September 2012

"Went to a movie and dinner with some friends. Be back later. –Sam"

That was the note Sam scribbled for his parents and left on the kitchen table before darting out the door. Not a full minute had passed after hanging up with Mercedes, did he receive an urgent call from his boss at Stallionz.

"Evans! We need you to get down here immediately! Troy called in sick and the club's packed tonight. Twenty minutes or you're fired!"

He didn't have the chance to respond before his boss hung up on him. Sam kicked it into high gear, changing out of his pajamas and grabbing his keys and wallet. In his rush, he'd left his phone on his bed and only realized it once he reached Stallionz. He had only been back a few weeks, yet the money was as good as he remembered and despite his late weekend shifts, he was able to keep his excuses going to keep from raising suspicion with his family or girlfriend.

When he got backstage, his construction outfit was waiting for him. He quickly changed, pressing the Velcro sides together on his pants and clipping the suspenders on when his boss knocked.

"Two minutes and you're on, Evans!"

"Yes, ma'am!" he called back. Each time he was about to go on stage, his mind was riddled with a fear that a repeat of last year would occur, just as Finn and Rachel had found him. Only this time he worried irrationally that Mercedes would come storming through the doors, yank him off the stage by his suspenders and beat him with his own helmet. He knew how wrong it was for him to be lying to her about this but he also hoped that if he could save up just a little more money and be out in California with her, then maybe she'd go easy on him for his reason behind his return to the strip club.

Sam rushed out of the dressing room to join the lineup of his co-workers. Ahead of him, a man a little older and brawnier than him was scantily dressed like a sailor with an eye patch. He turned back to Sam and smirked, "Josie roped you in tonight too?"

"Heh, yeah about half an hour ago." He shook his head, "Sounds crazy out there though."

"Yeah apparently some girls from one of the state schools came up for some sorority thing."

Sam arched a brow and smirked, "Wow. Well that explains a lot."

"All it says to me as that we won't have to work so hard for tips. They'll put out before our first number's up."

The two laughed and looked towards the curtains as the MC started up their intro music. Still having an attraction to LMFAO songs, the bass thudded as "I Am Not A Whore" began to play.

"Alright ladies, are you ready for Kentucky's finest?" The crowd cheered and wooed as he said, "Tonight for your viewing pleasure—first up, you better not behave yourselves for Officer Spanky!"

More cheers as a man dressed as a police officer stepped up and burst through the curtain.

"Next up; he's ready to take your temperature to a whole new level… Dr. Feelgood!"

Another round of cheers for the medically-clad stripper.

"Salute his shorts—it's Captain Sexytime!"

The crowd grew to its loudest once he came through the curtain. Sam shut his eyes, took a deep breath and let his mind get into work mode while the MC announced him.

"And last but never least, the ever delicious, White Chocolate!"

Sam put on a smirk and stepped up, pushing the curtains apart as the sea of college girls and regulars cheered for him. He played around with his suspenders, pulling them off his shoulders and then ditched his hard hat. Putting his abs to work, he approached the edge of the stage with several body rolls while swinging a fist around like a helicopter. A handful of girls waved dollar bills at him as he approached and as he took the tips in one hand, his other hand tore away his jeans, leaving him in nothing but bright yellow boxers that read "CAUTION" all over. He slipped the money down into the waistline of his underwear and kept on moving up and down the stage with his co-workers.

His eyes caught the sight of a 20-dollar bill flashing at the far end of the stage. Anxious to earn it, he advanced with a smirk. Unfortunately his body went rigid when he saw who was wielding the bill.

"You gotta be kidding me!" He shouted, though the music had drowned him out from looking outrageous.

"Well, well, well—didn't think I'd see you here, Trouty. Then again, I hear it's hard to get off the pole."

Santana.

A shade of pink started crawling up his neck and towards his cheeks but he quickly retorted, "I'm not a pole dancer, Santana."

Catching the furious glare of his boss, he kept on moving to look like he was working but his eyes were bearing into Santana. "What are you doing here?"

She rolled her eyes, "Sorority function. Forced to come and hold my urge to vomit all over your stage. What's your story? I thought you told my girl, Mercedes you wouldn't be stripping again after you moved back here."

Sam pursed his lips angrily, "It's not what it looks like."

"Ha! Alright I'm in a generous mood so I'll give you another chance to explain."

"Not now," he muttered loudly through clenched teeth. "Later." He swiped the 20 from between her fingers and started to dance away.

"Hey!"

He winked back at her and kept dancing for others. His break wasn't for another twenty minutes but he was constantly reverting his attention back to Santana. She had taken a seat in the back and every time he looked at her, she was either staring with complete boredom or was throwing dirty looks at him.

