FIC: Maid of Honor part 2
SEVEN DAYS TO GO
Thursday night
Lima Lanes
“C’mon, man, chug!”
Finn rolled his eyes as Sam obeyed, downing the Jaegerbomb like a pro.
Of course, they’d all had plenty of practice during the proper Bachelor party back in Columbus last weekend. Finn was pretty sure he’d still been a little hung over when Kurt came home on Monday, even whiter than one of those ‘Twilight’ guys and babbling under his breath about magenta sequins being an offense against all the Gods of Fashion. He had vague memories of his Mom asking Kurt about it at dinner, and he’d muttered some really rude words, but then his Mom had asked something about moral support and dresses, and when Kurt had nodded, looking like he was about to barf, she hadn’t even reproved him for using that word! He’d been too afraid to ask Kurt about it once his head wasn’t threatening to burst if he nodded too hard.
So Finn didn’t really see the point of calling this get-together a Bachelor party. It was basically just the same as any of their parties when the four of them got together on breaks, only with an excuse to book the members’ section of the bowling alley, invite some of the other guys they’d known in high school, and hire some strippers. Puck had called him ‘lamest Best Man ever’ for booking it here, but Finn loved bowling, and that way he had something to do while he waited for all the other guys to pass out or throw up. Also, calling it a Bachelor party meant he was legally forbidden from taking photos of anyone for blackmail purposes later. Guess Matt had learned after the pictures Finn took the last time he was designated driver.
Sam slammed the glass down, the shot glass inside chiming against the bottom of the now-empty highball, just as Ke$ha’s ‘Take it off’ started and the blonde stripper approached him.
Huh. Puck was grinning and cheering, but... something was off. Maybe everyone else was too drunk to see it, but Finn had known the dude since they were eight, and tonight Puck wasn’t as nearly into the ladies as he was the drinking, and for Puck? That was just wrong.
Finn sighed, looking at the scantily-clad girl grinding herself against Sam, who really looked quite uninterested and more as if what he really wanted was another Jaegerbomb. Yeah, Sam was the one getting married, but still. Actually, it sort of reminded Finn of the days back in high school when he thought Sam would wind up dating Kurt, not Quinn.
The second stripper was headed towards him with a purposeful gleam in her eye, and Finn hurriedly shook his head, nodding towards Damien Kite (heck, the dude had saved him from God knows how many sacks as part of the defensive line. It was the least Finn could do). Not that Finn was all that into strippers in the first place; he’d liked the burlesque bar that his frat brother Renji had dragged him to once, and even told Rachel about it in one of their phone calls. She’d asked him lots of details about their routines, and he’d been relieved to truthfully be able to report that all the important clothes had stayed on. But the whole stripping with a bored expression on your face - usually to bad or way-overused music - wasn’t sexy to him at all. Renji said it was because he’d never seen a proper stripper, one who understood that she was actually performing and liked it. Finn kind of thought that’s what the girls in the burlesque bar were doing, and that was why he’d enjoyed it.
Anyway, the second stripper was small and brunette, and it gave Finn a vaguely queasy feeling. She changed course, and Finn decided to get out while the going was good.
Sam was now being urged to drink no-hands from a shot glass nestled in the cleavage of the blonde, making Finn roll his eyes even as he wandered out the black glass doors and into the general section of the bowling alley.
There were another sixteen lanes out here, with old-fashioned TV’s pumping out the classic rock video station on cable. Finn smiled to himself in nostalgia. He’d always loved bowling, and it had become a major stress reliever in high school. No one had ever wanted to go with him, though - except Rachel.
After he’d rejected Quinn’s attempts to revive their relationship his junior year, (almost six months after they’d broken up over the fiasco with Puck. Finn had always wondered about the timing; right after football season started) he’d brought Kurt and Rachel here almost every Wednesday night, right up until he left for college. Mercedes refused to join them because of ‘the offense-against-God-awful shoes’ and Kurt refused to actually bowl, preferring to sit on the sidelines and snark at them both impartially. Then as soon as he and Rachel went through three games, Kurt would drag them off to the karaoke night in the lounge, where they’d go through a set of 80’s and 90’s classics to general acclaim. Funny how bonding evenings with his new brother and said brother’s best friend were far more fun than any date he’d ever had.
