Santana Lopez cringed at the balance line of the account. "Not good," she muttered as she pushed her glasses further up her nose. She clicked back to the another open tab on her computer. The one that kept track of her book store's inventory records. Although, why, she didn't know. It wasn't like she was selling anything recently.
In the digital age, there wasn't exactly a line of people waiting to get into a book shop. There were even less people who wanted to buy lesbian-themed books. Even her newest novelty items weren't doing the trick anymore.
She clicked over to the next tab. There was a list of books and quantities that she wanted to order for the shop, but she just didn't have the money.
"Fuck it," she said, clicking the Order button anyway. She then went back to the first tab and transferred funds from her personal account to the store's account, "It's not like it's the first time I've been broke."
Santana noticed the time in the corner of her screen. Closing time already and not a single, solitary customer. She punched open her cash drawer. It was exactly the same as she started with this morning. She knew that without a doubt, didn't even need to count it. She took the cash out and placed it in the tiny safe hidden under the counter.
She was just about to close her laptop when she noticed the green Honda pull up in her three space parking lot.
"Damn," she said to herself, already having a pretty good idea how this was going to end.
"You have to help me," Finn Hudson announced as he burst through the glass door causing the bell to ring. "I'm out of options. You're the only one left."
"Oh, Jesus Christ," Santana said from behind her computer. "That whole pact about repopulating the world was a joke, Hudson. Gotta let it go."
"It's not that...this time."
Santana groaned. She looked at her best friend of twenty years and sighed, "Then what?"
Finn, who was accustomed to making himself right at home, came around the counter, "I need another chaperone."
"Nope," Santana answered quickly. She busied herself with the task of shutting down her laptop.
"Lopez, c'mon."
"Not a chance," she said again. "I told you never again and I meant it."
"It won't be like last time," Finn promised.
"No," she said resolutely. She put her computer in her bag and lifted it over her head to hang around her shoulders.
"This is a different group of kids, Santana," he said. "I swear. This is not the same glee club that escaped the hotel in New York."
"Not even if it was the last glee club on earth," she strolled by him, flipping off the store lights and continued to the door he had just come in.
"Please, Santana," he begged as he turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED. "This is the last favor I'll ever ask of you."
"You're such a fucking liar, Hudson," Santana rolled her eyes. "You've been saying that since kindergarten when you asked for a black crayon because you ate yours."
"It's an all expenses paid vacation," Finn said, quite satisfied with his argument. "You need to get away."
Santana walked out, holding the door open as he passed through as well. She put her key in the lock and twisted it. "It's not like I can just take off. I can't just shut the store down for three days."
Finn gave the handle of the door a tug to make sure it was locked, "Santana," he said with a disbelieving smirk. The calling of her bullshit was totally implied.
He was right to do so. Closing down the book shop for three days probably wouldn't make a bit of difference and the promise of getting away was awfully tempting. She adjusted the bag around her shoulders, "All expenses?"
"School-sponsored trip," Finn stated. "Budgeting for two school-sanctioned chaperones."
Santana served in a very limited capacity with the WMHS Cheerios as an assistant coach to Roz Washington. That actually meant she only had to show up at home football games and make sure the tiny cheerleader shot out of the cannon actually made it into the stunt airbag. Unfortunately, this also made her eligible for chaperoning.
She crossed her arms on the roof of her car, resting her chin there. "It's possible I could make it work."
Finn mirrored her stance on the other side, "Just for three days."
"Maybe I could actually enjoy the city this time."
"Uh," Finn cleared his throat. "A city, yes."
Santana narrowed her eyes. "It's not in New York?"
"Nationals is in a different city every year, you know that."
"So where are we going?"
"Boise."
"You're offering me an all expenses paid three day vacation to Boise?"
"What's wrong with Boise?"
Santana shook her head, "With twelve singing teenagers."
"And an alternate."
"No," she said and got into her car.
He bent down to see her in through the window, "Then I won't take the alternate."
"No," she said again and put her car in reverse. "Watch your clown feet."
