So - I read on Tumblr that this week is St. Berry week. This wasn't initially written for that purpose, (it was my study break!) but it does take place in New York. I hope that counts, St. Berry Week powers that be. :)
"You ready for this?"
It takes a minute for her brain to catch up with his tone, and, even when she takes a couple of seconds before answering him, she's still not entirely sure if he's friend or foe.
It does occur to her that she may never have a conclusive answer to that question.
As if he can read her mind, a quick, slight smile interrupts the mask on his face.
"Hey, Rach."
He throws in a wink for good measure, and she can't help but smile, shaking her head at him.
"Please don't tell me that you gave me this part to act out some dramatic saga you've been concocting since high school," she scolds playfully. "You could have mentioned that you were going to be the director."
She glances around her, worried that the comfortable, relaxed attitude she can't help but adopt with him will be misinterpreted by some of the others.
"You got yourself this part," he declares forcefully, looking her in the eye, no hint of her earlier teasing present in his own voice. "That's the last time I want to hear you say anything like that."
She nods, but he can tell she doesn't fully believe him.
"I presented the team with a list of eight potentials," he starts in a low, but firm, voice. "They auditioned them all without any input from me. They made their selection. I just happened to agree with it."
Jesse gets pulled away before he can say much else, and, left on her own, Rachel makes the rounds, introducing herself to the rest of the cast.
There are, in effect, four leads - two boys, two girls - and a large supporting cast. Rachel recognizes the distinctive last name of the other female lead, and, thankfully, someone else asks the question that it can't help but evoke.
When the question, "Are you related to…" is cut off with Morgan's roll of her eyes, and a "Yes, but I don't really want to talk about it. Daddy will be here opening night," Rachel can't help but feel all of her thirty and a half years, and the extent of her inexperience and lack of formal training.
Morgan is playing Rachel's foil: the privileged, Upper East Side princess with perfectly-cultivated vocal talent, and it's obvious she was made for the part.
In order for the show to work, Rachel has to sound better than her and be more likable than her.
She also has to successfully seduce her boyfriend in one scene.
Piece of cake, Rachel thinks sarcastically, taking in the tall, leggy brunette. She feels the telltale twinge of nerves blossoming in her stomach.
Still, Morgan seems perfectly nice, and she tells Rachel that her roommate is moving out in a month if she is interested in sharing an apartment. The price is more than reasonable for an apartment in Hell's Kitchen as the second bedroom is a converted dining room, but Rachel can't imagine living with a roommate at this stage in her life. She tells Morgan that she needs solitude after the recent demise of her marriage, which earns her a genuinely sympathetic glance.
With a reminder that rehearsals start in five weeks, Jesse dismisses all but the four leads and his production team. He presents each of the main actors with a binder of reference materials and, no joke, a copy of the national show choir code.
"Read it. Know it. Live it," he instructs them with a grin, and a deliberate glance at Rachel. The command had been Shelby's favorite saying when she was coach of Vocal Adrenaline, something they had often made fun of when he became a consultant for the New Directions.
He gives each of them individual instructions on delving into their characters over the next few weeks, and his instructions for Rachel are to figure out "how to thrive on the outskirts," and "how to like being unapologetically different."
She almost wants to laugh, but she doesn't know if she wants to draw this sort of attention to herself in front of everyone else.
Thrive on the outskirts? Like being different? Please. Does he remember who she was in high school?
There is more chitchat before people head out for the night, and though Morgan and the rest invite her to come out for drinks, she declines and hangs back to wait to talk to Jesse.
He drops a pen on the ground and she bends to pick it up, handing it to him with a smile. "I think I remember how to be different in high school," she says, meaning it ironically - as a joke.
She expects him to laugh along with her, but he's quiet, apparently contemplative. Finally, he seems to decide that he wants to be honest with her.
"So says the woman who married her high school boyfriend, the quarterback, and was his loving wife and Susie Homemaker in Lima, Ohio for the last ten years." Pause. "I didn't mean it to be funny, Rachel. I actually think it will be a stretch for you."
She steps back, wounded at the ease with which he uttered those words, and irritated that he thought that he could go there.
"How dare you," she says with contempt, but still struggling to keep her voice low. "You have no idea what happened between Finn and I, and you have no right going around making judgments like that."
She sees the movement in his jaw as he grits his teeth, but she can't tell if that's in her favor or not.
"You're right," he concedes, though he's anything but conciliatory, "I don't know anything about what happened with you and Finn, but I do know what happened with us, and, trust me, the person who chose Finn on that stage, the person who stayed married to him all this time was a sheep – some scared little girl who was afraid to make it on her own and take chances in life!"
"Oh my God!" Rachel states disbelievingly. No matter how much she recognizes that choosing Finn on stage that night had been the beginning of her life's downward spiral, she refuses to allow it to continue to affect her life. "That was fifteen years ago!"
"Yes," he agrees snidely, "It's fifteen years later and you're here – in the same place that you should have been then. "And where am I?"
Arrogant and conceited, yes, but she can't argue with the truth of his words. No matter, she'll give it her best effort to try.
He doesn't give her the chance. "Talk to Leroy about it," he says calmly, and it seems that their heated discussion is over. "He will understand what I mean."
"My dad is still a partner in one of the biggest firms in Ohio, Jesse," she informs him, feeling like she's speaking with a stubborn child.
"Correction," Jesse says with a knowing smirk. "Your dad is a black, gay partner in one of the biggest firms in the Midwest. He'll know all about thriving on the outskirts when he can't ever attempt to hide what makes him different."
She looks down, but refuses to give him the satisfaction of telling him that he has a point.
"Lily doesn't ever get the chance to choose the easy way out, Rachel. She doesn't get to run off with the quarterback, though she tries for a while. She's a poor scholarship student who doesn't have many options, and she learns to survive. She doesn't have a choice."
"Fine."
It's the most she's willing to give him, and she turns on her heels and heads for the door, stating a sarcastic, "Thanks for the opportunity," over her shoulder.
Right before she reaches the door, he calls her back.
"Look," he tells her, running a regretful hand through his hair. "I meant what I said earlier. I'm glad you got the role. I wanted it to be you from the beginning. You're every bit as talented as you used to be, and I think it is some sort of serendipitous fate that you're going to be Lily."
"Serendipitous fate is an oxymoron," she says, because she doesn't know how else to respond to the abrupt shift in their conversation. "But thank you. I appreciate that," she finishes diplomatically.
He nods. "I've got a lot riding on this too, Rachel. Probably more than you do. People are just waiting for me to fail as a director. They're already dubbing it the joke of Broadway."
"Lima is definitely not Broadway," she says with a smile, "But I've got a fair number of people waiting for me to fail, too."
He shares her sad smile, understanding without her needing to explain whom exactly she's referring to.
"We won't give them the satisfaction," he promises her.
He holds out his hand to her. "Truce?" he asks.
She smiles genuinely, nodding as she unfolds her arms.
She holds her own hand out as she looks up at him. "Friends?" she questions.
Jesse shakes her hand.
"No," he clarifies, trying not to notice the disappointment on her face.
"I'm your director. You're my Lily."