Fic: 'Little Superstar' Part 1/3
Title: 'Little Superstar' part 1/3 (Prologue| Part 2 | Part 3 )
Fandom: Glee future!fic
Pairings/Characters: Rachel/Jesse, Kurt/Puck (vague implied), Maria Melanie Berry-St.James (OC), random appearances by some old friends.
Challenge/Prompt: A super late response to x_clemonlemon 's prompt on the glee_fluff_meme: Rachel and Jesse realise their daughter cannot hold a note and is completely tone-deaf. Cue the horror. Bonus! for their reasons as to why she's tone deaf.
Rating: PG, for the odd unexpected f-bomb.
Word Count: (This part) 2798
Genre: Gen
Copyright: I don’t own ‘Glee’ or anything to do with it.; I just have vivid hallucinations.
Summary:
Author’s Notes: Ok, so, this was meant to be a ficlet and turned into an epic fluffy multi-part behemoth that ate my brain. It’s probably not as fluffy as you wanted, but I hope you like it anyway :).
Of course, it could just be that little Maria was a late developer. After all, she'd began walking long before she'd started stringing sentences together... maybe it was only natural she would develop a penchant for tap dancing before an ear for pitch changes.
Clearly, the Berry-St.James household had been somewhat lopsided in their child-rearing responsibilities. So it was with gusto that Rachel and Jesse set about nurturing their daughter's inevitable-- but as of yet undiscovered-- passion for vocal performance.
*
"Laaaa. See? Did you hear that cookie? Did you hear daddy copy the sound the keyboard made?"
"Waaa!!!" Maria shrieks back joyously, whipping around to fix her daddy with a perfect, tiny replica of Rachel's showface. Jesse can't help but grin back at her: how can someone so cute be so out of tune?
Jesse tries again, plonking his finger down once more on the middle C of the rainbow-coloured plastic keyboard Rachel's dads had bought Maria for her first birthday.
"Laaa!" he trills again, making wide eyes at his daughter to try and keep her attention. "Laaa! Do you see? It's the same note. Can you do that honey? Ra-Ra, can you copy the sound?"
"Waaa!" Maria tries again, and Jesse's pretty sure he hears some wine-glasses shatter in the kitchen.
"Laaa!"
"Waaa!"
"No no baby, the same as the keyboard: laaaa!"
"WAAA!" Maria screams.
Ok. Clearly his daughter thinks she is a dinosaur.
Jesse hugs Maria close, burying his nose in her adorably bouncy chestnut curls so she can't see the grimace in his expression.
"Gosh honey, you're so loud." He tells her, trying to sound chipper. "I don't think we need waste any time working on your projection."
"Pwojecshin." Maria repeats eagerly, and Jesse takes a moment out of his angsting to ponder her college fund, before remembering smugly the combined earning power of two Broadway superstars.
"Daddy sing!" Maria suggests after a second, hugging Jesse tight round his neck, then pulling away to look at him imploringly. "Daddy sing! Daddy sing!"
Jesse sticks his tongue out at her. Darn it, but he does love an audience. Even an audience of a tone-deaf three-year-old.
"Ok care bear." He agrees, smiling at her "Daddy'll sing for a little while. But not for too long, because this is daddy's rest day, and if daddy isn't performing at the top of his musical game throughout rehearsals tomorrow, evil bitter director Mr Sukowitz-- who's clearly jealous of daddy's natural talent and sinfully handsome good looks-- may find some wholly unsuitable reason for daddy to be ejected from the top spot and relegated to the screaming pit of despair that is swing/ensemble."
With big soulful eyes, Maria blinks up at him.
"OK." Jesse picks his daughter up and sets her down again in the crook of his crossed legs. "You know this one princess. You wanna sing with daddy?"
Gamely, Jesse plinks out Frère Jacques on the tiny plastic keys, singing along and pulling out every syllable of the lyrics to give a chance for the note to linger and Maria to copy it. It cheers him slightly that his daughter's French pronunciation is impeccable. Maria knows all the words, happily trilling her 'rrs' and swallowing her vowels. Bi-lingual at three years old: another Berry-StJames success story.
