(Santana)
I woke up with a heavy head and a slight burning in my stomach. One I was becoming familiar with. I had an appointment, and I knew more or less what to expect: an endoscopy, an injection into my vein, losing my memory for about 15 minutes because of the medication, and spending almost a whole day groggy. I had done this once before, in Lima, with a doctor who was a friend of papi's. The result was mild gastritis. At the time and I spent 20 days on medication and a green juice for breakfast.
The day had cleared. It was rare that I could sleep through the night because of my Columbia and Rock'n'Pano assignments. Luckily, the semester was coming to an end. It would be a relief to spend almost three months working solely on my small business. I got up, brushed my teeth and dragged my slippers into the kitchen. Rachel and Quinn were standing around. My sister had a TV show to shot. Things seemed to be going well on the set.
"Good morning, Santy." Rachel cracked a smile, the kind she gave after a good fuck with Quinn. How disgusting that was. "I've already prepared your breakfast." She pointed to the glass with something green in it and jelly with fruit. I liked jelly, but not for breakfast. And that green stuff...
"What the hell is this?"
"Cabbage juice with a little milk just to break up the bitterness and give it a good taste."
"Never mind... Where's my coffee?"
"No coffee, Santana! If you really have gastritis, caffeine will hurt your stomach even more. Cabbage is good for you and helps to heal. And then there's abuela's recipe."
Abuela was the doctor of alternative medicine. She and papi were always arguing about the efficacy of teas and other natural things. Papi loved the recipes and agreed with many of them because he was familiar with the substances that were essential in certain cures. Abuela's recipes included lemon juice with bicarbonate for difficult digestion, guava leaf tea to cut diarrhea, black plum for constipation, cabbage and mashed potato for gastritis, passion fruit tea for insomnia, boldo to cut hangovers, a shot of tequila to relieve a sore throat. The first time I had a shot of tequila was under my abuela's supervision when I was a child. Rachel and I got tired of drinking lemon balm tea to see if we could calm down when we spent the day at her house.
"No voy a tomar esa bazofia!"
"Si usted no bebe, me quedo de pie todo el dia y no voy a dejar trabajar".
"Give me this garbage!" I admit, the cabbage juice wasn't bad.
"If you two will excuse me, I think I'll be on my way." Quinn said as soon as she'd finished her coffee.
"Are you shooting today?" I asked.
"Yeah... I'm going to take advantage of the fact that Monday is the quietest day at the studio, and I'm going to leave early to shoot the doc."
"Cool."
"You don't think it's cool, San." She sneered.
"I don't. The theme of this doc is cliché."
"Santana! I think it's a bit early for a fight, isn't it?" Rachel butted in.
"If you'll excuse me..." Quinn kissed my sister on the lips, picked up her backpack and left.
I was dying to drink the rest of the coffee in the bottle. My sister's sixth sense worked once again and she poured the precious black liquid into the sink. I almost cried.
"Don't cheat when you get to Columbia." She kissed me on the cheek and handed me my backpack.
"Yeah, kick me out!"
"Have a nice day." She smiled like the telemarketer in the TV commercial.
I had the opportunity to open my computer to check my company during the break from the first to the second class. There were 27 new orders in the online shop. Each unit cost 10 dollars plus tax and shipping. And if the customer paid a certain amount in products, they were exempt from shipping.
The process seemed complex, but it wasn't. The person placed the order online and it went straight into the cooperative's system. They gave the okay and start the production and do all the packaging. I would then go there three times a week to dispatch the material to the transport company, and I would take the opportunity to assist them with the progress of their investments, which would optimize their earnings. The money from each purchase went into an account created exclusively for the company. The value of each unit sold was divided as follows. 5% went to the print artist, 50% went to the cooperative and 45% stayed with me and Rock'n'Pano. With this money I paid the expenses generated by the micro-enterprise, such as paying Andrew for the maintenance of the website, the gas for the car, the telephone bill... At the end of every 30 days, I transferred the money to the respective individuals.
In order not to make a loss on operations, I had to sell at least 100 units a month, or the business would be in the red. I had to sell at least 250 units a month if I wanted to pay back the initial investment made with zaide. Hence my difficulty. I was an economic analyst, and I didn't have much of a business or marketing acumen. But I was trying. It wasn't possible to take classes at Columbia on these subjects because that would have disrupted my curriculum planning, and my major was already complex enough. So I studied these subjects when I could and a lot of the things I did were by intuition or following tips from friends.
As much as I hated to admit it, Mr. Weiz's criticism was well-founded. My project was correct in terms of numbers, but it had major strategic flaws. So I had to rack my brains to understand where I was going wrong.
I opened the Rock'n'Pano email. Some spam, emails from clients with criticisms, suggestions and compliments. I listed the most frequent and relevant ones. I answered them all. For the time being, I was able to do this on my own. There was a phone number from a businessperson who wanted to talk. That was a good sign. All I needed was to get sales for legal entities. His name was Robson Silva and the phone was in Florida.
"I'd like to speak to Mr. Silva." I said into the phone.
"It's him!"
"Good morning, Mr. Silva. My name is Santana Berry-Lopez, I'm the owner of Rock'n'Pano. I received an e-mail from you wanting to talk to me."
"Oh yes, Mrs. Berry-Lopez. I saw your website and found your products very beautiful. I have a store here in Miami and I was wondering if we could talk about an order..."
"Of course! I can give you the entire sales table for legal entities. Even if you don't agree with some of the plans suggested, I'm sure we can negotiate a way that might be interesting for both of us..."