Finally, his break had come and he left the stage with the others. He had enough time to get some water, empty the tips from his waistband and dry the sweat from his face before going out to meet Santana. She was waiting for him out front but he led her around to the side of the building.

"Alright, out with it Guppy Lips. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't send this to Mercedes right now." She held up her phone to show a photo of Sam in his caution tape boxers. It was slightly blurred but he wasn't an idiot and neither was Mercedes—she'd recognize him in a heartbeat.

"I can't believe you took that!" His anger flared again, "Why do you care so much, Santana—I already told you that it's not what it looks like."

"I care because Mercedes is my home girl and you're lying to her!" She folded her arms and waited with an irate gaze. "Stop stalling and tell me before I hit 'send'."

"Okay, okay! Look I'm doing this for her."

Santana's brows came together, "Come again?"

"It's true! I'm…" he sighed, "I'm trying to save up enough money to go out to California and be with her. Not just to visit but…to stay with her, and Puck. I've been planning it for a while now but I hadn't told anyone yet… except you now."

Tightening the fold of her arms against her chest, Santana told him, "You do realize she'll kill you once she finds out you're stripping again, right?"

"I was thinking she might ease up on me once she knows I'm doing it for her."

Santana's hand flew up—her palm facing him, "Let me stop you right there because you're just making yourself look dumb…well, dumber. Stripping for your girlfriend like you say you're doing? Doesn't even sound a little bit sweet do don't go there by trying to make it sound like you're doing it for her."

"But it's tr—"

"Ah! See this hand?" She pointed to her palm, "Means I'm still talking and you keep those big ass lips shut 'til I'm done. Comprende? Good. Anyway, you got another thing coming if you think Mercedes is gonna fall for that 'But I did it for you, baby!' crap. It's garbage and you and I know it." She lowered her hand finally and resumed folding it across her chest. "What she is gonna see though, is you returning to the place where you gave up your unholy dick in some cougar's vag."

He felt like Santana had yanked on his tongue only to release it land send it flapping back in his mouth like a set of blinds in a cartoon. "Wh—she told you about that?"

"Oh quit deflecting Trouty! Everyone in glee club knew about your sexcapade before graduation."

Sam's anger flared again as he muttered something under his breath about going back to Lima and killing Joe.

"Psh, Teen Jesus will be the least of your worries when Jones sees you. Nice boxers by the way," she mocked.

"Santana listen—you can't show that picture to Mercedes. I'll tell her, alright?"

"When?"

"When I get to L.A. Seriously. If she's gonna get mad at me over it, I'd rather she find out from me in person."

Santana stared at him for several seconds, mulling over his words against her itching trigger-happy thumbs. "Alright, Trouty. When are you thinking you'll be going out there?"

"Just before Halloween. I should have enough money for a plane ticket, and to help them with rent by then."

"So until then, you're gonna keep lying to her? What does she even think you're doing for a job, because it can't be actual construction."

"Ha, ha. No she and my parents think I'm a bellhop at Best Western." He took in Santana's confused expression and said, "It was the only thing I could think of to explain why I work late, and usually on the weekends. I figured my parents would get suspicious of me always being gone Thursday through Sunday nights, so sometimes I just leave notes and tell them I'm hanging out with old friends."

Santana's brows rose, "Well…I gotta say, you cover your tracks pretty well at least. But you best be lucky it was me who found you here and not any of our other friends, or Berry. Loose lips sink ships, and her big mouth could tank the Titanic."

Sam had no arguments there. "So you're not going to tell Mercedes?"

"Not so fast, Fish Lips. I asked about your plans for a reason. Consider this the turning of the hourglass. If you don't fess up to Mercedes before Halloween—in person or not—I'm telling her, and I promise it won't be pretty for you."

He ground his teeth but what choice did he have other than to agree with her? She was like a miniature Sue Sylvester when it came to blackmailing people. Let out a furious sigh, Sam turned his head away from her and muttered, "Fine."

Sam and Santana's heads turned as the back doors to Stallionz creaked open. The guy identified as Officer Spanky appeared from around the corner, "There you are, Sam! Break's over. Josie gave the two-minute warning."

"Thanks, man," Sam replied. He looked back to Santana and let out another heated sigh. "No one else knows about this Santana."

She picked up his tone of warning and waved him off, "Don't get your panties in a twist, Trouty. I'm a woman of my word. Halloween's your deadline. Until then I'll keep quiet." With that, she turned and headed back for the entrance, "Don't wait too long though or I might get antsy!"

"Dammit!" he spat under his breath, but he couldn't fuss at her about it anymore. Clocks seemed to be ticking all around him—one would cost him his well-paying job while the other would cost him his relationship with the best girl he knew.

With time ticking, he hurried around to the back of Stallionz and prepared to finish out his shift for the night.

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