After a while, they swap places, and when Rachel comes home from her monthly milkshake date with Quinn, she finds her husband sitting in the middle of the floor with a frown pulling dark lines across his forehead as he does his best to keep up with the syncopated vocal warm-ups their hyperactive daughter is bashing out on her Plinky-Plonk piano.
Every note Jesse sings, Maria echoes with a giddy shriek.
Rachel sighs to herself and traipses into the kitchen to mix both of them a healthy dosage of warm honey and lemon. Honestly. Sometimes men just have no idea how to make a woman sing.
*
"You're being far too formal with her." Rachel explains.
Jesse just looks at her for a second. Then he takes a long swig of the soothing honey mixture, holding the mug up to his face in a way that doesn't at all manage to mask the massive roll of his eyes.
Rachel crosses her arms, fixing her husband with that I-sympathise-with-your-lack-knowledge smile she knows still irritates the hell out of him.
"I mean, it's an understandable approach-- especially from someone with your impeccable classical training-- but true musical talent is a matter of passion rather than--"
"--Practice?" Jesse interrupts, raising an eyebrow at her "Rach, I'm not the one who had tap-toes on her onesies."
Despairingly, Rachel shakes her head. Jesse's was an irrelevant observation-- if she'd been able to vocalise to her dads at that age what kind of clothing she wanted, tap-toed onesies would've been high on the list. Instead of negating her argument, Jesse's remembering just proved that the Berry family was, and always had been, kind of psychic.
"Maria needs to discover the joy of music inside her heart before she can discover it in a perfect High A." she continues with a little more vehemence, pouring the remainder of the mixture into a sippy cup for their tone-deaf toddler. "Just leave it to me sweetie. Maria Berry is about to discover the passionate princess within."
"Berry-St.James." Jesse reminds her dryly, and it's Rachel's turn to roll her eyes: the double-barrel hadn't been her idea after all. Then, noticing the sulk pulling at the corner of Jesse's mouth, she leans across to give him a quick, half-apologetic kiss before the pair of them head back into the living room.
"Fine." Jesse grumbles "The keyboard's too distracting for her anyway-- did you really have to stick gold stars over all the keys?"
"It's a visual reminder that every note she manages to hit is an achievement..."
*
"A middle G Jesse! A middle G! I have it on good authority that I snore in middle G! I can quite literally hit that note in my sleep!"
Rachel catches her breath, watching Jesse make a considering face. "It's actually closer to F." he informs her "But perhaps after a particularly strenuous night--"
Rachel whacks him hard across the shoulder; pushes her tiara further back on her head with the heel of her other hand. Honestly, is sex all men ever think about?
"This is serious!" she hisses, hoping her eyes are desperate enough to counteract the effect of the full Princess Jasmine wedding day outfit she's currently sporting.
As one, the two Berry-St.James' glance over at their little girl: Maria's still skipping happily around in her Tinkerbell costume, murmuring the lyrics as A Whole New World plays on in he background.
Rachel grips Jesse's arms:
"I don't know what else to do!" she laments, never before had an occurrence where Disney has failed her. "I've tried everything! Snow White for sweet and juvenile; the untamed majesty of Pocahontas... I downloaded the Christina version of 'Reflection' in case those shuddering high notes were an over-ambitious attempt at vocal runs, but nothing is working!"
Finally, the urgency of the situation seems to penetrate Jesse's unmoved demeanour. A stray curl falls across his forehead, as though a sign of his inward distress. He glances at his daughter, then back to Rachel's wide-eyed despair.
"Beauty and the Beast?" he suggests tightly.
Rachel bites her lip at the memory: "There was no 'Beauty' involved."
"Hercules?"
"White girl got no rhythm."
"The Lion King?"
"I tried 'Can You Feel the Love Tonight?'- She got on all fours and pretended to be a warthog."
Jesse looks stricken.
Despite her own unhappiness, Rachel dislodges her fingernails from her husband's skin and instead strokes a soothing hand up and down his arm. She hates to be the bearer of bad (horrific, agonising, soul-destroying) news: but she's always firmly believed that in all situations, truthfulness is the best policy.
