"Evening everyone, it's Kirstin here with your Daily Dirt. Word on the street is that Hollywood Rock n' Roll will be teaming up with the Bright Lights of Broadway as rocker rebel Puck and Broadway beauty Rachel Berry are rumored to have a duet of quote "epic proportions" in the works. This wouldn't mark the first time the two have met however, the dueling duo were the talk of the all the tabloids just two months ago when Berry reportedly struck the chart-topper with what was described by the Texas native as a 'purse that came down like the hand of God'. No details of what could have provoked such a response were ever released, and no charges were formally pressed. Luckily, the two seem to have put aside their differences as representatives on both sides tell me that the two are ecstatic to be working together on what will surely be the breakthrough hit of the season".

"Ecstatic?" Rachel Berry angrily clicked off the television screen as she glared ominously at her manager.

Kurt Hummel was positively flummoxed, he had planned to be conveniently within a 25 mile radius, or at least in an area with no cell phone reception when Rachel got the news. Obviously things hadn't gone exactly as planned.

"Hmmm…you don't remember saying that? You know, that time when you were just a little tipsy because you didn't know that drink had---"

"Kurt!" Rachel collapsed on the couch, "Ecstatic is for when Barbara releases another Greatest Hits album, when I won my first Tony, when-"

"When Gossip Girl brought back knee-socks?"

"I refuse to partake in this abomination you have sneakily arranged," she declared, folding her arms across her chest, "I find him utterly revolting," she looked up at the ceiling as she remembered their first encounter two months ago. Of course the media had portrayed it as a huge debacle, with rumors of a relationship between the two flying around for weeks.

In reality, it had been far less eventful, but just as traumatic.

"Ok, listen here Berrylicious," Kurt put on his game face, if there was one thing he believed in it was that behind every great starlet, was an immaculately dressed and cunningly persuasive manager, " You're on your third Broadway hit, let's face it, you are fast approaching an inevitable plateau that will surely lead to toothpaste commercials ala Brooke Shields,"

Rachel huffed indignantly, "I don't think that's—"

"The fact is that you need to branch out, you can't be doing Broadway for the rest of your life Rachel. We need to go mainstream. See this hair," he pointed towards his well-groomed side swept mane, "You can't buy this at a drugstore, so unless you want to kill us both, I suggest you play nice with that hot, smoldering, Adonis-like---"

"Way to tickle my gag reflex," Rachel began rubbing her temples practicing the breathing techniques her yoga instructor had shown her the other day. She had always trusted Kurt, he had been her closest and sometimes only friend since they were both in the 9th grade, and when he told her be somewhere, she was there. When he told her to say something, she said it. No questions, no arguments. But this time…she was sure he had lost his mind.

"Why him?" she asked suddenly, "I mean, there must be other artists right?

Kurt rolled his eyes, any other girl would have given up an ear to be given the opportunity to even meet Puck, let alone be able to stare into those hypnotizing green eyes crooning out a love ballad. But then again, he always knew that Rachel was and had never been just any other girl, "What is the one thing that I constantly tell you,"

"Never wear red-lipstick with white shoes?"

"Well…of course that too," Kurt shook his head, resisting the urge to digress, "But no. Sex sells divalicious, and this…" Kurt quickly pulled out a magazine out of his coat pocket and immediately flashed a spread of a shirtless Puck lying across a bear rug, "Is sex bottled into a perfectly toned, 6 foot package,"

Rachel face contorted in disgust, "I'm not doing it Kurt," she shot him a pointed stare, "I haven't been properly immunized."

"Rachel…"

"Kurt…"

"I just feel…"

"No!"

Kurt sighed dramatically, the wheels in his head quickly turning. It was time to bring out the big guns, "Yeah…thought so, guess Puck was right."

Rachel shot up like a rubber-band, "Excuse me?" she seethed, "Right about what?"

"Oh nothing…"Kurt began nonchalantly. Hook. Line. Sinker. " He just suggested that you probably wouldn't agree to the idea, since you can barely keep your hands off of him," Kurt continued as he swore he saw steam emitting from Rachel's ears, "He said he understands, that he just has the effect on women, and that you shouldn't be ashamed."

"Ashamed?!" Rachel screeched, her tiny hands clenched into two fists "Can't keep my hands off of him?" She raised herself up from the couch and began marching up her penthouse staircase.

"Where are you going?" Kurt yelled after her.

"Packing!" She shouted back, "You tell that Neanderthal and his 50-watt personality that Rachel Berry is definitely committed to this project," she stomped up a few more steps before turning back to Kurt, "Because I am a professional!"

Kurt heard the door to her room slam as he inwardly smiled to himself. That had almost been too easy.

In Hollywood....

