Emma's soft, but surprisingly firm voice rings out suddenly. "Now, as touching as this moment is – and it is, it really, truly is – I have a contract here that needs to be signed, and a plane that needs to be caught if I'm going to get back to the office on time."
She places her briefcase on Will's desk, opens it, and retrieves from it three copies of the document and three pens. She hands the pens to Santana, Quinn and Tina, who take them with still-shaking hands as Rachel looks on with admiration for Emma's take-charge attitude. The woman may look fragile, but it's clear there's some spine beneath that mousy exterior.
The girls are still sniffling, trying to collect themselves as they receive their copies of the contract. They stare at the document as though they've each been given a priceless jewel or a bar of solid gold. It's kind of a surreal moment for them, one that's almost more than they can wrap their brains around.
"Now I don't expect you to sign this before you have a lawyer take a look at it, but I want to assure you that the terms and conditions laid out in it are fair and equitable," Emma says. She pauses to smooth down some imaginary wrinkles in her skirt, then continues. "My employers have earned a very positive reputation for treating their clients not as commodities, but as people with hopes and dreams that need and deserve care and nurturing, and I'm sure you're aware that's not always the case in the talent business."
She smiles her pleasant little smile and turns to close her briefcase and remove it from the desk with an odd kind of grace; her movements aren't smooth, exactly, but efficient nonetheless. Will watches her as though she's an exotic bird he's never seen before. When she notices the way he's looking at her, she tucks a stray lock of her red hair behind her ear and ducks her head, unused to receiving such interested scrutiny from someone she's just met.
"Well, I must be going. It was very nice meeting all of you. Oh, I almost forgot!" She reaches into her purse and removes a business card, hands it to Will without looking directly at him. "My contact information is all there: phone, cell phone, e-mail, everything. Feel free to get in touch if you have questions or concerns. I would shake your hands, but well, you know -" She shrugs helplessly. "No offense."
Will lets out a nervous chuckle as Rachel resists the urge to roll her eyes. She likes Emma, but finds the woman more than a little strange.
"None taken," he says, smiling. "It was nice to meet you. We'll, ah, we'll be in touch after my lawyer's looked over the contract."
Emma looks very serious when she replies, "We need an answer within the next two weeks. Time is a very precious thing in this business, as Ms. Berry here can attest. We don't have the luxury of wasting it. If you don't feel that my employers are the right ones to represent you, well, no harm, no foul – but honestly, you can't do better. You could also do a whole lot worse." She nods to Rachel. "Good luck with this new venture, wherever it leads. Goodnight, everybody."
And with that, Emma exits the office briskly, her long skirt swirling as the door closes behind her with a soft click.
There's a new focus, a sharp intensity in Will's tired but happy eyes as he fixes Rachel with a look that's not purely question or challenge, but a combination of both, she thinks. It's obvious that he's fiercely protective of these young women, that he'll do anything to keep them from getting hurt. It's just as clear that he's expecting her to do the same. She meets his gaze fully, answering his unspoken plea – Don't let them down. Don't break their hearts. – with the most sincere look of affirmation she can muster, nodding to show her resolve.
I won't. I promise.
That seems to satisfy the older man, and he takes the pens and papers from the girls, places them on the desk behind him. He can't wait to call his wife and give her the great news.
His boyish smile stretches from ear to ear as he claps his hands together like a coach winding up a rousing pep talk to his team. "All right, there will be plenty of time to deal with all the business stuff. How about you guys go out and celebrate, huh? I know how hungry you all get after a show." He pulls his wallet from his back pocket and hands several bills to a beaming Santana. "You've earned this. Now go on, get out of here. I've got to call Shelby."
Rachel shuffles her feet, looks around the room. It's an awkward moment for her. She's never been great with first impressions, although she's gotten better as she's grown older and more mature. Many times, she's heard the criticism that she's self-absorbed, that while she may have musical perfect pitch, she's tone-deaf when it comes to the way she comes across to people when she first meets them. She wants Santana, Quinn and Tina to like her, the way she's always wanted so much for people to like her, but she doesn't want to come off like she's trying too hard, a charge that's been leveled at her all too many times in her life.
It comes as a surprise when it's Quinn's voice she hears, and not Will Schuester's, calling her name.
"Rachel – is it okay if I call you Rachel? Um, you're more than welcome to join us, if you like," the drummer gently implores. "I mean, if you're not busy or whatever."
"Yeah," Tina adds, grinning as she wraps an affectionate arm around Quinn's shoulders. "We're just going to get a couple of pizzas, maybe some beer, and go back to Santana's house to chill out. Come on, it'll be fun."
Rachel finds herself looking to Santana, figuring it's the caramel-skinned beauty who has the final say, since it's her house and all. She has the sense that it's her who's the leader of the group anyway, though it's obvious that she sees and treats the other two girls as equals in their musical partnership.
A wry smile quirks up the corners of Santana's lovely mouth, and Rachel's heartbeat quickens under the regard of these three gorgeous, amazingly talented young women.
"Seems to me that if we're going to be working together, we're gonna need to get to know each other," Santana observes, her smile widening, dark eyes sparkling she looks from the girls to Rachel and back again. "Might as well start now, right?"
She extends her hand to Rachel, who can't help but return Santana's smile with a thousand-watt smile of her own as she takes it, relishing the warmth, the way their hands fit together just so.
"I couldn't agree more," she says, not missing the way Santana's other hand is in Quinn's, whose other hand in turn is linked with Tina's. Then, turning to Will, she nods. "Mr. Schuester, it has been a pleasure to meet you. I'm looking forward to getting to know you better in the weeks and months ahead as we all join forces for this exciting new venture."
"The pleasure was all mine," he replies. "Now will you all please get out of here so I can finally call my wife already? The later it gets, the more annoyed she's going to be when the phone wakes her up."
"All right, we're going already," laughs Quinn, and the sound is so musical that Rachel wants to hear it again and again. "Thanks, Will."
The man sits at his desk once again, phone already in hand. "Goodnight, girls. Rachel."
They remove themselves from the office at last, closing the door to give Will the privacy he's requested to speak with his wife. His voice is muffled and indistinct as they walk down the hallway to the dressing room, where their purses and the keys to Santana's van await. The gear has long since been broken down and loaded into the van by Mike, Sam and Rory, so there's no need to wait. A quick check of Santana's text messages tells them that Brittany and Sugar have bailed and gone home, so it's really going to be just the four of them celebrating tonight.
"Let's get our eat on already," Santana growls. "I'm freakin' starving!"
Quinn plants a kiss on her best friend's cheek. "Aw, poor baby. She gets cranky if she goes too long without pizza." Tina laughs as Quinn winks at Rachel and Santana's face darkens with a blush of good-humored embarrassment.
"The night is young, but aging by the second," the bassist says. She turns her gaze from her two bandmates and focuses on Rachel, who's still holding on to Santana's hand like it's her new favorite thing in the world. "Shall we?"
"We shall."
By the time they get to the parking lot, Tina's humming the intro to Don't Stop Believin', and no one seems to mind when Rachel softly begins singing the first verse as though she's always been there, as though they're longtime friends and not people she's just met. Somehow, it seems appropriate as they all pile into the van, where the volume increases and the song blossoms into life, soaring like their hearts.