(Quinn)
The shoots for the web series is about to begin. It will be two weeks of work on Long Island with a cast of six actors, a few extras, the participation of Steve Zappa and Josh Solano, who was revealed in "Songbook" together with Rachel. Rumor has it that Emma Stone, who was close friends with James Golvi, was going to make a "special appearance". The project, which was small and indie, became a speculated product in the media, thanks to James' efficient work in spreading rumors. He used social media very well to do this kind of thing. But the best news was that I would go from being a mere production assistant to work for the first time in my field. Frank liked me and the work I did for him, which allowed me to become a camera assistant. It was a very important stage in my training. At NYU, we had access to equipment and did small jobs with it. But it was far from a professional structure. Besides, the two one-minute shorts I've made to date, apart from the exercises, didn't give anyone a good CV. Another advantage of doing professional work was the extra money I would earn.
While filming wasn't starting, I was going to have a weekend to do some great freelancing. I was hired by NYU's student stylist cooperative to photograph a clothing collection. The models were also university students, as well as the usual friends who took part in this kind of project for free. The cooperative didn't have the budget for a renowned photographer, but I was available. It was a five-thousand-dollar job to be done on location in some of the city's interesting streets: in other words, a month's rent and condominium. I would receive half in advance and the other half as soon as I delivered the work duly approved, as stated in the contract. I had in mind the Bronx, the street of Public, where ATU was showing, Murray Hill, and a street I was passionate about in Hell's Kitchen. The plan was to do the photos in a single weekend with the eight models/students. Of course, I wouldn't keep the five grand to myself. I would have to pay my assistant and rent the necessary equipment. I'd also rent a car, because lugging expensive, rented equipment around on public transport was crazy. There would be about two k dollars left in my pocket. That was fine for just one weekend. Not to mention that a job like this can bring in a considerable clientele.
Meanwhile, the production company's other project, the movie, was going well. Aaron and Roger started planning the production schedule (which I would no longer be involved in). The idea was to premiere it in Toronto, but for that to happen, everything had to be ready by May next year at the latest. Filming would take place in September, in other words: a tight schedule. The extras, whom I helped to find, would be hired close to the shoot. But my assisting work was finished. I really wanted to go to Canada with the crew for the shoot. The project had everything to be exciting. "The Saint Woman" was a light comedy, with very intelligent humour, about a woman called Grace, a prostitute who returns to the small town where she was born and revitalizes the community theater group. The detail is that Grace doesn't give up her trade because she needs to eat and the townspeople don't know what she does to support herself. Grace, despite lifting the village's spirits with the community theater, would still be harshly criticized and then condemned for what she does. I knew that the auditions for the supporting roles were due to take place soon, but Roger already had a few names in mind.
"Fabray." Roger shouted at me from the office.
The R&J office wasn't formal. Roger and James basically worked in a closed room and everyone else was spread out on tables in a large hall. Most of the employees were for bureaucratic and institutional work. I was one of the few who had a hands-on role in productions. Other people who circulated around the office were on temporary contracts, per production, just like me years ago to work on "Songbook". R&J productions had a few employees who were considered capital. Virginia was the know-it-all secretary; Alex and June took care of HR; Mark was the main lawyer; Denise was the producer par excellence and used to coordinate everything related to the theater portfolio. She was the strong name behind the founding partners of ATU.
"Hi Roger!" I walked into the office with my sacred coffee cup in hand.
"I know you're no longer working on the movie project, but did you happen to mention it to your woman?"
"Yes, Rachel knows about the movie. Why?"
"There's a role, the pastor's daughter, that I think would be perfect for her. I spoke to Christina, who's the casting director, and she's going to get in touch with your woman's agent."
"Rachel? In this movie?" I couldn't help but smile. She was going to freak out!
I had read the script. The pastor's daughter, Leslie, was one of the first characters in the young cast who joined the community theater. She must have been between 16 and 17, had a strong, petulant personality and stood up to her father. There was a good scene between the pastor and Leslie, maybe another with Grace, but I couldn't remember how many lines she had. Rachel would definitely fit in.
"I say the role is 50% hers, but Lopez will have to audition with Chris and Aaron. Tell your woman to do the audition and tell that sister of hers not to get involved in settling the salary afterwards... Our budget is tight to pay actors and we need a strong front line."
"Right." I left the room.
"Ah! Fabray!" I turned around. "That thing you asked about assisting with the photography of upcoming projects, don't talk to James, you know what he's like." Rough and dry. That's why I got on better with Roger. "But if you do well on the web series, maybe, and I mean maybe, you'll be hired for the production company's next project."
"Which one?" We didn't know everything. Things were born in that production company behind closed doors. A state secret. It was only gradually that the project was revealed.
"One for television." He winked at me and said no more. "Now get out of here, I need to make some calls." I nodded and left his office.
