Fic: Starting Anew (Glee, Rachel)
Title: Starting Anew - Chapter 2
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Rachel takes off to New York City after finishing high school, leaving the people and the life she knew behind. Her goal has always been to be a star. This is the beginning of her story.
Word Count: 2,082
A/N: Thanks again for the reviews! I appreciate it. Keep them coming. Let me know what/if you like!
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine, sadly. I just play with the characters in the pieces I write.
| Prologue | Chapter 1 |
Starting Anew
Chapter 2
The next several days found Rachel settling in to her new home. Her routine consisted of waking up at 7:00am on the nose and going for a jog around the neighborhood for an hour. Her elliptical couldn’t make the journey to the city and it certainly wouldn’t fit in her smaller living space. Jogging had been her exercise option. On her way home from her sprint, she’d pop into the little corner store to buy a newspaper. After returning to the apartment and showering, she’d settle in her little living room with a cup of coffee and the paper.
Once getting settled in the city, she needed to focus on finding an employer. Her dads were paying her rent for her first few months, giving her time to not only find a job, but to save up some money. Her criteria were pretty restricted and she was being picky with where she wanted to work. Rachel wanted something that allowed for flexible scheduling. In the coming weeks, she planned on being set up for auditions, so work could not get in the way of that. After mulling it over, she figured working as a waitress may be her best bet. With a highlighter in hand, she’d been attacking the help wanted ads each day.
A few interviews had been set up and all had been a bust. The restaurants had been spread across the city, from Soho to the Village, from midtown to the upper west side. She’d brought her resume to each of them, the paper littered with all of her musical past. Each interview harbored the same results. The interviewer eyed the lengthy list of musical awards and clubs, peered back at Rachel, and gave a shake of the head. “You have no restaurant experience,” they’d say to some affect, “what should I hire you on?”
Don’t give up, she’d tell herself on the subway ride home, Rachel Berry is not a quitter.
One morning, large chocolate eyes scanning the ads, she spied one advertisement that caught her attention.
Waitress Wanted
Seeking experienced waiter/waitress
Full-Time position avail.
Aurora Restaurant - Soho
510 Broome St.
(212) 334-9020 - Ask for Frank
She dropped the paper and dialed the number. Soho was only fifteen minutes from her apartment, on a good day, via the subway. The phone rang twice before a shrill voice chirped in her ear, “Aurora, this is Abigail, what can I do for you?”
Rachel perched on the edge of her couch, voice firm, “I’m calling about the job listed in the paper. May I speak with Frank, please?”
“Yeah. Just a moment,” the voice disappeared and Rachel thought she’d been disconnected before the line cracked.
“This is Frank,” a gruff voice bellowed through her phone.
Rachel cleared her voice, “My name’s Rachel Berry and I’m calling regarding the job listed in the paper for wait staff.”
Rachel could nearly see the speaker lean back in his chair, crossing his arms, “Do you have experience?”
She paused, tapping her free hand on her bared knee, “Yes.” The lie slipped out to guarantee the interview before she realized she’d done it.
“Come by this afternoon. Two o’clock?”
“Two works perfectly. Thank you so much!” She flipped her phone shut, staring down at it, still warm in her hand. She’d lied. Nice work, Berry. The clock read ten o’clock; she had a few hours to stew in the regret of her lie.
At 1:55, Rachel was leaning on the brick wall of the Aurora restaurant. She braced her hands on the warm building, breathing deep, bracing herself for another round of rejection. Except this time, the rejection would be doubly justified; she’d lied about having experience. She was snapped from her reverie by the squeaking of the door to the restaurant opening.
An auburn headed, stick-thin girl bounced through the doorway, cigarette hanging from her lips. A lighter appeared and her nimble fingers flicked it to emit a flame. The girl inhaled, eyes shutting, reveling in the cigarette break. She leaned against the far side of the wall, opposite of Rachel, letting a curling ribbon of smoke loose from her mouth.
She checked her cell phone. 1:58. Dammit. She tossed her phone back in her purse, pushing herself up from the wall. She smoothed her hands over her skirt and walked towards the door, her sudden movement catching the attention of the cigarette smoking girl. Rachel smiled and lifted a hand in a wave as she reached for the door. The smoker raised a brow and turned her head away, releasing another stream of smoke.
