HELLO GANG! I'm back! I know it's been a helluva a long time since I updated anything and I apologize for that but that's because with summer school, summer job and the death of a family friend, I didn't really have the drive to write a lot. But I've had time to get better with things and now I have some good things for y'all. First off, I'm going to post shorter chapters so I can update more often. Thanks for all the alerts and favorites and review and if you're still interested in reading, thanks for sticking around and waiting for me to get my life together so I can entertain you all. I really appreciate all of you :D
So for this new installment, it's Rachel's POV. There has been a bit of a time jump. A few weeks since the last chapter to be exact. Some interesting things are in store for our favorite ladies and not all of it is good. So stay tuned and as always, don't forget to review.
disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing but all mistakes are mine.
Previously...
Santana as Lucy? I mean, the idea had crossed my mind a few times since she decided to sneak her way back into my life but after actually talking to her, the idea swiftly dissipated. What makes Caroline think that Santana and I will be able to work on a project together? Sure we've sung duets together in the past but this project is my life. This is my chance to show the world that Rachel Berry isn't just some little woman with ambition and a big voice.
But Caroline is right. If there was no past between us and some girl named Santana Lopez walked into my audition, sang, danced and acted like I know she can, she would have gotten the role no question. But if I ask her (meaning that I have call her again), will she be willing to ignore our past in order to make this musical an success? Can we put aside our differences to work professionally? I guess the important question is, will I be able to forget the past when it'll be looking me in the face for the next month or so?
And now...
"OW!" Oh shit.
"I am so sorry."
"Well if you don't stop stepping on my fucking feet, I will beat you so damn hard that skittles will come right out of your big Perez Hilton looking ass!"
Oh great. I walk away from the dance studio for a minute to get some water and to use the bathroom and all hell breaks loose. That pun was actually intended because today is Santana's first day (and first dance rehearsal) since agreeing to play the role of Lucy in my musical. Thus far, she has insulted and/or nicknamed just about everyone in the cast, has slapped Gavin in the back of the head for being (and I quote) "un idiota grasa, falta de coordinación" (I think I heard that correctly. My Spanish is still a bit rusty), cursed out Becky for teaching her the choreography too slowly (still can't believe they slept together) and yelled at Caroline for singing too pitchy (I agree with her on that one but she didn't have to yell at her for it). So basically, Santana's been an absolute horror. If I would have known that she would act like this, I wouldn't have asked her to join the cast.
And oddly, it didn't take much for her to agree. I just called her up, explained my dire situation, padded her ego a bit and she just agreed to do it. To say I was shocked is an understatement.
But now the 'two weeks until opening' is in effect and I don't have time to deal with her shit. We have too much work that needs to be done for an episode of "Snix Takes a Turn at Acting".
"SANTANA!" I yell as I open the door to the studio.
"WHAT?!" she snaps. Okay. Thin ice. But right now I need to remain demure and professional. So I take a deep breath before calmly walking over to the irritated woman.
"Can I speak with you outside for a moment?" I say, grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her towards the door.
"But-"
"Now." I drag her out of the dance studio and into the hallway.
Once outside, she yanks her elbow out of my hand and I swear, I am too close to strangling her. "What the hell is your damn problem?" I ask her keeping my voice down so not to let the entire cast hear me.
"My problem with what?" she asks like she doesn't have a clue what I'm talking about.
"Do you hate this? Do you have a problem with the cast? With the musical?"
"Who says I have a problem with the musical?" The great Lord is testing my patience today. How I ever thought I could still have feelings for this woman, I have idea.
"Your damn attitude all rehearsal, that's what!" She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. "You've been a pain in my ass this entire time and I want to know why."
"I'm not a morning person," she says with a devilish grin. God, I'm seriously thinking about strangling her right here in the hallway. As long as I do so quietly, I can get rid of her and no will know the wiser.
"Bullshit Santana. It's almost 6 o'clock in the evening. And we've been here for less than 2 hours. So 'not a morning person' my ass."
