A/N: Hey, lovelies :)

Much love for all your responses to this story! At least we don't have to worry about any more hiatuses (fingers crossed). This update is a leeeetle late because I was focused on A Silent Song. Anyway, hope you enjoy :)

Sorry for the lateness - at least you won't have to wait too long for the next one :p

Ok, so I'm embellishing on Santana's job a little here…if future episodes prove my ideas wrong, then I'll deal with it.

A slight variation with the structure of this story – first, I start during the episode as opposed to after, and the title song is dispersed between breaks.

Onward and up!

-H

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee :(

CHAPTER 4: She

I gripped my suitcase tightly as it hit a patch of ice on the sidewalk and slid away from me a little. I swallowed the lump in my throat that had lodged itself there as soon as Hummelberry told me to move out. How could they not see it? I was just trying to protect Rachel. There was something very fishy about Donkey Face and I was only trying to save my friend from almost certain heartache.

Ugh. Why is it that the women in my life are so fucking dependant on men to validate them?

Well, thankfully Quinn seemed to have shaken that irritating habit. She was living life up at Yale as a single, empowered woman. I was proud of her.

But Rachel… And Britt…

Berry just refused to see all the damn evidence that was flying around in her fucking face! Brody Barbie was not a good guy. Even if he wasn't a drug dealer, he was up to something and I wasn't about to let my family – no matter what Hummelberry might think of me – be treated like dog shit because they're still too naïve to see what people are really like. I'd just have to find another way to prove to Rachel that Plastic Man was seriously bad news.

Why didn't they believe me? One thing that no one could deny was that I may be a bitch, but I could read people very well. I was right about Brody. But Rachel wouldn't believe me until I had some sort of proof. Even Kurt had a stab at me. He didn't even like Brody. He'd even said that he believed me about him being a drug dealer. What the fuck changed? Was it because I shook my glorious behind at their precious NYADA? Were they so insecure that a performance from me shook them from whatever comfort zone they'd shoved themselves into?

My head was hurting. I headed back to Coyote Ugly. I may as well approach my boss about the open apartment over the bar. She'd mentioned that it was vacant, but having thought I'd had a place to stay, I hadn't taken up the offer.

"Hey, Jack," I called, walking into the storeroom, dragging my suitcase behind me.

Jack gave me a look with one arched eyebrow and her eyes flickered to the suitcase. "Change of heart, Snixx?"

I'd given them my alter ego as my stage name, or whatever. Hell, I ain't no Jersey.

"Um, change of plans, actually" I muttered.

"In half an hour?" Jack chuckled.

I shrugged. "The apartment still open?"

"Yeah." She reached around her belt and pulled out a set of keys. "You gotta wiggle the lock to the left a bit before it opens." She unclipped a rusty key from her big bunch and handed it to me.

"Thanks," I said.

"You ok?"

"Phenomenal," I said, automatically resorting to my defensive bitch stance. "Bitches won't realise what they have until they've lost it."

Jack chuckled. "Go and get settled then you can come down and help me stock the bar."

It wasn't a request and I'd learnt in about five minutes that Jack didn't ask. She said and you did.

I climbed the steps from the storeroom that led up the side of the building to the small apartment above. Fuck, I had absolutely nothing other than my clothes. And they'd only been packed because I'd gone to do laundry. I sighed and managed to get the lock open. I wrinkled my nose at the musty smell. The place probably hadn't had any fresh air in months.

Fuck it. You have a job and a roof over your head.

I hated that the annoying voice in my head had started sounding an awful lot like Quinn. Go fucking figure.

I spent half an hour acquainting myself with the small space and trying to get a semblance of homeliness. There was a mattress, but it was seriously suspicious. There was no way in hell that I was going to put my head on that thing without it being fumigated, decontaminated and dry cleaned. I shuddered just thinking about what could be lurking underneath the material.

Opening the fridge, I almost chunked at the seriously old milk and…something.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I gagged, shutting the door quickly again.

I grabbed my phone and keys and headed back down to the storeroom. Jack was a pretty cool chick. She was in her late thirties and was scarily like the character that Maria Bello portrayed in the movie. She mentioned a few things as the two of us worked, procedures and such. I was no stranger to hard work – Abuela and Mami had been hard taskmasters from an early age. Jack seemed impressed that I could lug boxes of beer around in heels.

"Years of dancing and cheerleading. Plus, my ex is a dancer so I had to get used to it."

"Dancing? Anything professional?"

