DISCLAIMER: I neither own Glee nor the characters. They are the property of Ryan Murphy and Fox. This is purely for fun. Enjoy!
A/N: Bienvenue et Voila! A new Minsky story is ready to be written, and I do hope you enjoy my latest A/U scenario. Let the fun begin!
Music of My Heart
Chapter One: Practice Makes Perfect
Her fingers rested lightly on the smooth, white piano keys, hovering over the notes while she closed her eyes and relished in the solitude of the vacant studio. With her eyes shut against the world, she waited until the only sound she could hear was the sound of her own heart beating, before she pressed her fingers upon the keys and started to play. Rachel Berry had always had a passion for music, but when she was creating her art it was like she was detached from the entire world, focused solely on the music that came alive inside of her, bursting from her every pore. With her eyes closed, she could almost feel the music flow through her, starting somewhere deep down and spreading through her body until her hands started to move of their own accord. With her eyes still closed, she started to hum along with the melody that she was creating in that inspired moment, and when she opened her eyes, she put pencil to paper and worked out the complicated melody that she had created.
A wide, beaming smile broke out on her face.
This was her best work yet.
Not wanting to waste the rare bout of overwhelming inspiration that had seized control of her, she stayed in the empty studio for hours, losing herself in the music that she was creating until she had lost track of time. She realized with a startle that it had to be the early hours of the morning already, but she didn't even care.
Who needed sleep when there were Grammy award-winning songs to be written?
Her fingers were cramping up by the time she had completed the second verse of her untitled song, and when she went to the very beginning and played back the parts of the piece that she had completed, she couldn't help but feel over-emotional about it. When she added the extra accompaniment and harmonies, a round of prickly goosebumps erupted on her arms and her smile was wide and beaming. Out of the dozens of songs she had already showcased in her impressive repertoire, this one was something different. She could feel it in her bones; this unnamed song was special, but it still wasn't completed yet. It needed lyrics and backup harmonies and above all else, a title, but it was almost there. The hook of it was stuck in her head as she put away her personal sheet music and took out the song she should have been working on all night long.
She stared at the title on the header of the sheet music and felt like gagging. Yes, she had written this song as well, but working as a songwriter in the music industry wasn't as creative and groundbreaking as she thought it would be. Most singers didn't want their songs to be too emotional or deep, they just wanted to sell millions of their singles on iTunes and make it to the top of the Billboard 100 list. These days it felt like artists were more concerned about their image than the music they were making, and seeing as she was the one who was writing the songs, she knew how uncreative some of these "superstars" were.
She swallowed her disdain for them all and continued staring at the song she was working on with her latest client, pop sensation Quinn Fabray. The blonde bombshell had sold an impressive 2 million singles from her first album, and was in the process of recording her sophomore record. She was America's newest sweetheart, with a breathy voice and a clean-cut wholesome image that everyone just adored.
If only she had an attitude that matched the image she projected to the world.
To be blunt, Quinn was a terror to work with. She had only just met the pop star a few days ago and already Rachel was considering pulling her songs from the new album. At their initial meeting, she was almost asked to leave because Quinn didn't agree to the terms of their contract. Rachel had been working in the industry for a little over two years, but this was the first time her songs were being considered for an artist who was as popular as Quinn was right now. Rachel had made a deal with Quinn's management saying that she would help write the album, but Quinn had wanted to cut her out of the executive creative decisions. Rachel would rather go hungry for the rest of her life than allow someone else to have full creative control over her songs, and eventually a deal had been made between the two women.
However, that initial experience didn't even compare to how stressful it was to work besides someone who was as controlling and rude as Quinn was. She might have been smiling and happy on the covers of Cosmo and Teen Vogue, but behind the scenes she was always angry, or bitter, or just plain rude. One of Rachel's deepest, most precious dreams was to attain the stardom that Quinn so obviously took for granted, and she knew deep down that she would be nothing but gracious and kind if she ever achieved the kind of stardom that Quinn took advantage of. Besides, if she was being brutally honest, Quinn didn't even have that powerful a voice. It had a light, delicate, pretty timbre, that was for sure, but there was no depth to it; neither heart nor passion nor love for the music could be heard. Half of the time her songs were over-produced and even auto-tuned to hide the flaws, which Rachel detested above all else. With artists like Quinn Fabray it wasn't about the music, it was all about the image that was projected to the public, and Rachel hated working with those kinds of artists the most.
