P.R. People. [1/?]
P.R. People.
"Lucy Quinn Fabray!!!" Not good. NOT. GOOD. CODE RED. Use of full names almost always means one thing, RUN. Quinn did just that. Without hesitation, she abandoned her book and reading glasses on her leather chair and quickly dove behind the sofa, curling up into a ball to protect herself from Kurt Hummel's inevitable lecture.
Kurt promptly unlocked the door to Quinn's apartment and opened it to find silence that occupied an empty room. His eyes wondered the space; he slowly took in every detail from the newly discarded material on the seat to the suspicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
A smirk grew. "Come out, come out wherever you are. Oh Quinny pie, I just want to talk to you, honey. Come sit, yeah?" No response. To be expected.
He wasn't fazed. He just plopped down on the sofa parallel to the one that hid his companion, crossing his legs and settling his messenger bag next to him. "I'm quite disappointed in you, Quinn. To say the least, you are quite an awful seek-ee... or maybe, I'm just a better seeker. Nonetheless, you may come out from your pathetic hiding spot behind that hideous thing you call a couch." Nothing. "Lucy." His voice is stern.
Quinn took a deep breath before slowly rising to her full height and sitting across from her not-so-happy friend. Her eyes are averted.
"Good. Now, do you know why I am here, Lucy?" She shakes her head, no.
"Think a little harder, I'm sure you'll figure it out." Another swift shake.
"Okay, well why don't you let me refresh your memory then, huh?" Kurt pulls out a stack of various magazines, dropping them carelessly on the coffee table. There is a loud thud.
"Let me see…" He scans the titles for interesting headlines. He meets her face on every cover.
He picks up one of the magazines titled, "Loveless Quinn Fabray Throws Water Bottle!" and flips through the pages to the desired article. "The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and Quinn Fabray is on the loose. Just yesterday afternoon, paparazzi spotted supermodel, Fabray, speeding down the streets of L.A. When they caught up with her, she seemed to be in no mood to talk. After a few clicks of the cameras and some exchanged words, the twenty-two year old apparently lost her cool and threw an empty water bottle and an barrage of bobby pins at one of the men before disappearing into her three year old daughter's preschool.
"Despite her stand as a wholesome individual in the public eye, recently Miss Fabray has had a short fuse with the media. She is rarely spotted out anymore and when she is, it usually ends in disaster, not unlike this little run in. The cause of this change, you may ask? We can only assume that this is due to the last four years of stress from life as an international supermodel and fulltime, single mother. Along the same lines, we believe that she also suffers from a strong sexual frustration, i.e. the lack of steamy action in her bedroom. Her last public relationship was with thirty year old B-list actor and father to her child, Noah Puckerman. Though, that romance lasted all of two months before Fabray got pregnant and dumped. Clearly, Puckerman left her with a broken heart…
"In an interview not long ago, Fabray showed her distaste for love when asked about her previous relationship and her current romantic life. The model stated, 'Fuck love, people suck.' These are very cold, harsh words from such an established good girl. Still, we hope that Quinn Fabray gets her act together soon. Then we might see the hottie back on the market; four years is definitely way too long to keep this beauty under lock and key!"
"Well, remember now?" Kurt's eyes directed at his fidgeting friend.
"It's ringing a bell…"
"Really, Quinn? You threw a fuckin' water bottle at the guy!"
"…And bobby pins…" She said to herself.
"What was that?"
"Okay, okay, I did it!" Quinn held up her hands in defense.
"Yes, and it was oh so classy, Quinn." He gives his signature eye roll.
"You know what, Kurt? That was the day I had to leave my shoot early to pick Beth up from school 'cause she got sick, okay?!" Her voice rose a little in defending herself, but slowly began to weaken as her weariness set in. Sigh. "I've just been really stressed with all the shoots and runway and flights back and forth. On top of that, the paparazzi won't leave me alone with all that stuff they keep throwing in my face about Noah and my love life… Then there's Beth to worry about… It's just becoming a little too much for me."
"Aww, honeyyy." Kurt moved to Quinn's couch, engulfing her in a much needed hug. She gladly returned it, nuzzling into his arms with her face to the crook of his neck and her eyes shut peacefully. "Hmmm."
"I don't want to make things worse, but your publicist called."
"What'd she want?" Her eyes remained closed.
"She said you have a meeting with a Mr. Lopez to talk about your recent escapades." Quinn's eyes shot open to connect with Kurt's. Her arms loosen their grip and fall to her sides.
"I really hope you mean George Lopez."
"Uhh no, it's with an Alberto Lopez. Why? Is he important?" The color drained from her face.
"No, not really… he's just the FOUNDER AND CEO of the public relations firm that represents me. It's cool, not like I've been bad or anything. It's great. Yup, fine and dandy..."
Moments pass. "Uh, Kurt?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you mind picking Beth up today?"
"Sure. Why?"
"Because I think I'm going to faint right now… Yup. Going. To. Faint." And she did.
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Like it? You should comment! Thanks for all the pre-lovin'.
