Title: Sandwich Girl

Summary: For the past two years, I've been receiving advanced calls for lunch orders from a registered name, Jennifer Lopez, or J Lo for short. Not once has she missed a day, so the one week she continually does, something doesn't feel right.

Rating: T

Pairing: Brittany/Santana

Genre: Romance/Crime/Mystery

What if I said that I have this routine everyday of my life and it includes a girl I've never met?

For the past two years, the name Jennifer Lopez is registered in our restaurant's mobile phone for advanced orders and pick-ups. Not a day do we in Breadstix ever miss a call from her. Around 11am-1pm she would place a call every time, and an hour later, she'd pick it up. Her order would always be the same too, one, chicken pepper with Caesar dressing and wheat bread sandwich, and other times, she'd add a basket of breadsticks to the mix. The point is, there is not one day when she wouldn't call.

I'm the diner's cashier girl, so easily, I'm the one by the phone at all times waiting for any kind of call.

"Brittany! Phone!"

It's 12:30pm, still in the time range but later than usual. I turn to face my fellow co-worker, a white blonde named Quinn, with a smile. "Got it!" I reply, earning a hearty chuckle from the waitress.

I grab the iPhone placed on the side of the register and slide the green call button logo, grinning when I see the familiar name, Jennifer Lopez, flash on the screen briefly.

"Breadstix, how may I help you?"

"Hi, one chicken pepper with Caesar dressing and wheat bread sandwich."

Nodding my head as I pretend to scribble down her order on my small notepad, I hum in approval and ring the bell beside me, signalling our bus-person, Mike, to approach me.

"Will that be all?"

The voice on the other side sounds sleepy and tired, like how she always is every time she'd call.

"No, wait, actually, could you add in a basket of breadsticks too?"

"Would you want extra garlic on it?"

The question was stupid because whenever I'd ask, she'd say no, and sadly, she doesn't seem to notice I was being playfully sarcastic to her because she sighs and grunts.

"No."

I smile at Mike as he nears me and cover the mouth piece with my hand as I say, "J Lo with breadsticks." He gives me the thumbs up and rushes to the kitchen doors.

"Alright Ms. Lopez, that'll be—"

"I know how much." She snaps, and it doesn't surprise me because there are days when she'd explode on the phone. It makes me wonder what she does for a living.

"It'll be ready when you get here."

"Bye."

Then she hangs up. I sigh and place the phone down, jumping in place when Quinn slaps my back out of nowhere. "Quinn?"

My friend chuckles at me. "Was she bitchy again today?"

I roll my eyes and hold back a smirk. "Yup, she barked at me or something like that."

"She's not a dog, Britt." Quinn replies whilst tightening the straps of her waitress apron.

I frown and furrow my eyebrows together. "But you just called her a bitch." I point out, and it causes her to throw her head back in laughter.

"Oh god! I forgot you're a genius!"

Shrugging my shoulders, I send her a wink. "Don't hate what you ain't." I joke and give a polite nod to one of the waiters that hands me a check from Table 12. I read through the bill and count the cash squeezed inside, not bothering to use a calculator as I ring up the cashier register and pull out the exact change. I hand it back to the waiter, and turn to Quinn who has her perfectly manicured eyebrow quirked up at me.

"Why do you still work here?" She asks me the same question she'd ask on other days with an amused grin, and I respond after typing a few things on the computer.

"Because I have nothing to do in my spare time."

Quinn leans on her elbows and watches the quiet crowd we oddly or luckily got for lunch hour. "Hm, I also forgot how weird it is that you earn so much being the creator of Kiki, yet you spend your mornings working in the diner."

I look up at the clock and check the time to see it's nearing 1pm. I face Quinn and click my tongue. "I don't like being lazy." I simply respond, untying my apron. I slowly walk backwards as I continue to talk to Quinn. "I have to go, lunch with the sister, but I'll see you tomorrow!"

Nodding her head, Quinn waves me goodbye. "Tell Katie I said hi!"

"I will!" I throw the apron towards the hanger and smile when it lands perfect on the hoop. I could hear Mike from the kitchen whistling at me and I couldn't help but wink back at him before suddenly remembering something.

"Mike, don't forget that J Lo-"

"-Always comes in after an hour call. I know, I know Britt. I've been preparing her food for 2 years now right? I still don't get why you remind me all the time. It'll be out fresh and ready."

Grinning from ear to ear, I say, "Just part of the routine, Chang. See ya!"

That's another thing, I've been taking 's calls for nearly 2 years now, but I have never, ever seen what she looks like. Only a description here and there from Mike, Quinn or any of the other waiters, but I only get a tad bit curious. She was like a mystery that doesn't need solving; a puzzle without any pieces to fix. She was just party of my daily routine and it's weird, but nice. I never got to see her because she always came in late to pick up her food, and I couldn't be in the store later than 1 because I had lunch with Katie before she'd go back to class. And in the afternoons, I'd keep watch of the activity of my app, Kiki and make sure it's running smoothly.