At least she was getting paid good money. She had been working her way through the levels of the music industry from scratch, and only recently had she achieved any kind of success in such a cut-throat industry. If everything went well in regards to Quinn's new album, then things could only go up for Rachel from there.
A loud bang could be heard from outside of the recording studio, and Rachel looked over to the control booth to see Quinn's producer and the studio's owner, Will Schuester, enter for the start of the work day. Will was a legend in the recording industry, and he was in high demand to produce the albums for some of the music industry's biggest acts. In fact, if it wasn't for Will she probably wouldn't even be a professional songwriter. He had discovered her one evening, playing piano in a jazz club and showcasing her own music after she had moved out to LA to become a star on her own. Impressed with what he had heard, he allowed Rachel to write a song for a quasi-popular boy band that he had been working with at the time. When the single hit #12 on the iTunes chart, she had started getting calls from the management of other recording artists demanding her work. In fact, it was Will who had personally requested Rachel for Quinn's sophomore album, and she respected Will way too much to turn down his offer.
"Good Morning, Rachel," Will said brightly through the intercom that connected the studio to the recording booth. He was busy turning on the various pieces of equipment and making sure they were all calibrated for the recording process. "How has 'Heartbreak Hell' been coming along?" She grimaced at the sheet music in front of her and added some last minute changes to the piece. It was a decent enough song; on the pop spectrum with some upbeat moments. Will had plans to add a bit of a dance beat to it so they would want to play it in clubs as well. However, she had a feeling that Quinn wouldn't be able to hit half the notes during the bridge, so she frowned as she thought about transposing it a half step lower.
"I think it sounds decent enough, but I'm not sure about Quinn's part by the bridge. I think I should lower it a half step." The million-dollar moneymaker shook his head.
"We'll see how rehearsal goes, she's bringing in her studio musicians today for a full run through of the song."
"Oh really?" She asked, annoyed. It would be nice if she was aware that she needed to have the parts for the backup instruments done by this afternoon. "What time will they be here?"
"I think her manager said 2pm, but you know how Sue Sylvester loves to overbook Quinn. There's no such thing as overexposure for her right now, and they're milking it like crazy before the release of the new album." Once again, a frown crossed her features as she started working on the keyboard accompaniment, making notes in the margins about changes she had to address. She hadn't gotten any sleep at all last night and now she had to spend all day on instrumental work.
How was she ever going to break into the business when she didn't even have time to work on her own material? The tune from before was still stuck in her head while she tried to work on Quinn's song, and before she realized it, the studio musicians had arrived to start practicing before Quinn arrived. She sighed heavily as she got up from the piano, too involved in her work to even look up from the paper. She walked over to the musicians and started to babble at a mile a minute.
"Good afternoon, gentleman," She said as she handed out the sheet music without even looking up. "Here is the breakdown for Heartbreak Hell; for the guitarists you need to know the key is b flat and we might have to change the chords on the bridge to a diminished seventh depending on whether or not Quinn can hit the notes." She looked up for the slightest instant and wished she hadn't. The musicians in front of her were probably the three most attractive men she had ever seen in her life, even though she'd barely glanced at them for a nanosecond. Was everyone in LA ridiculously good looking? Of course they just had to meet her after she had pulled an all-nighter, but she knew deep down she shouldn't even worry. They were the back-up musicians for Quinn Fabray, so why would she even entertain the thought that they would find her attractive? Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry were in two completely different leagues and she knew what her place was in life. She looked at the lead guitarist, whose hair was shaved into a perfect mohawk, and frowned when she noticed that he was staring at her with a weird expression on his face.