The first time he’d brought Rachel here, though, they’d been alone, and they always used the same lane after that.
Finn shifted his gaze from the merchandise display to lane twelve, and somehow wasn’t at all surprised to see a tiny, dark-haired figure in a short pink skirt and a vintage 1950’s black and white bowling shirt.
“Rachel!”
She turned and waved at him, that million-watt smile he loved breaking over her face. Finn met her at the counter that topped the ball racks, smiling in return.
“What are you doing here?” they asked simultaneously.
Then they both laughed.
“Bachelor party in the members’ bar,” Finn told her, nodding back towards the black glass doors. “You?”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Quinn’s having a sleepover with Santana and Brittany, as a sort of a precursor to the Bachelorette party in Columbus this weekend. I’m sure that alcohol and probably pornographic movies will be involved. Despite being the maid of honor, and the only member of the bridal party who can claim to be both intelligent and sane, I was told to stay home, because I was too young to party seriously.”
Finn shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about what they’ve got planned. The strippers at this party are bad enough.”
Rachel’s eyebrows reached for her hairline. “Strippers? Then shouldn’t you be in there with them?”
Finn snickered. “Please, I’m a frat brother. I see a bunch of drunk stupid guys and babes taking off their clothes in public at least once every party. I’d rather be out here with you.”
Rachel blushed, and her smile actually reached a million and a half watts, making him feel warm all over like a sunlamp.
“Well, I’ve only just started. Care to join me?”
“Love to. Want to split a pizza?”
“Love to.”
Twenty minutes later, Finn was chewing on his last slice of pizza.
Then Rachel asked out of the blue, “Finn, do you remember the very first time you brought me here?”
Finn nearly choked. “Yeah, I do. You’d quit Glee to do ‘Cabaret’, and I was trying to talk you into coming back, because we needed you for Sectionals.”
Oh, yeah. He remembered everything.
“This pizza is really great,” Rachel smiled.
“Yeah, I think they import the pepperoni from Michigan or somewhere,” Finn replied. “Hey, d’you mind if I ask you something?”
Yeah, it wasn’t anything to do with why he was here, but it was something he’d been wondering about since he started dating Quinn last year. He’d never had the nerve to ask Quinn, but he didn’t think Rachel would rip his head off or anything.
“Sure.”
“If you and Quinn are Mr. and Mrs. Schue’s kids, how come you’re Berry and she’s Fabray?”
Rachel gave him a sad smile, reaching for her drink. “We’re adopted. It’s why Quinn goes to Christian Crusaders while I go to temple, and I get a menorah on the sideboard by the Christmas tree.” Taking a long drink on her straw, she continued, “When I was eight and Quinn was ten, our parents’ cars collided during a storm. Her parents died straight away. My Daddy didn’t last long, but my Papa stayed alive until he reached the hospital. He had a good chance, according to the doctors, but... I guess he didn’t want to stick around without my Daddy.”
Finn blinked for a second. Wasn’t there one too many fathers there? “Oh!” he exclaimed. “Your parents were... um... an alternative couple?”
Rachel nodded. “I was born using a surrogate. Dad and Mother had just been approved as foster parents, so they were next up on the list. There aren’t a lot of available kids in Lima, so they jumped at the chance to take us, even though we were too old to be cute and lovable. Well, I was.”
“But didn’t they look for your birth mom?”
“She signed away all rights to me at birth. Dad says that if I want to look for her, he’ll help me. I’ve thought about it...” Rachel looked down at her plate. “I think Mother always saw parenting as something to be achieved. Not someone to be. I’m not sure how well she copes with the reality of things.”
Finn looked down at his own plate. Yeah, so he didn’t know Mrs. Schue very well, despite dating her oldest daughter for almost seven months the year before. But he got the feeling she was mostly about being a mother where other people could see her. At least that’s what he’d heard his mom muttering under her breath while they drove home from the Schue’s Christmas party for the Glee club and their families.
