Chapter Nine
Brittany
There are lots of things special about my offer...I'll even send you pictures of my offer later. :)
This woman simply could not be any cuter. There was no way. She had to be the cutest person ever born. Santana should make her a plaque or something, she needed something tangible to prove it.
Finally getting to talk to Brittany that afternoon had turned her day around. She had spent most nights the past week dealing with Rachel's special brand of crazy. So, needless to say, she was stressed to the max. When there was Brittany, though, there was a lightness in her step. There was a joy in her heart. She didn't even like joy. Not in any form. Not even people named Joy. Rachel had even asked this morning if there was something wrong with her face and stared at her for twenty minutes until Kurt explained that she was smiling.
She quickly typed out a response and hit send.
Santana
Can't wait to see your offer. :)
"Your face is doing that thing again," Rachel announced just after she and Kurt had finished a very moving rendition of Seasons of Love. It was a performance that Santana had seen literally 525, 600 times.
"Shut up, I'm happy right now," Santana snapped. "I let you guys sing for an hour without calling the cops or making gagging noises. You both owe me."
"You're so dramatic sometimes," Rachel complained.
"Talk about the coffeemaker calling the coffee black," Santana rolled her eyes.
"Huh?" Kurt asked.
Santana just waved them off as she clicked through her phone to her Brittany pictures. There was the first one, Brittany in her gray University of Washington hoodie. Lord Tubbington, the lucky bastard, was still sitting in her lap. Sometimes, Santana thought if she stared long enough, maybe Brittany would actually drink the Fresca. But, no, it continued to hover chest high in her left hand, while her right arm stretched out of frame to take the self-pic.
She drug her finger across it and the second one popped up. Brittany, who had her arms draped over her little sister from behind, had her nose scrunched up like she was snarling at the camera. It wasn't exactly the best picture of Britt, but she had sent it one night after telling Santana all about how Jamie hated Colorado and called her daily to bitch. Santana had replied, "If I was with you for that long and then somebody made me move to Colorado, I'd be pissed, too." Brittany had laughed at that and confessed that it probably had way less to do with missing her sister and way more to do with missing that little punk ass of a boyfriend she left in Seattle.
One more drag across the screen and the third picture appeared. Ah, the third picture. Santana let out an audible sigh which Kurt snorted at. He'd witnessed this already.
"How is she?" Kurt asked as he fussed with Rachel's horde of fashionable cardigans.
"Amazing," Santana answered dreamily. The image in front of her originally contained Brittany and Sam. They had been attending the reception of Mike and Tina's, their friends and neighbors, recent wedding. Sam had his arm slung over Brittany's shoulders and they wore eerily similar drunken grins. Santana had made quick work of cropping Sam out, leaving the beautiful blonde. She was wearing a blue dress that showed off her assets pretty perfectly. Brittany had told her it was the first time in a while she'd be out dancing. Dancing. Brittany. Santana bit her lip at the thought of what they talked about earlier. "We're Face Timing tonight."
"Face Timing!" Kurt sounded scandalized. "Are you sure you're ready for that? Talk about a huge leap. You've only been talking on the phone for what? Two months now?"
"Fuck off," she said with the accompanying hand gesture. "Sixty-seven days."
"You're counting?"
"Yep." Santana set the third picture as the lock screen on her phone. She briefly wondered if that made her a creeper, but then decided she didn't give a damn. She then tapped her messages icon and wrote another quick text.
Santana
I bet it's a great offer.
If the offer was anything close to what she thought the offer might be, it would be an offer she couldn't refuse. Ever.
"You don't think your friend is just using you to get to me, do you?" Rachel asked as she used her floor to ceiling mirror to examine her pores from two inches away.
"I think that's about as likely as you shooting rainbows out of your ass on a rocket ride to the moon, egomaniac."
"Rachel, don't start," Kurt warned her.
"I'm just asking," Rachel turned to him. "This Brittany person just appeared out of thin air. She could be anybody."
"Rachel," Kurt said in warning again. He figured that if she didn't shut up, Santana would staple her lips together.
"It's okay, Kurt," Santana told the man. She looked over to the other woman, "She has absolutely no interest in you, what you do, or where you go. I promise."
"None?"
"Nope."
"Not at all?" Rachel was disappointed. "Are you sure?"
"Positive. She thought you were Halle Berry," Santana said. "In fact, she might still think that."