"I think perhaps," she suggests carefully, shuffling closer to Jesse so Maria won't notice the despondency on her parents' faces "she needs professional tuition."
Jesse's eyes snap back to fix on hers. After a second, his expression rearranges itself into the same face he wore when she first explained to him her undoubted relation to Patti LuPone.
"Rach... We're professionals."
*
"When you were head-hunting performers to revitalise Vocal Adrenaline, how did you know who was going to have the guts to make it, and who... would require six years of intensive psycho-therapy to rehabilitate them back into non-competitive society?"
There's a second's thoughtful pause on the other end of the line, before Shelby Corcoran announces contentedly: "Dumb luck."
"Shelby." Jesse rolls his eyes at the voice of his former vocal coach. Probably not a wise move in the middle of afternoon traffic.
There's a soft laugh in Jesse's ear "They didn't all make it, if you remember." But Jesse can almost hear her frowning, biting her lip as she tries to form a coherent answer for him. "You just know." she says eventually, a bit helplessly, and Jesse feels something like a slow puncture developing in his heart "The first time you see them, you know. There's a reason they call them 'stars' Jesse. Anyone can have ability, but true talent? It shines. Rachel's did, remember? Yours did."
Jesse leans his head back against the head-rest, frowning sulkily.
"But I was so much better after I joined Vocal Adrenaline. After having you coach me? Maybe Maria just needs some... better guidance."
"C'mon." Shelby scoffs "That doesn't sound like the Jesse St.James I know. Who could be better than you and Rachel?"
Jesse can feel a hand flail coming on and forces himself not to let go of the steering wheel.
"I don't know, Shelby. It's just... she doesn't seem to be responding to anything! She has no pitch awareness or breathing technique-- I mean, her projection certainly isn't lacking, but aside from that she just... she just can't follow a tune. At all." Jesse sighs heavily, taking advantage of a stoplight to close his eyes and squeeze an extra layer of quivering hopelessness into his voice: "...I don't know what to do..."
"Jesse." Shelby sounds torn between amusement and regret "I'm not coming to LA."
"I know that." Jesse assures her, as if it's ridiculous. Then he kicks the guilt-trip up a notch: "... Not even for your granddaughter?"
"Now stop that." Shelby snaps "Makes me feel ancient! Also, makes me feel like hanging up on you."
Despite himself, Jesse smiles at the return of her showchoir director voice.
"Don't, I'm just kidding..."
"Good. Remember, I taught you every manipulative little technique you know boy."
Jesse knew it was a long shot. He hadn't actually expected Shelby to jump at the chance to fly the width of the continent just to give one tuneless little girl singing lessons; even if that tuneless little girl happened to be her beloved granddaughter. But in lieu of his own parents, going to his mother-in-law (and one time overly-intimate yet admittedly buxom vocal coach) for advice was second nature to him now. She was always straight with him; a quality Jesse appreciated. Even when that straightness was kind of making all his hopes dissolve into an ugly puddle of desperation.
"How's Bethy?" he asks, mostly to shake himself free from the mental funk he can feel creeping up on him.
"She's good." Shelby replies, sounding chipper: "Had to get braces on-- I told you that right?-- hasn't cracked a smile in weeks. Think she's specialising in interpretive dance till they come off again."
"Hasn't kept the boys away though I'll bet."
"No, I'm the one who keeps the boys away. Her window has bars now."
Jesse grins, turning into the Crestwood Hills parking lot: "And that boyfriend of yours?"
"He's not a boyfriend." Shelby protests, sounding uncannily like her daughter "I have no time for boyfriends. He's a man who likes to let me borrow his car."
"For driving in?"
"And again, I have that feeling of wanting to hang up on you."
"Too late, I need to go anyway." Jesse grins, turning off the ignition and grabbing his jacket from the passenger seat "That's me at the preschool."
"Lucky boy. Okay. Well, it was good to hear from you."
Shelby pauses and Jesse does too, his finger hovering over the button on his Bluetooth, waiting for her to finish: "And don't worry." she says eventually.
"About what?"