“So... how’s Glee?” Rachel asked. “My Dad doesn’t talk about it at home. Mother doesn’t like hearing about it.”
“Okay, I guess. Everyone misses you.”
Rachel looked thoughtful - maybe a little wistful? - for a second, then shook her head as she told him matter-of-factly, “They miss my talent.” She looked at him with a tinge of pleading for understanding in her eyes. “I love Glee, I just don’t see the point in wasting my energies somewhere they’re not appreciated.”
“I appreciate you,” Finn told her instantly. “I miss you every rehearsal.”
It was the honest truth, too. He did miss her. He missed her never-ending energy that somehow made him more awake, her boundless enthusiasm that always got him fired up to perform. Her complete faith in him, so different from Quinn’s constant criticism - when Rachel was around, he felt like he could do anything. When Rachel did have something to critique, she always suggested a way to do better next time. He missed her smiles, both the ones that made him feel warm all the way through, and the smiles that made him feel like he could be better than just the too-big, too-clumsy stupid Lima loser. Most of all, he missed her singing, the music of her voice that touched places he didn’t know he had before her.
Searching for something to say, some way to persuade her, he stood up and walked to the head of the alley, before picking up Rachel’s pink ball.
“It’s your last ball.”
Rachel took it from him, and smiled.
“Just do what you did before. Only better.”
Rachel took a deep breath, and kissed the ball, before sending it spinning down the lane. She did everything she had the first time - in fact, everything she shouldn’t - but it was better. She actually made a strike!
Finn laughed in disbelief, and turned to Rachel, who was jumping up and down in jubilation. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to open his arms and sweep her up in a hug.
When her lips met his, it felt more than natural. It felt like something he’d been born to do. She tasted like pepperoni and strawberry lip gloss and something beneath that was sweet and tangy all at once, and Finn was addicted with just one taste. Craving more, he gently traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, asking for entrance. They parted, just slightly, and he did it again. Rachel had to give him this, he couldn’t take it. Just as her lips opened enough to give him access, he remembered where they were - and why they were here in the first place.
Finn hastily broke off the kiss, and dazedly realized that the world hadn’t stopped after all. They’d only kissed twice.
“Come back to Glee,” Finn asked simply.
"But what about Quinn? I know she wants to get back together with you."
"I don't know what's going to happen with Quinn. But we miss you in Glee. We need you in Glee."
“I’ll have to quit the play.”
“I’ll help you with the play,” Finn offered immediately. “I can join the crew, or something. Or you could just do Glee part-time - Mr. Schue could help you with the choreography at home, couldn’t he? And you can come back full time after you’re finished with the play. I mean, you started off doing both anyway, right?”
It wasn’t fair to make her quit something she wanted and deserved - something that Quinn couldn’t steal the spotlight at - just because he wanted so badly to go to Sectionals, and prove that he’d made the right choice in bucking the high school caste system.
“Thank you, by the way,” Rachel told him. “For persuading me to come back to Glee. If I hadn’t, then I wouldn’t have become such good friends with Kurt and Mercedes. They were the main reasons I became close to Tina, Mike and Artie, too. The very thought of trying to survive high school without them having my back... well, it gives me the shivers, to be honest.”
“I dunno, Rach. When I recruited Kurt and Mercedes after Mr. Ryerson got fired and you took over, they had a lot of fun. That’s why they came back for ‘Grease’ the next year, and brought Tina and Artie too. Then Mike joined up for ‘West Side Story’ last year, right?”
Rachel smiled back and nodded. “I have to admit, being able to claim that I needed to work on this year’s musical was a great escape for me from all the wedding mania.” She laughed and added, “Remember the Jets baseball cap you sent me, as my first NYC present from you? Well, it’s kind of become my trademark during the musical productions, and I use it every rehearsal and meeting. It’s my official Boss Hat - whenever I put it on, everyone knows I’m acting as a Person In Charge, not part of the cast. Even Principal Figgins recognizes it; he saw me wear it last week, and asked if I was still working on the final layout for the program.”
“What are you putting on this year?”
Rachel’s smile turned into a mischievous grin. “ ‘Anything Goes’.”
