Since the new love birds are named Marley and Jacob let's assume it's a shoutout to Jacob Marley, aka Ebenezer Scrooge's partner in a Christmas Carol. I guess the Christmas episode will feature the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future. Anyway, I'm hoping to see a reference to It's A Wonderful Life so I wrote one.
Note: I don't own Glee or anybody's Christmas story. Neither Charles Dickens (A Christmas Carol), Frank Capra (It's a Wonderful Life) or Jean Shepherd (A Christmas Story).
xoxoxoxox
William Schuester stood on the hotel balcony, looking at the streets of Washington, DC twenty stories below him, at the steady flow of traffic, red and white lights streaming off to the horizon. No carollers, just the honks and hoots of vehicles for his Christmas Eve soundtrack. Just the yule log on PBS to keep him company. He sighed and turned away from the window and looked at the TV. A Christmas Story. Will settled in for one of his favorite movies.
"No, Ralphie! You'll shoot your eye out!"
Will especially loved the ugly lamp - a mannequin leg clad in fishnet stockings with a gaudy red velvet, black fringed shade. He'd begged Terrie to buy him one, with no luck. He'd been dropping hints to Emma but the result looked about the same. Fuck it, he's a grown man and can buy his own damn lamp. He reached for his laptop to do some research, wondering if you can buy one online and how much they cost. But he couldn't pick up his laptop, his hand slid right though the plastic case. What the fuck? He looked up at a knock on the door. Then Becky Johnson walked in, right through the solid wooden door.
"I am the ghost of Christmas present." Becky said solemnly in an odd English accent.
"You're kidding me!"
Becky sat down on the bed beside him. "You're right. I am totally shitting you." She looked at the remote and the channel switched to Jersey Shore. "I'm from a completely different movie. Will, I can call you Will 'cause I'm a spirit, weren't you just thinking your students would be better off if you'd jumped off the school roof all those years ago?"
"No, I was not!" Will answered indignantly. "I was just wondering how much a lamp shaped like a leg cost."
"Damn, I guess I'm a six-pack too early." She looked at the remote again and the channel switched to Bridezillas. "I love this show! Wanna watch?"
"No." Will hates that show. Those psychotic women and de-balled men remind him of his first marriage.
Becky looked at the remote and Will watched two women argue over throwing away a broken coffee pot. "Hoarders?"
"Even worse. It gives Emma hives."
"Whatever." Becky looked at the remote and the TV switched off. "Since I'm here let's get started."
"Started doing what?" Will asked in shock.
"Not that!" Becky said with a wink. "No offense but I'm not into old guys. I mean, if I were...but I'm not. No offense."
"None taken." Will assured her.
"Good. Blink and it's five years from now." Becky took his hand in hers. "Blink!"
xoxoxoxox
Will opened his eyes in an expensive hotel penthouse. His eyes were drawn towards the balcony, where a woman stood leaning against the railing. Her whole body trembled and that, plus the way the wind blew her long dress and hair, was damned creepy. Will wondered if she was about to jump off the balcony and what he was supposed to do about it when her knees crumbled and she sagged towards the floor. Drawing closer he heard a heart breking sob escape from her lips. There was a knock on the door and the woman whirled around.
"Shane?" Mercedes Jones asked excitedly.
"Room service." A voice answered.
She willed herself to stand up straight. "Come in." She droned in a flat emotionless voice.
Will watched the waiter wheel in a tray of food. Mercedes resumed staring at the Vegas strip, ignoring the waiter as he clattered plates on the table at the foot of the king-size bed. His job done, she waited for the sound of him leaving so she could continue crying over Shane Tinsley in privacy. Only he didn't leave.
"Is something wrong?" Mercedes asked, walking in from the balcony and closing the glass door behind her. Will looked at his former/never student. Her long black hair was tousled, no doubt by the wind outside. The sequined black dress she was wearing hugged her curvy body. Her eyes were red but her makeup, and she was wearing a lot of makeup, was in place. "Do you need me to sign something?" Mercedes forced a smile to her lips.
"No. Nothing's wrong." The waiter spoke shyly. "I just wanted to say I really enjoyed your show tonight."
"Thank you." She looked at him. He was young, though probably about her age, and he was wearing the black suit all the employees here seem to wear. She noticed his short blonde hair, green eyes and especially his smile. This man had the nicest lips she'd ever seen on a white guy. "Thank you very much. That's very kind of you to say that."
"It's not kindness, it's truth." He said cheerfully. "I always knew you'd be famous. We went to the same high school and I knew back then."
"We went to the same high school?" She racked her brain trying to place his face.
"I'm sure people say that to you all the time." He smiled at her nod. "But in my case it's true. I went to McKinley in Lima Ohio, but only for one year."