So yeah, I have a routine.

Nothing changes that.

"Morning Brittany."

I adjust the sunglasses perched on my nose and flash Mike a smile. "Morning Mike, is Quinn here already?"

He shakes his head and hands me over my apron. "Called in just a minute ago, said she'll be late because she had to run an errand."

"At 8am in the morning?"

Shrugging, he walks towards the kitchen doors as I switch my register on.

"Hey! Guess what!" Mike suddenly says, popping his head out from behind the large metal door. I quirk an eyebrow up at him in response as I take off my shades and place them inside my bag that I quickly hide inside the mini-locker under the counter I lock in safely. "So the divorced man came back last night with her ex-wife and the new boyfriend."

"Whoa, really? Last time they spent breakfast here was the day he found out she was cheating on him and now they're having a meal together?"

The chimes ring, signalling a customer entering the restaurant as our host welcomes her.

"Right? But get this, the boyfriend-"

"-Is his brother? Best friend? Nephew? Dad?"

Mike frowns at me as I let out a giggle at his expression. "You have a sad, sad mind, Britt."

"I can't help it!"

"Going back-" he drawls, clucking his tongue. "-the boyfriend is already married."

My eyes widen. "Why did I not guess that?"

He chuckles back at me. "Wife came by just as surprised as you are."

"The wife of the boyfriend came in too? Wow, that's a drama I never want to put myself in."

Mike puts up his hand for a high-5 that I gladly give. "Ditto, sister."

"Okay, okay, now what else did I miss?"

He taps his chin and turns to the clock, a thought suddenly appearing inside his head. "Jennifer Lopez never came for her food."

My fingers stop working and oddly, I feel my whole body tense up. It felt weird, I felt a tingling sense crawl up my spine as I digest his words. As I have mentioned, never forgets to place her order and pick it up, it was part of my routine, so forgive my reaction if I suddenly had the need to pinch myself.

Turning to Mike, I feel my face scrunching up in confusion. "Really?"

He nods, pulling out his rag to clean some parts of the front counter. "Her pick-up is still in the fridge, we never touched it."

"That's..." I trail off, finding a word to describe the oddness of the situation.

"Jennifer Lopez."

"No, no, I was thinking more of-" My head drifts off from its deep thoughts as my eyes settle on the woman standing in front of my counter front wearing blue hospital scrubs. Her hair was up in a messy ponytail, and her shoulder bag was way, way open. I could practically see her wallet popping out.

"-Gorgeous." I blurt out, blue orbs staring into dull brown ones that had their focus on Mike. I feel my throat tightening up and my hands sweating profusely as she sighs, cranes her neck side to side and then steps closer to the booth. She puts down her open bag and leans on top of it.

"Hey Chang." A silky, yet raspy voice greets my co-worker with no aura.

"Ms. Lopez." He replies back with a curt nod. "How may I help you?"

She groans and rubs the back of her neck, probably removing the ache she feels in there. "I forgot something."

He quirks an eyebrow up at her as I continue to stare and hopefully (not) drool at the beautiful deity. "Are you talking about your pick-up, Ms. Lopez?"

J Lo grits her teeth together and clenches her eyes shut. "What else would I be talking about?"

Mike forces a fake smile, knowing not to mess with customers. "Apologies, Ms. Lopez, it's just-the food has been in the fridge overnight and-"

She pulls out her wallet and stifles through her cash. "Look, I don't have all the time in the world. I hate not following my routine and yesterday was not a good one for me. And, if I don't pay for this and eat it to make sure it digests inside my stomach before lunch so that I can buy a new one, this day is just going to get a whole lot worse."

I can't help but grin at her sass towards Mike even though I dislike the way she spoke to my co-worker.

"Now hurry up, and make sure blondie over there stops looking like a fool, flooding your restaurant with her saliva."

My eyes bulge out as my jaw drops at her words, and then all of a sudden, I feel the heat rushing up my veins to my brain. Just like that, my lips take an upside down turn.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

doesn't even budge.

"I don't mean to be rude but-"

"Britt-" Mike cuts in, placing a hand on my forearm as I realise just how tense my muscles have become. He leans in and whispers, "-Dont, she's different."

My jaw continues to clench as I fight not to strangle this woman who was carelessly dropping bills on the counter like it were paper money.

I force a smile and lick my lips. "Alright Ms. Lopez, that'll be-"

"I know how much." She snaps like she always do when I ask her that question.

Blood starts to boil within me as I accept the bills she clumsily slides towards me and punch it in. I huff and she does so too.

I never knew could be such a bitch Quinn assumes she would be.

Now I wish she'd come in already and see this.

"Wait a second-" she says, turning to face me with narrowed brown orbs. "You sound familiar."