“Are you sure that it’s okay for you to be taking me home?” Rachel asked anxiously as she fastened her seatbelt. “I can just call Emma to pick me up like we originally planned - aren’t you designated driver?”
“S’Okay,” Finn told her. “We all came in my car, so they’re not going anywhere without me. Besides, judging by past experience they’ll all be going strong for another hour at least. I’ll be back long before then.”
As the car pulled out onto the road, Rachel leaned her head back against the headrest, and let her mind drift, lulled by Finn’s company and the music playing from the radio.
Maybe it was because they’d just left the bowling alley where they’d spent so much time, or maybe it was because Bruce Springsteen’s ‘I’m On Fire’ had just started playing, but Rachel found herself remembering the first time Finn had taken her home from Lima Lanes.
Finn was quiet after their kiss, and Rachel worried all the way home. She made a few attempts to start a conversation on the way back, but they were all feeble and she couldn’t blame Finn for not taking them up.
Was he sorry that he’d kissed her, and about to ask her not to tell anyone about it? Did he feel guilty for kissing Quinn’s sister, because her kiss had been enough to make him decide to reconcile with her? Was he feeling like a pedophile, because he still thought of her as an eighth-grader in pigtails?
Finn pulled over to the curb outside her house, leaving the engine running.
On the radio, Bruce Springsteen sang about having a bad desire.
Rachel stared at her hands, folded in her lap.
Finn stared at his hands, still locked around the steering wheel.
"Rachel… I shouldn't have kissed you. But that kiss was real. I hope you know that."
"It was my first kiss," Rachel told him softly. Finn looked at her in alarm - but she didn't sound sad, or anything. Neither of them said anything more, and the silence filled the car, until Rachel undid her seatbelt and opened the door.
After she climbed out, she bent down to look at him through the open passenger-side window. A soft smile curved her lips as she added, "You haven't said you're sorry."
"That would be a lie," Finn confessed. "It was a really nice kiss."
Rachel's smile grew just a little. "Yes, it was. Thank you for that."
"You're welcome."
"Well, goodnight Finn."
"Goodnight, Rachel."
“Rachel? We’re here.”
Rachel jumped, staring at Finn. “Oh! I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Finn smiled. He looked at her darkened house, and added, “Given what’s been waiting for you at home these days, I’m not surprised you don’t want to go in until the last minute.”
Rachel bit her lip, not wanting to leave the warm, dark and cozy space she shared with Finn. Taking a deep breath and filling her lungs with his scent (she was so glad he’d finally switched from Drakkar Noir), she gathered her nerve and climbed out of the car.
She bent down to look through the opening of the door, and asked, “I’ll see you Saturday night at your place?”
Finn nodded and smiled. “Mom’s already planning what to serve up for dinner, and Kurt’s already picking out movies that have nothing to do with weddings or romance.”
“Well, goodnight Finn.”
“Goodnight, Rachel.”
As always, Finn’s car didn’t pull away until she’d safely shut the front gate. Humming ‘My Secret Love’ under her breath, Rachel made her way along the fence and into the garden that ran down the side of the house, before sitting down in the lovely little gazebo that had been her Dad’s first Christmas present to Emma after she’d officially moved in. She huddled into the knee-length heather gray wool coat that Kurt had personally selected for her, and sighed wistfully as she stared up at the moon. Hopefully, the cold air would do her some good.
This was something she hadn’t been able to talk to anyone about, even Kurt. He knew about her love for Finn, and her yearning to be his love in return. But he didn’t know about her longing for Finn - her need. Her craving to taste his kiss, her hunger to feel his hands on her body, and to feel his skin beneath her fingertips. Rachel was dealing with her own burgeoning physical desire on top of years of unrequited love, and the strain was beginning to tell on her.
She was startled out of her thoughts by the rumbling of a car engine, almost in her ear. This wasn’t the cars typical of her quiet suburban street, but a muscle car, something that Vin Diesel (Kurt’s guilty pleasure lust object) would drive in one of his movies.
The fence was made of brick with inserts of decorative ironwork spaced along the top. Rachel stood on the gazebo bench, but couldn’t quite see over the fence. Going up on her tiptoes, she blessed her years of ballet training for giving her superb balance, holding onto the ironwork that made up the supports for the gazebo roof for extra security.