At home, I found yet another picturesque scene between the intrepid Berry-Lopezes. Santana spent two weeks on vacation with Juan, Shelby and Beth in the Dominican Republic, and came back sick with a stomachache and the flu. She arrived at the weekend with a prescription written by Juan in hand. Rachel managed everything with tyranny. At least Santana was entitled to a vacation, Rachel and I didn't have that luxury. We spent almost the entire summer hunkered down in New York and working our asses off. I only took a week off and went to Ohio to visit my mother. Rachel also went to Lima, but she stayed at her father's house. I wouldn't take my full vacation until October or November. Rachel? Only Christ would know.
The point was that Santana had the flu, but she still thought she could carry on as normal, that her body didn't need to rest to heal: she wanted to go to her college friends' parties, go to the concerts with Johnny, drink with Mike, and all of this in sweltering New York. But that wasn't just her problem. Rachel also didn't absorb information well when she was sick, which, in fact, she rarely was. When she had the flu, she would make an unprecedented drama. She worried about her voice, that she couldn't have a sore throat or she'd be ruined and so on. She took a zillion natural medicine. I was the one who didn't have the slightest problem spending the day in bed drinking tea and soup and receiving affection from my girlfriend. Rachel was an excellent nurse. The next day always dawned better.
"Yo no necesito este alimento para los enfermos!" Santana was sitting on the sofa with a tablet in her hands, the television on, a well-worn tissue box on the coffee table, the bin next to her full of, surprise, used tissues. "Aún más una sopa con esa cosa verde."
"Esta cosa se llama berro verde y cuesta el ojo del hombre, pero eso es lo que le ayudará a expectorar. Ahora bien, si usted no toma esta sopa en cinco minutos te juro que me quedo el plato en la boca!"
"Buena suerte con eso, nurse Jack!"
"Good night to you too!" I went straight to my room.
It was a waste of time getting involved in their arguments, especially when they were speaking in Spanish. That was a sign that the argument had been going on for a long time. I didn't want to say that it was a simple task to keep to myself because it was hard to avoid jealousy sometimes. Santana and Rachel have a connection that I could never achieve. Biologically speaking, I was pretty sure they were half-siblings. Even a blind person would come to that conclusion - but you couldn't say it out loud or World War III would break out because, in their minds, this kind of thing doesn't exist and it doesn't matter. Nothing changed the fact that they came out of the same womb 29 minutes apart. No matter how much they fought, stopped talking to each other and even hurt each other, there was this invisible glue that would bring them together in the blink of an eye. I wanted to have that invisible glue with Rachel. Honestly, the feeling that we were destined to be together forever was becoming clearer and clearer. However, sometimes when Santana was around, like in that ridiculous fight, I felt second in the list of priorities. I tried my best not to show my jealousy, but yes, it was there.
"Hi!" Rachel got into our bedroom and kissed me lightly on the lips. "Aren't you having dinner? I've made a delicious soup."
"The 'cosa verde'?"
"It's watercress! It's good for your health, you know. Bacon eater!"
"If you tried a piece of bacon once in your life, you'd agree with me."
"I've tried bacon many times because of you. Or do you forget that you eat bacon in the street and then come home to kiss me in a less than affectionate way when we have our fights?"
"It's good revenge, you have to admit." I smiled to myself.
"Creative, to say the least!"
"I'm a genius."
"Without the slightest modesty and a bit arrogant one"
"You love me!"
"Of course I do!" I sat on the bed and pulled Rachel onto my lap. It was nice to come home and find my lady all homely, always ready to cuddle and caress. I was selfish that way. Sometimes I felt like one of those 1950s macho men. Worse, sometimes I felt like my father.
"I have good news." I said while my hands were immensely appreciating my lady's fit body. Rachel had a sexy, feminine abdomen. Not to mention her incredible legs. "The producer is going to contact your agent, but Roger asked to call you to audition for the movie..."
As I imagined, Rachel didn't even wait for me to finish my sentence. She started jumping around the room like crazy and screaming to the point of attracting the attention of her sister, who didn't even knock before coming in to see what was going on.
"What the fuck?" Santana asked me.
"Rachel's auditioning for the movie I'm working on at the R&J."
"Oh, cool. One more thing for her to talk about non-stop and try my patience." Santana turned her back and left in the best Santana's style. I'm sure she'd be rolling her eyes and muttering something in Spanish. Maybe calling us "suckers" or something.
"I need the script... I have to prepare as well as possible. I don't want to give the competition a chance!" Rachel was in that hyperactive way that was adorable and scary at the same time.
It would be lovely if she got the part, but it would be hell if she got rejected.
...
