No more,
I won't beg to buy a shot at your back door
If I'm aching at the thought of you, what for?
That's not me anymore

I'm not the girl that I intend to be,
I'll get there darling, just you wait and see
But this time not for you but just for me,
And I say

Ooh, how'm I gonna get over you?
I'll be alright, just not tonight
Someday

Heyyyy I wish you'd want me to stay
I'll be alright, just not tonight,
Someday

Gonna Get Over Your - Sara Bareilles (2011)

Mercedes closed her eyes tightly and clicked her heels together three times. She tried to visualize her deepest wish in detail but she couldn't. All she could see was that she was singing. People were paying money to hear her sing. She smiled at the vision and opened her eyes.

"Damn!" she scowled at the person standing in front of her.

"Well, I love you too!" Kurt Hummel laughed.

"Not you. It's just those damned ruby red slippers are fake." The two of them looked at shoes in the display case of the Smithsonian's American History museum.

"As I recall the moral of that story was there's no place like home." Kurt reminded her. "Home is what I'm trying to get away from."

"You made it at far as Washington." she reminded her best friend.

"To hang out with my dad for a week but yes, it's a start. And you escaped."

"My singing career?" She rolled her brown eyes dramatically. "Don't remind me."

"What happened?" He asked with concern since she had only hinted at the story. "Really?"

"It wasn't as bad as it coulda been." She sighed deeply. "If you must know, here's the deal, in case it ever happens to you. I'm a singer, he's a producer, so yo you'd think we'd be in a recording studio but instead he's talking pictures. The first couple were okay but after a while I started to get a little creeped out.

"Why are are doing this again?" Mercedes asked, tugging at the bosom of the low cut dress he asked her to wear. Her girls were threatening to fall out.

"Publicity, you need publicity shots." The pervy producer answered.

"This kind of publicity I'm not interested in."

"You gotta put your assets up front." He insisted.

"My voice is the only ass-set I'm interest in putting on display."

"Mercy," he spoke to her like she was a child "if you want to win the game you gotta play the game."

"What game is that?"

"The fame game. If you wanna be a winner you gotta be a player."

"Than I guess I'm a loser." She grabbed her jacket for modesty. She kept the dress for spite.

"And that was the end of my brilliant career. So after that I kicked around for a bit, passing out demo CDs like they were candy, doing open mics. Schuester didn't mention that, how fiercely competitive it is out there. How record companies are more interested in the look than the sound. They can fix the sound with technology and my look isn't what they're interested in. Schuester's all - go to LA and be a star."

"Well that sucks. Maybe not prom queen sucky but genuinely sucky none the less."

"Eventually I blew through all my money and had to beg my dad for help. He made me promise to come home if things don't work out by my 21st birthday. Then he hooked me up with a friend of his, a dentist who needed office help. Two weeks of that and I'm hating life but then in walks the former Terri Schuester. She was in for a root canal but her nanny had just bailed on her and she had to bring her son Max along. Said she'd always wanted to be a wife and mother but the wife part went to shit so she decided to adopt a toddler. Anyway, thanks to my awesome babysitting skills she offered me a job. I guess that's the upside of no high school social life. A decent salary, room and board, travel, getting away from rooming with Puck. I would have been crazy to say no. She's around her somewhere, probably at Air and Space because Max likes that kind of thing. Then they're going to the Mint cause Terri likes THAT kind of thing, but she gave me the day off and here I am with you." She linked arms with Kurt. "Well, as long as we're here we might as well check out the gemstone collection."

"Yes, lets look at beautiful gems and fantasize about the handsome men who will give them to us." Kurt pulled her away from the Wizard of Oz display.

Later that day

"Okay, I'll spend a week here with Burt and Carole, then what?" Kurt asked, mentally weighing the Hope Diamond in his mind. No. Even Kurt Hummel has his bling limit.

"I suppose you'll have to go back home, maybe help out at the garage. It's not the worst thing that could happen, I mean, it's up there but..." She was interrupted by her cell phone, "Hello?"

"Hello. May I speak to Mercedes Jones?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

"Speaking. How can I help you?"

"Yes, my name is Alyce McKenna, from Los Angeles."

"From a record company.?" She winked at Kurt.

"No." the disembodied voice replied. "Unfortunately no. I'm sorry."

"No, that's fine. Statistically speaking very few people are from record companies. How can I help you?" She repeated, trying to hide her disappointment.

"To get straight to the point, I own a publishing company, a music publishing company, and we'd like to talk to you about joining use. As a songwriter."

"A songwriter!" Did she hear that right? Now Kurt was winking at her.

"Yes, a songwriter. Let me explain. A friend gave me a copy of your CD. My friend actually does work for a record company. In the department that processes rejections, sorry to say, but she listens to the CDs before she shreds them."

"That's allowed?" And did Mercedes really care if it's allowed or not?

"Yes. At that point the record company has already declined to sign the artist. Anyway, she thought I might be interested and sent me the CD. And she was right, you're a very good writer. Your work is hard to fit in a slot, quite frankly it's all over the place. Personally I think that's an advantage but most record companies want to know exactly what category you should be filed under. And they're more interested in singers than songwriters anyway."

"And you're not looking for singers?"

"No. I prefer to focus on writing and in you I see a style I'd like to work with." She likes my style, Mercedes mouthed to Kurt while still listening to Alyce. "So if you're interested I'd like to meet you in person."

"Yes!". She repeated herself, tying not to sound too eager. "Yes, I'd like that."

"Great. I'll text you our website so you can check it out. A girl can't be too careful." Alyce said with a laugh.

"Yes, I'd like that." She hung up the phone and beamed at Kurt. "I guess those shoes do work."

"Oh, babe." He hugged her. "Let's go back so I can make a wish."