She was glad of it when she saw who was getting out of the car - someone wearing her ‘Wicked’ jacket, and her Jets cap! Then she took a closer look at the inside of the car, illuminated by the ceiling light, and gasped out loud when she recognized Noah Puckerman. How was he even able to walk, let alone drive, after all the rum and Cokes he’d had at the alley?
Then the girl wearing Rachel’s clothes turned around, and Rachel lost her balance in shock, her grip on the gazebo framework the only thing keeping her from tumbling off the bench.
It was Quinn.
SIX DAYS TO GO
Friday afternoon
Blushing Brides Bridal Shoppe
Quinn stood in front of the huge mirror that Rachel, Santana and Brittany had stared into in horror just four days ago, wearing her dupioni silk wedding dress. Santana and Brittany were standing on the other side of Quinn, pinkies linked and smiling in admiration. Or maybe it was relief that Quinn had firmly told her mother to go find something else to do, claiming this particular time as bridal party only.
The attendant gently handed Rachel the delicate tiara, made of white gold curlicues and flowers (22 carats - Terri had, once again, insisted. The only reason it wasn’t 24 was that the jeweler had told her it wouldn’t support the veil). Rachel gently placed it on Quinn’s head, and Angela (they’d finally given up on professional distance after the Dresses of Doom episode) skillfully attached the elbow-length veil.
Quinn performed a three-quarter turn, and laughed in delight. “It’s perfect! I’m going to be perfect!”
Rachel couldn’t help but smile at Quinn’s joy. Despite the horror show her life had become thanks to Quinn’s dream wedding, she did love her sister, and it felt good to see her so happy. Also, Quinn was right; the dress, with its modest neckline, lantern sleeves and full, frothy skirt was perfect - for her.
For herself, though? Rachel wanted something - well, more dramatic, as befitted her personality. Maybe something reminiscent of the 1940's, when Broadway’s Golden Age had begun? Or maybe with a bodice like the one on the lovely wine-colored dress she’d worn to Carole and Burt’s wedding; even fashion-oblivious as he was, Finn would recognize something about the cut, and it would bring back good memories for him. She definitely wanted gold stars on the dress, though, either as appliqué or embroidery.
This was only one of the reasons she was glad to have a talented fashion designer as her best friend.
Rachel looked at Quinn’s veil critically. Definitely not. Firstly, she didn’t want anything between her and Finn on their wedding day, not even for a moment, and since Finn didn’t seem to realize that he’d grown out of his clumsiness (though not, unfortunately, his gracelessness on the dance floor), he would probably be terrified of ripping the veil. It would be Finn’s day, too, and she wanted him to be comfortable. Second, even if it wasn’t on the Bellagio’s terrace, Rachel wanted an outdoors ceremony - either in Central Park or Lima’s Faurot Park (maybe with the reception in the concert pavilion?) and if the day was windy she’d spend half her time pulling the veil out of her face.
By then, she’d probably have grown her hair out to the length it was when she started high school... maybe a barrette, shaped like a gold star - no, three smaller ones in a row - to hold back the top part of her hair, with either a flower attached or maybe even a small vine of silk flowers trailing down the main part of her hair?
Rachel resolved to ask Kurt to put the idea in his wedding notebook for future reference. They could discuss it once they knew the wedding was actually going to happen.
Rachel was brought back to the present by Quinn’s voice.
“I’m glad the old lace shade works. I always dreamed I’d be married in white, but that’s impossible now, thanks to Puck.”
Rachel was very glad her face wasn’t reflected in the mirror right then.
Quinn’s Christian beliefs had always been important to her - ostentatiously so, back in high school, including celibacy before marriage. But Quinn didn’t sound regretful - she sounded smug. Not only that, Rachel’s trained ear had caught a certain... timbre, in the way she said Noah’s nickname. Maybe she was imagining things, thanks to what she’d seen last night? But either way, Rachel was still deeply suspicious of Quinn’s facade. Cold feet was a common phenomenon among brides, but no truly committed bride had mysterious late-night assignations with another man - not to mention, a man who she’d been involved with sexually, against all her loudly-proclaimed beliefs, and had been subsequently disgraced by it becoming known publically. Not to mention, Rachel had sometimes caught a flicker of expression on Noah’s face that made her wonder if he was as really past his intense but short-lived teenage relationship with Quinn as he claimed.
