Not One For Love

Pay for sex?

With a cup of her favourite soy latte in hand, Rachel Berry strolled down the street, surrounded by half-busy citizens of the bustling city of New York. Behind her aviators, Rachel watched their unsuspecting faces and smiled to herself. They had no idea that they were in the presence of the Tony and Grammy award-winning renowned actress. She picked up her pace, not wanting to be late for her first table-read for her third leading role, and her third movie production. Rachel's pace became a skip. When she finally found the towering structure of the office her manager texted her weeks before, her exhaustion dawned before her. But only because on that fine autumn morning, a paparazzi shot towards her and blinded her with the flash of his camera.

"Hey!" Rachel flinched and held up her arm to shield her features to the glaring lens of the man's camera. Her cry, however, attracted more of the pap lurkers. Cameras flashed and clicked as every photo they took was of Rachel screaming her head off. She was unable to see the way to the office, making her zigzag across the pathway. Rachel bumped into one of the obnoxious scumbags, and he had the gall to swear at her?

"If you don't get out of my way, I am going to break that horrible camera along with both of your knees!" Rachel shrieked, her elbows digging into the man's side. She ignored his grunt of protest and cry of 'bitch!', for she had no time to care. She was two minutes late, and Rachel Berry was never late. She stepped over the collapsed paparazzo and hurried inside the building, where the security guards finally came outside to chase away the affronted gossip and photography mongers.

Rachel huffed and leaned back against the wood panelled wall of the elevator as it lulled her up the seventy floors. Her coffee no longer tasted sweet with the perfect amount of soy milk and sugar. It tasted bitter. Her whole mouth tasted bitter, and as much as she wanted to simply go home and take a nap, she had a responsibility, and she will fulfill it.

The elevator bell rung and she walked down the plush carpeted corridor until she reached the conference room. Through the glass walls, Rachel could see that Brittany, her manager, was there along with the rest of the cast, the directors, producers, writers, and other executives. Rachel took a deep breath and stepped inside, all eyes trained at her. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Brittany perked up and waved her over. Reliable as always, she had another copy of the script that Rachel annotated in case she forgot her own—which she rarely did, but it was pleasant to know that she had an ally against the bigwigs who leered at her through their Bulgari eyewear. She collapsed on the hard plastic chair and sipped her acrimonious coffee. Clearing her throat, Rachel splayed her hands on top of the dark table and met the eyes of the bigwig—the executive producer. "After all, it's not my fault of the incompetence of your security guards. I was assailed by paparazzi right outside your door."

"Rachel, don't." Brittany murmured, her hand on the actress' thigh.

Shaking her manager off, Rachel tipped her chin and opened the first page of the booklet. She read through it ten times already, so she was confident in her competence. She was not sure about the rest of the cast.

The executive producer, a lady in a business suit that probably cost as much as Rachel's brownstone, cleared her throat and swept her gaze across the room, only for her rich, mahogany eyes to land and linger on Rachel. "Enough. Let us begin."

After hours upon hours of the table-read for the first and second act of the movie, the executive producer, by the name of Ann Veronica, decided to end the day's session. To Rachel's relief, she went straight out of the conference room, leaving the cast and some of the crew to mill about. Brittany rubbed Rachel's back and smiled in an attempt to encourage her. "You were fantastic, as always."

"I know," Rachel sighed and tried not to burrow into Brittany so she wouldn't have to face her co-star who, right now, was making eyes at her. She diverted her gaze and faced her manager. "But I don't think I can take much more of this. I'm exhausted all the time, and I'm lonely." She eyed Brittany who nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. "It's just... Finn's always travelling with his band while they try and play everywhere they could to get their music out there. I didn't even want to go to today's table-read since he's coming home today and I wanted to meet him, but..." Rachel shook her head. "It's no use complaining now."