"Um, well, she's taken dance classes since she could pretty much walk so-"

"You, Snixx, not your ex," Jack chuckled. "I don't give a shit about your personal life. Just don't let it affect your work."

"Yeah, that's something you definitely won't have to worry about," I muttered. "In answer to your question, no professional training. Just cheerleading and show choir. But I'm Latina so, you know, natural rhythm and all that shit."

Jack chuckled as the deposited the last box the bar. "I think you and I are gonna get along great, Snixx."

"I believe I did mention that in my interview."

"Not so much an interview as you showing up demanding a job," Jack corrected, twirling a knife expertly and opening the boxes.

I shrugged. "Says you."

See? I'm a great judge of character. I knew right away that I could be straight (not that kind) with Jack because she was like me – she called a spade a fucking spade. She didn't beat around the bush (wanky) and wasn't afraid to go after what she wanted.

Ha! Maybe you should re-evaluate that one, Snixx.

I shook off Quinn's irritating-as-fuck voice. Thinking about Brittany was pointless. She was clearly happy in the bubble of Trouty's lips. I hadn't heard anything from her since I'd asked her not to send me any messages. That was last week, though. And I hated that I missed her.

You're in New York. You're a single, smokin' hot lesbian in a city of ample opportunity. Embrace what you have and make the most of it.

Ok, props to my Quinnscience for that little pick-me-upper.

"Shot?"

I nodded and pulled out two six packs of beer, ripping them open and stacking them in the fridge. I'd received a tour of the bar earlier.

"Sup, Jack."

I glanced up and appreciated the hot piece of ass that had just walked in. She was seriously hot. Not Britt hot, but you know…

"Who's this?" the new arrival asked, hopping up onto the bar.

"Santana, aka, Snixx, meet Kelly."

"Pleasure," she said with a smirk.

"Same," I replied, stacking another eight beers.

"Hit up the jukebox before you come around, Kelly," Jack ordered, setting a shot in front of me. She held up her own and winked. "Welcome to the fold. Don't fuck up my bar."

I chuckled and clinked the shot glass before downing it. That was damn good tequila. "Shit, that's good. That's not made here."

Jack arched an eyebrow.

"Nothing available in stores here is that smooth unless you're willing to mortgage your house to buy it."

"Sharp," Jack commented. "I got it in Mexico. I only keep it for special occasions."

"Oh, my, how super special I feel."

"You should," Kelly replied from the jukebox. "I've been here two years and I only got my first shot on my birthday three months ago."

"Happy belated," I said with a smirk.

"Cheeky."

"Thank you."

"Alright, ladies. Enough with the flirting. Save it for tonight. Two for one special on tequila. Not my tequila, naturally. Get ready for some seriously drunk assholes grabbing at you."

I rolled my eyes. "And here I thought New York would be different than high school."

"Holy shit, Jack, where did you pick this one up?"

"She did the picking up. And yeah, she's underage, but we got it sorted."

It was totally illegal, but Jack was using my fake ID. I didn't care. I was working in a fucking bar and a famous one at that. Kelly finally got the music going and the three of us moved easily around each other as we stocked the bar.

She
May be the face I can't forget
A trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She may be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day.

That first night was…intense. I got hit on so many times I felt like a frigging celebrity. And I hated that I felt so guilty about enjoying the attention. Kelly was an awesome bar partner and I picked up tricks from her really quickly. We fell into a efficient rhythm around each other very quickly. I found out that the girl can sure as hell hold her alcohol. I lost count of how many tequila shots she took in the time I'd done about five.

At about two am, I was able to take a quick break which was perfect because I was dying to pee. I pushed my way through the crowds and headed for the bathroom. Once I was done, I walked out, but a familiar voice stopped me.

"No worries, baby, you know I'll be there. Yeah, Tomorrow at eight. Same place as always, honey. I can't wait either."

Plastic Man sighed and stuck his phone into his jacket pocket. I noticed that he looked pretty damn dressed up for a cater waiter. And no way was Berry up at two am. I'd heard the fucking lectures about giving her voice eight hours to rest every night. I remember telling her that she wouldn't need to sleep so much just to rest her voice is she shut up a little more when she was awake. I'd managed to score the silent treatment for two blissful hours after that. Even I was impressed with myself.

I knew who Brody was calling. His pager had proven very telling. But I knew Rachel. It wasn't enough proof. She was an all or nothing kinda girl. So I needed to get all…or everything. Whatever.

Brody had his back turned to me and was talking to two other guys in similar suits.

Birds of a feather, huh? This should be cake.