I twist my head to her and flash the fakest smile I could ever muster. "Breadstix, how may I help you?" I say in the voice I use whenever I'd answer the phone.

Recognition flashes on her face as she gasps and points a tan finger at me. "It's stupid."

"Excuse me?!" I almost yell, catching the attention of the morning couples that came here for breakfast. "Ms. Lopez, you don't have to be rude. We don't even know each other-"

"Right, okay, well what can I say? I call you, literally every single day of my life, yet you still ask me if I want extra fucking garlic on my breadsticks all the damn time."

She knows.

She freaking knows.

"I was being polite!"

"You were being an idiot."

"I don't think it's proper to call people names after just meeting them."

"Can't help it, you've left quite an impression on me for the past year."

"I've been taking your orders for two years." I correct her with a grit of my teeth.

She rolls her eyes at me. "Wow. Thanks, Sherlock."

"Okay-" Mike cuts in, placing two paper bags in between us. "Ms. Lopez, your order." He gestures kindly with a charming smile.

It doesn't work on though because she still has that stumped expression on her. "Thanks."

I let out a sarcastic laugh. "So she does have manners." I hiss.

whips her head to me and scowls. "I can report your behaviour to your manager."

Rolling my eyes, I step back. "Go ahead, I don't really care."

"It's your job."

"Part-time."

"Still, your job."

"Well then, it's a hobby!" I shriek, not believing how well this girl could test my patience. She isn't a goddess, hell no, she's the freaking devil of Hades herself!

She frowns at me, confused. "Being a cashier girl is your hobby? Now I revert back to my initial impression on you-"

"You are the rudest person I have ever met."

"Nice to meet you too, my receipt please?" she says in such a sickly sweet voice. "Don't tell me you're surprised I can say please too?"

I rip out the piece of paper and slam it on the counter. "Come. Again." I reply in the lowest voice I can muster, with disdain.

She doesn't respond, just giving Mike a curt nod before sauntering away with her two paper bags of yesterday's lunch, and still, very open bag.

"That's the woman I've been talking to for 2 minutes for the past 2 years?!"

"Crazy how the world goes, huh?" Mike jokes with a laugh, stopping when I glare at him. "Kidding?"

"I am never taking her call-ever-again!" I huff, nearly tugging my hair off.

He looks at me with amusement. "It's kind of your job, Britt."

"I quit!" I suddenly shout, causing Mike to laugh some more even though I don't find this hilarious at all.

"You what?"

I twist to see Quinn just entering the booth with her hair up in a short pony.

"Britt met J Lo today." Mike told her with a glint in his eyes. "You should have seen it, I've never met anyone who can anger Britt-and that's saying something."

Quinn puts her apron on and quirks an eyebrow at us both. "Britt got mad? Are you sure?"

"Like I said, I'm quitting." I grunt, puffing hair away from my face where it stuck.

Mike points to me. "See."

Shaking her head, Quinn gathers up some trays and tosses her backpack to me. "Britt's never going to quit. And hon, please lock up my bag."

I do as I am told and watch as Quinn starts to work.

Looking at the clock on the wall, I frown.

4 free hours before the devil calls from hell.

"Someone called you stupid?" Katie asks, eyes wide as her mouth is still full with pasta. "Is that even allowed?"

"Unfortunately, there was no physical contact, so I can't sue her." I joke, causing Katie to frown at me.

"I can sue her for verbal harassment."

I sigh and twirl the salad I ordered. "But there isn't any proof."

"What an ass."

"Spoke the words right out of my mouth." I kid, chewing on the crouton. "She's pretty though."

Katie rolls her eyes at me. "Who cares! That doesn't matter when the inside is rotten."

"Like a sad, sad egg."

"Rotten egg."

"Ladies, would you like a refill?" the waiter asks as he holds up a metal pitcher.

I nod my head yes and so does Katie.

"You know, have I ever told you how much I love having lunch with you?"

I smile and flash my little sister a wink. "Everyday of my life."

She chuckles and rests her head on the palm of her hand. "It's like, the highlight of my day. I love how you're rich and you can just treat me to this super fancy restaurant all the time."

I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly. "You love their pasta, I can't do anything about it."

Giggling, Katie nods. "I really do. The seafood they use taste so fresh."

"Only the best for my Kate." I hum, reaching across the round table to pinch her cheeks. "I hope you never grow old."

"Britt, I'm only 4 years younger than you."

"Still, be my little teenager for a little while, will you?"

"But I'm 22?" She laughs, shaking her head at my antics. We continue eating before the waiter comes up to ask if we wanted anything else.

I turn to Katie and she licks the sauce off her lips. "No, that's fine, thank you."

Facing the waiter, I flick my hair to one side and grin up at him. "Bill, please."

He nods and walks away.

"By the way Britt, could we move our lunch tomorrow an hour later? Around 3? I just need to do something beforehand."

I wave it off. "Don't worry, just text me when you're near here."

