A/N:
Hey Guys! I decided to put the author's note at the beginning of the chapter this time. First and for most, I want to thank everyone who has been reading this! I know it's a little rough around the edges but I promise you that things are about to get very interesting within the group.
Also, for anyone and everyone who've reviewed. Thank you! I really like reading your thoughts and suggestions. I try to incorporate all of the suggestions the best that I can. Like I've said, if you want to see anything happen in the fic let me know. I will try my best!
Third point, I apologize for my awful Spanish last chapter. Although I'm half Puerto Rican, I am embarrassed to say that I don't know a lick of Spanish (Thanks, Dad). So, admission time: I Google translated it and got screwed over. I should've known better. BUT I went back and fixed it (I think...?). AND I forgot translations at the end of the chapter. My bad.
There was a fourth point but... I can't remember. This A/N is going to end up being longer than the chapter. It's late I have to be up in a couple of hours so... I'm going to go now.
XOXO,
Syn92
DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I don't own Glee or Pretty Little Liars (it would be awesome though). I don't own the characters BUT I do own the majority of this story line.
Holla at yo' girl!
Chapter Four
Santana POV
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand your rights as I have read them to you?"
These are the words that I keep repeating in my head and honestly, no: No I don't understand the rights as they have been read to me. I'm not quite sure how I got here, how I let myself get so worked up that I landed myself in jail. Especially since Lumps is the one who started the whole thing. He should be in this cell. Speaking of, where the hell is he?
"Hey," I stand, calling after one of the officers. "Don't I at least get a phone call or something?" She completely ignores me. "Oh. Okay, alright then, thanks Toots. Nice chat." I slam my hands on the bars with a sarcastic smile and turn my back to her, sinking to the ground with a defeated sigh.
I drop my head onto my knees, and just as I'm sinking into my elaborate internal suicide/homicide scheming, I hear a peculiar voice speak up beside me. "Aww, what's wrong, boo?"
I snap my head up, and see a woman slouched on one of the wooden benches in our little hell-cell, head cocked and smiling in amusement. Wait. Is it even a woman? Suddenly I'm not so sure. No, I was wrong, it's a man. I think. A woman? No, that's definitely a... man, dressed as a woman? Let's just say a Woah-man, because that's exactly what I thought when I first saw her? Him? Them.
Anyway, their wig is crooked. Bright pink lipstick is smeared to the right of her (his?) mouth, and mascara has ran down their face in dirty, smudged little streaks. Their (very female-ish) clothes are all dirty and torn, and I can tell immediately that I'm not the only one who's not having the best of nights. Looking rough is the understatement of the century. Their friend, sitting nearby with legs crossed and fuschia lips pursed like some broke-down Nicki Minaj, looks just as bad, if not worse. And someone's having trouble containing their lady-boner because I can totally see a bulge in that neon pink pencil skirt. Definitely a woah-man.
Snapping back from my observations, I realize she's (he's) still staring at me, and hello, mouth connect to brain Santana: In normal society, when one is spoken to, they reply. But by now I had entirely forgotten what she'd even said.
I just said "Who me?" (I know, great going smart one).
The woah-man chuckled, and looked over at her friend like look at this idiot here.
"Yes you, little girl blue." She said, turning back to me. "You be over there, all frowny and what not. Talk to Auntie Coco." Here she paused, and I swear she gave me a solid 20 seconds to reply, but my stuck-on-stupid organ I called a brain just stalled, failing to cooperate. She ("Aunties" are females, so I assume that's what she wanted to be called) cocked an eyebrow, apparently skeptical of my IQ, but mercifully specified "Whatcha in here fo'?"
Finally, there was one I could answer. "I um... well..." I smirked, realizing finally exactly what it was I had done. "I kinda beat down this guy..."
Gasps echo off of the cell bars. I mean I'm not proud of myself but like what was I supposed to do. He came into my home, insulted my friend, and then had the nerve to hit me back. He was totally asking for it!
"Oh my gurdness gur! Why?!" I look over to the corner of the cell in the direction of the question. Yet another wide-eyed woah-man waits for my response, and I'm beginning to wonder if these guys don't travel in packs.
"Well, he got up in my grill." I say, clearing my throat and beginning to relax. These girls are pretty cool. "That's not how we do it in Lima Heights." I continue, giving them a smug nod, but shifting uncomfortably when my eyes meet a big, white, butch woman, leaning against the barred window with her arms crossed, who gives me The Nod, licking her lips "seductively".
"Lima Heights Adjacent?" Auntie Coco asks, completely ignoring Call of The Wild at the window.
"Yeah. So?" I eye her warily, getting ready to go on the defensive, but she just shrugs off my attitude like one of Berry's old pea coats.
"Calm yo tits, hun. I was just asking."