"Well, hello beautiful," he crooned as she took in his appearance. He was wearing an old Black Sabbath t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and both of his arms had a trail of tattoos from his shoulders to his wrists. He was wearing skinny black jeans and shiny Doc Marten boots that came up to his mid-calf. His mohawk was tall and stiff and he wore a salacious smirk on his face like a badge of honor as he appraised her from head to toe. She was immediately turned off by his crass and unprofessional behavior. "My name is Noah Puckerman, but all the groupies call me Puck. And who might you be?"
Feeling bold towards the lascivious lead guitarist, she placed her hands on her hips and stood as straight and tall as she could manage with her petite stature. "My name is Rachel Berry, and I wrote every piece of music that's on this album, so you will show some respect where it is due, sir." She looked from the mohawked guitarist to the blond bassist who was tuning his instrument, and took in his appearance as well. His shaggy blonde hair was coiffed to perfection, and he wore a plain white t-shirt with baggy cargo pants and Converse kicks. She looked around for the other musician and he had retreated to the corner with his drum kit. She hadn't even really seen his face yet. She turned back towards the other musicians and they were both getting ready for their recording session. "And you are?" She asked the bassist.
"Oh, sorry about that, I'm Sam Evans." He stuck out his hand like a gentleman and she shook it, grateful for his manners. "Bassist for hire. Sorry about Puck, he's a great guitarist but he likes to hit on the ladies a bit too much." She felt much more comfortable talking to Sam than she did with Puck, and she tried to block out the noises that surrounded her as they all started to tune their instruments. She looked up towards the booth and saw that Will was talking to her good friend Artie, the sound mixer and Will's second in command at the studio. She realized that they should really get a sample of the sound before Quinn arrived, and she walked over to the drummer to introduce herself so they could get started.
She had barely seen his face while she was passing out the materials, but as she approached the drummer in the corner his face was buried in the sheet music, tapping out the beats on his snare while his leg bounced to the beat of the music. She had to admit that he had perfect rhythm, which was a tremendous asset to any producer during the recording process. She approached the drum kit and was about to introduce herself, when he finally lifted his head up and made direct eye contact with Rachel, stopping her in her tracks.
He was so good-looking that she almost forgot what he was going to say.
"Hey." He said simply, standing up from the drum kit and sticking out his hand. "My name is Finn. Finn Hudson." She shook his hand while she craned her neck to look him in the face. Man, he was tall! He smiled politely at her and all of her conversational skills flew out the window. It was bad enough that the guitarists were already good looking, but the drummer was positively gorgeous! White wristbands accessorized both of his arms while a blue CBGB t-shirt created a stark contrast against them. Fitted blue jeans hugged his hips perfectly, and she could see gray Vans sneakers poking out of the bottom of them. She looked down at her ruffled shirt and pencil skirt and frowned. They looked like punk rock Gods while she looked like a secretary.
It took her a second to snap out of her momentary trance, but she smiled brightly as she let go of his hand. It was warm, and she had to shake away the thrill she'd experienced during the simple touch. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Finn. I'm Rachel Berry, the songwriter for this album." He sat back down at his drum kit with a small smile and her heart started to beat erratically when he turned back to the music. It wasn't fair that Quinn was already famous, she just had to have the most attractive studio band imaginable! "If you have any problems with the music, please let me know." She started to walk away, feeling like she'd already made a fool out of herself just by breathing his air, when the gorgeous drummer addressed her personally.
"So wait, this song is in 5-4?" He inquired about the time signature, tapping lightly on the high hat. "Do you think you can play the keyboard accompaniment alongside us while we get used to the rhythm?" His work ethic impressed her, and she found herself grinning enthusiastically while she was forced to tamper down the giddy feelings he evoked in her.
Stay professional, Rachel!, she screamed at herself. Don't go crushing on the studio musicians!
"Of course, let me just get settled." She turned around and waved until she got Will's attention in the booth.
"Yes, Rachel?"
"We're about to start practicing if you want to listen in on the instrumentals." She said simply as she tucked herself into her piano chair. She looked over at the guitarists and they were finishing tuning their instruments, while Finn spun his drumsticks in his hands.