Katie smiles at me and giggles. "Awesome."

"Breadstix, how may I help you?"

"I'd like a—"

"Got it." I cut the familiar voice with a monotone voice. "Will that be all?"

There was silence on the other line and I can't help the giant grin from forming on my lips. It was fun being in the upper hand.

"Bre—"

"Got it."

A growl and then all of a sudden, the line goes off. I pout and look down at the device, watching the flashing words Call Ended blink a couple of times before it vanishes. Then I wonder if she hung up because she doesn't want her order anymore or because of me.

And then I realize she never goes a day without her food and laugh when the answer is most certainly, me.

"Mike!"

"Brittany!"

We say at the same time, eyeing each other wearily. "Uhm," I begin and it causes Mike to chuckle lightly. "Yes? Are you psychic or something?"

He shakes his head. "Nope, but the boss wants to speak to you."

Frowning, I wave a hand at one of the free waitresses and kindly asked if she could take over for me as I make my way to the small office at the back. It may be small but it's a nice little place with a modern look to it.

I knock on the door until a loud and low voice ushers me in.

"Hey boss." I greet him, watching as he reads over a few papers. "You asked for me?"

He looks up and it makes his eyeglasses slide further down the tip of his nose.

"Brittany. Please sit."

I follow him and smooth over my black skirt. "Is something wrong?"

He stops shuffling through papers and sighs, setting them all down—still very messily. "I was going through my divorce papers—"

Totally unnecessary.

"—when a valued customer of mine decided to drop a complaint."

"Okay—" I drawl, licking my dry lips and trying to piece together what was going on and why I was needed.

He looks at me without any sort of emotion.

"It's Ms. Lopez, Brittany."

My eyes pop open and I feel my jaw dropping. I did not expect that at all.

"Jennifer Lopez?!" I hiss, and it only brings confusion to my boss's face.

His name is Burt Hummel.

"What?" He asks me, utterly perplexed. "The singer? She eats here?" His old, saggy cheeks bunch up and a smile starts to show itself. "The Jennifer Lopez eats in my restaurant?"

I put a hand up and shake my head immediately. "Oh no, I'm sorry—I meant, Ms. Lopez—we uh—sorry, we call her Jennifer Lopez because that's the name she gave us whenever she'd order up."

Burt's gleaming eyes suddenly turn bored and slightly disappointed. "Huh." He grunts, scratching his bald head. "Well, no, her name is Santana Lopez."

Oddly enough, Jennifer soothed her more. Maybe it was because of her sass, … or ass.

"And she left an awfully big complaint just a minute ago."

"That fast…" I mumble, feeling a vein nearly pop in my head.

"About our phone holder being very rude to her this early in the morning."

"It's 12pm!" I retort, but Burt disses me off by continuing.

"Now Brittany, I've never had a customer complaint when it comes to you and I'm having a hard time to believe this situation."

I groan and rub my closed eyelids in frustration. "Because it's not true!"

He raises an eyebrow. "It isn't?" he tries me.

Pouting, I cross my arms together irritably. "She was rude first."

Burt sighs and clasps his hands together. "I am going to ignore that."

"Are you going to fire me?"

"No Brittany, this is your 1st warning." He tells me with a small smile, almost like he's laughing at the idea of firing me. "And hopefully the last. Anyways, you have Ms. Lopez's number, send her an apology text and—oh, I guess I'll see you tomorrow." He points to the clock and it's nearly 1pm already.

I sigh and stand up, forcing an awkward smile. "Thanks, boss."

"Dear Ms. Santana (not J Lo) Lopez, I sincerely apologize for saying what I had to say because it brought up something within me which is the result of a bad encounter with a lady a few days ago. Sincerely, Brittany of Breadstix."

Katie looks like she's about to burst out laughing after she reads the exact text message I've sent to Ms. J Lo—oh wait, Santana, before leaving the restaurant. She looks up at me and grins toothily.

"You do know a person like her is just going to do something way worse than complaining to your boss for payback right?"

I shrug my shoulders indifferently. "People like her don't deserve kindness."

My sister returns me phone to me and leans back on her chair. "Well, your boss wouldn't be happy to hear that."

"Luckily I'm not desperate for a job."

Grinning, Katie chuckles at me. "But you love being a cashier girl."

"No—" I drawl, clucking my tongue as I play with my food. "I love math."

She flicks her hair to one side and hums. "No difference to me."

"It's just—" I stop, finding the right word to describe this woman who has been buying the same food for the past two years and has not bothered me since until this day. "—she's infuriating."

"You said she's a doctor?"

I nod, tapping my chin. "She wore scrubs the first time I saw her, you know the ones you see on TV?"

"Or the ones you literally see in a hospital." Katie jokes, causing me to blush in embarrassment.

"Well, that too." I grunt, taking a bite of my meal. "How can someone like her be a doctor? Aren't they supposed to be sweet, nice, caring and wanting to save lives?"

