Two weeks P1

(Quinn)

I cheated twice in my life. I got pregnant on the first time and, on the second one, I deeply hurt the woman I loved most in the world. I spent hellish weeks of depression that I sank for days in drunkenness. I even listened to Mike and I was unable to understand Johnny's calling for some sense. At the height of my anger, I called Rachel a hypocrite because she had begged for forgiveness with Finn when they broke up. If she did it at the time, why couldn't she show a little mercy and just forgive me? Oh yes, "because what we had didn't compare." The problem is that she was right.

After the meeting I had with Rachel at the restaurant, I stopped to think a little bit for the first time since the fighting. It definitely didn't feel right of Rachel kissing actors around backstage. Acting is a profession like any other, with academic training, representation, wages and contracts. So what happened between her and Rom isn't justified because they are professionals in the workplace and it shouldn't be treated with disdain.

I was jealous of Rachel and her indifference has led me to do an extreme and thoughtless attitude. The betrayal came by the impulse and anger. I knew it was wrong since the beginning and Monica was available. I knew I would regret bitterly for doing it, but I still didn't know whether I regret or not for being honest with Rachel when I told her everything. For more boor as it sounds, if I didn't tell, I would come as a victim. But we don't have a time machine available and can't repair the past, only learn from it.

After my meeting with Rachel, I spent the next day looking for jobs. I needed to resume my life after thud. I had to do it for Rachel, but mainly for myself. I missed a few job opportunities during my intoxicated period, but maybe I could catch one of them, starting with the short film.

On the day Rachel traveled to Canada, I had breakfast with Mike and bought him flowers to thank for tolerated me for a whole month. So I went to the subway to my home, finally.

"Hey, Quinn." Santana opened the door. I had the key, but I didn't dare to use it at that time.

"Rachel said..."

"I know. Come in."

It was strange got in there after a month. The feeling I had was that I had spent a year out. Some things were changed, such as the lack of my books on the shelf or my photographs on the walls, which were replaced by cheap paintings. There were whatnots and it appeared that Rachel was keen to erase my personal touches in that apartment.

"My pictures?" I asked Santana.

"They are in the filing of the building, as well as part of your stuffs. Your clothes are in a box in the corner of your former room."

"If everything is so sent me to get out of here, why Rachel has allowed me to stay these days?"

"Because I really need help on my physical therapy sessions. At least the first ones, since I can't drive yet, and nothing better than having someone in the family close by." I was always taken aback when Santana was referring to me as family. "I'd ask my mom to stay with me these 15 days, but she and papi are still in honeymoon mood and it wouldn't be fair. Besides, I owe you one."

"If not for you..."

"Hey!" Santana interrupted me with her finger raised in warning. "I may have complicated your argument with Rachel. I'm guilty of it. But the one who decided to have sex with another woman was you, Fabray. In this, there is no way to blame someone else other than yourself."

I shushed myself and lowered my head. It was unbearable to see how everyone else could enjoy certain moral superiority, even Santana Berry-Lopez.

"I won't help you get Rachel back, but I want to keep an eye on you, Fabray. I know you don't have a job, the money you earn from Rock'n'Pano isn't much for now, but if you stay here and not getting drunk like you did on Mike's place, I can help you to stand again."

"I don't need your help, Santana, not like this..." I threatened to take my bag and go, but she didn't seem much affected with my proud gesture.

"Suit yourself, Fabray. The path of the gutter is right there and if you choose so. I'll be disappointed, of course, but I won't stop you. And I'm sure that making Rachel feel sorry for you isn't your style to resume your dating. You're too bourgeois to be subjected to this."

I stared Santana and hated her to know me well, but I accepted the offer: I really needed to compose myself.

…

(Santana)

"Good afternoon, Santana." I saw Mr. Weiz appear on my computer screen. I wanted to die every time I saw him.

"How are things there in Mexico?"

"Good as always, I know how I am: I like to stay away from the storms." Mr. Weiz said he hated the winter in New York. Apparently he hated the summer too. But he had so many houses in different cities that he could choose one place in the world to spend any season.

