Standard disclaimer goes here.

This short story - maybe 10 chapters max- is about what happens after all of your dreams come true.

Mercedes Jones looked at the young girl in front of her. She was white, which was a surprise. There's so many non-white girls enrolled in the big/little sister program she'd expected to get matched with a black girl. Black like her but instead she's looking an average 12 year old white girl. Average height, light brown hair and dark brown eyes. Pretty eyes, what Mercedes could see of them when she focused past the layers of eyeshadow. And she's very well-developed for 12, she could pass for 16 easy - 18 if a guy wanted to believe it and if she was dressed and made-up the way she's dressed and made-up today, prep school blazer over a white blouse and short skirt. The way she's dressed is why her dad signed her up for this program, he wanted her to have a good female role model and off the track she seems determined to follow. They're both originally from small-town Ohio and Beth Cocoran wanted to learn to cook and Mercedes is a chef. Maybe that's the connection.

"Good morning, Beth." Mercedes smiled and extended her hand.

"It's Bette." the girl said with a scowl, ignoring the hand.

"Okay. Good morning, Bette." She smiled harder. "My name is Mercedes and I'm really excited to meet you."

"Like the car?" Bette rolled her eyes. "Your parents named you after a car?"

"No, the car was named after a littler girl named Mercedes. It's Spanish for Mercy."

"Oh." The girl remained standing. "I'm taking French."

"And how do you like that?"

"It sucks. Hey, are we done yet?"

"No. We haven't even started." Mercedes was already regretting this unpaid volunteer job. "Don't you have any questions for me?"

"Just one." Bette said with a half smile. "Are we done yet?"

"I thought you wanted to be a chef, that's one of your goals? Right?"

"Yeah, but..." Bette really wanted to do some serious flirting down at the local high school and they get out soon. "I didn't know that was going to be today. I've got stuff to do." she whined.

"Your dad, Noah, correct?" Bette sighed and rolled her eyes at the name. "Said you had the afternoon free. I can call and double-check." She pulled out her cellphone, subtly putting Bette on notice.

"No prob." Bette double-downed on her scowl. "It's just..."

"I know." Mercedes laughed, more at ease this time. "Stuff." She picked up her bag, a very pricey bag Bette noticed, and stood up. She's short, no more than 5-3. She was pretty, in a don't give a damn sort of way. Her hair was short and curly and she wore no makeup. Her smile was nice enough, kind of cheeky, and she's wearing it out to tell the truth. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Pricey jeans and a charity t-shirt. Santa Clarita Habitat for Humanity Build Week. Over the t-shirt was an expensive leather jacket.

Bette wondered if she was rich or just a good shopper. Her mom, Shelby, was dirt poor but always dressed the two of them like she'd spent a fortune. Especially Bette because little rich girls always outgrew their cloths before they wore them more than once or twice. That was the first thing Bette did when she got here, map the thrift stores within walking distance of her dad's apartment. Then she started scouting for boys. Shelby managed to score big with a rich husband, a husband who thought it was a fine idea for Bette to spend the school year with her bio-dad, no reason why Bette can't start looking for the same.

"So shall we see what stuff we can find at the restaurant?" Mercedes was asking her again. Eye-rolls and dramatic sighs are wasted on this woman so Bette had no choice but to follow her out the door.

Dashiell was an upscale lounge/restaurant in a classy part of LA. When they walked into the cool interior Bette was greeted by dark wood and white tablecloths. Waiters and busboys were setting the tables for dinner service. The waiters were older men and women but the busboys? Bette could learn to like it here. She was checking out an Asian, she guessed he was Asian but LA's a melting pot so you never know, busboy when she nearly tripped over a man in a wheelchair.

"You must be Beth." The dark haired man extended his hand.

"Bette." She corrected but she'd held our her hand before she remembered she was being sulky.

"Hello, Bette. Artie, partial owner of this fine establishment." He turned his attention to Mercedes. And took off his glasses, rubbing them on his shirt. "I'm glad you came in early. Rory quit."

"Lucky Rory. Tina was about 5 minutes away from killing him last night. And we'd both miss T."

"Me more than you. I'd hate to see my wife locked up of murder, justifiable as it may have been."

"Lucky day all around. " She looked at her sullen assistant. "Bette, welcome to prep-chef 101."

"You're making me work?" Bette was aghast.

"What do you think they do in restaurant kitchens? Course I can call your dad and he'll help you do 'stuff'. Hang out with him or make $10/hour. Your choice." Mercedes headed toward the kitchen.

Bette sighed as loudly as she could but was answered by Mercedes' rumbling laugh.

"Max!" Artie called out and the cute Asian boy looked up. "Bette here is joining us for a few hours. Can you show her around and then deposit her in the kitchen? Thanks much."

"So where do you go to school?" Max asked goodnaturedly. He looked like one of those kids that was always happy about something.

"Our Lady of Perpetual Boredom."

"Ohh, we have ourselves a high-class dame here." he teased.

"Nope. A rich step-dad. They figured if they're going to dump me it should be someplace nice."

"Where are you from?"

"Ohio."

"Ohio? Who ain't from Ohio? Artie, T, Mercedes, me. All representing the great state of Ohio. Well, welcome to Dashiell's." He handed her an apron with a flourish. "Wear it with pride."