She left a pouting Finn standing there as she drove away. Her phone chimed almost immediately, but she ignored it. After tossing her phone into the passenger seat, she turned up the radio. She listened to it at a moderately loud level for the whole five minutes it took to get to the outskirts of town. Her car took a right just passed the sign that advertised Lima Links.
She parked in her designated spot, waved to a familiar couple coming out of The Club House and climbed the steps that led to her apartment.
Her apartment that was built on top of the Lima Links club house on her family's golf course. Her father, the Slice Doctor, had remodeled a former storage space into an apartment for the two years that her parents were legally separated. That was when she was in high school. It had sat empty until just recently. She had little choice but to move into the tiny place when her parents suddenly sold their house, moved to Florida, and left her in charge of the business.
The turn of events hadn't been completely unwelcome as she was months away from going under from her original lesbian themed book shop venture in Indianapolis, where she had been living with her cheating whore of a girlfriend. She was able to escape with a good deal of her inventory and occupy a nice little rent free space in Lima where her father had invested in some real estate some time ago. Not a terrible trade-off for overseeing the operations of a very successful golf course. Though, she suspected her father wasn't entirely out of the loop.
She had barely slipped off her sensible shoes when she noticed Finn's green Honda through her golf ball cracked window.
He didn't bother knocking. He also didn't bother asking when he opened up her fridge and helped himself to a bottle of water. It was almost as if he lived there himself when he plopped down in her recliner and rocked back.
"Lopez, I know that you're going to it. You know that you're going to do it." He took a long drink and swallowed. "So just say that you'll come spend three fun-filled days in Boise with your best pal, Finneus."
Santana dropped into her bean bag chair, the only other furniture to sit on in this particular room, "I could, but i just don't want to."
"But you do."
"No," she protested. "I don't."
"I'll do something for you."
"What could you possibly do for me?"
"Starting with dinner," he said.
"You can't cook."
"No, but my mom can. Kurt is home for the weekend and has got some special announcement for the family."
"That he's gayer than a wind chime in a tornado? I think that announcement is way overdue."
"Probably not," Finn said. "Although, you're right. He knows. They know. He's know that they know. They know that he knows. I don't know why they won't just say it already."
"Well, as much as I'd love to," Santana chuckled, "I can't."
"Can't?"
"Can't."
"You can't?"
"I have plans."
"Plans," Finn repeated. He tapped his chin with his forefinger. "Plans, you say."
"I can have plans."
"Oh, yeah," he said. "You can have plans, but rarely do...unless...oh, c'mon...not her."
"Who?"
"Holly?" Finn sat his water bottle on the table. "Lopez, don't do this to yourself."
"What?"
"You know what."
"We're just hanging out," Santana said much too defensively.
"Hanging out with no pants."
"So what?"
"She's your golf pro!"
"There's no rule that says I can't bang my golf pro."
"There should be."
"But there's not."
"Okay, lemme tell you what's going to happen."
"Please don't," she tried to stop him.
"You two will hook up...again. And she won't call you back for three months...again," Finn said bluntly. "Even though you'll run into her like ten times and she'll act all weird...again. It's a booty call, Lopez. You're a booty call. And frankly, you're much too good for that."
"Shut up."
"And she works for you."
"I barely have anything to do with this place," Santana argued fruitlessly.
"You sign her checks, Slice Doctor, Jr."
"Whatever, Finn," Santana rolled out of the bean bag. "Don't you have a home to go to?"
"Yeah, fine," he stood up. "I'll go..." Before he took a step, he extended his long arms and placed his hands on Santana's shoulders. "Please think about it, though."
"Why are you being such a lady about this?"
"I don't like for you to get hurt."
"You once threw me off a roof," she said referencing an event from elementary school.
"Not before I made sure you were wearing a helmet and three pairs of knee pads."
"I'm a grown up," she said. "I don't need your knee pads."
"I could make a joke there."
"Don't."
"Okay," he gave her a light smack to her head. "Might need the helmet, though."
"Go," she punched him. "Leave, get out, forget you know me."