"Maria." Shelby intones, not fooled by his blasé-ness "How can she avoid having talent, with parents like you two? Besides-- if she's happy with who she is, do you really wanna go trying to change her?"
Jesse lets his hand fall back to his lap, frowning hard enough that Shelby can probably see it from Manhattan.
"We're not trying to change her..." he protests; but if he was in an audition right now, he probably wouldn't be getting a callback: "We just want her to..."
"Think about it." Shelby's voice is soft, in that way Jesse almost never hears from her: "You've got a happy, healthy little girl of your very own... You don't know how many people would give up a show-stopping singing voice for something like that."
There's a reason Jesse keeps calling Shelby Corcoran for advice. Pressing his lips together, he clicks his seatbelt buckle undone.
"...Thanks, Shelby."
*
Most of the other parents have trickled back out to their cars by the time Jesse jogs up to Rachel and Maria and the little gaggle of moms and toddlers they're (almost) a part of. He checks himself before he reaches them though; rushed and breathless isn't his best look.
"Hey beautiful." He smiles, and when Rachel whirls to meet him, dark hair fanning out behind her, he winks and lifts Maria out of her arms instead.
"Oh, sorry, I meant this beautiful. Hey care bear!" he rubs Maria's nose with his own, making the toddler giggle and plant a wet kiss on his cheek.
"Hey-o daddy!"
"Did you have fun today Ra-Ra?"
"Yeah!"
"Yeah? What were you doing today?"
"We made music today!! It was fun and loud and--"
"--Music huh?"
For the first time, Jesse turns to Rachel and notices the barely-concealed panic in her eyes.
"Uh-huh, we did music and tamboo-rine and singing and..."
"Your Maria's quite the little starlet." Charlottle O'Callaghan interrupts, leaning in front of Rachel and smiling that sickly, over-whitened smile that is probably the reason she didn't get into Julliard.
"Even when it wasn't her turn she kept la-ing away..." the blonde chuckles "So adorable... I suppose she gets that from you guys, huh? A little star in the making."
"Guess so." Jesse replies easily, bouncing Maria in his arms as he takes a discreet step back and to his left to stand beside his wife again. By Charlotte's immediate petted lip, Jesse guesses she notices the slight falsity in the Berry-St.James' simultaneous show-smiles.
"Victor did very well too." Rachel interjects chirpily: "Until he got distracted chewing Carrie Foster's hair, of course. You know my ferrets used to do exactly the same thing?-- So adorable."
If Jesse had ever been the kind of person to high-five, he would've high-fived Rachel right then.
Charlotte shoots them both a poisonous look. "Yes, well, we'd better be going, huh Vic? Say bye-bye to Maria."
"Bye Mia." says the pasty little boy huddled round Charlotte's ankles that until that point Jesse hadn't even noticed-- the kind of boy who grows up to play the triangle.
"Bye Vic!" Maria waves gaily back. Jesse's inordinately proud of how she waits till the O'Callaghans have left the room before sticking her tongue out.
"Hey mommy?" He says, nudging Rachel with his hip: "You get any gold stars on you?"
Rachel smiles back: she never goes anywhere without them.
When they're on their way back to the car-- Maria occupied plucking at her fluffy yellow cardigan to get the best view of her prize-- Jesse turns to Rachel and mutters:
"They were all singing?"
Rachel gives him the saucer-eyes again, pressing a hand over her heart:
"It was just a chorus number, thank goodness." she assures him, tickling her daughter's ear so she squirms in Jesse's arms "There wasn't much opportunity to identify individual voices, although my word, have you noticed how loud she is?"
Jesse raises sardonic eyebrows at her.
"But Jesse." Rachel stops, pulling at his arm with insistent fingers: "It's worse than that."
Jesse wouldn't be surprised if an expression of genuine fear flickered across his features.
"Worse?" he echoes.
Slowly, Rachel reaches down into Maria's little Hello Kitty backpack; draws out a folded sheet of A5. Wordlessly she passes it to Jesse.
Written across the top, in big rainbow-coloured letters are the words:
'TODDLERS GOT TALENT! Crestwood Hills Preschool, Friday April 17th, 11am'.
Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
xxx
Fandom: Glee future!fic
Pairings/Characters: Rachel/Jesse, Kurt/Puck (vague implied), Maria Melanie Berry-St.James (OC), random appearances by some old friends.
Challenge/Prompt: A super late response to x_clemonlemon 's prompt on the glee_fluff_meme: Rachel and Jesse realise their daughter cannot hold a note and is completely tone-deaf. Cue the horror. Bonus! for their reasons as to why she's tone deaf.
Rating: PG, for the odd unexpected f-bomb.
Word Count: (This part) 2798
Genre: Gen
Copyright: I don’t own ‘Glee’ or anything to do with it.; I just have vivid hallucinations.
Summary:
Author’s Notes: Ok, so, this was meant to be a ficlet and turned into an epic fluffy multi-part behemoth that ate my brain. It’s probably not as fluffy as you wanted, but I hope you like it anyway :).
Of course, it could just be that little Maria was a late developer. After all, she'd began walking long before she'd started stringing sentences together... maybe it was only natural she would develop a penchant for tap dancing before an ear for pitch changes.
Clearly, the Berry-St.James household had been somewhat lopsided in their child-rearing responsibilities. So it was with gusto that Rachel and Jesse set about nurturing their daughter's inevitable-- but as of yet undiscovered-- passion for vocal performance.
*
"Laaaa. See? Did you hear that cookie? Did you hear daddy copy the sound the keyboard made?"
"Waaa!!!" Maria shrieks back joyously, whipping around to fix her daddy with a perfect, tiny replica of Rachel's showface. Jesse can't help but grin back at her: how can someone so cute be so out of tune?
Jesse tries again, plonking his finger down once more on the middle C of the rainbow-coloured plastic keyboard Rachel's dads had bought Maria for her first birthday.
"Laaa!" he trills again, making wide eyes at his daughter to try and keep her attention. "Laaa! Do you see? It's the same note. Can you do that honey? Ra-Ra, can you copy the sound?"
"Waaa!" Maria tries again, and Jesse's pretty sure he hears some wine-glasses shatter in the kitchen.
"Laaa!"
"Waaa!"
"No no baby, the same as the keyboard: laaaa!"
"WAAA!" Maria screams.
Ok. Clearly his daughter thinks she is a dinosaur.
Jesse hugs Maria close, burying his nose in her adorably bouncy chestnut curls so she can't see the grimace in his expression.
"Gosh honey, you're so loud." He tells her, trying to sound chipper. "I don't think we need waste any time working on your projection."
"Pwojecshin." Maria repeats eagerly, and Jesse takes a moment out of his angsting to ponder her college fund, before remembering smugly the combined earning power of two Broadway superstars.
"Daddy sing!" Maria suggests after a second, hugging Jesse tight round his neck, then pulling away to look at him imploringly. "Daddy sing! Daddy sing!"
Jesse sticks his tongue out at her. Darn it, but he does love an audience. Even an audience of a tone-deaf three-year-old.
"Ok care bear." He agrees, smiling at her "Daddy'll sing for a little while. But not for too long, because this is daddy's rest day, and if daddy isn't performing at the top of his musical game throughout rehearsals tomorrow, evil bitter director Mr Sukowitz-- who's clearly jealous of daddy's natural talent and sinfully handsome good looks-- may find some wholly unsuitable reason for daddy to be ejected from the top spot and relegated to the screaming pit of despair that is swing/ensemble."
With big soulful eyes, Maria blinks up at him.
"OK." Jesse picks his daughter up and sets her down again in the crook of his crossed legs. "You know this one princess. You wanna sing with daddy?"
Gamely, Jesse plinks out Frère Jacques on the tiny plastic keys, singing along and pulling out every syllable of the lyrics to give a chance for the note to linger and Maria to copy it. It cheers him slightly that his daughter's French pronunciation is impeccable. Maria knows all the words, happily trilling her 'rrs' and swallowing her vowels. Bi-lingual at three years old: another Berry-StJames success story.