Perhaps the dark clouds are starting to clear. I celebrated.
"May I ask what that smile is on your face?" Andrew surprised me. I grabbed my boyfriend's face and pulled him into a kiss on the mouth.
"Things are going to work out... I can feel it!" Another kiss.
"Sua felicidade é a minha felicidade." He said in Portuguese. I didn't really understand the language, despite the similarities. I recognized this phrase and it didn't seem right.
"Wouldn't it be 'mi casa es su casa'?"
"Mere adaptations, fox."
"Nerd."
I went back to my computer. I opened the online version of my messaging app. There was a message from Brittany, which made my heart beat fast. She had the baby and I couldn't be there with her, for her. Robert Santana Belford was born on March 11th. All I could do was send her flowers and talk to her on the phone. Unfortunately, we haven't spoken much since. I knew enough about her new life: Brittany lived with Jim in a house of his own, and they seemed happy. I opened the photo of her with the boy. Robert was biracial, so I couldn't tell much yet, but his eyes were drawn upwards like his mother's. Brittany was a little chubbier postpartum, but just as adorable. I was sure she'd be back to her old fit in no time.
"Oh, your best friend sent a photo. How beautiful." Andrew peeked at my computer screen. "Is it her son?"
"Yes, it is." I smiled and left the message.
"Aren't you going to answer?"
"Later." I didn't want to explain to Andrew how happy and sad that made me at the same time.
I looked through a few more messages. There was one from Mercedes asking how business was going, another from Shelby, some from my colleagues at Columbia. There was also an e-mail from Mr. Weiz's lawyer. There was a short message written in the body of the text about getting in touch soon and a file attached. It was a scan of an old document. A promissory note signed by zaide from 34 years ago, and another signed by bubbee 21 years ago. What did it mean?
"Trouble?" Andrew frowned.
"Maybe. I need to run home and sort a few things out." I closed my computer and went to pack my things.
"Wait." Andrew grabbed my arm. He was worried. "What happened?"
"Family stuff."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
"No need." I put my hand on his face and kissed him. "I'll call you."
There was no way I was going to attend the other classes of the day. I wouldn't have the head for it. I went home and started calculating, and left a message on the email address of the lawyer who had been working for my parents for many years. Papi advised me that any more serious problems that Weiz might create, I should contact his lawyer. I then did some interest calculations on the value of the promissory note. Was it still valid? Was it a fake? I didn't know. As soon as I got home and found myself alone, I picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hello, bubbee. It's Santana."
"Hi Santana. Do you want me to call your grandfather?"
"No bubbee, I really wanted to talk to you."
"Did something happen? Is Rachel all right?"
"Rachel's fine. She's shooting an HBO series. She's definitely not a loser anymore."
"Oh, that's very good... what do you want to talk about?"
"Bubbee, I received a printout of two promissory notes. One signed by you and the other by zaide. The first is a loan for 20,000 dollars that you asked Caleb Weiz for 21 years ago. The second... is almost 300 thousand dollars. I don't know what that means, but whoever it comes from, it's a warning. I need to know what I'm dealing with. Why would Weiz's lawyer send me this?"
"..."
"Bubbee, please! It's my safety and Rachel's that could be at stake."
"Caleb wouldn't hurt you two!"
"Maybe not... at least not physically... but it's clear that he goes to great lengths to blackmail us. If he wouldn't hurt me, there's still Papi, Shelby, Quinn... my friends... you and Zaide. Me. I need to know! What are these promissory notes? Why did you borrow all this money?"
"Your grandfather needed to borrow money to pay off a debt generated by the company. He didn't want to deal with banks, so he turned to Weiz. Santana, I don't meddle in your grandfather's business. I have no idea whether or not he has paid off this debt. The promissory note I signed was because of you... and Rachel..."
"How? We weren't even born yet! I mean, by the date Shelby was pregnant..." I sighed. Something told me that this had something to do with Rachel and me. "Shelby was pregnant." I repeated, this time affirming. "It has to do with us, doesn't it? With our birth. I remember hearing that she asked for more money to give up her rights as my mother, but I don't know any more details about that."
"Hiram and Juan had already spent all their savings on the insemination and Shelby's payment. The amounts agreed were for just one child, but two eggs were fertilized in a... different situation."
"Bubbee, I know that. Papi and Shelby made me by the traditional way. That's why I'm actually two weeks older than Rachel."
"Does your sister already know that?"
"I never told her. I didn't think it would make any difference. At least not until now."
"When she heard about it during the first imaging tests, Shelby charged a new amount to give up the two children, or she would take one with her... the one that was conceived naturally. That's when we all found out, Santana. Juan and Shelby had an affair. All the chemicals she took allowed her to get pregnant at different times. But the insemination was only done once, so it didn't make sense that one embryo was two weeks older than the other. Hiram was furious and accused her of having slept with some boyfriend, breaking the contract that called for her to abstain for a certain period. That's when Juan confessed that he and Shelby had slept together."
"What did Dad and papi do?"
"They sorted everything out in their own way. I don't have any details about that part of the story. Only Shelby and Juan can answer that. But I do know that it was a period when my Hiram suffered a lot... What I do know is that Shelby sought out a lawyer, one of those jailhouse types, to blackmail Hiram and Juan. This lawyer found a loophole in the contract and asked for more money. Hiram and Juan had no way of getting more money, nor could they get another loan from the bank. Juan's family had already done their bit to help and at that time, as you know, Hiram and your grandfather didn't speak to each other. So I asked Caleb for the money. That way, you and Rachel wouldn't be separated."