Katie takes a sip of her water and replies, "You're being stereotypical now."

"Am not. I'm being logical, Kate. You can't be a doctor if you don't have a heart."

"She has a heart, Brittany."

"No, no…" I hum, suddenly deep in thought. "I don't think she actually has one."

Katie laughs and raises her hand, signaling for the bill. I quirk my eyebrow up at this and she flashes me a shy smile. "I know you always pay for us because you're like, super rich, but, I'd like to pay once in a while."

"You should save your money, Kate, it's okay, I got this." I stretch my arm out to accept the bill from the waiter when my little sister snatches it away from my reach.

She wags a finger at me. "I know you do, but let me do this."

I let her be and say thanks as we continue to laugh over weird conversations.

It's been 3 days.

"You don't look so well, Britt." Mike tells me whilst poking my cheek.

I flinch at his warm touch and snap my blue eyes at him. "What?"

Quinn slides right next to me and frowns. "Mike's right. You're looking quite pale."

Touching my face gently, I realize that I am in fact, a bit cold. "Can't be, I'm never sick."

"Probably not a sickness." Quinn says, passing a tray of food to one of the waiters. "'Cuz I know you never get sick too."

"But I don't feel so good." I huff, pouting at the disgruntled feeling I sense inside my tummy. "I think I might hurl."

"Want to take the day off?" the white-blonde suggests, pulling out her notepad as she rips out the order and hands it to Mike.

I shake my head. "No, it's nothing too bad." I mutter, re-tying my hair up in a bun. I place my hands on my waist and huff. "Queasy is the correct adjective."

"Ate something bad last night?" Mike tries, and again, I disagree, when all of a sudden, my eyes land on the iPhone resting beside the cashier register.

Quinn follows my eyes and instantly, a smirk graces her lips. "Oh, I know what this is."

Turning back to my friend, I tilt my head to the side and pout. "Really?"

Humming, Quinn nods with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Yup, you, my friend, are definitely sick."

Mike and I look to each other then back at the short haired blonde with that scary grin on her face.

"But—I thought we said I wasn't?"

Quinn giggles and grabs Mike's collar, whispering something to his ear then nudging her chin to the direction of the cashier register. I furrow my eyebrows together and stare at the register.

What's so interesting about that old thing?

Mike's eyes suddenly go wide and he snorts—actually snorts—before turning back to me with the same look Quinn has on.

"I agree with Quinn, you're very sick."

"Ha, ha, very funny guys."

"Uhuh—and it's viral."

"You have to get checked ASAP."

I stare at the two of them like their crazy and cross my arms together, leaning on one leg as I jut my chin up. "What in the world are the two of you doing?"

Quinn jumps on her feet and winks at me. "Britt, you're sick, and you need to go to the hospital soon."

Mike chuckles, nodding his head. "Very soon if this is how bad she looks already."

"Seriously, I'm not getting any of this."

"Hospital's not that far either."

"Hello? Why do you think she always walks here? She wouldn't be calling us if it was far."

I place my hands on the counter and groan. "I am totally confused! I feel like a blonde."

"You are a blonde."

Glaring at Mike, I turn to Quinn as I narrow my eyes on her. "What are you and Mike trying to say, Q?"

Giggling, Quinn raises her hands up and says, "It's J Lo!"

Frowning, which I feel like I've been doing a lot lately, I lick my lips and pause for a moment.

"Santana?"

"The bitch doctor! Yes!"

Mike laughs at Quinn and they high-five.

"What about her? Why is she suddenly the topic of our conversation." I grit my teeth together in annoyance.

Mike puts his hand on my forehead.

"She's heating up Quinn!" He squeals like a freaking girl.

"She's not sick anymore?"

I flail my hands in the air and calm down when one of the waiters hands me the check. I give him a shy smile, fixing up the change and receipt before turning back to the other two. "I was never sick."

"Oh you so are—because you want to go to the hospital and get treated by the one and only, Doctor Lopez!" Quinn all but giggles, causing my jaw to drop.

"You think Santana Lopez is the reason why I look like shit?!" I nearly scream, catching the attention of only a few people as Mike leaves briefly to deliver some of the food to Table 6. I then realize what I've said, and blush. I rarely curse, especially in a professional setting.

Quinn nods. "Totally, it's so obvious."

Mike leans in. "You've been staring at the phone since the clock struck 11."

I turn to the digital device on the wall and gulp when I notice it's nearing 1pm.

"It's my job to stare at the phone." I reason out.

"No, it's your job to answer it when it rings." Quinn corrects me with a wag of her fingers as the hostess approaches her and points to a table that needs to be attended to. "Excuse me, I forgot I have a job to do." She jokes, gliding away.

Sadly, Mike speaks for her in continuation. "Quinn's right. You're super bothered by the fact she hasn't called since you sent her the apology text."