After a while, they swap places, and when Rachel comes home from her monthly milkshake date with Quinn, she finds her husband sitting in the middle of the floor with a frown pulling dark lines across his forehead as he does his best to keep up with the syncopated vocal warm-ups their hyperactive daughter is bashing out on her Plinky-Plonk piano.
Every note Jesse sings, Maria echoes with a giddy shriek.
Rachel sighs to herself and traipses into the kitchen to mix both of them a healthy dosage of warm honey and lemon. Honestly. Sometimes men just have no idea how to make a woman sing.
*
"You're being far too formal with her." Rachel explains.
Jesse just looks at her for a second. Then he takes a long swig of the soothing honey mixture, holding the mug up to his face in a way that doesn't at all manage to mask the massive roll of his eyes.
Rachel crosses her arms, fixing her husband with that I-sympathise-with-your-lack-knowledge smile she knows still irritates the hell out of him.
"I mean, it's an understandable approach-- especially from someone with your impeccable classical training-- but true musical talent is a matter of passion rather than--"
"--Practice?" Jesse interrupts, raising an eyebrow at her "Rach, I'm not the one who had tap-toes on her onesies."
Despairingly, Rachel shakes her head. Jesse's was an irrelevant observation-- if she'd been able to vocalise to her dads at that age what kind of clothing she wanted, tap-toed onesies would've been high on the list. Instead of negating her argument, Jesse's remembering just proved that the Berry family was, and always had been, kind of psychic.
"Maria needs to discover the joy of music inside her heart before she can discover it in a perfect High A." she continues with a little more vehemence, pouring the remainder of the mixture into a sippy cup for their tone-deaf toddler. "Just leave it to me sweetie. Maria Berry is about to discover the passionate princess within."
"Berry-St.James." Jesse reminds her dryly, and it's Rachel's turn to roll her eyes: the double-barrel hadn't been her idea after all. Then, noticing the sulk pulling at the corner of Jesse's mouth, she leans across to give him a quick, half-apologetic kiss before the pair of them head back into the living room.
"Fine." Jesse grumbles "The keyboard's too distracting for her anyway-- did you really have to stick gold stars over all the keys?"
"It's a visual reminder that every note she manages to hit is an achievement..."
*
"A middle G Jesse! A middle G! I have it on good authority that I snore in middle G! I can quite literally hit that note in my sleep!"
Rachel catches her breath, watching Jesse make a considering face. "It's actually closer to F." he informs her "But perhaps after a particularly strenuous night--"
Rachel whacks him hard across the shoulder; pushes her tiara further back on her head with the heel of her other hand. Honestly, is sex all men ever think about?
"This is serious!" she hisses, hoping her eyes are desperate enough to counteract the effect of the full Princess Jasmine wedding day outfit she's currently sporting.
As one, the two Berry-St.James' glance over at their little girl: Maria's still skipping happily around in her Tinkerbell costume, murmuring the lyrics as A Whole New World plays on in he background.
Rachel grips Jesse's arms:
"I don't know what else to do!" she laments, never before had an occurrence where Disney has failed her. "I've tried everything! Snow White for sweet and juvenile; the untamed majesty of Pocahontas... I downloaded the Christina version of 'Reflection' in case those shuddering high notes were an over-ambitious attempt at vocal runs, but nothing is working!"
Finally, the urgency of the situation seems to penetrate Jesse's unmoved demeanour. A stray curl falls across his forehead, as though a sign of his inward distress. He glances at his daughter, then back to Rachel's wide-eyed despair.
"Beauty and the Beast?" he suggests tightly.
Rachel bites her lip at the memory: "There was no 'Beauty' involved."
"Hercules?"
"White girl got no rhythm."
"The Lion King?"
"I tried 'Can You Feel the Love Tonight?'- She got on all fours and pretended to be a warthog."
Jesse looks stricken.
Despite her own unhappiness, Rachel dislodges her fingernails from her husband's skin and instead strokes a soothing hand up and down his arm. She hates to be the bearer of bad (horrific, agonising, soul-destroying) news: but she's always firmly believed that in all situations, truthfulness is the best policy.