September was coming and the goose bumps started to get intense. Just to think that I would have to study at Columbia, run my small business and the work in Weiz Co... It was too much and I wasn't sure how I would handle. Surely Rock'n'Pano was my second in terms of priorities despite being my baby. That's why I was thinking on hire someone to help me even thought it will prejudice my little profit. But perhaps the time has come where Mr. Weiz always said that I should learn to do: delegate.

"I wonder if everything is right there in your home?" Well, this little concern surprised me.

"Everything is great within reason. I spend some days at my parents' house in Lima, enjoying some vacation since I didn't travel this year taking care of my business. Rachel had some particular problems. That's why she forgot to sign the document. But she will be back from Canada in some days, so I promise to give Mr. W all pending matters. Just have a little patience."

He started laughing at the computer screen. I didn't know if I told him anything funny.

"You are really witty, Santana. This is great for the business world. But learn to dose it."

"So, you didn't call to give me sermons and counsels, right?"

"Not at all. Actually, I have good news. You already know that Richard is coming to meet you to sign a few documents. In fact, you and Rachel, but I believe that we can advance the business here."

"Yes, we are meeting today, but not to sign documents. What's up?"

"Santana, you do know that the bureaucratic process is almost to complete to you and Rachel be officially my heirs."

"Yes sir."

"It happens that I don't want to see my heirs living in a rented apartment in Astoria. And, according to the contract, you only have rights to my property as specified in my will, beyond the actions of my business when I die. But I opened one exception: I reform one of my apartments in Manhattan to you and Rachel. Hope you like it."

I was stunned by this. An apartment? One in which I no longer need to pay rent? When I disconnected from Skype, I looked at Quinn, who was watching me curiously.

"Fabray, your stay here came in handy. Now you can help me to pack my stuffs and Rachel's. Apparently, we are moving out."

"Really?" She wiped a glass with one of my dishcloths: one with a pattern created by Johnny. Well, at least my products were functional. "And when will that happen?"

"I have no idea. But I think it came at the right time. "

"How so?"

"I've just won an apartment."

Of course Quinn was confused and I wasn't willing to explain further and also couldn't draw any better what Rachel and I had just were gifted. If we could call it a gift.

An hour later, as promised, Richard White, who was also the man assigned to assist me in any legal problem, appeared on my doorstep. Among the smiles and the usual education (he never missed his charm even when threatened), he showed me documents, then he invited me to check this apartment.

The lawyer drove to 79th with the 1st Avenue. We went up the elevator to the ninth floor. The entrance was through a foyer that gave access to three locations: the bow had connection with the huge living room, a door leading to the bedrooms and another that went to the kitchen and laundry area. We started by the bedrooms. The two were suites, and master one had a great closet. The bathroom was also large, with the box shower separate from the bathtub. The construction was all in pale stone. Gorgeous. The suite in the front door was a little smaller. The bathroom was also smaller and had no closet apart. Still, it was bigger than my current bedroom and bathroom. The bathroom decor was the same stone of the master bedroom: beautiful.

We returned to the foyer and checked the living room with windows that anti-noise glasses. The light was fantastic. The room had a door that led to the kitchen (it was also possible to walk through it in the foyer lit door leading to the service area) and another one that led to the third room and a small restroom for guests. I loved it. The kitchen was spacious enough to move and make a feast. It had a balcony to sit and dine right there. The cabinets were all new, gray with white. The floor was gray pottery, and the service area was very nice. The apartment was divine, especially since it is located in a prime area of the city. And also, it should cost a fortune.

"You see, it was completely renovated because Mr Weiz wanted to deliver new sheet to you." Mr. White shot and I opened my eyes.

"This is incredible, but the rate of condo should be more expensive than the rent of my current apartment..." Silly of me: I couldn't avoid the bills. It was just all I thought in recent months.

"You'd be surprised, Santana. It's not cheap, but it's still half the rent you are paying with your sister."

"And all this here is mine and Rachel's?"

"As soon as you and Rachel sign the documents. And if you want, you can move in immediately. Here are the keys."

"Sure." Of course I wanted those keys. "But I think I'll wait for Rachel to arrive from Canada."

"If you wish..." He gave me the keys. "Do whatever you want, Santana. Move in this place whenever you want. Just don't forget to call when you do."

"Yes, of course... I still need to end the contract with the real estate. This requires a few days."

"So..." Mr. White seemed curious of me. "What did you think?"