"Or since she's been rude to me?" I retort with a strain in my voice that Mike quickly catches.

"Do you feel guilty?" He asks me, eyebrows rising up in question.

I shake my head. "No, I didn't do anything wrong."

"I think you feel like you're the reason she isn't calling back."

Sighing, I rub my forehead. "I should be grateful she stopped calling, it's a downer to hear her mean voice all the time."

"But she's a valued customer."

"Just because she orders everyday?"

Quinn comes back and smiles at us. "What'd I miss?"

"Nothing!" I respond immediately, grabbing the iPhone and flipping it upside down so the screen wouldn't be exposed. "So what if she hasn't called for 3 days? I'm probably just weirded out by it because I didn't think she'd be the type of girl to give up so easily."

"And you got that after one day of meeting her?" Quinn asks me and I shrug.

"I've been listening to her voice for 2 years." I explain, making Mike ponder.

"So—" he drawls out with his tongue. "You got that after listening to her voice for 2 years?"

Quinn stifles a laugh as she walks away and so does Mike, leaving me flabbergasted.

"I am not bothered." I hiss, blushing hard when the both of them don't turn around to reply to me.

I'm really not, though.

"7 days." I mumble, playing with the screen of the restaurant's iPhone as I rest my chin on an open palm. "She hasn't called in a week." I say in a small voice, sensing a wrench in my gut.

I don't know why, but something doesn't seem right.

Sadly, Quinn heard me. "She probably found a new store to mess with." She tells me slowly, testing her words.

I shake my head. "That's not it. I just-It's weird, something is definitely wrong, Quinn."

"Don't let it get to you too much, B. You're just overthinking it."

My eyes snap up to the clock as it strikes 1 and all of a sudden, I feel the urge to do something about my thoughts; my bothered thoughts. I open the locker to my bag and pull out my phone, immediately sending a message to Katie before she heads up to our usual lunch place.

Sorry I can't make it today, something urgent came up. How about tomo?

Pulling out my bag and placing it on the counter, I untie my apron and walk to the hanger section.

"What hospital did you say J Lo works at?" I ask Quinn when she walks back with her notepad, ripping it and sliding it to the open window that's connected to the kitchen.

"I didn't say?" Quinn replies with a confused look. "Why do you ask?"

Shrugging my jacket up my shoulder, I walk back to the counter and hoist my bag higher. "Where's the nearest hospital here?" I ask instead, ignoring her other question.

"There's only one hospital in the area, Britt."

I pause, waiting for an answer when a bleeping noise catches my attention. I look down at my phone and read Katie's message.

No prob, Britt! Tomorrow it is, see ya!

I smile and reply back with a Love you, before turning back to Quinn who's still eyeing me suspiciously.

"Well? Are you going to make me google it?"

Quinn chuckles and shakes her head at me. "St. Calista's General Hospital. It's by the bakery we went to the other week, you won't miss it. Actually, how do you not know the only medical facility in-"

As Quinn starts yammering, I grab the store's phone and search for the name Jennifer Lopez that's registered in it. I save it to my own cellular device just in case I needed it and then I look back up just in time to cut her off.

"I don't get sick, remember?" I slide the phone back to Quinn and wave her goodbye.

Stepping out of Breadstix and into the cool air of the city, I exhale and start my walk towards St. Calista's General Hospital.

The reason I'm doing this is because my head's literally killing me with all the mystery and anxiety. Let's not forget the sinking feeling my stomach gets whenever the clock on the wall strikes 11, 12, or 1pm during the day. I need to see it for myself, to know that I am not going crazy or becoming a lunatic. I don't know why it bothers me, it's probably because I'm a girl of routine, and nothing should be messed up.

This Santana Lopez really knows how to ruin a day.

I'll just ask the information desk if she's in there and be out on my way. I could probably surprise Katie if I have the time too.

Like I said, I'm a woman of routine, and cancelling on Katie so suddenly without a heads up just makes me queasy.

As soon as I catch sight of the bakery Quinn and I went to the other day for some cupcakes, I nearly laugh upon seeing the huge, wide, vast space area that consists of a hospital building. How I managed to not see this is beyond me. I should probably plan a day to explore the city more.

I hug my jacket tighter around me and skid through the crowd entering the hospital. It's not as cold inside as it is outside, and I sigh in relief.

Looking around the facility, I feel for my cellular phone inside the pocket of my jeans and suddenly get very nervous.

This is stupid; I should just call up Katie and ask if it's not too late to have lunch.

Mike and Quinn are right; she probably hated me and went for another store that serves her favourite kind of sandwich and breadsticks.

I'm about to spin around on the heels of my feet when my eye catches the sign that says in blinking lights,

Information Desk.

"Ugh." I groan, licking my quivering lips. I should just ask, and go. Ask and go, ask and go.

And after that, my mind will be clear of any worries and I'll go on with my day without a bothered thought.