A bit put out, I purse my lips and look at the floor. "I'm sorry, it's been a long night." I say finally with an indifferent shrug. "I just want to go home and lay my ass down." The others nod in agreement, and Wild Thing says something under her breath with a suggestive look in my direction. Auntie Coco save me.
"Um... so what are you guys in here for?" I ask, desperate to change that subject.
"Hey gurl" Insert pause and lip smack here. "My name be Champagne honey. It's spelled like C-H-A-M-P-A-G-N-E, but pronounced 'Sham-pag-in,' not to be confused with the drank, y'know?" Baby Nicki clears her throat. " Coco and I be in here because of prostate-institution, and I ain't ashamed of what I do."
"Prostitution, Champagne. Learn to say it girl." Coco corrects.
"Whateva. I'm good at it. I gets my bills paid. If it wasn't for that damn undercova cop."
"Yeah, he was a freak though." Coco says, smiling at the thought. "Ooh! There he go right there!" She points to the man passing our cell. "How you doin', Officer Freaky?!"
He ducks his head in embarrassment and we all begin to laugh, me included. Who am I to knock her hustle?
"You do you, boo boo," I say, and she shoots me a wink, which I return sassily.
"Ooh, you bad gurl!" Coco shouts with a loud laugh, earning us a reprimanding Shhh from Mrs. Tight Lips security bitch outside of our cell. That just makes us laugh harder, all of us cracking up until my ribs are literally hurting.
Catching my breath, I sit back up and try to regain my composure before continuing the conversation. Finally, somehow, I manage.
"What about you?" I ask a mousey, wide-eyed woman I hadn't noticed before standing against the far wall. I have no idea how I had not seen her before. Her hair was in a wild, tangled arc above her head, and I really just wanted to introduce her to a brush.
She looks up, surprised, and begins fidgeting awkwardly. "I- I'm Claire." Claire Hair glances around with her shifty eyes and a uneasy chill washes over me. She probably killed her boyfriend, or like, buried her mom in the backyard or something. Hell, she probably did both, and only after putting her dog in the microwave.
"I assaulted an officer after getting pulled over." She said, barely above a whisper.
"Idiot." The Raging Wild Butch scoffs.
"Excuse me?" Claire questions.
"You heard me poppin."
"Oh, that's grand." Claire says sarcastically, surprising me. "Especially since it's coming from someone who robbed a sex toy warehouse." Hair looks down at her shoelaces with a smirk, and we all look back and forth between the two. I'm trying my hardest to keep a straight face, but my goofy grin breaks through.
Butch meanwhile has turned a very unflattering shade of red. "I told you that in confidence!" She screams.
We all, once more, burst into laughter, and even Security Bitch joins in this time.
"Horny much?" I choke out through my laughter, holding my stomach against the silent, gulping laughs that are now wracking my body.
"Hey! Don't judge." She laughs, only to turn serious a second later. "And if any of you have anything to say: step to me, don't play no games with Miss Sara. Any of you would've done the same thing in my situation." Ahh, so that's her name. She doesn't look like a Sara. She looks like her name should be Icebox, or Tank. I mean girlie is tall, wide, and "toned" is putting it lightly.
"HOLD UP! Hold up. Hold up. Hold up." Champagne shakes her head with her hands in the air. "Girl." I realize she's talking to me, and I look up with watery eyes as she points at me accusingly. "You neva told us your what yo name be. I mean unless it's Lima Heights Adjacent?" She raises and eyebrow disbelievingly and I shake my head, still giggling like a retard.
"Santana. The name's Santana." I hold up a warning finger. "And if any of you search me on Google Maps and show up on my doorstep with a box of Bar-B-Q wings, I promise I'll call the police."
More laughter ensues, and I can't help smile. 3 woah-mans (Auntie, Sham-pag-in, and Corner Hugger), a raging hormonal butch (AKA Sara), Casey Anthony Jr., and one Santana Lopez, all jammed together into one rough, cold, stone jail cell, and I'm actually having fun. Who'da thunk it? The time passes and we all continue talking. We talk about a lot of things and before I know it Sara has her head on my shoulder and an arm around my waist. What the fuck?! It's like I'm cuddled up to a cinderblock.
Just as Woah-Man 3(whose name turned out to be McSmexy) is regaling us with his tale of being hunted out of a crack house shower stall by police dogs, a policeman unlocks the cell.
"Lopez, Santana?" He calls out. I try to stand but Sara's grip on me tightens. I pry her off of me, much to her protest, and go to stand.
"That's me. Do I finally get my damn phone call? I've been in here since last night." It comes out a lot bitchier than I meant it too, but I'm annoyed. I'm beaten up, cold, sweaty, gross, and hungry. He quirks an eyebrow at me, and I have no time for his doughy white-man politicking. I just want to get out of here. If I have to play nice then to do so, then so be it. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm just ready to go home."