"Whoa. Berry's got a potty mouth. Better inform the authorities that Berry's gone rogue." Now if I drag her body into the bathroom and put her scarf around her neck, then it will look like it got caught on something by accident. Yeah. That might work.
"Listen. This is really important to me and if you're insistent on making a mockery of my work, then I'm about 2 seconds from kicking you off the musical," I threaten, hoping that she gets how furious and fed up I am
"But if you do," she takes a step closer to me, "where will that leave you?" What? "If you kick me out, I go home and go to sleep. But you, oh pint size director, lose your lead. So I ask again, where will that leave you?" Damn. She's right. I can't just get rid of her. No matter how much I want to. No matter how many various types of homicide I may concoct, I can't lose my lead. Not after all that I've had to go through to get her here. And she is just perfect for my vision of Lucy. Even if she is a constant reminder of my complicated past. It all has to be worth it in the end.
"Fine," I say through gritted teeth. "You can stay."
"Of course I can," she says smirking.
"You're a smug bitch, you know that?"
"You used to consider my over confidence to be a real turn on."
"Santana," I warn.
"What? You did," she challenges.
"Look Santana,-"
"I am looking and I can see that hot director Rachel is starting to get pissed with me for bringing up a forbidden past."
"You're damn right I'm pissed at you!" I yell, finally snapping. "And not just because of that. I'm pissed because you've been causing hell all rehearsal. And the worst part is you don't even seem to care or feel sorry for it. Right now I just want to know why?" Then it hits me. "Is it because I keep rejecting you?" She rolls her eyes.
"Oh please," she scoffs. "You're hot and me and you do have an intense history but that wouldn't affect my ability to work hard and put on a performance. I can't stand half of the band that plays for me at the Blue Mic but I still shut it down every night I sing."
"Okay, then why then?"
"Can I be blunt?"
"Hasn't stopped you before." More eye rolling.
"Ignoring that, I'm going to level with you for a quick sec. the only reason I'm acting like an uber bitch today is to push your ragtag bunch of misfits you call a cast."
"Okay. What the hell are you talking about?" She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh.
"You have two weeks till opening, right?"
"Yes. So?"
"So? Well with just the little time I've had to rehearse for this musical, I've been able to pick up on the choreography that Becka's taught me, learn most of the music that Caroline's taught me and learn 85 percent of the lines you gave me."
"Well done. Your point?"
"My point is, oh dwarf sized diva," I roll my eyes, "that your precious cast is seriously lacking in the work ethic sector."
"They what?"
"They're slacking. At least according to my standards."
"You've been here for less than 2 hours. How can you possibly say that? I'm genuinely curious."
"Because-e-e, most of you cast is still on script." True. But I have been trying to get them off of it for a week now. "Perez Hilton,-"
"Gavin," I correct.
"Like it matters," she comments. "Anyway, Perez in there knows the dances about as well as I do."
"But you said you picked up the choreography?"
"I did. But he's been learning it for like weeks or some shit like that. He should knew that shit like the back of his fucking manicured hand."
"Whatever."
"Now your instructors. Your dear, dear friends are giving way too much slack to those who have either showed up late or not dressed or whatever. Now I may be irrational, irritable and confrontational sometimes."
"Sometimes?" She gives me a 'duh' look. "Try always. And don't forget inappropriate, rude and a smart ass," I comment.
"Yeah. Well. Whatever. I may be all those things but when I accept to do a job, I do it to the best of my abilities. No matter what. And I'm not going to participate in some whack ass musical and embarrass myself because you couldn't crack the damn whip Miss Director." I hate to admit this but…
She's right.
Oh so right.
"Okay. So you may be right."
"Of course I am."
"Will you stop that?" She just shrugs. "Whatever. Fine. So what are these 'standards of performance' you are so adamant on meeting?"
"Well it's actually pretty simple. I've had these standards for years now. I use them whenever I get ready to go on stage and I haven't stranded from them since I was taught them."
"Okay. Now I'm curious. Who taught you these oh so important performance standards?"
"Oh just some pint sized dynamo I used to be with back in the day named Rachel Berry." Not again.
"Santana, I'm pretty sure my standards that you know do not match the ones I have today. We haven't spoken in nearly four years. A lot has changed since then."