At the risk of sounding like a Bronte sisters heroine, Rachel was aware of a vague sense of lurking dread. As well as an increasing sense of doubt about a decision she’d previously made.
Rachel wanted a cream or magnolia shade wedding dress herself, because she fully intended to be ineligible to wear white. Just because she wanted to wait until they were both established in their chosen careers and confident in their adulthood to make a ceremonial and legal commitment to Finn, she saw no reason to wait to commit herself to him physically. In fact, she thought it would make their wedding preparations easier, knowing that they’d already worked out all the kinks of their life together, so to speak.
But if virginity was so inconvenient that even Quinn was more satisfied to be without it, then... was she being silly, waiting? Rachel was still a virgin because she’d chosen to be; because she wanted her first time to be with Finn. She’d intended her maidenhead to be a gift to him, both to prove her commitment to her love for him and to show just how long she’d known they were meant to be together. Would he cherish her virginity, and be gratified that she’d waited for him? Or would he just be uncomfortable with her lack of experience, and nervous about initiating her into lovemaking?
Santana’s voice broke her out of her contemplation, “I can’t believe Puck’s going to be a groomsman at your wedding, for fuck’s sake.”
Brittany tilted her head and commented, “I’m just glad he’s still alive. Your Mom really doesn’t like him. Sort of like the way Lord Tubbington always turns his food bowl upside down if the tuna isn’t dolphin-safe.”
Rachel frowned as she dug her phone out of her pocket. “I’m just stepping outside for a moment,” she excused herself.
Quinn was too busy admiring her perfect reflection to notice.
Rachel leaned against the cool bricks of the building, letting the frosty air cool her heated face for a moment, before punching the speed dial of her phone. As she listened to the ring, she let herself slide down the wall. Slumping onto the cold ground, she waited with bated breath for the one voice she wanted - and needed - to hear at that moment.
“Hello?”
“Tell me it’s worth it.”
“Rachel? What’s going on? Where are you?” Finn’s voice was loaded with concern.
“I’m at the bridal shop with Quinn, Santana and Brittany. Quinn’s gloating over her dress and lack of virginity and I just couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Um, her lack of virginity?” Finn asked, unsure of just what Rachel meant by that.
“You know how important the Celibacy Club and Christian Crusaders were to her, so I always thought she’d be upset and ashamed that she technically isn’t allowed to wear white on her wedding day, but she’s not. She sounded almost - well, smug, when she was talking about losing her virginity to Noah. She doesn’t regret it at all.” She hesitated, aware that she could be about to bring up a sore point, before asking, “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you regret your first time being with Santana?” The words came out quietly, and if Finn hadn’t been listening so carefully, he might have missed them.
Finn replied instantly, not even needing to think about his answer. “Hell, yeah. I thought I’d feel so great after, like a stud, but I felt nothing, and I knew right away it was because she meant nothing.”
“So you wish you had waited for the right person?”
“Definitely. It would have meant so much more, you know?”
“I do. That’s how I’ve always felt. I know I’m ready, I’m just waiting for the right person.” Rachel thought it best not to add that he was the right person for her.
“Well I can guarantee that if you find someone who’ll mean something to you, it’ll make the experience that much better for both of you.” He sounded almost bitter as he continued, “Trust me, I know. For Santana, it was just her working towards her goal of bedding the entire football team by the time she graduated high school.”
Almost instantly, a long ago memory popped into her mind, one from the first year of Glee club. She’d been passing Quinn’s bedroom door, and she hadn’t been eavesdropping, but it was kind of hard not to hear Finn’s yelling.
"Let me get this straight - you have sex with my best friend while you're dating me, and you expect me to forgive you and take you back. You find out I slept with someone after we break up, and you decide I'm not good enough for you? What, did you think my virginity would make up for the fact you don't have it anymore?"