"You all ready?" She asked to make sure. "One, two, three!" Finn played the first beat and they were off, playing the instrumental section of Heartbreak Hell and letting loose in the recording studio. No one sung the lyrics, but they were more focused on the beat, which had to be perfected before Quinn arrived. Thankfully, these three musicians knew what they were doing, and they only had to run through the whole song a few times until everyone was comfortable with their roles. They were halfway through their final run-through, when a booming noise interrupted the beautiful music they were all making together.
"And just what the hell is going on here?" The music cut out instantly and Rachel looked up towards the booth and stared into the chilly eyes of Quinn Fabray, superstar recording artist and the bane of Rachel's existence. How were they going to be able to put a record together if they couldn't even practice? The guys stopped playing immediately as she stood up from her piano bench and joined Quinn, her cut-throat manager Sue Sylvester, Will and Artie in the booth. Trying to be as pleasant and professional as possible with the million-dollar recording artist, she approached Quinn and her manager with a smile.
"Good afternoon, Quinn, Ms. Sylvester." Neither woman returned the sentiment. "We were just working on the instrumentals to Heartbreak Hell. Would you like to hear what we've done?"
"No thanks, I've heard enough already," she said, looking down at Rachel. Sure, the girl was already petite, but Quinn was making Rachel feel almost invisible with the way she was peering down at her from her four inch pumps. She pulled off her designer sunglasses and walked right past Rachel, ignoring her and walking into the studio. "Why haven't my boys said hello to me, yet?" She asked with a pout as she approached the musicians. Rachel could feel the burn of jealousy scald her like wildfire as she kissed every single boy on the mouth, including the hot drummer, whose lips she'd lingered on the longest. She should have known that Quinn would have every one of these guys wrapped around her finger. Typical.
She shouldn't care so much, though. It wasn't her place to be hooking up with studio musicians or anyone else she might work with in the future. The music industry was small, and word traveled fast. Right now she had to focus on one thing, and one thing only, and that was her own career and future in the music business. If she got a bad reputation in LA then no one would want to hire her, and it was bad enough that she'd been forced to make a change in her life goals. Songwriting paid the bills and it brought her a very small and specific kind of fame, but she wanted to be the one on stage, belting the music that had come straight out of her soul. She wanted to be the one who placed open mouthed kisses on her studio musicians, and wore designer labels in the glossy pages of magazines.
Until then, she would have to just play along with the rules of the game, and build up her flawless reputation until she was finally recognized for her talents. She looked over at Sue, the most devious and cut-throat manager in the business, and wondered what her life would be like if she was Sue's client instead of Quinn. She would probably have a Grammy by now, along with a photo spread in every magazine, a complete line of flirty perfumes, and a sexy drummer of her own to escort her to all the flashy events. . .
"Are we going to record something or are you all just trying to waste my time?" Quinn's voice startled her out of her momentary reverie as she snapped back to the task at hand. She nodded towards Will and Artie, who were fiddling with sound controls as she approached the singer in the studio. She could feel the eyes of the other musicians on her while she initiated Quinn's warm-up exercises on the keyboard, and had to resist the urge to wince when she butchered some of the notes.
When she was finished, it was time to get to business. "Alright Quinn, first and foremost we have to work on the bridge; if you can't hit the notes in that section then we'll have to lower it a half step and we're already pressed for time." She started to play the introduction, and the other musicians followed suit. Everything was perfect, until the blond chanteuse hit the bridge.
It sounded like a cat was drowning.
Rachel stopped playing, and gave a cut-off to the other musicians while Quinn continued to squawk, because Rachel did not consider that sound to be musical in any way. Quinn stared at her like she had three heads and asked what was wrong.
"I should have known the key change would be too much for you. I'm lowering this piece a half step and we can work on it tomorrow." She didn't have to look up from her music to know that Quinn was glaring at her.
"I like the key it's in." She said, coolly. Could she even hear herself? Was her headset broken?