"Do you not still think that every moment is a moment to put on a performance? Just like Kurt thinks that every moment is a moment for fashion." I do. "And do you not still think that if you don't put 110 percent into the performance, that you might as well have not even showed up?" I do. "And your lack of a response tells me that I'm right."
"How can you possibly know that?"
"Because I know you."
I try not to blush but when I look at the sincere look in her eyes (her eyes that are so mystifying that it's hard to believe that I haven't cracked under their gaze yet), my body acts on instinct and betrays me. I can literally feel the blood in my body heat and travel through my body to my face. Why can't I just have a moment of mental peace? Everything is so hot and cold. One minute Santana is flirting with me and trying her hardest to get in to sleep with her. The next she's all honest, and sincere and remembering things about me that I've gotten so used to that I've forgotten about. I've been trying to move past everything that happened then but how can I when she keeps tossing it back into my face?
"Santana, you don't know me anymore. I'm a very different person now," I say firmly believing in my words. She shakes her head.
"No you're not. You think for some reason that you've changed so much since your train ride to the Big Apple four years ago but you aren't that different." I scoff. "Okay sure. Your clothes are less like the freaky fetish of some Japanese business man and more like that of a normal person but you're still the same headstrong, stubborn as hell, ambitious, talented, pain in my fucking ass," I gasp, dramatically putting my hand over my heart and she laughs, "that you've always been." You see? This is the Santana I can deal with. And have. This is the Santana I would like to have coffee with. This is the Santana I saw singing her heart out on the stage at the Blue Mic. This is the Santana that I spent that summer with. This is the Santana I started to fall for.
"See there? Where was," I poke her on the shoulder playfully, "this Santana at the Blue Mic that night? You know the one where you practically propositioned me?"
"I did not proposition you," she argues.
"Practically. But either way, this version I see in front of me is a lot sweeter than the one I saw then."
"I don't know about sweeter. And maybe that night this version was in the bathroom or something and Snix decided to take over the 'hit on the hottest girl in the club' shift?"
"Yeah maybe. But if sweet Santana would have talked to me instead of Snix, then maybe we could have avoided all the angst."
"Oh please Rachel. We had a secret affair that summer after senior year before you bounced to New York, " I sigh, "and we haven't seen or talked to each other in years. And now we're working very closely together without actually talking about what went down. There's no way not to have angst." I nod because she's right. Again. Ever since the first slushy, our relationship has been one of ups and downs. And then when feelings of hate turned to feelings of passion and affection, it just got complicated. Now with years of mystery, the lack of closure and the obvious lingering desire, things are even more complicated.
I'm about to respond when the door to the dance studio opens and Caroline (with a little bit of Becka's head peeking around her) pokes her head out.
"Hey Rach. Will you stop trying to 'not' make out with Santana and get back in here?" Oh dear Lord. "We do have a rehearsal to continue." Looks like tack less Caroline strikes again. Santana cracks up and I glare at my soon-to-be ex-roommate. She smiles and winks at the both of us before disappearing back into the studio. As soon as the door closes, I breathe a sigh of relief. Though obnoxious, Caroline's interruption wasn't all that unwanted.
Santana eventually stops laughing and when she does, her face softens and she looks at me grinning. "So why on earth would the playboy bunny reject think that we would be out here making out?" she asks, still grinning.
"I haven't a clue," I lie.
"Oh really? Has little Rachie been talking about me to her friends?" she teases.
"No," I lie again. She arches an eyebrow.
"Sure. Even though I don't believe you, I'll let it go so we can practice so I can get out of here and back to people I actually like. So we done here?"
"For the moment," I respond.
"Well cool." She turns around and starts to walk back to the studio but I grab her by the wrist, successfully stopping her.
"Behave," I demand. She turns her head and looks me in the eyes. Dear Lord, help me.
"You know better than anyone that I never behave," she winks, opens the door and enters the studio.
So how'd I do? Good? Bad? Just alright? I'm still getting back to the writing thing so if this needs work, feel free to let me know.
Till next time
-Jenae