August 09, 2014
(Quinn)
The job of model photographer is very similar to that of a nanny. The most impressive thing was that I was dealing with people the same age as me. Dealing with people from the artistic world wasn't the easiest of tasks. Handsome "intellectuals" are much worse. On the other hand, I was pleased with the results. Guy, the assistant I got, was Virginia's son. He was 17, still in high school, and a smart kid who was always looking to earn a few bucks so he could get his own things. I offered him 300 dollars for a weekend's work. Money very well invested. Guy's mischievousness and naivety were a great distraction from the intellectual plays, which I made good use of.
"I can't say enough how brilliant I thought the idea of the locations was." Guy was a really excited boy. "I can't believe I've never set foot in Hell's Kitchen. Man, I didn't even know the city I've lived in since I was born. And you've been here for how long? Three years?"
I just smiled and went back to enjoying my apple pie. Guy had a burger the size of a world in front of him and was devouring it like a typical boy of his age. A dark-haired woman with delicate features got into the cafeteria with two other friends (I think) and sat down at the next table. She was very attractive. Guy smiled when he realized that the girl had started looking insistently in our direction. She played the typical game of stare, gossip with her friends, laugh, stare again, look at her friends, say something, laugh. Suddenly, the woman stood up and asked if she could borrow the tube of mustard. I glanced discreetly at her table and there was already one, her friends were looking anxiously over. I decided it would be rude to blow her off with a verbal response. I just nodded in the affirmative, that she could have the tube of mustard, and "casually" stirred my silver ring. She frowned, took the tube and apologized. Guy leaned forward excitedly, smiling. He acted as if I were one of his hormonal schoolmates behind some skirt.
"Come on, Quinn! If it were up to me, I'd take it!"
"Guy, I'm a committed young woman."
"Committed, but not dead, right? What's the point of trying it? Your girlfriend doesn't even need to know."
"I'm glad I have an accomplice... but no!"
Outside the cafeteria there was a pile of these newspapers distributed for free throughout the city. Tabloids of cheap journalism, most of whose news was sucked from the internet. I picked one up because Rachel liked doing crossword puzzles and I liked doing sudoku. Printed newspapers had become rare, but I gave my full support to those that managed to circulate, especially the small ones.
"Quinn, wait a minute, I need to pee."
"Okay!"
While Guy went to the bathroom, I leafed through the tabloid. It started with city news, had a political section, moved on to the sports section and closed with the cultural section. There was a Broadway gossip section that took up a page, as if it were a social column with a photo and several notes around it. The picture in that edition showed Rachel and Lucas Hibbs walking through the streets of Manhattan, hugging and smiling at each other.
"The supporting couple in the off-Broadway hit 'Across The Universe' may also be getting along in real life. A close source claims that Rachel Berry-Lopez (19) and Lucas Hibbs (24) can't get enough of each other backstage. 'They're always hugging and kissing. The rapport between them is impressive," said the source. A person close to the actors claims, however, that Miss Berry-Lopez is involved with a member of the show's production, but wouldn't reveal the identity of her suitor. Has 'Jodie' (Jo Jo + Sadie) really become 'Hi-Lopez'?"
I didn't know whether to be enraged by the news or worried that the gossip industry had discovered Rachel. All I know is that my blood rose. I made a lot of effort to stay professional at the last photo shoot with the university models. I smiled at the make-up artist and hairdresser. I satisfied the stylists and guided the models as best I could. But inside, that tabloid story was eating me up. My rational side told me it was a lie, that it only happened because ATU was a hit, so people start to get curious about actors' personal lives. Of course, Rachel wasn't a nationally known actress. She was still embedded in the world of Manhattan, by theater people almost exclusively, and the tabloid's gossip column has a name that gets straight to the point: "Broadway Gossip". Nothing close to "Hollywood Gossip" with paparazzi on the prowl. No, it was just a poorly-written lie in a trashy tabloid with no credibility. Nothing that could affect our relationship or our daily lives. Right?
The other side of me, the caveman who fights forever against the green monster of jealousy, was screaming. I wanted to get home and get all the answers I know I deserved. Because, although ridiculous, the note wasn't such a lie. It said that Rachel was involved with someone from the production. Here I am: the "someone" from the production of undisclosed identity. My part in the production of the play had passed and I no longer worked on it, but still... And if that part of the note was true, what prevented the first part from making any sense? After all, it was Lucas Hibbs who squeezed Rachel's breasts, kissed her and pressed her legs around his waist against the set four times a week.
I was in my way to home in the rental car that I wouldn't be returning until the next day, so I looked at my watch. The play was almost over and I had the idea of picking up Rachel. I detoured to the Public. I went straight backstage. I had free access anyway. I didn't want to go near the actors in the aisle. From the songs and costumes, they were getting ready for the last act. From back there, I heard "All You Need Is Love", marking the end of the play. It was the end of another week of full houses. I didn't even have to go to the front to check it out. The tickets for that session had long since sold out. The cast left the stage smiling, but visibly tired. Lucas came in the first group. He looked like he was in pain.