"I think perhaps," she suggests carefully, shuffling closer to Jesse so Maria won't notice the despondency on her parents' faces "she needs professional tuition."
Jesse's eyes snap back to fix on hers. After a second, his expression rearranges itself into the same face he wore when she first explained to him her undoubted relation to Patti LuPone.
"Rach... We're professionals."
*
"When you were head-hunting performers to revitalise Vocal Adrenaline, how did you know who was going to have the guts to make it, and who... would require six years of intensive psycho-therapy to rehabilitate them back into non-competitive society?"
There's a second's thoughtful pause on the other end of the line, before Shelby Corcoran announces contentedly: "Dumb luck."
"Shelby." Jesse rolls his eyes at the voice of his former vocal coach. Probably not a wise move in the middle of afternoon traffic.
There's a soft laugh in Jesse's ear "They didn't all make it, if you remember." But Jesse can almost hear her frowning, biting her lip as she tries to form a coherent answer for him. "You just know." she says eventually, a bit helplessly, and Jesse feels something like a slow puncture developing in his heart "The first time you see them, you know. There's a reason they call them 'stars' Jesse. Anyone can have ability, but true talent? It shines. Rachel's did, remember? Yours did."
Jesse leans his head back against the head-rest, frowning sulkily.
"But I was so much better after I joined Vocal Adrenaline. After having you coach me? Maybe Maria just needs some... better guidance."
"C'mon." Shelby scoffs "That doesn't sound like the Jesse St.James I know. Who could be better than you and Rachel?"
Jesse can feel a hand flail coming on and forces himself not to let go of the steering wheel.
"I don't know, Shelby. It's just... she doesn't seem to be responding to anything! She has no pitch awareness or breathing technique-- I mean, her projection certainly isn't lacking, but aside from that she just... she just can't follow a tune. At all." Jesse sighs heavily, taking advantage of a stoplight to close his eyes and squeeze an extra layer of quivering hopelessness into his voice: "...I don't know what to do..."
"Jesse." Shelby sounds torn between amusement and regret "I'm not coming to LA."
"I know that." Jesse assures her, as if it's ridiculous. Then he kicks the guilt-trip up a notch: "... Not even for your granddaughter?"
"Now stop that." Shelby snaps "Makes me feel ancient! Also, makes me feel like hanging up on you."
Despite himself, Jesse smiles at the return of her showchoir director voice.
"Don't, I'm just kidding..."
"Good. Remember, I taught you every manipulative little technique you know boy."
Jesse knew it was a long shot. He hadn't actually expected Shelby to jump at the chance to fly the width of the continent just to give one tuneless little girl singing lessons; even if that tuneless little girl happened to be her beloved granddaughter. But in lieu of his own parents, going to his mother-in-law (and one time overly-intimate yet admittedly buxom vocal coach) for advice was second nature to him now. She was always straight with him; a quality Jesse appreciated. Even when that straightness was kind of making all his hopes dissolve into an ugly puddle of desperation.
"How's Bethy?" he asks, mostly to shake himself free from the mental funk he can feel creeping up on him.
"She's good." Shelby replies, sounding chipper: "Had to get braces on-- I told you that right?-- hasn't cracked a smile in weeks. Think she's specialising in interpretive dance till they come off again."
"Hasn't kept the boys away though I'll bet."
"No, I'm the one who keeps the boys away. Her window has bars now."
Jesse grins, turning into the Crestwood Hills parking lot: "And that boyfriend of yours?"
"He's not a boyfriend." Shelby protests, sounding uncannily like her daughter "I have no time for boyfriends. He's a man who likes to let me borrow his car."
"For driving in?"
"And again, I have that feeling of wanting to hang up on you."
"Too late, I need to go anyway." Jesse grins, turning off the ignition and grabbing his jacket from the passenger seat "That's me at the preschool."
"Lucky boy. Okay. Well, it was good to hear from you."
Shelby pauses and Jesse does too, his finger hovering over the button on his Bluetooth, waiting for her to finish: "And don't worry." she says eventually.
"About what?"