"The apartment is amazing. And still have an extra room... I could set up my office there."

"If I tell you one thing, this is just between us?" I nodded. It wasn't every day that a lawyer like Richard White has something to share. "I think admirable that you endeavor to keep your own business despite your others commitments with Mr. Weiz."

"I love to work on Rock'n'Pano. It's something mine that I can share with my friends and with my grandfather... The problems are numerous and sometimes I think I'll go crazy, but, gee, I think I was born for these things."

"I can see why Mr Weiz bet so much on you."

"I am grateful for the confidence, but I didn't ask for any of this. I've never asked for own anything like Weiz Co."

"I know I haven't, and between us, I don't approve many of Weiz methods, particularly the way he conducted all this case. But I know he hit the choice."

"And had he another one?"

"Weiz had several options. But he considered you as the best one. Coming from him, it has a powerful compliment, Santana."

"You say that because you work for him."

"I work for him, but I don't have to do any favor to him. That's why my relationship with the Weiz is good and honest. Believe me: I'm being sincere here."

White's statement took me by surprise, but I still refused to believe.

…

(Santana)

"So What do you think? Santana?"

I was over the moon for a moment. Sometimes it was comfortable staying there. Johnny was at home showing the new prints he had done for Rock'n'Pano new collection. He was the artist who sells fewer pieces; on the other hand, he was the most enthusiastic one.

"These two prints here serve for the shirts." They were inspired by indigenous tribal figures: Apaches ornaments. It had some appeal. The other six were very delicate tribal flowers. But I would only take four prints.

"Yeah, maybe. I like more the floral ones." He tried to sell.

"Yes, but the shirts are still on a trial basis and the Apaches could configure on the new collection."

"Maybe, but the florals are better and more artistic, you know? And have more feminine appeal."

"I need the male audience." I said in a pragmatic tone.

"You are tough!"

I loved Johnny. He was a humanist, and I was completely drawn to those green little eyes. But business is business and I had a schedule to follow. Not even the guy doing abandoned puppy face would make me change my mind.

"Very well. I will pay $100 per print plus 5% of sales."

"You're bad!"

"Isn't the money enough?"

"I don't care about money, San. You know that I'm in because of you, to help you. But, sometimes, you're so pragmatic that scares."

"Says who?" I felt offended.

"Come on!" He took one of the floral prints and put the paper in my shirt in a side position. "Don't you see those flowers need to be next to the heart of someone as prettier as you to value them? It's what gives a meaning to them." This was serious? Johnny saying I was beautiful so close to my face that was an invitation to lose control and kiss him. Something that was very close to happening.

"Satan!" Quinn came home and broke our mood. It was a relief to be honest. "Hey, Johnny. I didn't know you would be here today."

"Santana has no artistic sensibility." He complained again. "Do you prefer this print on a shirt or on a dish towel?" He showed the paper to Quinn. She walked over and took a look at the other papers that were scattered around the table.

"Loved this one." She pointed to the Apache one. "Looks more original."

"I give up!" Johnny said a bit frustrated.

"And I rest this case."

I couldn't stand it and started laughing. Johnny was so defeated, what a pity! Now I just needed to negotiate with Mercedes and check the work of a young designer Kurt talked about. He said that this guy was spectacular and just needed a chance to emerge. I would talk with this guy as courtesy. It's not that I wanted to deal with strangers for now.

"Let's drink to close the deal?" Johnny suggested. "My friend Janet is playing at Rockwood Music Hall tonight."

The Rockwood was a nightclub in the Village to be stronghold of folk and jazz artists. By night, a lot of people booked performances and took turns on two different stages. The first one was for the unknown artists in search of a place in the sun and the second one, a little bigger, is booked for the ones with some name. Many intellectuals, artists, hipsters and aspiring contestants usually passed by. It was the kind of place that Rachel loved, but I still prefer louder and dirty pubs because they had more authenticity and spirit. If it was to talk about artists, I think the vulgarity of these pubs had their beauty.

"Okay." Quinn shrugged. "I really need to get out a bit and rest myself from Santana."

"Thank you, Fabray. It's lovely to see how much you care about me."

"You are the one dealing with me as I was your particular slave." Then, she turned to Johnny just to complain. "She only called me back to this place to test my patience and limits. And I think that's why Rachel agreed with all of it: to have fun seeing me suffer on the Satan's hand!"