"Quinn!" He greeted quickly. "Sorry I can't talk to you, but I think I pulled a muscle in my shoulder..." He went straight to his dressing room. "I don't know if I'll be able to work next week."
Steve Zappa also greeted me quickly. He was in an intimate embrace with one of the actresses. Sarah just walked past me, giving me a half-smile. After a warning I had given her backstage when the play was still in production and rehearsals, I had the impression that Sarah always froze in my presence. Heather... our antipathy was mutual. Rachel gave me a tired smile when she saw me and threw her body against mine. I just had time to wrap my arms around her waist and back to support her.
"I'm glad you came! You seem to have guessed my thoughts."
"How was it?" My heart buttered when I saw her so exhausted. Rachel always seemed so fragile at times like that.
"Today was... complicated. Lucas got hurt right at the beginning of the play, Heather was a bit high and we had to improvise more than usual because of her."
"But the audience reacted well..."
"It's just that we didn't let the sequence of mistakes show, I think." Rachel broke our embrace and took my hand, leading me to the dressing room she shared with Sarah.
As always, I stood there quietly watching my lady remove her character Sadie's make-up and costume. Sunday was always the worst day for the cast, it seemed. Whenever something went wrong, it always happened on that day of the week.
"Mints?" Sarah offered.
"Thanks." I took one and popped it in my mouth.
"Shall we get a cab?" Rachel picked up her bag, already in her normal clothes.
"I'm driving." The other actresses looked at me strangely. They knew we didn't have a car. "It's just that I did a photo shoot this weekend and I rented a car to transport the models and equipment."
"Do you go over the bridge or through the Queens tunnel to get home?" Sarah asked.
"Through the bridge." I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Can you give me a lift?" Sarah asked and the request surprised me. "I'm going to Murray Hill today."
"No problem." I nodded.
Rachel and Sarah came chatting along the way like good cast mates. Sarah's boyfriend was a public defender and they had been together for some time. They also made some light-hearted comments about the cast's day-to-day life, about how the latest promotional photoshoot with the cast displeased the actresses. I saw the photos and it really wasn't good. I would have done a much better job. Finally, we left Sarah where she indicated and two blocks later we were in the bridge heading towards Astoria. We parked for the first time in the space we were entitled to in our building and Rachel helped me load the equipment. Santana had left a note on the fridge saying she wouldn't be sleeping at home. Rachel complained and I had to agree. Until yesterday, Santana had been dying of the flu in bed, and today she was out partying? Rachel went to take a shower, oblivious to the storm in my head, and I preferred it that way. I made some instant noodles and sat still, eating that junk food with my gaze far away. Rachel came out of our room in her pajamas and I was still finishing the warm, almost cold noodles. That's when Rachel realized something was wrong.
"Split it out." She said when I was already washing the dishes. At first I played dumb. "You're monosyllabic. The way you get when you have a problem. You let off steam."
"Rach..." I turned off the water in the sink and reached for the tabloid I'd left in the corner near the equipment. I showed her the gossip column and watched her reactions closely.
"That's not true!" She frowned and then grabbed my arm. "The note is untrue and badly written. And I think those shipper names are ridiculous."
"The second part of the gossip, the one from the other source, isn't a lie. You really are involved with someone in production."
"Quinn... Again this shit? Again you show you don't trust me?"
"And there's the photo..."
"Lucas is my friend. Perhaps one of my closest cast mates, to the point where he came home to have dinner with us once and you know that very well." She stopped to look at the photo carefully. "It looks like the photo was taken the day we did that podcast interview. And I left there hugging Lucas the same way I hug Mike or Johnny."
"Not even Johnny or Mike would insinuate having sex with you on stage!" My rationality went to China.
"I can't believe it! Quinn Fabray, I'm perfectly aware of your jealousy, but to give credit to a Broadway gossip column written by someone who has absolutely nothing to do? Who stole a photo and made up a banal story?" She grabbed the tabloid, crumpled it up and threw it in the wastepaper basket and stomped off to our room.
"Rach... please." She slammed the door in my face and immediately I heard the key click. "Rach, open this fucking door!"
"No!" Her voice was shaky with crying. "You're sleeping on the sofa tonight, Quinn Fabray! Now leave me alone!"
"Open this fucking door, Rachel Berry-Lopez!" I knocked harder. "And come here and talk like an adult!"
"Adult? You're the one yelling!"
"Rachel, I'm going to kick this fucking door down! You owe me an explanation!"
"I don't owe you any explanations and I'm not going to open anything while you're acting out of control. No talking! Good night, Quinn Fabray! Enjoy the couch!"
"Rachel... Rachel!" More knocks from me and no reply.