"You've made bail. You can pick up your things and get the hell out of here." He says monotonously, and I don't like the way his creepy sad little Pedo-Bear eyes are travelling up and down my body like that. It makes me want to shove a flaming gay unicorn down his throat.
I look at the 'girls' behind me and give them all a sad smile. Who says you can't make friends in jail? Granted, they are all a little weird, but they treated me well. I mean I guess. Sara scared the hell out of me, but she was still pretty nice for a brick.
"Well guys, guess I'll see you when I see you." The all sadly nod. Auntie Coco makes her way across the cell towards me and wraps me into a hug. I tense instantly, still feeling a little sore from the night before.
"Ooh! Girl, I'm sorry." She backs up immediately; looking me over like she was afraid she had snapped me like a twig.
I laugh at her concern good-naturedly. "It's okay."
Champagne, Sara, and Claire follow Auntie's lead. Sara holds on a little longer than necessary, hands inching just that little creepy bit too close to my ass, and nope, that does it, the woman's smelling my hair.
"Okay, okay, OKAY!" I cry. Once again, I pry her off, keeping her at arms reach. She gives me a sheepish smile. I turn and look at the group of girls on last time before I gather up my jacket and follow officer Friendly towards the front of the jailhouse.
X
Walking out into the bright light of the new day, I pull the sunglasses from my collar, putting them on before running a hand through my hair. L.A. is a lot sunnier than I'd imagined. Stepping out onto the public sidewalk (FREEDOM!) and pulling out my phone, I scroll through my contacts. Hopefully, Quinn or someone can come pick me up, because I have absolutely no clue where I am. After some consideration, I decide to call my bestest bestest bestest friend: I dial Quinn.
"Hi, You've reached Quinn. I can't come to the phone right now so-." BEEP.
Okay then... Maybe I'll try Kurt. After a couple rings, he finally picks up. "Hey! What's up?" I flinch at the sound of he voice: it's so drawn out and high pitched. Also, the fact that he is practically screaming into the phone isn't helping. Regardless, I knew he'd be the one I could count on.
"Oh my God! Kurt, you'll never beli-."
"Just Kidding! You've got my voicemail! You know what to do." BEEP.
Or not.
I try several numbers. Brittany, Mercedes, even Rachel. All I get is voicemail. This is just great. We fly to the other side of the country, I get my ass beat, arrested, and then when I need someone to come and pick me up, everyone goes ghost. Oh, the power of friendship. It's cool though. I'm not gonna cry over this. I'll figure it out. I always figure something out.
I pull up my phones GPS and type in my apartment's address. Two hours?! It's a 2 hour walk from here to there?! Well, no use in complaining. I mean I could call a cab... but maybe the walk will help me clear my head? Do I really want to walk? Who knows what kind of creepers live in L.A.?
As I continue my internal argument, I don't even realize that someone is standing awkwardly close to me until I feel a tap on my shoulder, which pulls me out of my reverie. I turn around, and a relived sigh escapes my lips as I'm met with a familiar face.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Aria asks with a warm smile.
"Ar- Aria, what are you doing here!?" I can't believe this. What is she doing here? How the hell did she know that I've been let out? Should I be afraid?
Our eyes meet and I get stuck on stupid.
"Wha-. Why? How? Huh?" She laughs. She's always laughing. I'm not that funny. I mean, I don't think I am, but whatever. I close my eyes, trying to gather my thoughts before I make a gigantic fool outside of myself, as seems to be per usual with me these days.
"How did you know I was here?" I ask, finally gathering my thoughts enough to attempt coherency.
"I bailed you out. Well, I mean we all kind of pulled some money together in order for you to get out, but-."
"You all pulled money together? Where is everyone else?" As soon as the words left my mouth, I already regretted them. She looks like a kicked puppy. "I mean, not that I'm not happy to see you. I mean I'm really glad you're here. I just, ya know, I-." She puts her hands up and stops my ramble.
"Chill out. I was only kidding." She winks and gives me a playful push before turning on her heels, heading in the opposite direction. "Cars this way," She calls back to me. I feel a dopey smile light my face, and I follow after the bouncy brunette in the pink summer dress more then willingly. I don't know what it is, but something's telling me that this Aria and I are going to end up being good friends. Maybe.
"I ain't yo slave!" I say with a smile as I catch up with her fast paced strides and push her back. Her eyes go wide, and she reaches up to stop her bright yellow sunglasses from falling from their perch atop her head with a disbelieving laugh.
"Whoa, I'm not the moving guy! Lighten up, heavy hands!"