"I'm not working here." But she tied on the apron anyway. "I'm Mercedes' charity project."

"What does that mean?"

"My dad signed me up for a big sister." Max looked confused. "Big sister/little sister? She's supposed to set a good example, make me stay on the straight and narrow."

"Why? What did you do?" His brown eyes sparkled in anticipation of a good story. "Something scandalous?"

"Shoplifting." She answered.

"Something sparkly for a fancy smancy party?" He held out his arm and admired an imaginary bracelet.

"No, just a sweater from Goodwill."

"You tried to jack a sweater from Goodwill?" He shook his head in amazement. "Hardly worth the effort."

"Well, I figured there was less chance of getting caught there. I needed that sweater."

"A sweater? Your rich daddy wouldn't buy you a sweater from Goodwill?"

"Not that." She looked down, embarrassed. "Let's call it an initiation fee."

"Initiation fee?" She was hanging with a gang already? "Home or school?"

"School."

"Really? That's classy. I'd walk away from all that if I was you."

"You're not the new kid." She whined. "I swear the rest of those girls were born at that school."

"AV club. That's the one I joined when I first came here. Nothing to prove to AV kids."

"How long have you been here?" Bette didn't want to discuss her friends with this guy, no matter how cute he was.

"Couple of months. Tina's my sister and I know a thing or two about getting sent far, far, away. I'm glad to be out of Ohio, to tell the truth."

"How old are you?" Please say you can drive. Please, please, please Bette prayed.

"Fourteen. You?"

"Thirteen." Almost she added mentally.

"Really? I would have guessed older. Oh well, here's the kitchen. It's hella hot in there. Have fun."

- two hours later -

Noah Puckerman stood in the lobby of the restaurant, waiting for his eyes to adjust from the brightness outside.

"May I help you?" a young Asian woman standing behind the front desk asked.

"Yes. I'm Noah Puckerman, Beth's or lately she's calling herself Bette's dad?" He flashed the woman his sexiest smile before remembering he was trying to break that habit. "She's with Mercedes Jones." he added, just in case none of what he just said made sense.

"Yes, she's a sweet girl. Really picked up on knife skills. Not everybody does." She pointed. "Straight just past the bar." Tina watched him walk away. Now she saw where Bette got her flirty ways.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Puckerman." Mercedes wiped her hands on her apron and smiled at the tall hazel-eyed man. "Bette's been a pleasure." They shook hands and both looked over at the girl helping Max load the dishwasher. Dishwasher loading at home usually resulted in a two hour screamfest. But then again home had a distinct shortage of cute guys. Well, at least this one had a job and seemed to be under 21.

"Thank you very much for helping Bette." He looked around the kitchen while discretely eying the short black woman holding a pan. "Nice kitchen."

"You've worked in a commercial kitchen before?"

"Where haven't I worked? Yes, I've worked short-order in a dive and prep in a nice place like this.."

"Did you say prep-chef?" Her eyes had a sparkle to them, Noah liked that. "We suddenly need one."

"Well, suddenly I need a job but I have to be home nights. That's the problem with restaurant work, late nights. Late nights on my part and teenaged rebellion on Bette's part – bad mix."

"We prep in the afternoons. You'd be out by 5. Maybe we'd need you later on Saturday but you'd still be out by 7."

"Deal!" he offered his hand and his sexy smile. Damn, what kind of example was he setting for Bette if he leered at every woman in his field of vision. On the other hand, she was a damn fine looking woman, not all skin and bones like most of them here. Noah liked a woman with a little meat on her bones and she had just the right amount, a size 10 in the land of 2s. He wondered if she was single. He'd have to check her hand next time.

- Several weeks later -

"Happy Birthday, Bette!" Between her personal unpopularity and her dad's unreasonable standards, her pool of friends was down to one – Rayna Bharat. Rayna was a scholarship student who knew she'd never keep up with the rich girls so she decided to not give a shit what they thought and therefore she didn't mind being seen with Bette. And Rayna had enough bad habits to be interesting. Rayna would be on his list too if dad ever found out – but he won't will he? Bette sat at the Hibachi grill, watching the cheesy flaming onion volcano. How old did he think she was, 5? She smiled, not at the chef catching eggs in his hat but at the thought of how she'd spend the money her mom sent her. A thousand dollars, no strings. Ah, the joys of a guilty conscience, at least that's how Rayna called it. Her dad gave her two hundred, about what she'd expected, and promised to drive them wherever they wanted tomorrow. She'd skim off 50 or so for a purchase from Rayna's pothead friends and then the rest? She'd show them how good you can look dressed from the thrift store.

"One last thing, baby." Her dad said, handing her an envelope. "It's from Mercedes."

"Your big sister?" Rayna gushed. Rayna had a mom and dad at home and had to settle for Dharna, her older sister. Rayna got totally screwed when you think about it, and all because she had a happy, intact family. Totally unfair in Rayna's opinion. "How much?"

Bette opened the card and read it first. Very impolite to go straight for the check, Shelby taught her that much. Then she looked at the tickets, not cash, enclosed in the card. Then she screamed. "Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!"

"What?" Noah and Rayna asked at the same time.

But Bette was stuck on repeat. "Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!"

Rayna gently pried the four tickets from her friend's clasp. "Oh. My. God!" she whispered in awe. She jumped up and hugged Bette. "We're gonna see Sam Evans!"