"Is that why you won't share me?"
Santana shot a look to Kurt, who immediately put his hand over his mouth.
"What?" Santana asked her, playing dumb.
"I know all about the 'sharing people' thing," Rachel pouted.
"How?" the publicist asked slowly.
"I heard it through the grapevine."
Santana nodded in realization, "Or through the intricate Intercom system strategically placed to record and log all conversations on the premises."
"It could have been that," Rachel shrugged. "I just don't understand. Brittany has talked to Kurt. She's talked to Beiste. She's talked to Finn about his time on Dancing With the Stars, she's even talked to my kitchen staff."
"That was only for a minute," Santana pointed out.
"She traded lemon meringue pie recipes with Henderson Head Chef," Rachel squealed. "And hers was better. She even knew to use egg alternative."
"She's kinda perfect," Santana said with smirk. "She can't help it."
"I want to phone meet her!"
"Absolutely not."
Santana held her phone close to her chest. That wasn't going to happen. It was about then that she realized Brittany had yet to text her back. She looked at the device again and punched out a new message.
Santana
Britt...
You there?
"I think she heard you all the way in Seattle," Santana glared at Rachel. "She's probably terrified now."
"I do have a pretty powerful vibrato," Rachel said.
"Being you must be exhausting," Santana told her with faux sympathy.
The sarcasm went right over her head as Rachel replied with a sincere, "It really is."
Kurt, like clockwork, launched into his very-put-upon-damsel-in-distress with a Southern drawl that looks like a lot like Rachel Berry impression. It never failed to make Santana crack up and her head was thrown back in laughter when her phone vibrated.
Brittany
Yeah, I'm here. And I'll be there in two weeks.
The laughed drained away and suddenly Santana was having one of those moments the lead character has in movies. The ones where time stops. She was immediately hyper aware of everything that her own body was doing. Like, for instance, her heart started to beat so hard that she thought it may just burst through her ribcage and flop onto the ground. Oh, and it felt like air became a really valuable commodity that was only sold in high-end stores. Her eyes must be playing tricks on her. She held the phone away, tilted it, and pulled it back. The varying angles didn't change the message. She quickly scrolled up trying to figure out how this was happening. Did she miss something?
When she looked up, Kurt was eyeing her with concern.
"You okay?" the man asked.
"Come here," she motioned him over and handed him her phone. "Read this to me slowly."
He looked down and read the first line he saw, "Kurt is one ovary away from being my Aunt Frieda," his head snapped up. "Well, this was an elaborate way to land that joke."
"No, Freida Jr.," she pointed to the ground, "down, it's further down."
He tapped the screen a time or two and then looked up inquisitively. "I bet it tastes like salty melted caramel on top of vanilla ice cream?"
"All the way down, Kurt!" the woman practically yelled.
Rachel had attached herself to the project by this time, curious to see what the hell was happening.
He scrolled a bit further and his eyes bulged. "Two weeks?"
"What?" Rachel hedged herself closer. She finally got a look and informed Santana, "Oh there's more messages coming in."
Kurt read them aloud, "OMG. OMG. This must be what a stroke feels like. I'm coming. I'm coming. OMG. I'm coming."
The only viable thought in Santana's head, she verbalized. "Wanky."
Kurt was hopping. He was actually hopping. It looked like the bunny hop. He was hopping and still reading, "She's going to call you when she gets out of her meeting. She's coming in two weeks," he told her with a vigorous nod of his head.
"Fuck me sideways," Santana finally said after a minute.
Now doing a read-through of previous messages, the man said, "From the looks of it, you won't have to ask twice."
"Give me that," Santana grabbed her phone and checked for confirmation. It was true, Brittany was coming to New York.
"I'm so excited," Kurt was buzzing. "Where are you going to take her? Are you going to see the sites? You should show her everything! She's never been here, right?"
"Hold your fucking horses, Elton," Santana said. "We don't even know what she's coming for yet."
"Uh, does it matter?" he asked. "She's coming."
The publicist couldn't stop the smile that slowly spread over her face.
Thirty minutes later, Santana and Kurt sat facing each other at the bar in Rachel's gourmet kitchen. She had recently heard that the lemon meringue pie in the fridge was Brittany's recipe, so she had to try it.
Kurt had been listing all the places Santana just had to take Brittany since shortly after the first bite, "Bergdorfs, Bloomies, oh, the Square, she'll probably love the lights."