"You are the one trying to get into my sister's pants again. If you wanna an ally, you should work your ass on it."

"Oh God!" Johnny laughed. "That's what I call professional blackmailer."

"Okay, let's go to the land of cheap philosophy. At least there serves good wine."

"I'm not sure… I drank my share of alcohol of the year." Quinn's face twitched a little bit. Well, she was the one who tried to forget her problems on an addict bohemian drunk way, which I still amused about it.

We agreed to meet later in Rockwood. In that time, I called Andrew and some friends.

I took a long shower and got ready. Even without the boot, I still had my fumbling to get dressed because I can't force my ankle, and that sucks sometimes. I could even put your foot down, since that I didn't put my weight on it, which was almost impossible. According to the physiotherapist, I would have to recover the entire limb of muscles first before walk again as a normal person.

Quinn and I went by taxi to the Rockwood and we arrived half an hour after the set. It was charming to arrive late on this type of encounter. Andrew was outside waiting for me and he didn't look happy.

"What's up, Nerd?" I kissed his cheek.

"Nothing. I had a full day and that's it. "

"Come on, Nerd. Let's drink a little bit."

I kissed his cheek again but his features have not changed. Johnny showed up accompanied by a male friend. We called Mike, but he didn't come. I know it was because of Johnny. They were avoiding each other since the day Mike kicked Johnny out of his place, I didn't know why exactly. Anyway, our group was small and a bit older, because of Johnny's friends. Dave, per example, was an insurance salesman and Anna taught Math in high school. These two were closest friends of Janet, the nobody singer of the night, who worked on a small law firm for living. She was the secretary. Oh, and there was also Drell: an actress / gymnast / dancer who used to work at Cirque Du Soleil and now was working as choreographer. Quinn didn't invite any friend anyway, and mine's didn't come, but Andrew.

Janet was announced at the stage and began to sing her originals songs on guitar and ukulele, accompanied by a guy playing cajon. It wasn't my kind of music. Janet was a bit annoying and I was sure that I could do better.

"Breath." Johnny whispered close to my ear.

"What?"

"I know you well enough, San. You're hating it here."

"Not here: her. With all my respect, your friend sucks."

"Yeah, I know… but the wine is great and your company is even better."

"Charming." I smiled.

"We could take Quinn and your ex-buddy and go to other place. Maybe to our pub?"

"I don't know…" I looked at Quinn who was filling one more glass. "Q is enjoying the wine too much. I don't think it's a good idea."

"Rachel didn't say anything yet?"

"She only talks with me when she calls. Quinn is going nuts."

"Poor Quinn…"

"Poor me!"

Johnny smiled and we toasted. We were so comfortable around each other that I almost forgot the other persons at our table. Johnny ran his fingers through my hair and talked funny things. Sometimes whispering jokes and comments in my ear and made me laugh for the content and because it was tickling me. That's when Andrew made his presence known and didn't seem so excited nor with the music (nobody was, to be fair) nor with the company. Andrew smirked and said goodbye and was leaving the table. He didn't look right.

"Hey, Nerd. Can we talk outside?"

Andrew agreed, so we decided to leave the nightclub. He was dissatisfied with something. Me? Probable.

"Did something happen?" I asked. "You seem to be somewhere else."

"I'm just not feeling comfortable with your friends."

"Johnny and Quinn? They did something that made you uncomfortable?"

"To begin with? Johnny can't stop to flirt with you."

"Johnny?" I complained. "He acts like that since we met." Which wasn't that true? We weren't that close in the beginning. We acted like normal good friends and this closeness started, coincidentally or not, after Andrew and I broke up. Not that I was complaining.

"And you've had this crush on him since that time?" I looked confused and Andrew just shook his head. "San, I know we broke up some time ago, but I think it was a mistake that we stayed so close. To be honest, it doesn't help in making me see that you're just my friend. I mean, you are the most beautiful and hot girl from Columbia, You are do smart and clever. I honestly think fabulous that you can smoke some from time to time and sing Bob Marley with Sting intonation. It's hilarious! You're brilliant, even being stingy with most people, especially my friends..."

"Let me finish... I'm the best, but you don't want to see me around anymore." It was better to save the speech.