I took a deep breath and did my best not to swear at my grandmother all the way to the fifth generation, even though I knew I was in the line of succession. I knew about my family's twisted history, the skeletons in the closet. What hatred! I tried to calm down. I already knew about the mishaps between Shelby and Papi. Now I needed to find out more details about this particular agreement and zaide's promissory note.
"Santana?"
"I'm fine, bubbee. I'm just really angry with my mom right now."
"Don't be. Shelby was just a very young girl with a lot of dreams. When Hiram told me, I thought it was crazy for them to hire a girl like her, but he said that Juan had fallen for Shelby, that she was perfect and they would have beautiful children. He was right about that."
Sometimes it sucked that papi was bisexual. Things would have been simpler if he'd just been gay, like Dad. Even though he was married to a man at the time, his other head got hard for a woman. It may seem unbelievable that I felt angry because my father had sex with my mother, but yes, I did. Do you know what's most contradictory? It took a while, but now I was genuinely happy that my parents had found each other and stayed together after Dad's death.
"Bubbee..." I refocused on the subject that mattered: the promissory note. "Has that 20,000 dollar debt been paid off?"
"No... Caleb told me not to worry about it, that it was a way for him to help Hiram. I only signed the promissory note for bookkeeping purposes. Do you think Caleb can collect?"
"Hardly. Promissory notes are time-barred after five years. It's not this document that's of concern, it's what it represents. What I want to know, bubbee, is if there are any active debts you have with Mr. Weiz? Do you know if Zaide has any? Because if you or Zaide do, and he decides to protest in court, I'm afraid of what might happen."
"..."
"Bubbee, please, I need to know if this promise is just to force the dirt on our family, or if it means something else."
"Santana... the only person who might have a real debt to Caleb is your grandfather. But as I've already told you, he won't open up to me about business."
"Well... Weiz sent me the message!"
"I... I... I'll talk to Caleb... he usually listens to me..."
"Bubbee..."
"Yes, Santana?"
"Never mind... I'll call you back..."
I needed to talk to someone, to get wise advice. Someone who could look at everything from the outside and give a well-structured opinion. But who? Quinn wasn't suitable, even though she supported our decisions. Mike and Johnny? They didn't speak the language. Bubbee didn't know what to do or say, Zaide couldn't even dream of it, Papi told me to go to the family lawyer, but I didn't need a lawyer at that moment. That's when I remembered Professor Harris. He had become my mentor at Columbia. I picked up the phone and prayed that he hadn't traveled.
"Hello?"
"Professor Harris?"
"Yes?"
"Professor, this is Santana. I have a problem and I was wondering if you could see me for a talk."
"Academic problems?"
"No, sir, personal. But I don't have anyone to talk to about this specific issue. I assure you, these aren't just youthful problems... they're quite serious!"
"In that case, come by my house at five in the afternoon. I'll be able to see you at that time."
"Thank you, professor. I'll be there."
I rubbed my face. I was tense. I needed to find something to distract me until then. Anything. It was almost noon and I wasn't hungry. Rachel would complain if she knew I hadn't eaten. I started working on little things at Rock'n'Pano, ate a banana and drank an orange juice. I wasn't hungry, but my stomach hurt. I took a shower and got ready. Jeans and a long-sleeved blouse. Nothing sexy. I took my car and went to meet my professor.
Professor Harris lived in Dyker Heights, Brooklyn, in one of those two-story houses with a hedge in front on a middle-class street. I was at his house on one occasion, when he had some students over for an end-of-year get-together. The traffic wasn't too bad, and my journey took less time than I had anticipated. I parked and knocked on the door. Professor Harris gave me a warm welcome and soon called me in for tea and cookies. Mrs. Harris was also at home. She was a very dignified and polite lady. As soon as she had served us a snack, she made us feel free to talk. So I took a deep breath and told her the whole story. I ended up crying on the table, the kind of emotional embarrassment I wanted to avoid.
"That's quite a story, Santana." He said after Mrs. Harris had poured me a glass of sugar water to help calm me down.
"I don't understand this, Professor! I don't understand why Weiz has this urgency!"
"Do you know why the mafia is a family business?" I shook my head negatively. "Because disputes are minimized with the institution of an heir. When it's not blood, it's an apprentice trained from a young age either to be a tool or to take on the legacy. The business world is no different. Weiz is a well-known executive not just in New York, but across the country. Everyone knows about his reputation as a determined, tough, aggressive negotiator. But it's also no secret that Weiz's health is fragile. This leads to speculation as to where an estimated billions in assets will go. I can only imagine the speculative pressure he must be under from shareholders, other executives and even the government."
"If he introduces me as the heiress... and my sister..."
"He will have a breather in the field of speculation and the company will not suffer a loss of market value... but only if one of you is involved in the business."
"That promissory note? I'm afraid it could still be used in some way. There are these loans from my grandfather that I don't know about. What if Weiz can take everything from my grandfather on the quiet?"
"Santana, I'm an economist, not a psychic. I don't predict the future. My analyses are based on studies, on market movements. Sometimes this knowledge can be applied to life. Sometimes it can't. I say it's a risk. Who can bet on whether Weiz really has a gun? It's up to you to pay and see. On the other hand... not everyone has the power to really make a difference, you know? I'm not saying that you should submit to Weiz's will, but once you're in charge, you'll have the opportunity to make a difference. The power to build something good. Have you ever thought about it that way?"