Dejected before the interview even began, Rachel stepped in the doorway into the dimly lit restaurant. She took tentative steps further into the waiting area, stopping at the host booth. She leaned over it, peeking into the main room.
Just around the corner stood a curvaceous girl, dark hair streaked blonde pulled back into an unruly bun on the back of her head. She placed silverware on a folded napkin and rolled the set with ease, tossing it into a bin filled with its twins. The motion came easily, obviously having done it before. Rachel rapped her fingernails on the post and cleared her throat, hoping to catch the girl’s attention.
Startled, the girl dropped a fork on the ground, dark eyes falling on Rachel. “Hi,” she uttered, bending to collect the fallen silverware. “You must be the interview.”
“That’s me,” Rachel answered, clinging to the host podium like it was her life raft.
As the girl approached, she nodded to Rachel’s white-knuckled grasp, “You going to be able to part with that post? We’ve got ourselves a steady host. Waitresses generally have to move around the place.”
Rachel released her hold, blood rushing back to her fingers, “Yes.” Her nerves had the better of her; her lie was crawling in her stomach, disturbing the butterflies there.
The girl pursed her lips and nodded over her shoulder, “Come on then. Frank is expecting you.”
She led Rachel through the restaurant, painted a deep red along the walls, trimmed in white. Pushing through a swinging door on the far wall, she extended a hand out to an open door, emitting more light than the rest of the place. “Good luck, doll,” she patted Rachel on the shoulder, urging her towards the entrance.
“Right on time. I like that,” Frank said as Rachel appeared in his doorway. “Punctuality goes a long way in my book.” A rush of air released from the overweight man as he sat back down in his chair. “Please,” he nodded towards the chair in front of his desk, “have a seat.”
Rachel dropped into the seat, bag propped in her lap. Her eyes took a glance around the room. In stark contrast to the rest of the restaurant, the room was brightly lit, though rather dingy at the same time. Paperwork was strewn on the desk, side tables, and tacked on the walls. The artificial light from a buzzing computer bathed Frank in an unnatural glow. Rachel’s eyes wide on the man before her, clearing her throat, “I really appreciate you taking the time to see me.”
“I need a waitress,” Frank said, leaning forward on his desk resting on his elbows, “that’s why I’m taking the time to see you.” He peered at her over his glasses, “Do you have your resume?”
Rachel gulped, assured he could see and hear it, “Of course. Who would come to an interview without one, right?” She flashed a smile his way, but he simply waited there expectantly. Rachel Berry found herself in a situation she couldn’t charm her way of out. Not worth trying to avoid the inevitable, she pulled the piece of paper from her bag, extending it towards judgment.
Frank pushed his glasses back up his nose, eyes running over the page. When his eyes reached the bottom, he turned it over, then back to the front. “I thought on the phone,” he placed the paper on his desk, “you told me you had experience. Glee club and a national championship do not qualify as wait staff experience.”
Her eyes remained focused on the man before her, breathing deeply, evenly.
“Ms. Berry?” Frank impatience called her back to reality, awaiting a response.
“I’m sorry,” she started, shaking her head, hair rolling over her shoulders, “I need a job so badly. I don’t have any waitressing experience. I’ve been looking for a job, but everywhere needs experience, so what am I supposed to do? Lying wasn’t a good option, but it happened before I could stop myself.” Her eyes flicked from his face and down to the floor.
“And now you’ve succeeded in wasting my time. Good luck in your search,” he slid her resume across his desk, sitting back in his chair.
She chewed on her bottom lip, standing to pick up the paper and turn as quickly as possible to make her exit.
Back in the hallway was the curvy, silverware rolling girl leaning against the wall. She’d pushed from her resting position, standing in the middle of the hall. She’d been eavesdropping; her wide eyes told the story. A rush of embarrassment flooded Rachel’s senses as she moved to push past the girl. Just as they were crossing paths, the girl grabbed hold of Rachel’s arm, “Wait.”
Rachel flicked her eyes to the girl, who gave a squeeze to her arm before releasing it and moving towards Frank’s office. The door slipped shut almost all the way, only a little stream of light from the crack in the doorway illuminating the hallway.