"Oh God Puck!" A young lithe blonde screamed as she dug her nails into the muscular back of the man who had just brought her to climax. She tightened her legs around him as she felt him reach his peak. She smiled coyly at him as he rolled off of her onto his back, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead. Kissing his neck she whispered into his ear "That was…amazing,"

Puck looked back at the young woman lying next to him. Not bad. As usual he'd picked her out of a group of girls who had somehow managed to sneak backstage, and of course, like any good Samaritan, he wasn't about to let all that effort go to waste. Except now the only problem was how to get her out of his bed so he could begin his morning routine.

"PUCK!" Mercedes his manger nearly screamed as she burst into the door, barely phased by the site she saw in front of her, "Ok sweetie, time to go," reaching over to the wall she pressed a button that immediately opened the window blinds, causing rays of sunlight to flood the room, "Puck we have some business we need to deal with,"

It usually drove Puck mad when Mercedes would burst into his bedroom unannounced, shouting like a madwoman. But today…he couldn't have been more grateful. He quickly popped out of bed, "Darn, sorry Candy, you heard the woman. Duty calls," he shot her wink.

"It's Mandy!" the blonde shouted as Puck made his way to the door.

"Too bad, I like Candy better," ignoring the familiar string of expletives that were being shouted at him he made his way to the large kitchen were Mercedes was sitting at the counter, giving him an eerie smile. Something was definitely awry in the Puckerman complex.

"How's mama's favorite client doing?" she asked, handing him a plate full of bacon, eggs, and skillet potatoes, "Milk?"

"Cut the crap Mercedes," he growled, but not before thanking her for the delicious plate of food in-front of him, "What's going on. It's been…" he stared up at the clock, "Ten whole minutes since I've been up and you haven't yelled at me once…something's up,"

"What?" Mercedes looked up at him innocently, "I don't know what you're—"

"Mercedes…"

"Damn alright…" Mercedes sighed, "Do you remember Rachel Berry, the Broadway star that you met at that gala two months ago?"

Puck guzzled down his glass of milk, wiping the white mustache off his lips, "You mean the crazy troll who assaulted me?"

"Don't be dramatic," Mercedes snapped, quickly pulling his plate away from him, ignoring the fact that he was now threatening to stab her with his fork, "Listen, there's a duet in the works,"

"I don't do duets," Puck pulled back the plate, "This stud rides solo, you know that Mercedes," Puck didn't deny the fact that he didn't 'play well with others, it wasn't his fault that he just simply had too much talent to share the stage with anyone. That's how things had always been, and if Puck had anything to do with it, that's how they were staying.

"Look," Mercedes pulled out a heap of magazines from under the table, "All of these are about you…Puck's My Baby's Daddy, Puck out of Luck in Jail, Puck in Barbados with Bimbos…do you really want me to go on?"

Puck stared up at her with a clueless expression on his face, "What's your point?"

"My point is…" she began in a softer tone, giving him that 'you-know-I-care' look, "This rebellious rocker act, its only going to last so long…you've worked too hard to let your career go down the drain, along with your brain."

"haha," Puck spat sarcastically, "Is this how you plan to get me to do something you know I don't want to do?"

"No…" Mercedes shot him her infamous grin, " But I figure a seven-figure deal might."

Puck had only met the girl once, and after that encounter he had sworn that he would stay as far away from her tornado of crazy as possible. Perhaps part of him was unnerved by the fact that she had been the only girl he'd ever met who hadn't been floored by his drop dead gorgeous features, not that he cared, he had been with the most beautiful women the world, women far more beautiful than Rachel Berry. Anyways, he was far out of her league.

But, he didn't mind putting away an extra mill' in the kettle. Plus he could simply ignore her as he had a developed talent for ignoring female ramblings. And if she got too unbearable, which he fully anticipated she would, he would just lay on some of the famous Puckerman charm. Even an uptight prude like Rachel Berry wouldn't be able to resist, "Alright, cool. When do we leave?"

"Today...we leave for New York, then the two of you will board a plane for Miami!" Mercedes began imitating a salsa dancer, much to Puck's amusement.

Images of scantily clad women in bikinis, drinks on the beach, and excellent food flashed through his head, immediately alleviating some of his lingering hesitation, "And we can't just go straight to Miami because…."

"Publicity" she replied simply.

"Fair enough," finishing the last of his meal he contemplated whether he was giving in too easy, but decided that since Mercedes eventually got her way in the end, he'd save himself a headache. He'd have plenty of those on the flight to Miami, "Well I'm going to start packing now, don't know how much I can bring since I'll be riding in a Handi-plane with an angry midget,"

Mercedes quickly slapped him on the shoulder, "Can you please be a little more politically correct?"

"Nope. It's part of my charm" and with that he swaggered back to his den.

Mercedes gave herself a mental pat on the back. That had definitely been much easier than expected. She had gotten a call from her friend Kurt earlier in the morning, and he'd relayed to her how difficult it had been to get Rachel to jump on board. But just as Kurt knew Rachel, she knew Puck, and in truth, she never really had a doubt that they would find someway to get the pair to work together.

Now, the only thing worrying her was how she was going to prevent the two from killing each other.