"No... I hadn't thought about it from that angle."
"You should! I'm not the guy who's going to tell you what you should or shouldn't do. I'm just your professor, and as such, I'd like to teach you one more lesson: think of it as a market environment and know how to analyze all the possibilities and go for the one you think is best for the goals you want. I've known you long enough to understand that you don't want power. You're an idealist, Santana, and you want the resources to make a difference. It is often necessary to come into contact with power in order to achieve victories that can benefit the collective and, at the same time, provide you with affirmation. For these things, you need a lot of courage too."
"Got it."
Professor Harris was my light at the end of the tunnel. I assimilated his words and thanked him for having me, and Mrs. Harris for her hospitality. It was evening when I got home. We had visitors. I was surprised at how rarely this happened, apart from the presence of Mike and Johnny. Rachel had invited two of her cast mates to dinner. Rom Tyler was not very tall, with light eyes and dark hair that was a bit curly, like Professor Schue. He was handsome. I remember seeing him in a special appearance in the live-action Star Wars fan series that was a hit on the internet. Amanda Springfield, on the other hand, was just a watery blonde with no salt. Rachel introduced us, but I wasn't much for conversation. I wanted Rom and Amanda out of my house, so that I could have a serious conversation with my sister. I looked at Quinn. She had that forced smile on her face. I wasn't enjoying the small talk and inside jokes from the actors either. After dinner, I retired to my room.
I worked at Rock'n'Pano for a while. I saw that the number of orders was stable. Robson Silva responded to the proposals. He chose an order with 30 units. It was less than I expected, but it was a start. I was selling the cloths for 7 dollars for purchases over 10 units, plus tax, which was very close to the cost of production. I confirmed the order and would send it out on time. With the day's sales, I reached my production costs. Now I needed to move towards recovering the initial investment, but that would only really happen next year if the company kept up the same pace. If I couldn't get the money back in that time, it was a strong indication that it would be best to close down.
"You could be less unfriendly to the guests!" Rachel burst into my room with her arms crossed and a petulant look on her face. I wasn't in the mood.
"We're canceling the document." I said, just to cut through the chatter.
"What? What happened to change your mind?" Rachel was shocked, while Quinn came into my room to follow the conversation.
"Promissory notes and a few thoughts."
"Care to explain?" Rachel still had her arms crossed.
I sighed deeply. I was tired, it was past midnight and I just wanted to have a shower and go to sleep. But this was a serious decision, so I told the whole story of my day. When I finished, I was leaning against the headboard of my bed with Rachel lying next to me and Quinn sitting in my chair.
"You need to make quid pro quo." Quinn said. "Like the promissory note for the annulment of the document. Then you destroy this atrocity once and for all."
"The promissory note is no longer valid, but I don't know if Zaide has any active debts with Weiz. That's why I thought of something else. I don't know if it will work, hence the need for a lawyer to accompany us. I'm also thinking of getting him to sign any document in which I can have some guarantees. I need to finish my degree, I want to have some time to worry only about my small business and I want to leave zaide out of it. Whatever he wants to leave to me and Rachel should be equal. If he wants to leave me a box of matches, he'll have to leave Rachel a box of matches, and so on. And any active debts that Zaide may have with him must be forgiven."
"I don't like it Santy. I don't like this story."
"I'll contact papi's lawyer tomorrow, okay? Now tell me. Who were those two assholes?"
...
(Rachel)
I was so excited about the shoot. When our director started showing us how he wanted us to shot the rehearsal scene on stage, although it was difficult and physically demanding (I'm glad I go to the gym almost every day and when I don't, I do yoga at home), it was rewarding to do something different from a musical. Drama theater, especially the classics by William Shakespeare, required a lot of preparation. The scene had two difficulties: at one moment we were the characters, and at another, our characters were playing other characters. So there were two layers of acting that we had to do, and no wonder there was an acting coach in the studio working with us, because it wasn't simple.
Luis was the most in demand because he was the second lead in the series alongside Andrew May, so he had a lot of screen time. He played a film actor who didn't have the proper training for theater. Taylor Moore, our director for the episode, had experience with theater and wanted us to do a take as if we were rehearsing for real. Luis was fantastic. Unlike the character he was playing, he was a very well-prepared young actor. I had Kath on my hands. My character was a theater rat, a stage activist, and so she clashed with Luis' character. The problem was that I also had difficulty playing Ophelia.
I didn't always get the right balance, and the takes were moving forward. My frustration was great, until May pulled me into a corner. I trusted him. He was the most skilled and experienced actor among us, a graduate of the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art and considered a Shakespearean actor.
"Rachel, Ophelia is a tragic character." May said. "Her fiancé says she should go to a convent! She is seized by bitterness and then apparent madness. She commits suicide. Think about it, think how tragic it would be to be deprived of your love!"
"But what about Kath?"
"Look, darling, it's a trap. Don't think about her. Think of Ophelia. The point of the scene is to embarrass Jack, right? He's embarrassed because everyone is doing their best except him. So do your best and leave Jack's complications to Luis."
"Okay."
I ordered a glass of water and took a deep breath. It was just a passage from Hamlet and it was Grace Hemon, Helen, who was supposed to react first to Jack's bad performance. We repeated the scene and I could feel my colleagues getting a little annoyed at my mistakes. I tried to block out the disapproving looks. Will told me to start the scene again from the beginning, and I followed May's advice. It may not have been ideal, but it was enough to make the take worthwhile.