Rachel leaned against the wall, fearing her knees would buckle beneath her. For the first time since being in the city, she felt alone. No matter the crowds around her, she was desperately alone. Her eyes began to well up. She turned her eyes from the office’s light, cursing herself for getting so emotional. The city is what she wanted and she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. The last thing she expected was for it to be so lonely.
“Berry!” Frank’s voice boomed from the office, calling her back into the fire. She ran a finger swiftly beneath each eye, catching any trace of a tear that may have fallen. The door pulled open with a creak before Rachel could reach it. The girl stepped out of the office, allowing Rachel entrance with a nod of her head.
Rachel watched the girl walk back out of the hallway and into the main hall of the restaurant. She turned her attention back to Frank, who was once against perched on his elbows against his desk.
“I give you one chance,” he bellowed, “and only one. You start tomorrow night at 5 o’clock. You show up on time. You wear the appropriate dress and you don’t fuck up.”
Through each of his rules, she simply nodded, her belly turning with excitement, “Yes. Yes, I will do all of those things.”
“You can go now,” he uttered, waving his hand to dismiss her.
She stepped forward and grabbed it with both of hers, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
He let her shake his hand and shook hers once in return, “Thank Abby.” He pulled his hand back and went back to working on his computer.
This time, when she exited his office, her usual stride returned; head held high, pep in her step, grin across her face.
Standing at the host stand was her savoir, watching for Rachel expectantly. Rachel beamed, stepping forward to grab both of the girl’s arms, “Thank you.” She shook her head, “I don’t know what you said, but thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Abby raised a brow, her mouth twisting to prevent a smile.
Rachel walked to the door before turning back and mouthing, “Thank you,” once more prior to pushing the door open.
“Don’t make me regret it,” Abby called out, halting Rachel in her tracks, “sticking my neck out for you.”
Rachel smiled softly, “I won’t. I promise.” She backed out of the doorway, returning to the throb of the city.
The red head was still balanced on the wall, puffing away. Rachel strode past her, as the girl blew a wave of smoke in her direction. Not bothering to turn back to her, Rachel brushed the girl’s actions off. She turned the corner, getting lost in the horde. Nothing could bring her down on this day.
Rachel had found herself a job.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Rachel takes off to New York City after finishing high school, leaving the people and the life she knew behind. Her goal has always been to be a star. This is the beginning of her story.
Word Count: 2,082
A/N: Thanks again for the reviews! I appreciate it. Keep them coming. Let me know what/if you like!
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine, sadly. I just play with the characters in the pieces I write.
| Prologue | Chapter 1 |
Starting Anew
Chapter 2
The next several days found Rachel settling in to her new home. Her routine consisted of waking up at 7:00am on the nose and going for a jog around the neighborhood for an hour. Her elliptical couldn’t make the journey to the city and it certainly wouldn’t fit in her smaller living space. Jogging had been her exercise option. On her way home from her sprint, she’d pop into the little corner store to buy a newspaper. After returning to the apartment and showering, she’d settle in her little living room with a cup of coffee and the paper.
Once getting settled in the city, she needed to focus on finding an employer. Her dads were paying her rent for her first few months, giving her time to not only find a job, but to save up some money. Her criteria were pretty restricted and she was being picky with where she wanted to work. Rachel wanted something that allowed for flexible scheduling. In the coming weeks, she planned on being set up for auditions, so work could not get in the way of that. After mulling it over, she figured working as a waitress may be her best bet. With a highlighter in hand, she’d been attacking the help wanted ads each day.
A few interviews had been set up and all had been a bust. The restaurants had been spread across the city, from Soho to the Village, from midtown to the upper west side. She’d brought her resume to each of them, the paper littered with all of her musical past. Each interview harbored the same results. The interviewer eyed the lengthy list of musical awards and clubs, peered back at Rachel, and gave a shake of the head. “You have no restaurant experience,” they’d say to some affect, “what should I hire you on?”
Don’t give up, she’d tell herself on the subway ride home, Rachel Berry is not a quitter.
One morning, large chocolate eyes scanning the ads, she spied one advertisement that caught her attention.
Waitress Wanted
Seeking experienced waiter/waitress
Full-Time position avail.