With confidence, I stride up to the counter that's thankfully free o people and lean forward on my elbows. I smile politely to the man on a wheelchair with headphones on as he continues to talk to people on the line. When he sees me, he stops, says goodbye and wheels closer to me.

"Hello Miss, what can I do for you?"

I clasp my hands together and respond. "Hi, I just wanted to know if Dr. Santana Lopez is in the hospital today?"

He slides his headphone down to rest on his shoulders and grabs the telephone. He punches in a few numbers and puts it by his ear and kindly tells me to wait. I tap my fingers impatiently on the silver furniture and jump slightly when the receptionist starts to talk again.

"Sorry, may I have your name?"

I bite my lower lip and hesitantly say, "Pierce, Brittany Pierce."

He smiles, nods, and goes back to the phone. After a few more mumbling, he hangs up and turns to me.

"I'm sorry she's not here."

Great.

Just great.

Now my mind is going to go nuts.

"She's not here?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows together. "Are you sure?"

The receptionist, whose name is Artie after reading the nameplate on his shirt, frowns at me and chuckles lightly. "Yes, I'm pretty sure her secretary just said she isn't in the office right now."

"Secretary?" I mutter, wringing my fingers together. "She has a secretary? Isn't she a doctor?"

Artie gives me a weird look. "Um, yes, Dr. Lopez is one of the greatest cardiologists in the world." He points to these green that's facing me, the outside portion of the information area, with the list of all the cardiologists. 's name is seen on top.

Wow, number 1 in the hospital and she's famous around the world?

Oh and wait, she's a cardiologist too?

She saves hearts, yet, she doesn't have one. How ironic is that.

Artie notices my amused expression and was about to wheel away when I jump back in with the questions. "Sorry, sorry, it's just-she didn't show up to her-" I think an acceptable word. "-appointment?"

"Appointment? I'm sorry Ms. Pierce but what appointment would that be?"

I lick my lips nervously and inhale. "Uh-" exhale, "Lunch reservations."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "You came all the way here because she didn't show up for her lunch reservations?"

Almost slapping my face in embarrassment, I grit my teeth together and calm myself down. "Can I just-Can I just speak to her secretary?" I try instead, and Artie seems relieved to be out of my crazy hair as he puts his headphones back on and says something to the mic before looking at me again.

"Sure, just go to the top floor, Chief Lopez doesn't like meeting anyone without reserving at least a month before but since she's not here right now, you can meet with her secretary and schedule one for December. It's the only room that's not a patient room." He gestures to the elevator and I pivot on my feet, walking away when something catches my attention.

I head back to Artie and press my palms against the cool marble. "Did you just say Chief Lopez?"

Again, he flashes me a weird look. "Is there a problem, Miss?"

Shaking my head, I force a laugh and step backwards. "Sorry, rough day." And quickly dash for the elevator doors.

I let out a deep exhale as soon as I enter and asked the person next to me if it was okay to press the top floor button. I wait until it goes to the very top and step outside to a rush of madness.

People are running around everywhere and I have to dodge a few running doctors in scrubs and lab coats before I spot someone who isn't like she's in a hurry. I approach her and lightly tap her on the shoulder.

"Hi." I say slowly, stiffening when I see the woman I'm talking to with a scowl on her face.

Are all doctors mean-looking?

"I'm looking for a Dr. Lopez? Her office?"

The familiar name strikes something inside the woman, and her face becomes neutral as she extends a finger out to point towards a man that's not in scrubs, but a lab coat, talking furiously on the phone.

"That's her secretary, Blaine Anderson, you can talk to him." And with that, she walks away with a book in hand.

I walk towards this Blaine Anderson and debate if whether or not this is a good idea.

"Hello," I greet the man with a hairstyle that's way too fixed for someone who works in a hospital. "You must be Blaine Anderson? Santana—I mean, Dr. Lopez's secretary?"

He turns to me with cautious eyes, dropping his phone inside his coat. "That's me, do you need anything dear?"

At least he was nice.

"I uhm, I was wondering if you know where she is." I ask him nervously, receiving a light chuckle.

"You and every patient in this hospital." He jokes, causing my heart to beat faster. He notices my confused expression and explains it to me. "She hasn't been here for nearly a week now. Which is weird, because the Chief never misses a day of work."

She was the Chief of this hospital? Amazing.

"I've been transferring all of her surgeries and appointments to other doctors but I'm still a mess here."

I don't think he was allowed to say that to a stranger like me, but the stress must be getting to him.

"So," he clasps his hands together. "If you are a patient of the Chief's, I'm sorry but we will have to reschedule you to another doctor until further notice."

I tighten the grip I have on my shoulder bag and step forward. "And you're—you're not worried at all that she hasn't called in sick or, or—hasn't came to work yet?" I ask, bewildered.