"Cut! This take was worth it!" Will shouted and the cast breathed a sigh of relief.
"15 minutes break." Meg the assistant shouted with a clipboard in hand. "May and Passon do the next take. Berry, Segal, Tyler and Springfield on standby. The rest are dismissed for the day. Don't forget to pick up the shooting schedule tomorrow. We'll be on location."
The organization of the show's production was exquisite. Every week we would receive a schedule in our inbox with the days we had to go to shoot, the approximate times and locations. But there were unforeseen events, so this schedule was readjusted from time to time. Sometimes with significant changes, other times it remained the same. Sometimes we were only called in for rehearsals if the scene involved more complex choreographed movements. Like, for example, the fight scene in Helen's house, which had precise markings in a minimal space for cast and production. If it wasn't very organized, choreographed and rehearsed, it wouldn't come off.
I went to the waiting room with my colleagues instead of going to my trailer. Everyone waited in a different way. Luis was the most closed off and fiddled with his cell phone all the time, Amanda and Rom joked around and interacted more with the rest of the cast and crew. I sometimes chatted with the others, sometimes I stayed quiet in my corner to study the scene a bit more. This varied according to the circumstances. May and Will were the oldest and were always relaxed with everyone. George O'Nell, who played the company's insecure and dazzled director, was one of the most endearing guys I've ever met. Jane Bright, our villain of the season, was the most outspoken actress and she was a moon: on days when she was in a good mood, she was charming. Grace thought she was the star and sometimes dragged her boyfriend to her trailer. There were also people from the supporting cast and guests who loved to chat and exchange experiences. Depending on who the guest was, we'd take photos and pay respects.
It wasn't a full set day. Just part of the main cast and some of the supporting cast who had scenes. According to the schedule for the week, I had the day off. My character would only have a few scenes in the episode and the Slings And Arrows team didn't have a policy of shooting two episodes at once. One ended, the other began. This was important for the cast because it made it easier for us to understand and progress with the characters.
"What a day!" Amanda sat down in the chair next to mine. "It's a good thing we only have one more scene before we go home."
"True. And tomorrow's my day off." I said.
"Lucky you. Tomorrow I come here to shoot a scene with just Rom."
"Is that a bad thing?" He pretended to be offended. "Be grateful, woman, for playing opposite this wonderful piece of meat." We started laughing at Rom's ridiculous gesticulations.
"My brother got to see Across The Universe. Did I tell you?" Amanda ignored our colleague.
"No, you hadn't mentioned it yet."
"I want to do Broadway." Rom wouldn't sit still and now he was stretching. "It must be nice to do theater here in New York."
"It's essential." Luis joined the conversation. He was also another Broadway actor. "It's another universe, that's for sure. There are even differences between the drama and musical classes here. But I think everyone should experience the stage at some point. It's a litmus test."
"Differences between classes?" Amanda asked.
"No big deal. It's just that musical productions are usually bigger and more expensive, they occupy the main theaters and attract more attention and media. That's why the drama people get jealous." I stuck my tongue out at Luis.
"I'm sure Rachel will teach me to sing! Then I'll win one of those Tonys in a musical." Rom hugged me.
"Careful, Rachel. That guy's a real catch." Luis boasted and Rom laughed. "He loves relationships with the actresses he works with."
"Really?" Amanda frowned and nudged Rom while I felt my face flush. "Because our mutual friends said the same about you." And it was Luis' turn to scowl.
"So? Pub after work?" Rom suggested. "I'm in the mood for a good 12-year-old whisky."
"I'm out!" I refuted the offer. "I've had terrible experiences with bars and work. It's not a good combination." I was saying this because of my ATU days when Nick and Steve would go on drinking binges and get into trouble.
"So how about dinner?" Everyone agreed, except me.
"Next time!"
"Who are you worried about? Don't you live alone?" I nodded negatively at Rom.
"No, you fool. Rachel lives with her sister." This time I nodded positively, now to Amanda. "By the way, you could invite us to your place for dinner. You and Luis are the residents here. Be more hospitable, guys!"
"Sure." Luis said bored. "Ladies first. Rachel?"
"If you want to..." I was afraid. They didn't know about Quinn, and inviting cast mates to my place necessarily meant they knew about my girlfriend. I had to hide Quinn from the media and the public. But I didn't think it was fair to have to hide her from my work colleagues too, let alone pretend she was just a friend in our own home. It wouldn't be right and, frankly, these limitations were getting in the way of my socializing with my colleagues at Slings And Arrows. So I looked at my closest cast mates and blurted out, "We can have dinner at my place tonight, but I have to tell my girlfriend first."
"Do you have a girlfriend… girlfriend?" Rom frowned. I felt my face flush and feared their rejection. "Too bad, Lopez. I was planning to get into your pants. I'll have to aim for someone else now." And he started laughing. "But tell me this: is your girlfriend hot? You could invite me to watch..."
"Rom!" Amanda hit him for me and they started laughing. "Have a bit more respect."
"Ah, then we'll have dinner at Rachel's, she'll introduce her hot girlfriend and it's a deal." Rom said.
"Careful... Quinn's a Republican!"
"Really? Rach, you must have found a rare species." Rom said seriously. "No one is 100% and everyone experiences it at one time or another... even with Republicans."
"Even Rom?" Luis teased.
"Who has never got a hairy ass cast the first stone."