“Rachel, get back in here!” Quinn called from her doorway. “I need you to practice fixing my train.”
Rachel sighed. “I have to go. I’m needed back in bridal hell.”
Finn chuckled at her words. “Good luck.”
Several hours later, Quinn’s flashy red car pulled into the driveway of their home. As they walked up to the front door, they saw that Rachel’s Golf had been blocking their view of another, older-model vehicle.
“Wait, stop,” Rachel told her in alarm. “That’s Mother’s car. What’s she doing here?”
Quinn rolled her eyes. “Um, visiting us?”
“But Emma’s at her group therapy session, and Dad’s car isn’t here either. How did she get into the house?”
Quinn frowned as she unlocked the front door. “How did she get - never mind. Emma told me this morning that her car was making funny noises, so she was going to borrow Dad’s car and not to expect him to run errands, and he was going to be incommunicado anyway, while he works on stuff for Regionals.”
Rachel frowned to herself. “We really need to get the playlist settled by the end of next week. At least we’re not doing Metallica.”
Maybe she and Dad could work on it during their trip to New York next week? They’d had to cut it down to a day trip, because of the wedding, but there was still the drive to Columbus and the plane ride. She’d been awarded a solo, with Mercedes and Tina performing a duet, and Leah, Paula and Tyler featured on the group number. Kurt had sulked a little while, before realizing that this practically guaranteed him a solo spot at Nationals. It wasn’t conceited to think that New Directions would be heading to Nationals, either; Dalton Academy had an excellent soloist in Blaine, but due to their acapella delivery all their songs tended to sound the same, and Aural Intensity was far behind both of them vocally, depending on playing to the judges (Rachel was convinced they had a contact in the Show Choir Events office, who tipped them off as to who was judging every heat they entered).
“Metallica? Are you serious?” Quinn asked as they walked down the hall. “No, wait, don’t even tell me. Just tell me that the members of New Directions singing at the reception are keeping strictly to the set list I chose.”
Rachel grinned. “Never fear. I even worked out a new arrangement of ‘I was born to love you’ for your bridal dance. Dad’s been coaching Artie personally on ‘Butterfly kisses’ for your father-daughter dance.”
“There you are!”
With a silent sigh, Rachel automatically braced herself as she turned to face her mother, seated on the couch and looking as ominous as one of the Fates from Greek mythology.
“I had to work this morning, and guess who came in? Sandy Ryerson.”
“Well that’s no surprise,” Quinn answered. “Wasn’t he the first person in Ohio to reach ten thousand points on his Sheets ‘n’ Things loyalty card?”
“He also lives across the street and two houses down. Which was why, when he was woken by a muscle car trying to break the sound barrier last night, he went to his bedroom window to see who was driving.”
“Does he keep his binoculars on the bedside table with the pornography, or by the window?” Rachel asked dryly.
“Neither. He only needed his glasses to recognize you, Rachel. As well as who was driving the car. It’s not as if there’s many people in Lima sporting mohawks, after all.”
Rachel went cold all over, as a single icy thought ripped through her mind.
That was why Quinn had needed her things, the jacket and cap that were so easily identified as Rachel’s.
Her coldly furious gaze met her sister's, and Quinn went pale in realization.
Her mother strode across the room, standing in the wide gap between Rachel and Quinn, and faced her younger daughter.
“Noah Puckerman, of all people! Your sister is getting married in six days!” Terri’s eyes narrowed, and she spat, “At this exact time six days from now, we will be in the Top Hat Ballroom of the Lima Grand Hotel, and everyone in the room will be talking about what a beautiful wedding it was, and how wonderful the reception is, and how they don’t know how I did it all. They will not be uttering a single syllable about how my underage daughter has been slutting around town with the biggest man-whore in Lima!”
Rachel froze, as the implications rushed through her mind. She had an alibi - Finn would be able to confirm he’d brought her home, as well as what time. If pressed, Sandy would have to admit he’d identified her by her jacket and cap, not her features.
But Quinn? How would Terri react if she realized that the wedding she’d become obsessed with was being endangered - by just about the only person in the production who couldn’t be replaced?