Aurora Restaurant - Soho
510 Broome St.
(212) 334-9020 - Ask for Frank
She dropped the paper and dialed the number. Soho was only fifteen minutes from her apartment, on a good day, via the subway. The phone rang twice before a shrill voice chirped in her ear, “Aurora, this is Abigail, what can I do for you?”
Rachel perched on the edge of her couch, voice firm, “I’m calling about the job listed in the paper. May I speak with Frank, please?”
“Yeah. Just a moment,” the voice disappeared and Rachel thought she’d been disconnected before the line cracked.
“This is Frank,” a gruff voice bellowed through her phone.
Rachel cleared her voice, “My name’s Rachel Berry and I’m calling regarding the job listed in the paper for wait staff.”
Rachel could nearly see the speaker lean back in his chair, crossing his arms, “Do you have experience?”
She paused, tapping her free hand on her bared knee, “Yes.” The lie slipped out to guarantee the interview before she realized she’d done it.
“Come by this afternoon. Two o’clock?”
“Two works perfectly. Thank you so much!” She flipped her phone shut, staring down at it, still warm in her hand. She’d lied. Nice work, Berry. The clock read ten o’clock; she had a few hours to stew in the regret of her lie.
At 1:55, Rachel was leaning on the brick wall of the Aurora restaurant. She braced her hands on the warm building, breathing deep, bracing herself for another round of rejection. Except this time, the rejection would be doubly justified; she’d lied about having experience. She was snapped from her reverie by the squeaking of the door to the restaurant opening.
An auburn headed, stick-thin girl bounced through the doorway, cigarette hanging from her lips. A lighter appeared and her nimble fingers flicked it to emit a flame. The girl inhaled, eyes shutting, reveling in the cigarette break. She leaned against the far side of the wall, opposite of Rachel, letting a curling ribbon of smoke loose from her mouth.
She checked her cell phone. 1:58. Dammit. She tossed her phone back in her purse, pushing herself up from the wall. She smoothed her hands over her skirt and walked towards the door, her sudden movement catching the attention of the cigarette smoking girl. Rachel smiled and lifted a hand in a wave as she reached for the door. The smoker raised a brow and turned her head away, releasing another stream of smoke.
Dejected before the interview even began, Rachel stepped in the doorway into the dimly lit restaurant. She took tentative steps further into the waiting area, stopping at the host booth. She leaned over it, peeking into the main room.
Just around the corner stood a curvaceous girl, dark hair streaked blonde pulled back into an unruly bun on the back of her head. She placed silverware on a folded napkin and rolled the set with ease, tossing it into a bin filled with its twins. The motion came easily, obviously having done it before. Rachel rapped her fingernails on the post and cleared her throat, hoping to catch the girl’s attention.
Startled, the girl dropped a fork on the ground, dark eyes falling on Rachel. “Hi,” she uttered, bending to collect the fallen silverware. “You must be the interview.”
“That’s me,” Rachel answered, clinging to the host podium like it was her life raft.
As the girl approached, she nodded to Rachel’s white-knuckled grasp, “You going to be able to part with that post? We’ve got ourselves a steady host. Waitresses generally have to move around the place.”
Rachel released her hold, blood rushing back to her fingers, “Yes.” Her nerves had the better of her; her lie was crawling in her stomach, disturbing the butterflies there.
The girl pursed her lips and nodded over her shoulder, “Come on then. Frank is expecting you.”
She led Rachel through the restaurant, painted a deep red along the walls, trimmed in white. Pushing through a swinging door on the far wall, she extended a hand out to an open door, emitting more light than the rest of the place. “Good luck, doll,” she patted Rachel on the shoulder, urging her towards the entrance.
“Right on time. I like that,” Frank said as Rachel appeared in his doorway. “Punctuality goes a long way in my book.” A rush of air released from the overweight man as he sat back down in his chair. “Please,” he nodded towards the chair in front of his desk, “have a seat.”
Rachel dropped into the seat, bag propped in her lap. Her eyes took a glance around the room. In stark contrast to the rest of the restaurant, the room was brightly lit, though rather dingy at the same time. Paperwork was strewn on the desk, side tables, and tacked on the walls. The artificial light from a buzzing computer bathed Frank in an unnatural glow. Rachel’s eyes wide on the man before her, clearing her throat, “I really appreciate you taking the time to see me.”