Now it's my turn to stare at her with wide, disbelieving eyes as she steps down from the side walk to her car's driver side door. She would be the one to drive a 1963 Black Mercury Comet. Red interior, blue flamingo dangling from the rearview... Seems like the type.
"Nice ride." I comment, giving the Comet an approving once over through squinted eyes as the light glares off of it harshly. Aria shoots me a 'damn right' smirk and nods, before I continue. "But uh... One Tree Hill called. Peyton wants her car back."
I look up and she's just shaking her head. I study her face for a second and find a smile, relieving my initial worry that I might have offended her. Thank goodness. Normally, I wouldn't care. I keep it real and I'm hilarious, but for some reason something's stopping me from being mean to this girl. It's like, could it be: a filter? Oh Jesus.
"Hardy Har Har," she says dryly. "I'm surprised you even know what One Tree Hill is. Nerd."
"Yeah, but I'm not the one rocking an exact replica of a character's car. Think about it, take a second, ding. Speaking of which, where the hell and when the hell did you get a car? We've only been in Cali for two days. You didn't steal it did you?" Yeah, I'm all for being a badass but stealing is something I can't get with. Nope. Uh-uh. I was raised that hard work is what gets you things. I plan to follow that. Unless of course Beyonce is in town, in which case I will definitely be copping a pair of her under-, uh, never mind.
"What? No!" Aria pauses in opening her door and releases a deep, exasperated breath and looks across the roof of the car at me in amusement. "Craigslist, Santana. I got it the same day we contacted you guys about the apartments. The guy selling it lived here and I figured it'd be perfect for Cali."
"Yeah, until the transmission falls out on the 405." I say under my breath.
"What was that?"
Clearing my throat, I open the passenger door and get inside. "I said if um... the car needs anything done to it, I can do it. It's kind of my thing."
"Sweet, free mechanic." She says as she plops down into the drivers seat, putting the key in the ignition and turning it on. Well, trying to. After a couple of tries, the thing finally starts with a tired sounding grumble and cough. It definitely needs work. It sounds like ass. Dirty ass.
"Your car sounds like ass." I say, and we bust into laughter as she puts the car in reverse and we're on our way.
X
We pull up to our apartment building and suddenly I really don't want to face my 'friends.' I needed them and they weren't there. I'll admit that deep inside; even my rotten black peach of a heart is hurt. Aria places both of her hands on mine, "Hey, it's gonna to be okay."
I shake my head, "No. No it's not." Anger flares up inside of me, and I shake out of her light grasp, taking a second to breathe, trying to calm myself and fight back the urge to hit something. With Aria in the car, I definitely don't want that to happen. She saw enough of that the other night. I realize my fists are clenched in front of me, and I drop one to my lap, using the other to brace myself against the dashboard.
"They're just scared, San." Aria says, using my nickname comfortingly as she rubs my shoulder. "The other night you were an animal. I'm not gonna lie, it was scary."
"What, so they all opted out, drew straws, did a 'nose goes' type thing, and you picked me up by default, right?" I bite, and my closed fist begins trembling on the dashboard. Aria eyes me warily before scooting back in her seat just the slightest bit.
"No." She begins evenly, trying to appear unfazed by my bipolar ass. I don't blame her. "I volunteered. I was actually the first to volunteer." Her voice is pleading with me to believe her, but I turn away. I can't even look her in the eye.
I'm pissed, there's no other way to describe it. I don't want her sympathy. Suddenly Aria begins to stroke my not trembling hand with her thumb, and I fight my urge to shake it away. A few seconds of this, and oddly enough I find myself beginning to calm down. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you about to get your period or something? Snap out of that shit Santana! Your emotions are all over the place, and it's scaring Aria.
"Come on. Let's get inside. I bet they are all there waiting for you." Aria says finally, offering me a weak smile, which I return, mine's equally weak.
Shutting off the car, Aria gets out and walks around to my side, opening the door. As soon as I step out, she grabs my hand, her small soft palm fitting perfectly against mine. I try not to over think that small detail, and focus instead on the task at hand. I can feel my nerves coiling at the base of my wrists like sprung piano strings. Aria is patient, looking at me expectantly for the go-ahead.
With a large, shuddering sigh, I force a smile, stronger this time, and give my little companion a small nod.
Her hand tightens on mine, and then we're walking towards the large brick building, Aria taking the lead. It's time to face the music.
A/N:
Stick with me here guys; shit is about to get real! I have a ton of ideas. I'll post chapter 5 tomorrow hopefully (Hell, I might post that one tonight too). The more reviews I get, the faster I'll post. Boo yah! Review and follow! I'll love you forever.
ALSO! Check out my little sister/unofficial beta's (kcuffykidd96) story, Whiplash. Her latest chapter is hilarious. If you're liking this fic, then you'll totally like that one too.
-Syn