"I can't help, San, but see you flirting with another guy suck as hell."

"I'm sorry, Andy. But I can't say it won't happen again."

"Yeah, I figured." He looked at his own feet. "So, how long this is going on?"

"Nothing is going on."

"But you do like him, right? You do want to date him."

"Maybe."

Andrew nodded and then stared at me.

"You know I will always wish you the best."

"I know."

"Good luck with him. Johnny is a nice guy."

"Thanks." I approached Andrew and I held his hand. Then, I gave him a little peck on his lips. "Call me when things got better… I mean… when you think that it's possible to be friends."

"Oh no, San, I am your friend. I just need some time to get used the idea." And he smiled a little bit. "I should go and you should go back there and talk with Johnny."

"Yeah…"

"See you at Columbia."

It's curious to think that sort of thing, but it was only when Andrew turned his back on me and walked away that I felt our history had come to an end, as if he was really out of my life, which made me sad in a way. I was beginning to believe that relationships between ex-boyfriends were possible indeed. But matters of the heart were really complicated. Suddenly, I felt alone.

…

(Quinn)

Control, Fabray. It seemed that this was my mantra the past few days. Every time I received a text message from Monica, became more and more difficult to keep my calm. I couldn't even complain because it was a scoundrel of the story: I looked for her, fucked her and then discarded her as junk food. I wanted to offend Monica, but at the same time, I wanted to hide in shame.

If repentance kill... I was at Tisch preparing myself for the year I would finally start to focus on Cinematography and be able to finally get my necessary internship to graduate in more two years. I was finally a senior and it felt so good. I wish I could started everything with clean, willing mind, but no, I had to get rid of Monica, get back to Rachel, while attending a tedious job that Richard White got me taking photos of real states for a office that sell and rent. Fuck!

I wanted to do everything right. Like Rachel Berry-Lopez, I had my desire for perfection. But unlike her, my satisfaction was more personal than quest for recognition at stardom. For example, I wanted my diploma. It was important to me as a personal achievement and also to show my family that I had managed to get out of Lima and win without a penny of their pockets. Yes, my pride spoke louder this way.

My phone vibrated again. Unknown number.

"I won't stop until we talk. Call me. M"

I wanted to die. Rachel would arrive at the weekend and it would be a pain to have Monica in my foot. I needed and wanted to concentrate on rebuilding our relationship, to prove that she could trust me like before. But one thing was certain: I would have to deal first with Monica. I called the unknown number.

"Quinn!" She answered the phone. "Glad that you called. We need to talk."

"I agree. So, tell me where and when we can meet."

"How about tonight at my place?"

"It's not possible and I won't step foot in your house."

"That was rude. I didn't invite you to come to my house that day, Fabray."

"Sorry, I know. Let's meet in a neutral place, ok? What about in an hour in Washington Square Park. I'll be waiting for you right in front of the bow."

"How impersonal! So, don't you want invite me for lunch?"

"Take it or leave it."

"I'll be there, but only because we really need to talk."

I didn't expect to solve everything in a single conversation. It was naive. Monica had a serious low-esteem. Or perhaps Monica was being the mature one of this story. I looked at the clock and was shocked when I realized I needed to step up the pace. The shit of being at an urban campus is that the students were subjected to all the moods of the rest of the city. NYU wasn't like Columbia. New York decided to be easy on that day; it meant that Monica would be on time. She was always on time. That was some qualities that made her a good assistant. So I wasn't surprise when I arrived a little late and saw her waiting impatiently. I regained my posture, up nose and got ready for the first round.

"You're late!" Monica was predictable: she was always concerned with schedules and details.

"I have five minutes." I looked at the clock and then emphasize faced with my best bitch posture. "So I'll be brief. Monica, sorry for appearing in your home, slept with you and gone before you even wake up. I know I acted like a jerk and I was dead wrong. But I was hurt and angry, and this type of combination usually triggers the worst in me. So I apologize. But don't think we could have a chance, because there's no way I could stay friends with you. I am really sorry for that."

"Wow!" She laughed. "Not even my scumbag ex-boyfriend would have been so... well... bastard! I know your girlfriend is an actress, but you seem to be decorated lines and recited them with the worst interpretation."