"Why only one year?"
His smile faded a bit. "We moved a lot."
"Military?"
"Something like that. Anyway, I heard you sing once. You sang at a school assembly. I remember it because there was this other girl that used to sing all the time. She was okay but at this assembly she sang something by Adele. It was okay but Adele was all over the radio that year and Adele has a voice like..." he gazed into space "like thunder in the next country. You know what I mean?" Mercedes nodded, fascinated that he choose that metaphor. "Well this girl had a voice more like...like when somebody's about to give a speech and they click their fork against a glass? Like that."
"Rachel. Her name was Rachel." Thin and brassy were the words Mercedes would have used to describer her voice.
"Well, she was alright but then you started to sing. You started singing and I thought I was gonna die. I mean I couldn't breathe the whole time. The guy sitting next to me, he was on the football team with me and he complained that he never heard that song before and he wanted to hear Katy Perry. The guy sitting on the other side said your voice was trance inducing and the first guy should just turn on the damned radio if he wanted to hear Katy Perry. Anyway I told both of them to shut up." He looked into her deep brown eyes. "Your voice is like a chocolate fountain." He blushed. "Stupid comparison I know but they have a couple down in the buffet room. Sometimes they ask me watch and make sure kids don't stick their fingers in it, that's a health code violation you know, and I was standing near them and you were singing something slow in the next room and that image just fits. Anyway I knew one day people would pay to hear your voice. And I was right."
"That's really sweet." Even with her dark skin and a ton of makeup Will could tell she was blushing too.
"I'm not the only person who thinks that." He said with enthusiasm. "You won a Grammy after all!"
"Best New Artist." She snorted. "Me, Starland Vocal Band, Milli Vanilli. One hit wonders, all of us."
"Yep. John Legend, Norah Jones, Adele, Mariah Carey, The Beatles, Alicia Keys, Christina Aguilera, Maroon 5. Never heard from again." She laughed at his lopsided grin. "Not one of them."
"You know what I mean!" She forced herself to stop staring at him by focusing on the fruit salad he had placed on the table. "I mean look at Christoper Cross." She said, remembering her train of thought. "That guy was fucking brilliant and see what happened to him."
"It'll work out. I knew it then and I know it now." He looked down at his cell phone and laughed. "Gotta go. Duty calls."
"Wait a minute!" she called to the retreating waiter. "What's your name?"
"Sam." He grinned again. "Sam Evans."
xoxoxoxox
Mercedes was starting to hate touring with a passion. It was exciting at first, seeing all those different cities, until she realized the only things she saw was airports, hotel rooms, waiting rooms, stages. A hotel is a hotel is a hotel. After the first year she made it a point to allot time for playing tourist. So here she was, her last day in Las Vegas, as far from the strip as possible. She'd spent the day ohhing and ahhing over Hover Dam and now she was having coffee at this local diner, lured in by a hand lettered sign proclaiming "Live Music!".
Mercedes stared at the inside of her cup of tea, trying to conjure the answer to her question. What now? It definitely appears that Shane is not coming back. It's been three days since he walked out on her week long gig in this Vegas hotel. He's definitely leaving her for some damned dancer. This five year ride certainly ended with a high-speed collision with a brick wall. Mercedes felt a sudden craving for tater tots. Crazy, she hasn't craved carbs in years. She wondered if this place has fruit salad, that usually works to blunt the craving. Losing her man is bad enough, she didn't want the tabloids to start saying her body's gone to shit too. Not after all the hard work she put in getting this new body. She swirled the tea leaves as suddenly the music being played in the front of the room registered. She smiled, this song always made her happy. Even slowed down and acoustic the way it was being played, this song made her happy.
Sam didn't notice her when he sat down to play, mostly because he doesn't wear his glasses when performing. Sam prefers that, to have the audience out of focus. He finds it calming. And Sam's used to being ignored, especially when he plays his original pieces. It amazes him but people really only want to hear what they've already heard. He can't understand the point to that and as a result Sam does very few covers and when he does it's always rearrangements of something old or obscure. He could tell nobody was getting this song, except for the black woman in the back who's squealing like a child.
"Thank you Las Vegas!" Sam has seen this show four times now but tonight Mercy J was on fire. She was good all week but tonight? Tonight she let out all the stops. She ran throw her hits and even threw in a few old favorites. "My last song tonight" She was slightly out of breath, "If my new favorite song. Before I start, I want to thank a few people. First the house band! You guys made me look good. Let's hear it for the band! Next, the hotel management for inviting me to perform for you guys. And last, but not least, definitely not least, the people who keep this place spotless, who've kept us all well-fed and well-service. Let's give it up for the housekeeping, kitchen and wait staff." She winked in Sam's direction. "Especially for the wait staff." She turned to the band leader and smiled.