I sighed. Note for the future: I need to work on my approach when questioning Rachel about anything, especially tabloid gossip. Rachel was a good actress and was just starting to attract attention in the theater world and would possibly make her first film. There would be a lot of tabloids. She needed to cool off and so did I. I took my shower in Santana's bathroom and got ready for bed in her room, wearing her clothes. In the early hours of the morning, I don't know exactly what time, I was nudged in an unkind way.
"Rach?" I said sleepily.
"No, it's the evil twin!" Santana had tequila breath and her clothes smelled of marijuana.
"Weren't you going to sleep out?"
"I changed my mind. Shouldn't you be sleeping in the other room with my sister?" She shook her head. "I'm not thinking straight... I'm going to take my shower and if you can make me some coffee to help me sober up..."
I wiped the sleep from my eyes and did exactly what Santana asked. Machine-made coffee always comes out in a flash, and I also prepared a quick sandwich with turkey breast and cheese. She looked more stoned than drunk and I could bet she hadn't put anything in her stomach while she was out partying. Santana came into the kitchen with wet hair and a face of few friends. She thanked me for the strong coffee and the meal.
"What happened?" I asked.
"The party got... heavy. Either I was going to leave or I was going to... fall into temptation."
"In that case, I'm glad you left." I was really happy that she had the slightest bit of sense. I was already against turning a blind eye to Santana's relationship with marijuana. I'd probably react very badly if I knew she'd been experimenting with something else. And so would Rachel.
"What did you do to sleep in my bed?" I told the tabloid story in every chapter while Santana ate her snack in silence and shook her head negatively every now and then. "Fabray, how stupid you are!"
"Thanks for the support, Lopez."
"Rachel would never cheat on you, you idiot, no matter how much some ridiculous tabloid gossip tells you otherwise. If she'd done anything wrong, she'd feel so guilty that she'd tell you. It's always been like that since we were a kid. Every time we got up to some prank that ended in shit, Rachel would confess everything to our dads. I'd get screwed and she'd come out as the good guy."
"She's not a child anymore..."
"But she's still Rachel. I know my sister and I know what I'm talking about! And then... unfortunately she loves you. Much more than you give her credit for or deserve." Santana put the dirty plate and coffee mug in the sink and went to her room. She came back with a pillow and a blanket under her arm and threw them on the sofa. "It was divine providence that I changed my mind and came home to sleep... you really deserve the couch! And you're lucky I didn't ask for my pajamas back."
I didn't have any clean clothes outside the bedroom, so I took one of Santana's pajamas: one that was a bit short in the arms and tight in the legs. Santana was just as skinny as Rachel. She was only about six centimeters taller. I looked at the sofa. It was nice, but it wasn't the best place in the house for a quick nap, let alone a few hours' sleep. That's exactly why we bought it: so that we could always have a tidy living room. I picked up the cushions and turned over right there on the carpet. I made another mental note: never seek an alliance with Santana when it comes to Rachel.
...
(Santana)
It wasn't just at university that I witnessed the consumption of drugs heavier than cannabis, tobacco and alcohol in excess. I saw all kinds of things going around during the Reading festival. That's when I tried marijuana for the first time at the age of 16. Dad said he smoked weed for the first time at 14 during one of the camps he used to go on with his school and neighborhood friends. He was practically a junkie in college. I think because he was openly gay and people were even crueler about it in the late 1980s, that's why he got so involved with marijuana, tobacco and alcohol. And there was the problem of AIDS too. Dad didn't tell us if he also tried injecting drugs, but he radically advised against it. After England, I only started using marijuana again at Columbia and weed became a regular at the parties I attended on campus with my closest friends.
I spent the last month not even thinking about it, but things changed when Izabella called to say that there was going to be a great party at one of the fraternities. This kind of thing was common in the weeks leading up to the start of classes at the end of the month. We were back on campus, there was the whole process of confirming enrollment in courses, and even doing it in two stages if you got on the waiting list for another one. The staff of the freshmen reception committee were organizing for the big arrival of freshmen starting next week, there would be another good big party and then classes, classes and more classes.
Rachel gave me a funny look when I told her that I would be meeting Andrew and my friends at the fraternity. I would sleep there, not in the fraternity, of course, but in my boyfriend's room, which was in one of Columbia's student apartments. The problem was that I came home sick from my trip with Beth and my parents at Dominican Republic. I had a breakdown at the end of the week and I had the flu. But if it had been my sister's mind, I'd have been sick for weeks. It wasn't like that. I had to live. I had my friends outside our usual circle and a good boyfriend. I took the subway to campus. As agreed, Andrew was waiting for me at the station so we could walk together.
"Hi nerd." We exchanged a long kiss as soon as we met.
"Hi fox." He held my hand and we walked out into the street. "Got better from the flu?"
"Can't you see?"
"You don't look fully recovered."