Blaine gives me an offended look but brushes it off. "Of course I am, we all are, she's our chief, we can't do anything without her approval even if it goes to the second in command if she isn't here."

Again, I don't think he's supposed to say things like that.

This guy must be really, really stressed out.

"My job's way easier with her around, so yes, I'd like her back, but, she hasn't been answering any of our calls, so I'm sorry Miss, you'd just have to wait."

But I can't wait; waiting is going to kill me.

I look ahead of me and see a door without a number encrypted on it.

It must be her office.

"Okay, thanks I guess, Dr. Anderson."

"No problem." He flashes me one last smile and walks away. I look around me for any watchers but shrug my shoulders when I realize everyone is too busy with their own personal lives. So in a quick manner, I sneak into 's office and close the door behind me, glad to see the windows are covered by blinds.

I lean back on the door and sigh.

"What's wrong with me?" I say to no one in particular, looking up at the marvelous black ceiling with white dots scattered.

I should just go home. Do my work; watch over my app.

But something is definitely wrong here.

And when I observe the office of the woman who has been speaking to me on the phone, asking for her order for the past 2 years, nothing is a mess.

It almost looks too perfect.

"This is stupid." I mumble, turning around to face the door. I'm about to twist the doorknob and head out before I get into deep trouble because surely, not just anyone can be inside here I bet, a ring resonates around the room.

I frown and look over my shoulder. The room is still the same with the exception of the ringing noise. I step further inside when I see a blinking light on the floor by her table. I crouch down and see a black iPhone with a cracked screen. I pick it up and bring it to eye level.

909-466-4260

It was an unknown number and I let it ring it out until the call drops and it goes back to lock screen. An image of J Lo with a younger version of her, probably a sister, flashes right at me.

She has a nice smile, way different than her usual scowl that seems to appear inside my head whenever I think of her.

I slide the phone but it's locked with a passcode.

"Figures. She seems uptight." I huff, blowing my hair away from my face where it falls.

I nearly jump in place when the phone rings again.

Nibbling on my lower lip, I slide it open and bring it to my ear.

This is stupid, I should have just left.

"H-Hello?" I answer dumbly, wanting nothing more than to smack my face against the wall. Never in my life have I done something so reckless.

There's a screechy noise, probably because the other line has bad reception, before I finally hear a panting sound.

"Hello?" I say again with a more calm tone, glancing back at the door, scared if someone was going to enter.

"Who the fuck is this?"

Eyes widening, I nearly drop the phone when I all but recognize the voice I've been listening to for such a long time.

"J Lo?" I gasp, hand covering my open mouth when I oddly feel the sense of relief rush through my veins.

Now I feel much better.

"What? Who is—wait a second, who are you and why do you have my phone?"

"Why don't you have your phone?" I retort, rolling my eyes at the attitude I so not miss.

"Nevermind, I don't have time—" she grunts, coughing a couple of times on the other side. "—hold up—" she stops, coughing again, much louder, and then groaning for a bit. "—I know this voice—sandwich girl?"

"It's Brittany." I huff, jaw clenching tight at the title.

"I don't have much time." She ignores my last statement, sounding hoarse and repeating her words. "I've been trying to call the only number I memorize and I'm just fucking ecstatic somebody finally answered."

Being completely clueless of the situation happening on her end, I reply jokingly, "You've been calling Breadstix for 2 years and you still don't memorize our number?"

She doesn't laugh.

In fact, she doesn't even have a snarky reply.

"Listen to me sandwich girl—"

"—Brittany—"

"I can't talk long right now but I need you to give this phone to my secretary, Blaine Anderson, and—"

There's a ruckus on the other end, and more rustling before I hear an odd wooshing—it's a wooshing sound okay—and then silence.

And then, a scream.

I press my ear closer to the phone like it would help me hear more.

Weirdly, it does. Plus a bit of concentration too.

"I heard noises—what the fuck was that?"

A spit.

"Bitch, you asked for it."

A slap. Breaking noises.

"I'm not one for hitting women, but you're an exception—now what the hell was that noise."

"Me duele la cabeza, idiota!"

Okay—I did not get that at all.

"Does she really not speak English?"

"She does. I work with her. She's just trying not to answer you."

More breaking noises and I feel the sudden urge to yell at them to stop whatever they were doing.

"Look, Lopez, we don't want to injure you, god knows you'll save yourself on your own being a doctor and all, just answer the question—in English, what was that noise we just heard."

A spit.

"Going once."

"I was talking to myself, la chorra!"

"Highly doubt that. Answer the question. Going twice."

"Please…"

I nearly break the phone at the weak voice I hear on the other side.

"Please… please don't, I was really talking—talking to myself. I – That's what I do, especially in my—my job."

Silence before a door slamming shut is resonated through my ears.

There's some shuffling before I hear whimpering noises.

Trying my luck, I whisper. "Santana?"

No answer, and then, the phone switches off.

Out of battery.

Fuck.

Part I End.