Should've told her you were sorry Blame it on the rain that was falling, falling
Could have said you were wrong
But no you couldn't do that.
You had to prove that you were strong
If you hadn't been so blinded
She might still be there with you
You want her back again
But she just don't feel the same
Gotta blame it on something
Gotta blame it on something
Blame it on the stars that did shine that night
Whatever you do
Don't put the blame on you You can blame it on the rain
Blame it on the rain yeah yeah
Cause the rain don't mind
And the rain don't care
You got to blame it on something
Blame it on the rain that was falling, falling
Blame it on the stars that did shine that night
Whatever you do
Don't put the blame on you
Blame it on the rain yeah yeah
xoxoxoxox
Two months later Sam found himself knocking on the door of the condo in Atlanta. The door was opened immediately by an angry black woman
"About time you came to pick up your shit! I was just about to call Goodwill and..." Mercedes looked at Sam and blinked. "Sam! I was expecting somebody else."
"I'm sorry." Sam kicked himself, this was such a stupid idea. "I sent you an email? You said I should come? I can go if it's a bad time."
It took a few minutes for his words to register. "No, no! I'm just fucking brain dead these days. Come on in." She looked at the backpack and guitar he was carrying. "Where are you staying?"
"I just got here. I didn't really think much past getting here." God, what an idiot! He added another mental kick in the ass as he stepped around a pile of boxes near the door.
"So, how was your trip?" Mercedes asked in what seemed to Sam a very noncommittal way.
"Okay. My car broke down and I had to hitch the last couple hundred miles. That's why it took so long."
"You hitched?" She asked in amazement.
"That and the bus. That's the kind of experience I can use in a song one day." He said nervously.
Mercedes frowned slightly and looked at a road-weary Sam. She sniffed him discretely and didn't like what she smelled. Did he come here on a chicken truck? "Well, all that time on a bus, I bet you'd enjoy a nice warm bath." He declined the offer, citing the imposition. "It's fine. Go on. I insist." She assumed an offer-you-won't-refuse attitude. "I'll fix lunch while you clean up."
And she was right, he did enjoy that warm shower after four days on the road. He stepped out of the steam shower and wrapped a fluffy white towel around his waist. He reached for his backpack and a change of clothing before remembering he left it sitting on her living room floor. Stepping out of the bathroom he realized he was stepping right into the middle of a fight and his view was blocked by a massive black man with his back to Sam.
"You'll come crawling back. I know you. No matter how much weight you lose of how many people you have sucking up to you I know who you are. Fat, mousy Mercedes from Ohio. I made you what you are baby, don't ever forget it!" The man hissed.
"You had connections Shane, thank you very much, but you didn't make me! And if I end up back in Lima Ohio singing in the church choir I'd be happier than seeing the inside of a penthouse flat on my back! Just take your shit and get out."
"You're going to regret that!" Shane took a menacing step towards her. This guy Shane was six inches taller and at least 100, maybe 150 pounds heavier than him but Sam prepared himself to jump on the man. Sam figured he had speed and surprise on his side and that should buy him approximately 10 seconds before he got killed. Then they both heard Mercedes speak.
"Don't. Even. Think it!" She said in a tone that would have made Lord Voldermort reconsider. "Just get out. Now!"
The human instinct for self-preservation kicked in at the same time Shane became aware of another presence in the room. He turned on Sam. "Who the hell is he?"
"A guitarist. Now get out!" Mercedes pushed one of the boxes stacked by the front door into the hallway.
Will noticed Becky staring at Sam with intense focus. Then suddenly Sam's towel fell on the floor. Sam blushed beet red in the face of Shane's laughter.
"She's used to champagne, white boy! You ain't getting nowhere with Bud light!"
Becky Johnson knew her job was to teach Will Schuester the error of his ways and in order to do that she had to drop into the lives of the original members of what became New Directions. She'd been dogging Mercedes for the last six month, trying to pick destiny-defining incidents to show Will, and as a result has seen Shane naked several times. However, this was the first time her job gave her the opportunity to see Sam naked. Becky didn't know how this story was going to play out but she knew for a fact Ms. Jones wasn't going to be disappointed if she ever bedded Mr. Evans. White boy was packing!
Becky followed Sam's retreat into the bathroom, research if anybody asked. If you gotta be a spirit you might as well get something out of it. Shane threw Sam's backpack against the bathroom door before going to collect his boxes.
"Put some clothes on, white boy!"
Mercedes missed the sexy Sam show, intent on tossing Shane's belongings out the front door.
xoxoxoxox
Blame It On The Rain - Milli Vanilli