"I'm well enough to get out of the house and have some fun." Andrew didn't look convinced and seemed to be thinking about something else. "What's wrong?"
"Wouldn't you skip this party so we could have a good time in my dorm watching a movie under the blanket?"
"Andrew!" I complained. "I want to dance and see everyone again. I also want to tell everyone the news."
"But in a fraternity's party?"
"What's the problem?" He stared at me as if silently asking me to change my mind. I was undeterred. "Okay."
We walked to the fraternity house, which was a block from campus. The house was full and I knew most of the people there. We met up with Matt and a new girlfriend, Izabella and a supposed boyfriend, Lucy and the rest of the usual crowd. They celebrated our arrival and in less than ten seconds, I swear, we had a glass of beer in our hands. The DJ was playing the usual remixes and electronic beats, but that meant playing a winning game. We danced to at least three songs and I was enjoying myself. Andrew wasn't: his discomfort was clear. Not that my boyfriend was a nerd, although he was a nerd. He also drank beer and smoked weed from time to time. There were parties where he left without consuming anything. I think Andrew liked to prove to others that additives weren't a prerequisite for him to have fun, or something. I never saw Andrew really drunk and high.
Matt arrived with the weed and some pills. I took the weed and started to smoke a little. I coughed. It seemed to be a bit stronger than I was used to, as if there was something else in it, because the effect was different. I didn't know what it was, it just made my mind a bit foggy. Lucy took the pill and I didn't know what it was, but I imagined it was LSD or some other synthetic crap. Andrew was still on his second glass of beer and, at that point, we saw a colleague take his shirt off. Several other guys started doing the same to show off their perfect abs. Some girls felt challenged and went bra-less. We continued to have fun, but my boyfriend was uncomfortable.
"Shall we take a break here?" he said loudly in my ear over the music.
"Okay!" He held my hand and led me to a less noisy part of the house where there were some couples practically having sex in public. I grabbed Andrew and had my kisses too.
"Shall we go?" He whispered in my ear. "Shall we go to my dorm and get naked in a warm bed?"
"Why don't we find a corner here, have a quickie and go back to the party?" I smiled at my own idea: it sounded really good at the time, even if it was something I wasn't used to.
"San, you're not okay, you're sick. Don't you think you've had enough weed and drink?"
"What? Are you my father now?" I said more aggressively.
"You're taking medication and drinking beer and tequila. You smoke, which you shouldn't do, and you're not in good shape. This story could end badly, and I love you too much to allow that."
"Of course!" I smiled wryly. "You don't want to see me enjoying myself here, but you do want to see me spread-legged or on all fours on your bed, as usual. Then you play the good guy."
"That's not it, San!" Andrew argued. "You know that when you don't want me to, I'm incapable of touching you. I'll take you home if you want, I'll pay for the cab, but I don't like it here and I think we should get out."
"You're leaving!" I shouted. "If you don't like it, get out of here and stay out of my way. In fact, get out of my life! I don't know why I stay with someone like you. It must be charity or something because everyone at this party knows I'm too much sand for your truck."
"Is that what you want?" He sounded hurt and angry at the same time.
"Get out of my face and get out of here."
I turned my back and went back to my friends. Matt grabbed another tequila and we returned to the dance floor. The frenetic electronic beat was naturally stimulating, but this was a party where a lot of additives were circulating. I was indifferent to almost all of them, except weed. I was always very thirsty, my mind was foggy. Some people smoked crack in pipes near the bathroom, but I was indifferent to them too. All I wanted to do was have some fun. But something seemed really different about the weed. It was as if there was some kind of additive mixed in. After the smoke and too many tequilas, the loud music caused a different kind of excitement. The frenetic play of light created surreal effects. I could feel my heart beating. It was stimulating and terrifying at the same time.
"Hey, Santana!" It was Simon accompanied by Ann, colleagues from the choir. They were dating and he was one of the fraternity members of the house. "Are you up for a fling?"
"Fling?" I laughed, I was a bit out of it. "Because that's what you can do. Andrew's gone and there's no more swinging." They started laughing loosely.
"If you want to do it later, I won't object." Simon smiled loosely. "I've even got some good powder for us. Are you in!"
"Coke?" Matt joined the conversation.
"Matt, this is Ann and Simon, colleagues of mine." I said quickly.
"Please to meet you... finally, good coke. I only work with the classics." He placed the bag with the white powder on the table. "Are we going for it before you go for a three-way? There's enough for your friends too, if they want to contribute to a private shot in the bedroom."