"She doesn't live on a fucking prairie, Kurt," Santana huffed. "I'm sure she's seen lights."
"But these are New York lights."
Santana grinned into her forkful of pie, "Brittany and New York, together at last."
"Your two favorite things."
"Truth," she mumbled.
She couldn't wait to talk to the blonde. If Santana was this excited, Brittany would be metaphorically jumping on Oprah's couch. It sure was taking a long time for her to call, though. Santana reached into her pocket for her phone. It wasn't there.
Kurt finished off his pie and gave her a curious look, "You look like someone just blew tuna in your face. Although, I'm not sure that's a bad thing for you."
"I don't like it any more than you enjoy mayo squirted in your hair," she said patting the surface of the table. "Have you seen my phone?"
They both seemed to become aware of the situation at the exact same time and darted off their chairs toward the master staircase.
"Rachel!" Kurt yelled in his squeaky ass voice. He tried his best to block Santana's progress up the stairs. "Rachel, save yourself!"
"Move Hummel!" Santana said with all the intimidation she could conjure. Which was a lot.
"Santana, don't," he said, barricading himself in front of her with every step. "Think of the children."
"What fucking children?"
"I have no idea," Kurt admitted. "It was the best I could come up with on such short notice."
One successful juke move, and Santana was past him. Unfortunately, Rachel's brand new assistant heard the commotion and came barreling down the stairs. Upon hearing Santana's calls for blood, the assistant wrapped her in a bear hug.
Kurt's eyes widened, "Do you have a death wish? Let her go, you silly bitch!"
"Marley," Santana said with a chilly calm, "I'm going to kill her either way. It's going to be slow and painful. Do you want to be the one I practice on?"
And just like that, she was free.
"Amateur," she scoffed at the newbie. She'd have to get braver if she was going to hang with this crowd.
Santana followed Rachel's annoying nasally tones right to the scene of the crime.
"I spent countless hours with a high school show choir to research the role. I really immersed myself in everything about it." When Santana appeared, Rachel didn't seem bothered in the slightest. "I admit I took over the whole production, but the kids were just so excited to be in the presence of a true celebrity."
"Gimmethephone gimmethephone giveittomenow!" Santana hissed.
"Okay, here's Santana," Rachel winked. "I can't wait to meet you in person, Brittany."
She handed over Santana's phone with a smile, "She's delightful."
As much as she wanted to talk to Britt, the publicist thought it was important to take the time to give Rachel a look that she hope conveyed, 'I hate you with the intensity of all the raging suns.' She growled a little before retracing her steps.
"Britt?" she asked when she finally held the phone to her ear. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," the blonde answered. "Rachel's so nice. I don't know why you say she's a crazy lunatic."
"We'll see if you're still singing that tune when you're options are change your number or throw your phone into Puget Sound."
"Or, hey, maybe I can throw it into the Hudson, because I'm coming to New York!" Brittany screeched the last few words.
All the anger drained away when Santana was reminded of that little fact, "I know."
"Are you excited?"
"You have no idea, Britt Britt."
"I'll only be there for a few days," Brittany told her. "It's a work trip."
"Oh," Santana deflated.
"But, I'll be there. And you'll be there," the blonde said. "We'll be there together."
"Stay with me," Santana said without thinking.
"Uh..."
"Dammit, what the fuck is wrong with me?" Santana moaned. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that."
"I have to make the pitch while I'm there...I'll be busy for a lot of the time," Brittany explained.
"Of course," Santana said lowly. "You're working, of course."
"But I'd love to stay with you."
"Really?" The inflection at the end of the word made Santana wince with embarrassment.
"Yeah, I want to see your world...meet your people," Brittany paused. "Spend time with you."
"You can see as much of my world as you want."
"I would like to see all of your world."
"And I would like for you to see it...my world."
Santana entered the kitchen where Kurt had resumed his place and finished off her piece of pie as well. "Hey Brittany," he yelled in her direction.
Brittany heard and laughed, "Tell him I said hi."
"She said hi."
"Tell her the pie is delicious," he said licking his fork.
"The pie's delicious," Santana relayed.
"I know," Brittany replied.
"I can't believe you'll be here in two weeks," Santana said taking her previous seat.
"Actually, it's more like 11 days."
"Even better."
"Should I bring anything special?"
Santana's mind raced with all the possibilities, but settled with, "Just you, Britt. That's all I want."