With Finn gone, she went about getting ready for her plans. Which, yes, the plans were with Holly and no, pants would be not be required.
First, a shower. She lathered twice, skipping the the first rinse but trying to adhere to repeat. Shave the legs, check the wax. All good. She grabbed the good smelling soap, giving it a few squirts. All the important parts were first. Clean and fresh was her motto. After that, the mundane parts. She washed her feet, behind her ears, got her back the best she could and then shut off the lukewarm water.
Santana exited the shower and wiped away the fog on the mirror. There was a stray hair near her eyebrow that she definitely needed to pluck. There was also the beginning of what looked to be a pimple on her chin. Nothing tweezers and cover-up can't fix, though. She dried off and threw her towel over the rack.
She put on her lucky pair of thongs and a fairly new bra, then ventured to the closet to put together an ensemble. Something casual probably. Something that said, "I almost forgot that we were going to get together tonight." Definitely jeans, but definitely the pair that said, "Dat Ass!"
When she pulled that particular pair of jeans on, she inspected her assage. On a scale of zero to booty, she was pulling down an 8.5 easy. "Nice," she told herself.
Midway through rooting around for the tightest shirt that showed just the right amount of cleavage, she heard her phone. Thinking that it was probably Finn, she dismissed it. Even the second time, she decided to let it go. It wasn't until the notification of her voicemail that she suspended her search and picked up the device.
It was Holly.
"Santana, hey," came through the speaker. "It's me. Holly. Holly Holiday. Anyway, I know we were hooki-...uh, meeting up tonight and stuff, but I just got rear-ended on the freeway."
"Asperger's!" could be heard through the line as well.
"Okay, okay, lady," Holly was obviously talking to the other person involved. "I'm on the phone here."
There was quite a bit of shuffling and the sound of a gust of wind. Santana could almost swear she could make out Holly asking for the girl's number and the flirty laugh. Then, her voice was back, "So, I think I have to cancel, but we'll...yeah. Some other time."
Santana flung her phone on her bed, quickly followed by herself. She grabbed her pillow and screamed into it before flipping it under her head.
Then she made a hasty move. In order to avoid seeing the woman who had just ditched her, she needed to get the fuck out of Dodge. She called Finn.
He greeted her with that obnoxious Hudson tone, "You're coming?"
"When are we leaving?"
"Tomorrow."
"Dammit, Hudson, thanks for the fucking notice."
"I told you about it more than an hour ago," he said seriously.
"Fine," she said. "Pick me up."
"Yes, this is why I love you."
"Because I'm a chump?"
"Because you always come through, Lopez. Ever since the black crayon."
"Dependable ol' Santana," she said with a tinge of sadness.
"Hey," Finn picked up on it, "that's not a bad thing."
"I'll see you tomorrow."
Less than twenty-four hours later, she was sitting on a small passenger plane on a runway at Lima Municipal Airport. All thirteen kids were chattering nonstop. Some were singing al-fucking-ready. She was absolutely certain that the glee club was making some of the business folks regret booking this flight.
"Why are we flying out of Lima again?" Santana asked Finn, who was her seatmate.
"It was cheaper," he answered. "The airline cut us a deal. Shop locally and all that jazz. Plus, no driving. Flying is safer, don't ya know?"
"Ah," she nodded. "I've heard that."
"From here to O'Hare, then a direct flight into Boise." He tapped her arm with his fist, "Less than seven hours if things go as planned."
"This is your captain speaking..." cut off anymore conversation.
Santana nearly dozed off while watching the one flight attendant give the pre-flight safety demonstration. Exit rows. Oxygen masks. Seats can be used as a floatation device. She knew all this already.
Actually, she may have really dozed off because she certainly wasn't prepared for the very loud, booming sound that seemed to rock her entire body. She was confused by the screams and the feeling that whoever was supposed to be in control of the plane, was obviously not. Metal screeched, sparks flew past the window, curses were bandied about, prayers were offered, her body was forced violently against against the armrest.
And then everything stopped.