I was surprised, and my thoughts were confused. I ended up going up with them. First of all, they did the coke ritual. Simon skillfully placed some of the contents of the sachet on the table and skillfully formed rows of similar sizes. He wrapped a straw in paper and sucked up the first one. Ann went next, and Matt with his girlfriend. The straw passed through my hands. I looked at the line-up. I was dizzy, the music was loud and muffled in the room, I was sure there was something else in the joint. I looked at my friends encouraging me, they seemed to be in a great mood, loose. Matt was kissing and groping his girl and it felt wrong and out of place. They were out of their minds, long before they snorted the coke. I still had a shred of coherent thought. The other fraternal was filming. Simon grabbed my breasts and started kissing my neck, but I wasn't comfortable. I was very thirsty. I looked at the cocaine career and thought about how disappointed the people I loved would be.
I don't know what came over me. I pushed Simon and left the room. The orgy would happen without me. I left the fraternity house out of breath. My mind was confused, but there was also something that made me feel at peace for having made the right decision.
"San?" Andrew was still there, but outside. He slung his arms around my shoulder and supported me.
"Shouldn't you have left?" I said breathlessly.
"I wouldn't have left you alone." He answered simply and my heart ached at the thought of deliberately cheating at an orgy. I felt terrible, low. "Do you want to go to my place?"
"I want to go to mine."
"Perfect. I'll drop you off."
He called a cab and made a point of escorting me to Astoria. I spent the whole ride with my head resting on his shoulder, feeling like crap. Andrew kissed me before I got up and went on my way. I looked terrible, but my soul was light. How was that possible? I thought I'd find Quinn and Rachel asleep in their room, so I was startled when I walked into my room and saw Quinn asleep in my bed in my pajamas. Everything was still fuzzy. I nudged her unkindly.
"Rach?" Quinn said sleepily.
"No, it's the evil twin."
"Weren't you going to sleep out?" She opened her eye this time. She became alert. "Did something happen?"
"I changed my mind. Shouldn't you be sleeping in the other room with my sister?" I shook my head in disbelief. It was obvious that the two of them had had a fight. Or would there be another reason for her to sleep in my bed? "I'm not thinking straight... I'm going to take a shower and if you can make some coffee..."
I went to the closet and got clean clothes that smelled good. Even though it was almost three in the morning, I washed my hair but didn't dry it properly. The warm water was delicious and invigorating. I knew I was still under the influence of the cheap stuff, but at least I could think more clearly about what had happened. I could hardly believe what I'd almost done: snorting coke and being in an orgy: everything I'd sworn I wouldn't do because it would be so stupid. I brushed my teeth. I washed away the taste of tequila with listerine. I put on my old Stuyvesant T-shirt and pajama shorts. It was a comfortable feeling to be clean.
Quinn was waiting for me in the kitchen with the coffee ready. We talked. I discovered the reason for finding Quinn in my bed: the fight with Rachel was over some unfounded gossip in the pages of a trashy tabloid. Of course, I defended my sister's honor and sent Quinn to sleep on the couch in the house: which was fine for a quick nap and watching TV, but never for a whole night. I lay down on my bed. It never looked so good. I blacked out.
...
August 10, 2014
(Quinn)
I woke up with a terrible backache. I didn't know how I was going to get to work on my freelance job. The day's agenda was unappetizing for my physical and mental state. I crept to the left side of the apartment and found my bedroom door unlocked. I got in cautiously, knocking lightly on the door first. Rachel was already standing there, fixing our bed, trying her best to ignore me. Her eyes were swollen from crying and I felt like hitting myself. Without saying a word, I started to help her tidy our room.
"Those pajamas look ridiculous on you!" She said in a shaky voice.
"I had no choice but to take something of your sister's," Rachel allowed herself a little laugh. "And if it's any consolation, my back is really killing me."
"Well, goal achieved."
"I deserved it, I admit... but please, don't do that anymore." I approached and tried to hold her hand, but Rachel rejected me. "Rach... do you want me to get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness? I'd do it even if it was bad for my pride."
"You know what I want, Quinn. This is far from a mere apology." She crossed her arms. Always a bad sign.
"Okay..." I leaned against the wall and sighed. "I'm jealous of you, I admit it. Sometimes I control myself well, sometimes, like last night, I lose my temper over stupid things. I promise I'll try to work on that inside me as best I can. The last thing I want in this world is to hurt you because of this horrible feeling."
"It's gotten better. But it's still not what I want." Rachel uncrossed her arms and walked towards me. Then she kissed me on the cheek. "One step at a time, okay?" She took my hand and kissed my ring. "I will always honor you, Quinn Fabray, and I understand that there are many things we need to work on. But let's take it one step at a time so we don't lose control." She finally kissed me on the lips.
I think I understood what Rachel meant by "one step at a time". Perhaps Rachel wasn't expecting a sudden improvement from me, because that would be false and I might explode at an inopportune moment. What she wants is my sincere effort. I swore to myself that I would try for my own good.
...
(Santana)
When I got up, Quinn was no longer at home and Rachel was in her gym clothes tidying up in the kitchen. I dragged myself there and leaned on the worktop.