"You got hairy asses, my dear. Not me." Luis put on his glasses and stared at me. "I'm glad you're honest with us, Rach. You really have nothing to be ashamed of. No one here is going to spread the word, as is our Broadway code, right?" I smiled. Broadway actors really did have an informal pact not to say anything about what happens backstage or about each other's personal lives, even if it's public. "But I won't be able to make it to dinner because I have a date."
"So, it's just Rachel, Amanda, me and Rachel's hot girlfriend."
I called Quinn to let her know I was taking some coworkers to dinner. After shooting the last scene of the day, Rom and Amanda accompanied me in the cab to Astoria. When Quinn answered the door, I could see shades of insecurity in her eyes. I could understand why I was a little nervous too. So I gave my girlfriend a light kiss and then introduced her to my colleagues. I noticed that this gesture put her at ease.
She was preparing a chicken stroganoff and a chopped leaf salad with strawberries. At least that was the kind of dish that was quick to make and usually pleased everybody who eats meat. While dinner wasn't being served, I opened a bottle of wine for the guests.
"What do you do, Quinn?" I realized that Amanda was trying to be nice by bringing my still-uncomfortable girlfriend into the conversation.
"I'm a Cinematography student at NYU."
"Quinn is going to be a wonderful filmmaker. She made a really good short film called "A Song For Robert Rodriguez". Just look it up on YouTube... It's even got a lot of views. It won the popular jury at the NYU festival. And now she's going to be the director of photography for a documentary about Bob Dylan!"
"Actually..." She said awkwardly. "It's about the folk scene in New York. But Dylan is also in the doc."
"Interesting!" Rom said. "Documentarians are the idealists of the trade. And the biggest beggars too."
"Okay, I think the stroganoff is ready." Quinn said suddenly. "Shall we eat?"
As soon as we'd served ourselves, Santana arrived, looking very unfriendly. I tried to integrate her into the conversation, but unlike Quinn, she wasn't even trying to be pleasant. She gave Rom three cuts and insinuated that Amanda needed plastic surgery. And as soon as she'd finished her meal, she left the table and went to her room. I had to get around the rudeness by explaining that my sister was under a lot of stress because of the new company she had opened, and I even took the opportunity to advertise it.
"I'm going to work with Richard Godoy after shooting the series." Rom said, a little affected by the wine.
"The one who loves 12-year-old girls?" Amanda questioned.
"Richard Godoy is a pedophile?" I nearly choked. Richard Godoy was a respected filmmaker who had won awards at Sundance and the Venice Film Festival.
"Don't you know?" Amanda said seriously. "They say he's used to practicing sex tourism in certain countries. Young girls of 12 are his favorite. He's a fantastic director, no doubt about it, but he's got this nasty phedo. In fact, so do a lot of powerful people in Hollywood. Many of them pick up teenagers and have orgies."
"Money buys silence." Rom said.
"I would never work with a director with such a track record," I said angrily.
"Never say never, Rach."
"I've already been harassed by a director. I'd rather turn down the best role than work with a disgusting guy."
And so the evening continued. After the scraped pan and two bottles of wine, Rom and Amanda said goodbye. I was tired, but I still had the breath to give Santana a hard time. I agree that Rom was a narcissistic prick at times, but that doesn't justify the fact that Santana upended the table in an earthquake and left without even saying good night. Not to mention her constant frown.
"You could be less unfriendly to the guests!" I walked into her room, already making it clear that I was unhappy with her aloof behavior.
"We're canceling the document." Santana said suddenly. She barely took her eyes off the computer.
"What?" Quinn was right behind me. "What happened to change your mind?"
"A promissory note and some thoughts." Santana's tone of voice was petulant and said between the lines: "you're idiots". But the subject was serious.
"Would you mind explaining?"
And she did. In more detail than I would have liked. The good thing was that at least Santana had gone to someone qualified for advice. It was good to see her calmer and more aware of what she had to do. When we said goodnight, it was just after one in the morning. I was officially dead.
"Thank you." I kissed Quinn. "You were essential today."
"Don't think it was easy." Her voice was warning. "Your friends aren't exactly easy people to empathize with immediately."
"Those are the people I'll be working with on a daily basis for the next few months between shootings and promotional work. I have to get along with them."
"You might, but I wouldn't want their company to become frequent."
"Quinn, it's already dawn and I'm not going to discuss this with you." I went into the bathroom and closed the door.
I let the water run down my body. I needed to relax. I put on my sleeping clothes and lay down. Quinn was pretending to sleep, I knew her well enough to know. I kissed her cheek and turned away. Tomorrow we would talk more calmly. The wine, the early hour and the busy day wouldn't help us have any productive conversations.
...
May 15, 2015
(Quinn)
I didn't see Rachel getting up. When I woke up, she had already left to work. She'd left Santana's cabbage juice ready on the table, a note for me on the fridge so I wouldn't forget that today was credit card payment day, and that she loved me. I had no shooting to do, no studio and no freelance work. The last one I did was to photograph the graduates playing softball in Central Park in their uniforms and everything. It was their idea, but I thought it was cool. The result was very good and I got paid what I was owed. I didn't worry about the money I got from Rock'n'Pano, because it was destined to stay here at home anyway. What was the point of this money leaving Santana's pocket and going into mine to pay our own bills? At least Santana was able to participate more. Last month she paid for her cell phone bill and house's internet. That was progress.