"I'm really sorry, Monica. You are the victim here and deserve all my respect, but I'm trying to fix my relationship and all my energies are focused on this. Throughout harm I've caused you, forgive me."

"I insisted on calling you, Quinn, because we have contacts in common and we can work together again. Generally, I have no compunction about getting close to people with whom I had sex with, but it looks like you will be another story."

"If I get back together with Rachel, I don't know if I can even work with you again for the sake of my relationship."

"Really?" She seemed incredulous. "This is very sad, Fabray. If your relationship can't withstand that kind of professional closeness, then your ties with Rachel Berry should be incredibly fragile. I wanted to talk to you like an adult, but it seems you're not there yet."

"You flirted with me all the time, you wanted to fuck with me and now you are saying that I'm not mature enough? For God sake, Monica!"

"Now did I offend you? Yes, I was flirting with you, and I was wondering how could be fuck you. Now, I know that, but not because I played dirty and seduced you, or I tied you in my bed. You went to my place by yourself wanting to fuck me and pay back on your girl. So yes, you are a good laid, Fabray, but immature. What is a shame because you are also a great professional and I'm sure one day you will be a great cinematographer."

"I still will be a great cinematographer."

"I hope so, Quinn. But remember that our world here in New York is very small. It's not wise on your part to make enemies because of problems that you caused to yourself."

"Are you threatening me?"

"No. I am giving you some advice. Have it your way. It was a pleasure, Fabray. I wish everything works out with Rachel."

Monica left shaking her head and certainly with feeling of superiority. Her words revolted me in a way because they might have truth in it. One in which I refused to think about it.

…

(Quinn)

My heart was pounding. Rachel would come back from Canada and I couldn't be more excited. I got up early to clean the house even though most of the stuffs were already parked packed. Santana was just waiting for Rachel to move into the new apartment. It reminded me that my boxes were still without destination. At best, they would go together to the new place. At worse, I would leave them in Mike's place until I find somewhere else to live.

Anyway, I tried to sweep the house, washed the bathroom and everything under wide-eyed look of Santana. She gaped the whole time with my willingness to leave that house cleaner to my Rachel. As a final touch, I went to the nearest florist and bought red roses.

Rachel didn't want that we wait her at the airport, and she was late. I started to get impatient. I couldn't even watch CNN nor check the storyboard that Santiago sent me by email. He was eager to make a short film and then try to get into festivals. At some point, every filmmaker must do this to make name. But at that moment, I had no head for that.

"The suitcase astray." Santana said as she hung up the phone and I had difficulty situating myself. "That is why she is late." And repeated the piece of information as if I didn't hear in the first time. "The suitcase astray." Then began to laugh, which made me even more confused. "Her suitcase always strays."

"And this is fun because…"

"I've just remembered things about our childhood, Fabray. Like that time we traveled to Costa Rica. Her suitcase astray and I didn't lent my clothes… daddy and papi tried to convince me otherwise, but I let Rachel spent two days with the same clothes… and pants! She was in agony, unable to sleep because her clothes were smelling, while I was just having fun with her despair. I said to her to sleep naked, but she heard crazy stories about the germs in the sheets that could make you get infertile."

"What happened after the second day?"

"Daddy and papi bought her some new clothes. That's it."

It took two more hours until Rachel gets home. She arrived with only a hand luggage, and she was tired and her hair was messy. And I thought she was super sexy, if it made sense. She first hugged and kissed her sister and checked on her to see if Santana was in one piece.

"How was everything?" She asked her sister still ignoring me.

"Alive and well."

"And this sudden move out?"

"The apartment is great, Ray. If you want, we can go there today and start moving in. I was just waiting for you, anyway."

Rachel nodded, but not proved to be so interested in it. Not for a while.

"Hi Quinn." That were the first words she directed me in weeks, because she basically only talked on the phone with Santana. "It's good to see you."

But she didn't hugged nor kissed me, which I was disappointed. I was craving for her touch.

"Did you solve the stray?" I felt like a guest that was about to leave. It was a horrible feeling inside my own home.

"The suitcase will arrive here within 48 hours, I hope." Rachel was also uncomfortable with me and I started to get worried. "Well, I'll take a shower."

"We will talk later, right?"

"Yes, we will, Quinn."

My hands were sweating cold.