Not One For Love

PRerogative

There was no denying the spring in Rachel's step when she skipped out of the subway entrance to head to a meeting with Brittany and her publicist. She felt as if she would float up into space. Her head was the clearest it had ever been. There was a soreness in her body that constantly reminded her of the fun she had a few days ago. With Quinn.

While Rachel hadn't called her again, hiring the prostitute was definitely Brittany's brightest ideas to date. Rachel was also sure that if she slept with any other prostitute, she wouldn't feel this content. It had to be Quinn, and she was delighted that it was. There was something about the escort. From her cropped, blonde hair that dared defy gravity, her rippling, sinewy frame, and her cock. Rachel shook her head to get rid of her obscene thoughts. She needed to be professional for this meeting.

Rachel entered another building made out of steel and glass with quartz floors and people in suits and ties traipsing in and out of the elevators. Along with three men wearing expensive suits and another woman wearing heels that could easily be used as a murder weapon, Rachel rode the elevator up to the eighth floor. Down the hall she went, into a small conference room. Inside, Brittany and her publicist, Elle Beasly were speaking in hushed tones.

"...needs a boyfriend, or else they would lose interest!"

Raising a brow, Rachel rapped her knuckles against the doorframe before walking in. Brittany had a small frown on her usually-smiling features. Sitting beside her, Rachel stared at her publicist. In her late thirties, Elle Beasly was in charge of the public lives of multiple famous actors and actresses, and now took it upon herself to lead Rachel's as well. "Hello, Miss Berry. So glad that you're here now." She shuffled her papers, her lengthy, manicured nails tapping against the desk. "I heard about your... altercation with Mr. Hudson."

"Altercation is a funny word." Rachel shook her head and turned to Brittany. How could Elle possibly know? She was sure that Brittany wouldn't betray her trust like that. "But no, we didn't have an altercation. We broke up."

"Yes, yes." Elle waved her hand impatiently while she tucked a lock of her auburn hair behind her ear. "The question is, why? Can't you simply get over the fact that he's gay now and carry on pretending that everything is fine? You're an actress, aren't you? Can't you act?"

Rachel clenched her fists and released a slow breath. "No. I can't act regarding my personal life. I would prefer keeping my professional life separate from it. When I'm not being filmed or if I'm not on stage, I don't pretend. I'm only human, and I loathe being lied to. And that's exactly what Finn did. He lied—cheated on me. It's not that he's gay. I have gay dads. But he cheated on me with another person, on our bed!"

She fumed, glaring at the poised woman that was staring her down. If this was a test of dominance, Rachel would win at all costs. Even if it meant purchasing eye drops later. She would dare not back down, and she would not allow this requirement to have a public life direct her entire career.

To Rachel's relief, Elle sighed and shook her head in evident disdain. But it was she who looked away first. "Fine. But know this, Rachel Berry. You need a publicity boyfriend. If not Mr. Hudson, what about your co-star? William something, was it?"

"No thank you." Rachel fumed. She clearly had yet to win the show of who was the actual boss. "I like my co-star well enough. But I don't even want to pretend that I'm dating him. He's not my type." None of them are sexy blondes with a cock that can make me forget my own name, Rachel thought. "I decline to forge a fake relationship for the sake of the media! It's horrible and it's a cycle that's going to have to end. Now."

The challenging look that crossed Elle's piercing green eyes did not waver Rachel one bit, or so she would like to believe. "Is that so? Do you really think you're the first rising actor who denied the long-standing tradition of PR romances?" She said with ice lacing her voice, her manicured nails tapping a terrifying rhythm against the desk's wooden surface. "Sadly for you, that's not the case." She smirked then and closed her stack of paperwork. "You'll have a choice. Consider yourself lucky; I rarely allow defiant actors and actresses a choice once they gave me the lip. You get to choose between your co-star and someone else. An eligible bachelor, preferably a struggling actor as well. I'll email Brittany a list." Elle Beasly ran a finger along her perfectly coifed hair and rose off her seat. "We're done here."