Even as Rachel looked at Quinn, looking for a cue, she realized that it didn’t matter anyway. Rachel, with her deep emotional needs, her drive for greatness and passion for music, had always been her father’s daughter in more ways than one. But Quinn had always been the daughter that Terri wanted.
It wouldn’t do any good to defend herself. Her mother would never believe it.
“You can act like a tramp on your own time. This is your sister’s wedding, and it will be perfect! Until Quinn leaves on her honeymoon, there will be no more late night backseat bops, no Noah Puckerman and no chance of a scandal. Until the morning of March 9, consider yourself on lockdown. Unless you are on the grounds of McKinley High or chaperoned by your sister or myself while doing something useful to contribute to her wedding, you don’t leave this property, do you understand me?”
Rachel felt herself go even colder, if possible. Drawing on every ounce of maturity she possessed, she took a deep breath and made her voice cool and reasonable as possible.
“Mother, I have necessary arrangements for March 7. I daresay you don’t remember-“
“No, I don’t - and I don’t care. The wedding is far more important than whatever pointless teenage plans you want to waste your time with. This is the foundation of your sister’s entire life.”
Rachel felt something tear inside her, as if an invisible hand had pushed into her body and ripped out an organ. Oddly enough, it didn’t really hurt, as frost instantly coated the raw bed of flesh that had once held something living and vital. Maybe because she’d lost something that wasn’t really very important to her anymore.
Rachel gazed calmly and coolly at the virago in front of her, and saw nothing but an annoyance. She was simply an obstacle to be overcome on the way to her glittering future on the Broadway stage.
“I think you should go now,” she informed the intruder. “I believe the rightful occupants of this house have made it clear that you’re not welcome here.”
Terri spat, “School, this house, or wedding activities. Nowhere else.”
Storming past Rachel, she paused only to snap at Quinn, “Don’t get drunk in Columbus. I don’t want you looking tired or sick in the wedding photos.”
Then the door slammed like a thunderbolt, leaving Rachel and Quinn staring at each other across the living room.
Rachel looked Quinn dead in the eyes. Even as her sister’s mouth was opening to utter of a denial of what they both knew was true, Rachel remarked, “If you’re going to the effort of stealing my clothes in order to frame me for your infidelity, don’t you think it would have been wiser not to use a car so noisy it wakes up half the street? Or... was this your intention, Quinn? You just don’t want me to get out of Lima, because - what? You’re jealous? Or just because it makes you look less pathetic?”
Rachel was no longer cold; she was burning up with fury. Step by step, she advanced on Quinn, backing her deeper into the living room.
“I didn’t say anything at my seventeenth birthday party, when Sam’s mother - who I’d never even met before - got into a huge fight with Terri about using dahlias or carnations in the floral arrangements for the ceremony, and ruined the party that she wasn’t even invited to! I didn’t create a public scene when I found out that Terri actually suggested that Dad use my college fund - that Daddy and Papa set up for me! - to pay for the reception, so she could get those stupid ice sculptures! ‘After all, Rachel’s so smart she’ll get a scholarship anyway!’ ” Rachel mimicked. Her eyes narrowed to slits, and she raised her arm and pointed her finger at Quinn, right at her nose. “You want to stay in this cesspit of civilization for the term of your natural life? Fine. Your choice. You want to spend your life as a real estate agent while running the governing board for the Chastity ball, and having a whole lot of middle class housewives who think they’re rich bitches grovel before you? Fine. Your choice. But I’m not. I have real talent, and the determination to make a success out of it.”
In her fury, Rachel’s voice deepened to her lowest octave, and she stepped forward until she was deep into Quinn’s personal space - and Quinn actually backed up, until she was against the wall. “I will not lose my dream. I will not sacrifice my future, because you couldn’t keep your legs shut until after you signed the contracts to secure your eternal Trophy Wifehood.”
For the first time in - well, ever - Quinn actually looked slightly afraid. Of Rachel!
In normal Rachel style, she would storm out of the room in her most epic fashion. But instead, she simply turned and walked away in dead silence.
When she reached her bedroom, she locked the door, and grabbed her phone.