“I need a waitress,” Frank said, leaning forward on his desk resting on his elbows, “that’s why I’m taking the time to see you.” He peered at her over his glasses, “Do you have your resume?”
Rachel gulped, assured he could see and hear it, “Of course. Who would come to an interview without one, right?” She flashed a smile his way, but he simply waited there expectantly. Rachel Berry found herself in a situation she couldn’t charm her way of out. Not worth trying to avoid the inevitable, she pulled the piece of paper from her bag, extending it towards judgment.
Frank pushed his glasses back up his nose, eyes running over the page. When his eyes reached the bottom, he turned it over, then back to the front. “I thought on the phone,” he placed the paper on his desk, “you told me you had experience. Glee club and a national championship do not qualify as wait staff experience.”
Her eyes remained focused on the man before her, breathing deeply, evenly.
“Ms. Berry?” Frank impatience called her back to reality, awaiting a response.
“I’m sorry,” she started, shaking her head, hair rolling over her shoulders, “I need a job so badly. I don’t have any waitressing experience. I’ve been looking for a job, but everywhere needs experience, so what am I supposed to do? Lying wasn’t a good option, but it happened before I could stop myself.” Her eyes flicked from his face and down to the floor.
“And now you’ve succeeded in wasting my time. Good luck in your search,” he slid her resume across his desk, sitting back in his chair.
She chewed on her bottom lip, standing to pick up the paper and turn as quickly as possible to make her exit.
Back in the hallway was the curvy, silverware rolling girl leaning against the wall. She’d pushed from her resting position, standing in the middle of the hall. She’d been eavesdropping; her wide eyes told the story. A rush of embarrassment flooded Rachel’s senses as she moved to push past the girl. Just as they were crossing paths, the girl grabbed hold of Rachel’s arm, “Wait.”
Rachel flicked her eyes to the girl, who gave a squeeze to her arm before releasing it and moving towards Frank’s office. The door slipped shut almost all the way, only a little stream of light from the crack in the doorway illuminating the hallway.
Rachel leaned against the wall, fearing her knees would buckle beneath her. For the first time since being in the city, she felt alone. No matter the crowds around her, she was desperately alone. Her eyes began to well up. She turned her eyes from the office’s light, cursing herself for getting so emotional. The city is what she wanted and she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. The last thing she expected was for it to be so lonely.
“Berry!” Frank’s voice boomed from the office, calling her back into the fire. She ran a finger swiftly beneath each eye, catching any trace of a tear that may have fallen. The door pulled open with a creak before Rachel could reach it. The girl stepped out of the office, allowing Rachel entrance with a nod of her head.
Rachel watched the girl walk back out of the hallway and into the main hall of the restaurant. She turned her attention back to Frank, who was once against perched on his elbows against his desk.
“I give you one chance,” he bellowed, “and only one. You start tomorrow night at 5 o’clock. You show up on time. You wear the appropriate dress and you don’t fuck up.”
Through each of his rules, she simply nodded, her belly turning with excitement, “Yes. Yes, I will do all of those things.”
“You can go now,” he uttered, waving his hand to dismiss her.
She stepped forward and grabbed it with both of hers, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
He let her shake his hand and shook hers once in return, “Thank Abby.” He pulled his hand back and went back to working on his computer.
This time, when she exited his office, her usual stride returned; head held high, pep in her step, grin across her face.
Standing at the host stand was her savoir, watching for Rachel expectantly. Rachel beamed, stepping forward to grab both of the girl’s arms, “Thank you.” She shook her head, “I don’t know what you said, but thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Abby raised a brow, her mouth twisting to prevent a smile.
Rachel walked to the door before turning back and mouthing, “Thank you,” once more prior to pushing the door open.
“Don’t make me regret it,” Abby called out, halting Rachel in her tracks, “sticking my neck out for you.”
Rachel smiled softly, “I won’t. I promise.” She backed out of the doorway, returning to the throb of the city.
The red head was still balanced on the wall, puffing away. Rachel strode past her, as the girl blew a wave of smoke in her direction. Not bothering to turn back to her, Rachel brushed the girl’s actions off. She turned the corner, getting lost in the horde. Nothing could bring her down on this day.
Rachel had found herself a job.