I needed to go to NYU today and that's it, thank you Jesus. My professional and academic life was busy and difficult. It was a good thing that the home environment was calm, apart from the girls' problems with Weiz. In any case, things seemed to be on track. The girls' family lawyer was in New York, and there was a meeting scheduled to discuss and formalize the terms. Santana would indeed take over Weiz Co. at some point. Caleb Weiz won the arm wrestling match. I honestly expected that. When would a college girl beat a determined, hard-working businessman? On the other hand, Santana and Rachel also won a little peace and a much bigger prize: the truth. If there are still secrets in their family, they certainly aren't of this magnitude.
"Good morning, Q." Santana grumbled as soon as she saw the glass of cabbage juice for her gastritis. "Boy, she doesn't give up!"
I admit that Rachel's almost obsessive desire to take care of us was adorable. The day I had to have two fillings, Rachel made me change my toothbrush, bought the toothpaste recommended by the dentist, even though it cost twice as much as the one we were using, and kept the listerine under control for a month. When I stopped using it, she would fight with me. I hated listerine! On the other hand, she was right. Prevention was key.
"Drink up, Lopez 1. If it doesn't cure you, at least it won't hurt." I tried some of the juice once. It wasn't bad.
Santana turned the glass over and drank the liquid in one go. I had the impression that it saturated her and took the edge off her hunger, judging by the fact that she ate less at breakfast.
"What are you doing today?" Santana leaned against the kitchen counter as she ate half a papaya with me. The fruit cost an arm and a leg, but it was a small luxury we liked to have from time to time. The fact that Rachel was a vegetarian forced us to have a greater variety of fruit and vegetables at home.
"Just NYU today, but I have to go to ATM machine later to pay a bill."
"Why don't you sort it out online?"
"We can't withdraw money online."
"Bingo!"
"You know it's your time to do laundry, right?" The clothes were overflowing in the basket. Santana always left everything to the last minute when it was her week to look after the house.
"I'll do it today, I'll wash everything after I get back from Columbia."
"Aren't you going out later?"
"I don't think so. Maybe Andrew will come over so we can watch a movie together." Then she let out a giggle that puzzled me. "It's nothing. It's just that I remembered your face with Rachel's cast mates."
"Wow! Tell me about it." I ran a hand through my hair. Rachel's cast mates were a bunch of jokesters.
"I'd stick that Rom's head in the toilet and flush it down in a heartbeat. What an asshole!"
"And the marks Amanda gave to the actors she'd already slept with? What class!" I grumbled.
"I used to do that at school. Remember?"
"I believed it! In fact, everyone at school believed that you had slept with half the male population of McKinley High. I can't tell you how shocked I was when Rachel told me that you had more fame than bed."
"The boys didn't deny the rumors. I didn't care either. The fame benefited me."
"Why did you allow it in the first place?"
"For the popularity. And not to let Britt take the limelight alone. She was the one who had slept around. But you know Britt."
"Britt lost her virginity to you, didn't she? I remember when you two changed your behavior towards each other. Kissing in the corridors after afternoon practice and all that. By the way, I'm sorry I threatened you that day."
"That's what I call a belated apology." Santana smiled. "I have Britt's, Finn's and Paul's v-card. I'm not proud of having Finn's V-card. Rachel was devastated when she found out, and we didn't speak to each other for a week until papi locked us in the smallest bathroom in the house and wouldn't let us out until we'd sorted out our differences. It was quite a conversation." She frowned. "On the other hand, sleeping with Finn was a huge favor I did for that dwarf. And for you, too." True. I imagine that if Rachel had lost her virginity to Finn, things could have been a lot more complicated for me.
"I only have one person's v-card."
"That's easy: Rachel." I nodded. "I thought you had Sam's v-card."
"He wasn't a virgin anymore, but he didn't have much experience either. It was very lukewarm. But it was important to go to bed with him. That's when I discovered that I definitely couldn't connect with the male body."
"What about the story that you stayed with a woman who taught you the ways?"
"That was Claudia."
"Claudia?"
"Sometimes I worked as a nanny for her son. In the night, when she came back, she used to offer me a snack and we'd talk... anyway, on this particular day, I helped her with the move, she paid me, offered me a snack, we talked... that's when it happened."
"Was it good?"
"It was great! The best thing was that, after having sex with Claudia, I had the courage to admit to myself that I'm gay. I think that's when I had the courage to fight for Rachel."
"You always liked my sister, didn't you? I mean, I always suspected that underneath that hostility there was repressed passion. Technically, Brittany discovered it first."
"God forbid my father should know that I was friends with the Berry-Lopez's daughter: those two cursed people!" I exaggerated my tone to make it clear that I was being ironic about my father's prejudices. "One day I told Frannie that I wanted to be friends with Rachel, that I kind of liked her. At that time it was still very platonic, you know? I wanted to be friends with Rachel. But she made me throw a slushie at your sister the next day. That's why that horrendous tradition began."
"Rachel cried all day and I seriously wanted to hit you. But I settled for deflating the tire on your sister's car." I didn't know that. All I remember is that Frannie went crazy when she saw that she had to change the tire and didn't see any of her servants around. "I mean, I know Rachel isn't an easy person to get along with, especially when she turns up her nose and throws a diva fit, but she's still my little sister."
"You and your 29 minutes apart..." I rolled my eyes.
"Kill a curiosity, Fabray. When you had sex with Puck, was it because you had feelings for him, or was it just to try and ward off gay thoughts?"