Several weeks later

"So!" Kurt asked anxiously. "What's it like?"

"Well, she runs the company out of an office in her house, a freaking LA mansion. There's a huge amount of talent here in LA scrambling for a small number of paid singing gigs. That's what she was, a singer/guitarist, when she first came here but writing's the way to go, or so says Alyce. She says most people are atrocious, and I need some polishing..."

"Well that's harsh." Kurt observed.

"That's Alyce McKenna. And I haven't even mentioned the co-owner, her brother Ben. He's even worse when it comes to tact. You never wonder what either of them is thinking, that's for sure."

"And what about your job with Terri?"

"That fits too. Songwriting's not a 9 to 5 job. You can do it anywhere and anytime. I won't have to juggle auditions and gigs around Terri's schedule. I mean, with Max in school I have the morning's free so I can write and record demos then. And then Alyce and Ben try to sell them. That's why they're so particular, they're the ones sitting in the meeting with producers, trying to convince them to buy the songs. But it's cool, they half-sold one already. I'll send you a ticket when the the check clears."

"Cool! And that guy you mentioned, Drake?"

"Drew." She corrected him. "His name is Drew and he's okay."

"Just okay?" That's not good Kurt thought. "Didn't he invite you out on a date?"

"The farmer's market and I totally misread him. Remember how I said he likes my hair, that it was the first thing he said to me that day I met him at a staff meeting?"

"Yes. He has dreads, right?"

"Locs, yes. And like everybody in this town he has a half-dozen jobs just to pay the rent. Songwriters only get paid when they sell something. So one of the other is selling stuff at the local farmer's market."

"What kind of stuff?" Kurt was starting to lose interest. Didn't she leave Ohio to get away from farm boys?

"Well, and this is where hair comes in, he sells stuff for natural hair."

"There's special things for natural hair? You can't just go to the store?"

"You can, and I used to, but this is African shea butter and it's awesome, I must say. I'll send you some."

"To use on my hair?" Kurt visualized her thick mane and his fine hair.

"It's probably too heavy for your hair, but he makes this massage bar. I mean, it looks like a bar of soap but it melts on you skin. Blaine would love it. And see, that's the part I misread. When he mentioned massages I thought sexy times. But no, he just needed somebody to help out at his farm stand. But even so, there's no reason for you guys not to have sexy times."

"Gay?" Kurt asked, visualizing sexy times with Blaine.

"No. Sitting there for a couple of hours we got to talking. Normally we talk about whatever we're working on but that day was different because we were both bored. It turns out I'm not his type. He goes for the video vixen type."

"What's a video vixen?"

"Kurt! You need to watch more rap videos. A video vixen is a half naked black girl wearing a bikini several sizes too small, spike heels and some Indian girl's hair on her head."

"Oh." He was starting to lose interest again.

"Actually, most guys go for that type. I guess the white ones are called video vixens too. That's why he's here, his girlfriend dances in music videos."

"A place the size of LA you're sure to find the right guy."

"I'm too busy to worry about it right now. Alyce is gorgeous, talented and rich and she's not worried. I suspect when I get to her age I'll start to worry. Terri's old as hell and she's got some guy on the hook and is slowly reeling him in. Anyway, how soon can you get out her to visit?"

"I don't know. It's not like I'm busy here. Blaine's at school all day and then there's student government business after school."

"Student government?"

"Yes. He's president of the student council. Sam's vice president."

"That's cool."

"And Sam." He hesitated, considering how things turned out between her and Sam.

"What about him?"

"He's dating Britt now."

"Oh. See, she's the white video vixen type guys go for. Well, I'm happy for him. Happy he has a girlfriend he can be seen in public with."

"And he couldn't be seen in public with you?"

"We were seen in public, it's just nobody knew we were dating, did they? Anyway, I already knew that, that he was dating Britt."

"How?"

"Unique. She called me the other day for some advice. You see, back in the day Rick the Dick used to keep calling me Porsche or Lexus like it was some joke I never heard before. Oh, he's quite the wit, isn't he? Anyhow, Unique asked me how to handle a similar problem."

"Didn't Rick graduate?"

"Yeah, he did. Unique's problem is with Britt of all people. Britt was always nice enough in her passive-aggressive way but now she's gone off the hook."

"What?" Kurt couldn't believe it.

"She keeps calling Unique by my name. As in all black people look alike I suppose. Schuester was sitting right there and didn't say a word, surprise surprise. He probably can't tell the difference either. I told her to just call Britt whatever dumb blond is making news this week. There's always a dumb blond in the news. I could talk to Sam about it but I'd rather not." Kurt heard the sadness that enters her voice when Sam comes up. He wished they'd had ended their relationship with a bang, a big knock down drag out fight where at least each knew what the other was mad about, rather than the way they let it dissolve in a puddle of unspoken words, unasked questions, unacknowledged hurt. Mercedes was still talking. "I'd rather not ask for a favor from Sam. So, maybe you could ask Blaine to speak to him about it?"

"Sure. I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding. Britt wouldn't do something mean on purpose."

"Whatever. Whether she means anything by it or not it still stings." Mercedes repeated.

"Sure. I talk to Blaine." Kurt was distracted by the doorbell ringing. "Seven pm on the dot. Punctual as ever." he said with a frown.

"Oh Kurt, it'll be fine." She sent waves of electronic love his way. "She's your favorite aunt, isn't she?"

"She's my only aunt and I love her to pieces. It's just, this is the first time we're talking face to face since NAYDA. I just don't want to go through it with her."

"It'll be fine. She'll fuss a little and then she'll get over it."

"Probably." The door bell rang again. "I better go face the music. Love ya, babe!"

"Love ya, babe!"

The two old friends broke the connection.