Now, boys and girls, don't try this at home. One of the perks of a crowded bar was that people pressed against you all the time and you didn't ever pay attention. Within five seconds, I'd swiped Brody's phone from his pocket and deposited it stealthily into my other boob pocket, aka between my bra and top.

"Impressive," Kelly chuckled as I jumped over the bar, earning several cat calls as I flashed a bit of cheek. What? The skirt was short, ok?

"Aw, Kelly, that's sweet, but you're not really my type," I purred, opening six beers and putting them on the counter for a young businessman I'd been serving all night. Something about a promotion.

"I meant your swipe," Kelly replied, blowing a kiss at a girl that she'd just served. "Whatever you do, don't let Jack see you do shit like that."

"He's an asshole who's fucking around with my friend." I patted my boob. "And now I have means to prove that to her."

"Snixx doesn't mess around," Kelly chuckled, tossing a brandy shot back bought for her by one of the many desperate hovering around the bar.

"Not when it comes to my family," I muttered, sending a flirtatious smile to the next group of girls who were all but falling over the bar in their intoxicated states.

If there was one thing I was good at besides singing, dancing, being hot-as-hell sexy, fucking relationships up and caring too much, it was fake flirting my way out of anything.

May be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
A smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell

I was too tired to even contemplate anything but sleep. Just after five, I flopped on top of the comforter and buried my face in the pillow.

Ugh, essence of My Little Pony or whatever the fuck Lady Hummel wears.

I sucked it up. I was exhausted so all I managed to do before passing out was plug my phone in to charge, ignoring the flashing light and falling onto Rachel's comforter (she wouldn't miss it – she had a waxy human blanket).

Ugh, so tired that my insults suck.

I was asleep in what felt like seconds.

I woke up that afternoon. My first thought was, I need a fucking shower. After a quick inspection, I figured that it was somewhat safe to have a shower in the grimy bathroom.

If Mami could see this, she'd have a fucking heart attack!

I squealed as the icy water hit my naked skin. And it didn't get much warmer. I got out after the quickest shower in history with my teeth chattering.

"F-f-fucking old-d-d p-piece of sh-shit," I muttered, my lips shaking from the cold and pulled on sweats and about five sweaters. Feelings considerably warmer, I went hunting around the apartment. The heat didn't work and I was too fearful for my life to attempt a guess at what was in the fridge.

"Coffee," I decided.

I actually often spoke to myself out loud. Especially alone. I maintained that I was easily the smartest person I knew, so why wouldn't I want to have a conversation with myself every now and then? Even if it was rhetoric. Britt had found it adorable. I sighed, grabbed my purse and head outside for some sustenance.

Yessss, Starbucks. Come to Mama.

I walked inside and had a fleeting thought of moving in above a Starbucks somewhere. Imagine waking up to all the insanely awesome smells?! Plus, super awesome coffee a few steps away and warmth. That was imperative. And a no-brainer. It was New York! And March. Aka, fucking cold. I ordered myself a latte and a fucking monster muffin – wanky – and headed back to my apartment to have some breakfast. Lunch? Brunch? Afternoon tea?

"Santana?"

I froze mid-sip and turned around at the irritatingly familiar voice that called my name.

"What in the fuck are you doing here?" I asked.

Finn Hudson just gave me stupid I'm-pleased-as-punch-but-actually-stupid-as-fuck grin. "I came to…check out the colleges."

"Here?" I asked incredulously. "Are you a glutton for punishment? Don't answer that," I continued, holding up the hand that had my muffin. "Did Rachel call you?"

"Uh, no. I haven't spoken to Rachel since the wedding."

"No surprise there," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"Why?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Um, what happened to emulating Mr. Schue in every possible way?"

"Yeah, well, he wants nothing to do with me."

I snorted. "Duh. You macked on his wife, dumbass. What did you expect?"

"I don't why I did it, ok! It was a moment thing and-"

"Hold up. A moment thing? In what deluded reality do you live in where you think that our favourite ginger uno divorcee actually wanted your puckering smooches anywhere near her? Do you honestly have that high an opinion of yourself?"

"Santana-"

"Newsflash, Lumps, you were honestly the worst guy I have had the misfortune of opening my legs to. And that's saying something, as we both know. Is your head so far up your own ass that you think that you are God's gift to women? Rachel somehow seems to still have an inexplicable soft spot for you and you think that entitles you to walk around thinking that your shit smells like fucking Dior perfume."

"Santana, I don't even know what you're talking about anymore." He sighed.