"Lucy Quinn Fabray!!!" Not good. NOT. GOOD. CODE RED. Use of full names almost always means one thing, RUN. Quinn did just that. Without hesitation, she abandoned her book and reading glasses on her leather chair and quickly dove behind the sofa, curling up into a ball to protect herself from Kurt Hummel's inevitable lecture.
Kurt promptly unlocked the door to Quinn's apartment and opened it to find silence that occupied an empty room. His eyes wondered the space; he slowly took in every detail from the newly discarded material on the seat to the suspicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
A smirk grew. "Come out, come out wherever you are. Oh Quinny pie, I just want to talk to you, honey. Come sit, yeah?" No response. To be expected.
He wasn't fazed. He just plopped down on the sofa parallel to the one that hid his companion, crossing his legs and settling his messenger bag next to him. "I'm quite disappointed in you, Quinn. To say the least, you are quite an awful seek-ee... or maybe, I'm just a better seeker. Nonetheless, you may come out from your pathetic hiding spot behind that hideous thing you call a couch." Nothing. "Lucy." His voice is stern.
Quinn took a deep breath before slowly rising to her full height and sitting across from her not-so-happy friend. Her eyes are averted.
"Good. Now, do you know why I am here, Lucy?" She shakes her head, no.
"Think a little harder, I'm sure you'll figure it out." Another swift shake.
"Okay, well why don't you let me refresh your memory then, huh?" Kurt pulls out a stack of various magazines, dropping them carelessly on the coffee table. There is a loud thud.
"Let me see…" He scans the titles for interesting headlines. He meets her face on every cover.
He picks up one of the magazines titled, "Loveless Quinn Fabray Throws Water Bottle!" and flips through the pages to the desired article. "The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and Quinn Fabray is on the loose. Just yesterday afternoon, paparazzi spotted supermodel, Fabray, speeding down the streets of L.A. When they caught up with her, she seemed to be in no mood to talk. After a few clicks of the cameras and some exchanged words, the twenty-two year old apparently lost her cool and threw an empty water bottle and an barrage of bobby pins at one of the men before disappearing into her three year old daughter's preschool.
"Despite her stand as a wholesome individual in the public eye, recently Miss Fabray has had a short fuse with the media. She is rarely spotted out anymore and when she is, it usually ends in disaster, not unlike this little run in. The cause of this change, you may ask? We can only assume that this is due to the last four years of stress from life as an international supermodel and fulltime, single mother. Along the same lines, we believe that she also suffers from a strong sexual frustration, i.e. the lack of steamy action in her bedroom. Her last public relationship was with thirty year old B-list actor and father to her child, Noah Puckerman. Though, that romance lasted all of two months before Fabray got pregnant and dumped. Clearly, Puckerman left her with a broken heart…
"In an interview not long ago, Fabray showed her distaste for love when asked about her previous relationship and her current romantic life. The model stated, 'Fuck love, people suck.' These are very cold, harsh words from such an established good girl. Still, we hope that Quinn Fabray gets her act together soon. Then we might see the hottie back on the market; four years is definitely way too long to keep this beauty under lock and key!"
"Well, remember now?" Kurt's eyes directed at his fidgeting friend.
"It's ringing a bell…"
"Really, Quinn? You threw a fuckin' water bottle at the guy!"
"…And bobby pins…" She said to herself.
"What was that?"
"Okay, okay, I did it!" Quinn held up her hands in defense.
"Yes, and it was oh so classy, Quinn." He gives his signature eye roll.
"You know what, Kurt? That was the day I had to leave my shoot early to pick Beth up from school 'cause she got sick, okay?!" Her voice rose a little in defending herself, but slowly began to weaken as her weariness set in. Sigh. "I've just been really stressed with all the shoots and runway and flights back and forth. On top of that, the paparazzi won't leave me alone with all that stuff they keep throwing in my face about Noah and my love life… Then there's Beth to worry about… It's just becoming a little too much for me."
"Aww, honeyyy." Kurt moved to Quinn's couch, engulfing her in a much needed hug. She gladly returned it, nuzzling into his arms with her face to the crook of his neck and her eyes shut peacefully. "Hmmm."
"I don't want to make things worse, but your publicist called."
"What'd she want?" Her eyes remained closed.
"She said you have a meeting with a Mr. Lopez to talk about your recent escapades." Quinn's eyes shot open to connect with Kurt's. Her arms loosen their grip and fall to her sides.
"I really hope you mean George Lopez."
"Uhh no, it's with an Alberto Lopez. Why? Is he important?" The color drained from her face.
"No, not really… he's just the FOUNDER AND CEO of the public relations firm that represents me. It's cool, not like I've been bad or anything. It's great. Yup, fine and dandy..."
Moments pass. "Uh, Kurt?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you mind picking Beth up today?"
"Sure. Why?"
"Because I think I'm going to faint right now… Yup. Going. To. Faint." And she did.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Like it? You should comment! Thanks for all the pre-lovin'.