"When I slept with Puck, it was partly to do what my sister had told me: that I should lose my virginity soon. Partly because I was curious, I had an itch, you know?" Santana nodded, perhaps because she understood that part. "And also because that day was frustrating, almost depressing. My parents had gone out to a party, I got drunk, called Puck and offered myself because I thought that if I gave it to him, everything might get better. It wasn't great, it hurt, and I still got pregnant."
"Puck never wore a condom if you didn't push him. I was the one who demanded condoms... always." Then Santana stared at me. "And with Sam? You didn't feel... anything?"
"I felt no connection at all. I couldn't even say it was physical, because I didn't feel horny or anything for him. When we had sex, it was like I was an inflatable doll pretending to orgasm. Imagine being with the best-looking guy in school and nothing!"
"To be honest, I thought you'd have sex dressed in sheets with little holes in the parts." She finished her coffee and relaxed in her chair.
"I would have loved to have been a golden star." I was cathedratic. "Women are soft, they're better kissers, they smell better, they taste good, and they have breasts... legs... warm, tight vaginas... even more so Rachel."
"Stop talking about her! Too much information, Fabray! I don't need to know these things and this subject will die here."
"As if you didn't know what I was talking about! You've been with at least two girls, as far as I know."
"True. But as soon as you give information about my sister, the subject dies. I don't need to know!"
I could only laugh at Santana's behavior. So I started washing the breakfast dishes before leaving the house. It was another day of normality in my life. Rachel left a text message at the end of the morning when I was in class at NYU. She wanted to know if everything was okay, and to remind me of a series of small tasks and favors she'd like me to do. It was adorable and annoying at the same time, Rachel's preoccupation with making sure we were aware of the day's agenda.
I had lunch with Santiago. He told me how things were at Bad Thing. He worked as an art assistant and other similar tasks. He said it was a place to learn because the pace was intense. Bad Things was working on several projects at the same time, both advertising and fiction. Santiago could complain about the low salary in proportion to the pace of work. He was a trainee earning only 1K (and I was dying for a chance to work there), but he liked the job.
"My life is crazy, Fabray. That's why we don't see each other any more. In fact, I barely have the energy for my girlfriend. What a tragedy."
"I'm sure she understands." I smiled.
"What about you? How's life in the studio here and things at the doc?"
"Normals. Shooting the doc is a delight. I don't earn much, but the work has shown me that my vocation is to make movies, to direct photography. I love it. I've earned 1200 dollars so far. The production company transfers the money at the end of the week according to the hours worked. I earn more from freelancing. Even so, it's great. So far I've managed to balance everything."
"Think on the positive side: you've earned more by working less."
Santiago's problem was that he had a very materialistic and market-driven view of things. The salary was important, but he had to weigh up things other than money. The documentary wasn't a wonderful source of income. On the other hand, I enjoyed a great working atmosphere, I did what I liked, the pace was steady and I would have a credit on my resume as director of photography on a professional production. We said goodbye because he had to rush off to Bad Things, while I had to go to the ATM.
My phone rang and I was surprised to see Monica's name. I immediately thought it was a problem related to the production of the doc. Something unforeseen.
"Monica?"
"Hi Quinn." Her voice sounded excited over the phone.
"Did something happen? There have been changes to the filming schedule?"
"Really? I can only call you when it's work-related?"
"Of course not. Sorry." My face flushed.
"The girls are going out dancing today." The girls she was referring to were those taking part in the filming as assistants and perhaps her friends. "We've arranged invitations to Girls Girls Girls. Wouldn't you like to come with us?" Girls Girls Girls was a famous lesbian nightclub in Brooklyn. It had a reputation for attracting all kinds of lesbians from NYC. It was also said to be a good place for single women on the prowl. It wasn't mine or Rachel's best choice to having fun.
"Thanks, but I have other plans."
"Come on, Quinn. Live a little! You're younger than me, but you act like a forty-year-old Republican." I was a Republican. "You need to loosen up while you can. Take your girl with you."
"My girlfriend is busy today and I'm not going out without her."
"Would you go if she did?" Monica tried to test me.
"Remember I told you I don't really like these places."
"Gay places or dance places?"
"Nightclubs and bars that are too noisy." Not to say that my reluctance was without reason, Rachel, Santana and I once went to a gay bar in the Village recommended by Roger, my former boss, and we didn't enjoy the experience. Even Santana cringed at the number of unattractive girls who tried to hit on her. Rachel and I weren't bothered because we were a couple. Even so, I've never felt so scandalously stared at. Maybe it was because the bar didn't offer the right atmosphere for us. Maybe it was a question of looking for a place that was more in tune with our profile.
"That's a shame. Especially coming from an out lesbian. Even a very attractive femme like you has a place in this nightclub. There are no bad wolves there, Quinn. Just little Red Riding Hoods looking for a bit of fun in peace."
"Look, you've got it wrong." I was embarrassed, but I felt that any attempt to make amends would make things worse. "I'd just like to stay at home today, okay? Maybe another day and another place..."
"All right, Quinn. I'll let you win this round. Next time, you won't escape me." Her tone was flirtatious, although I was getting used to Monica's manner.
It was gratifying to know that I had a fan. I wasn't blind or foolish enough to ignore the fact that Monica was attracted to me, and that she wouldn't mind getting into my pants. But I tried not to think about it too much. I couldn't lose control of the good relationship I had with Rachel to think about a coworker's fanfare. In fact, I had a mission and I needed to find the right moment to show that ring and ask Rachel the question.