"Maria." Shelby intones, not fooled by his blasé-ness "How can she avoid having talent, with parents like you two? Besides-- if she's happy with who she is, do you really wanna go trying to change her?"
Jesse lets his hand fall back to his lap, frowning hard enough that Shelby can probably see it from Manhattan.
"We're not trying to change her..." he protests; but if he was in an audition right now, he probably wouldn't be getting a callback: "We just want her to..."
"Think about it." Shelby's voice is soft, in that way Jesse almost never hears from her: "You've got a happy, healthy little girl of your very own... You don't know how many people would give up a show-stopping singing voice for something like that."
There's a reason Jesse keeps calling Shelby Corcoran for advice. Pressing his lips together, he clicks his seatbelt buckle undone.
"...Thanks, Shelby."
*
Most of the other parents have trickled back out to their cars by the time Jesse jogs up to Rachel and Maria and the little gaggle of moms and toddlers they're (almost) a part of. He checks himself before he reaches them though; rushed and breathless isn't his best look.
"Hey beautiful." He smiles, and when Rachel whirls to meet him, dark hair fanning out behind her, he winks and lifts Maria out of her arms instead.
"Oh, sorry, I meant this beautiful. Hey care bear!" he rubs Maria's nose with his own, making the toddler giggle and plant a wet kiss on his cheek.
"Hey-o daddy!"
"Did you have fun today Ra-Ra?"
"Yeah!"
"Yeah? What were you doing today?"
"We made music today!! It was fun and loud and--"
"--Music huh?"
For the first time, Jesse turns to Rachel and notices the barely-concealed panic in her eyes.
"Uh-huh, we did music and tamboo-rine and singing and..."
"Your Maria's quite the little starlet." Charlottle O'Callaghan interrupts, leaning in front of Rachel and smiling that sickly, over-whitened smile that is probably the reason she didn't get into Julliard.
"Even when it wasn't her turn she kept la-ing away..." the blonde chuckles "So adorable... I suppose she gets that from you guys, huh? A little star in the making."
"Guess so." Jesse replies easily, bouncing Maria in his arms as he takes a discreet step back and to his left to stand beside his wife again. By Charlotte's immediate petted lip, Jesse guesses she notices the slight falsity in the Berry-St.James' simultaneous show-smiles.
"Victor did very well too." Rachel interjects chirpily: "Until he got distracted chewing Carrie Foster's hair, of course. You know my ferrets used to do exactly the same thing?-- So adorable."
If Jesse had ever been the kind of person to high-five, he would've high-fived Rachel right then.
Charlotte shoots them both a poisonous look. "Yes, well, we'd better be going, huh Vic? Say bye-bye to Maria."
"Bye Mia." says the pasty little boy huddled round Charlotte's ankles that until that point Jesse hadn't even noticed-- the kind of boy who grows up to play the triangle.
"Bye Vic!" Maria waves gaily back. Jesse's inordinately proud of how she waits till the O'Callaghans have left the room before sticking her tongue out.
"Hey mommy?" He says, nudging Rachel with his hip: "You get any gold stars on you?"
Rachel smiles back: she never goes anywhere without them.
When they're on their way back to the car-- Maria occupied plucking at her fluffy yellow cardigan to get the best view of her prize-- Jesse turns to Rachel and mutters:
"They were all singing?"
Rachel gives him the saucer-eyes again, pressing a hand over her heart:
"It was just a chorus number, thank goodness." she assures him, tickling her daughter's ear so she squirms in Jesse's arms "There wasn't much opportunity to identify individual voices, although my word, have you noticed how loud she is?"
Jesse raises sardonic eyebrows at her.
"But Jesse." Rachel stops, pulling at his arm with insistent fingers: "It's worse than that."
Jesse wouldn't be surprised if an expression of genuine fear flickered across his features.
"Worse?" he echoes.
Slowly, Rachel reaches down into Maria's little Hello Kitty backpack; draws out a folded sheet of A5. Wordlessly she passes it to Jesse.
Written across the top, in big rainbow-coloured letters are the words:
'TODDLERS GOT TALENT! Crestwood Hills Preschool, Friday April 17th, 11am'.
Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
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