"Are you working out today?" Our building had a gym available to residents, but Rachel paid for a gym near her house that was better equipped, and she paid for a personal trainer who would see her and go over the series of exercises. I didn't have the money for those things and I used the equipment in our building to exercise.
"I've worked out." She frowned. "Don't think I'm not happy to see you, but I thought you were going to sleep with Andrew."
"I was. I met up with Andrew, we went to the party and things got messy."
"What happened?" Her features changed. She was worried.
"Nothing much..." I tried to avoid the subject. From the look on Rachel's face, I knew it was a battle I couldn't win. "My friends had coke at the party, but I refused and left." She widened her eyes. Imagine how she would react if she knew the whole story? It was better to leave the orgy part out of it.
"Did Andrew join in too?"
"No. He said we should leave, but we had a fight because I didn't want to listen to him. Well... he was right. That party really wasn't good."
Rachel smiled and leaned in to give me a peck. Ever since the day she kissed me for real, I've been a little freaked out by this gesture of affection. It was a scary moment for me. But I tried to take it in my stride because I knew that the awful impression would disappear with time and everything would go back to the way it was before.
"I'm proud of you!"
"Don't be..." I sighed. "Ray... I came very too close this time to giving in to temptation for stronger things..."
"But you didn't!" We exchanged complicit glances. We didn't need to say another word.
"I'm going to take a break from these parties. It's not good for me."
"I think so too."
I had a glass of water before going to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth, but I still didn't feel hungry or even in the mood. I was still sick, I'd been drinking, smoking and doing almost everything I shouldn't have in my precarious health. So I went back to my room and crawled under the covers, even though it must have been stifling outside. The air conditioning installed in the living room kept the house at a pleasant temperature. I stared at the ajar curtain. It was a good thing the windows were all anti-noise. I didn't want to face the noise of the city. I just wanted a bit of peace and quiet. Rachel came into my room out of her gym clothes and slipped under the warm covers with me.
"My flu's gotten worse," I warned. Rachel was terrified of getting sick.
"My body is properly immunized." She slipped her arm around my waist.
"Apparently, that doesn't stop your feet from getting hot." I complained, but this made Rachel snuggle even closer against my body. "I talked to Quinn yesterday after I arrived. She said something about that note in the tabloid."
"The absurd note, you mean."
"I defended you, okay?
"Thank you!" I felt Rachel's body relax. "She's so smart and clever, but she gets irrational when she's jealous. I don't understand why." I turned my body to look at my sister. She was sad and that didn't surprise me. I wanted to hit Quinn for that one.
"I can't say, Ray. People react in different ways when they're jealous. Papi grumbles..."
"You make plans for revenge..."
"You too... and you grumble... anyway... Quinn can't help herself and freaks out..."
"I know that look. You were going to say something else."
"Sometimes I think Quinn freaks out of proportion. I'm not implying anything, but I have my reservations about her and you know it."
"And?" Rachel tried to press a little harder. Then I completed my thoughts seriously.
"I've learned to respect your girl. It took time, and you know it. Today I see her as part of the family. But that could change again as soon as she hurts you in any way."
"It won't happen!"
"I hope not, but... Ray... haven't you ever stopped to think that maybe Quinn needs professional help?"
"You mean a psychologist?" Rachel looked at me puzzled. "As if that would have worked perfectly for us."
"Maybe... but talking to a psychologist helped me deal with the absence of a mother when I was little."
"Santana, you've only been to the psychologist a couple of times that I can remember."
"There were four sessions, and they helped, Ray. They may not have helped you in the same way, but sometimes we need to get things off our chest with a professional who's prepared for it. Maybe Quinn needs to talk about her demons."
The conversation ended as soon as we heard the intercom. Rachel grumbled and went to answer it. She soon returned to my room.
"Andrew's on his way up."
"What?" I sat up in bed.
"Your boyfriend's coming up. You'd better tidy up a bit while I talk with him, unless you want me to send him straight here."
"No!" I stood up. "Do the small talk, please."
I took off my pajamas and put on a decent outfit, although still comfortable for staying at home. I put on shorts, a Columbia baby look T-shirt, combed my hair and put on some lipstick. When I came out of my room, I saw my sister talking to my boyfriend. That was the first time Andrew had been in my house. He barely knew my sister and it was no wonder that they were exchanging cordial words and tense postures. It was my fault for not letting Andrew into my life so much that I didn't make him comfortable even in front of my sister. It was the same with Paul. I think I was afraid of letting a guy into my intimacy. It was like cheat on Brittany if I opened my heart to anyone else. But after everything that had happened, maybe it was time to move on.
"Hi nerd." I smiled bashfully.
"Hi fox." We kissed.
I looked at Andrew with affection. He really cared about me. I think Rachel noticed it too, judging by the sincere smile approval she gave us.