"Quinn, it is my professional opinion that the bridge should be lowered a half step. We can fix the song in post-production so it sounds decent, but singing it in concert is a completely different story." All the auto-tuning in the world couldn't fix how terrible Quinn sounded, but it wasn't Rachel's place to comment unless she never wanted to work in LA ever again. Before she could make a mark on her sheet music, Quinn ripped the paper away from her, and Rachel looked up to see all three studio musicians watching the scene unfold like it was a cage match. Finn, the drummer, looked particularly sympathetic as Quinn refused to return the sheet music that Rachel had been working on so painstakingly. Her voice was low and vicious when the superstar finally addressed her.
"I don't know who you think you are, but there is no way in hell I am going to let you mess up my songs." It took every ounce of strength left in her already exhausted body not to punch the girl in the face. They were not Quinn's songs, they were Rachel's songs; this was the music that had been evoked straight from her soul, and part of her wanted to rip the sheet music from her hands and walk out, leaving her to record an album without any material whatsoever.
However, deep down she knew that this was impossible. She knew about her place in the music industry, and it was practically the sub-basement compared to the level of Quinn's star power. Feeling embarrassed and personally offended, she had to mask her disdain as she begrudgingly apologized to the singer, agreeing not to lower the key a half step before resuming the practice.
She played the piano accompaniment diligently until Quinn had to leave for an interview on Jimmy Kimmel. Before she left, she kissed every musician once more on the mouth as a goodbye and Rachel wondered what kind of relationship they all had. The tabloids said she was supposedly single, but you couldn't tell that from the way she had just flirted with her musicians. It shouldn't have bothered her, but it was all she could think about as she hung around after everyone had left, working on the last minute changes to Heartbreak Hell. She wasn't lowering the bridge a half-step anymore, but there were still things that needed fixing.
When she played the key change that marked the bridge, she couldn't help herself, and started belting out the notes that Quinn's voice was too weak to sing. They rested perfectly in her range, and the sound of her voice bounced off the acoustics of the recording studio. She had to admit that she sounded great. Alongside her piano, Rachel sang the song that she had written for another singer, but with more passion and emotion than Quinn could ever elicit with her breathy voice. After she had played it in it's entirety and was happy with the changes she'd made, she was ready to retreat to the privacy of her condo, when a small clapping could be heard behind her.
She turned around slowly, feeling her heart drop into her stomach when she came face to face with the hot studio drummer, Finn. He was staring at her in a peculiar way as her heart sped up into overdrive, feeling embarrassed that she'd been caught in such a vulnerable moment.
"That was pretty impressive, songwriter." She was almost positive that the others had left or else she wouldn't have let loose like that. How long had he been there, listening to her sing?
"What are you still doing here? I thought you and the other guys left." Did he have to look so attractive while he was staring at her? And did he just say that he was impressed?
"They did, but I like to hang around sometimes and get some extra practice in. Seems like you do too." He walked right up to the piano and sat on the bench next to her. She had to move over to accommodate him, but she didn't mind in the slightest. "You sure know how to write a complicated drum beat. I have to work on the chorus some more before the next session, but it can wait until tomorrow." She felt her face grow hot with embarrassment at his praise, and she pivoted her body so she could look up at him. No one had ever complimented her accompaniment before; too many people assumed that songwriting only included lyrics when there was so much more than that.
"Thank you. I appreciate your feedback."
"And just between you, me and the walls," he said, looking around to make sure they were alone. "You were right about lowering the song a half step." The shock she felt was overwhelming as the attractive drummer agreed with her over his own boss. In fact, she felt so lightheaded she thought she might faint, which wouldn't make the best impression on the man who had enamored her so easily. Luckily for her self control, he stood up from the piano bench, grabbed his drumsticks and started to head out the doors. He had one last thing to say though, and it caused her heart to practically burst from her chest as his voice carried throughout the empty room. "If she had a voice like you, it wouldn't be a problem."
She stared after his retreating figure as she processed what had just happened. Finn, drummer to superstar Quinn Fabray, thought she was impressive! He thought her voice was better than Quinn's! A bout of inspiration struck her once more, and she put away Heartbreak Hell and whipped out her new unnamed masterpiece, losing herself in the music as she forfeited another night of rest.
Salut mes amis!
Welcome to the new fic! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. This should be super fun to write!
Until next time. . . sings. . .Don't Stop. . . Reviewing!
Merci Mille Fois!