"And I'm not surprised." I chirped and sipped my coffee which was rapidly getting cold. I pulled a face. "Finnocence, get your credit card out. You're buying me breakfast."

"Breakfast? But it's like three in the afternoon."

I stared at him.

"Ok," he mumbled. "Wait, why am I buying you breakfast? Or whatever."

I smirked. "Because I know you're just dying to get the scoop on Brody."

The look on Finn's face made my inner bitch – screw that, my bitch – very happy.

She who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry
She may be the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows of the past
That I'll remember till the day I die.

"Yo, Snixx, where you headed?"

"Got a hot date," I said with a wink to Kelly. She was having a smoke before Coyote Ugly opened at seven.

I pulled my blue jacket snugly around me in the nippy night air.

"Who's the lucky girl?" Kelly asked, exhaling.

I chuckled. "Unfortunately, I'm meeting my ex-roommate's ex-boyfriend."

"Sounds like some disturbed teen horror story," Kelly remarked, pulling a face.

"Tell me about it."

"So why are you going? Come and spend some quality time behind the bar with me."

I arched an eyebrow. Kelly was at least in her mid-twenties. Hell, I knew I could pass for older than I was, but I was still only eighteen.

"Sounds…tempting, Kel. Maybe later."

"Maybe you're not as gay as you think you are," Kelly said nonchalantly, stamping out her cigarette.

I didn't know what came over me, but in the next second, Kelly was pressed against the wall she'd been leaning next to. My hands were next to her head and I was glaring straight into her eyes. My front was right up against hers.

"Don't make judgements on me," I whispered in a low voice that Britt often told me made her toes tingle.

Stop thinking about her!

"You don't know me," I said evenly, keeping my tone husky, my eyes boring into hers.

"I'd like to," Kelly replied in an equally low voice, not breaking eye contact. Her hands came to rest on my hips.

"You shouldn't," I replied shortly, pushing myself away. "I'm not interested."

Kelly arched her eyebrows and I held her gaze for a moment. I was attracted to her – she was seriously gorgeous and sexy – but…I couldn't. Even thinking about wanting to kiss her made me feel inexplicably guilty.

"You left someone in Snoresville," Kelly said knowingly, her hands not moving from my hips.

"Uh, not quite," I mumbled, dropping my eyes only to get a very enticing view of Kelly's boobs.

"I'm not blind. And I'm not stupid," Kelly said, quickly spinning us around so that I was the one with my back against the wall.

The grunt that I let out obviously pleased Kelly because she lowered her lips to my neck and placed a surprisingly soft kiss against my skin. I gasped involuntarily as my pulse started hammering.

This is…

So good.

Wrong.

You're single.

You still love her.

And she doesn't give a shit about you.

Goddamn psychic Mexican third eye. I turned my head and brushed my lips against Kelly's cheek. She pulled back, obviously not expecting the move from me.

"I have to go," I said softly.

We stared at each other for a while, the attraction simply building before Kelly released her hold on my hips and stepped to one side. I didn't say anything, just shouldered my purse that had dropped down my arm and walked away purposefully.

As I walked the relatively short distance to the hotel, I had half my brain screaming at me and the other half cheering for me. I hadn't felt so confused since before I'd admitted my feelings to Britt for the first time. That memory only reminded me why I wasn't speaking to Brittany – she'd forgotten. I'd never forgotten the little things in our relationship and she'd loved that I always had little celebrations of our first kiss, our first time, our real first time; little anniversaries of all the things that made us us.

I sniffed and hurriedly wiped away a tear.

Enough of this, Lopez. Just get Brody's sorry ass on a server so that you can go home with a bottle of tequila

Courtesy of Rosario. I did love that potential Penelope relation alter ego of mine.

"Santana!" Finn called.

I rolled my eyes. Lumps had the tact of an orange Tic Tac.

"Hey, Asszilla, try not to make yourself so fucking obvious," I hissed, hitting him upside the head.

"Ow!" he whined.

Seriously, Rachel? This?

That was all that went through my head.

"Listen up, Frankenteen. The purpose of tonight's mission is so remind Brody that he can't mess with Rachel the way that he has. No disgustingly overbearing confessions of love, ok?"

Finn's face went dark. "He's messing around with other women while he's with her, Santana. That's not ok."

I sighed. "Agreed. However, that's Rachel's decision to make. We're just giving Donkey Face a little…encouragement to come clean."

"I'll encourage him all right," Finn mumbled.

"Hey!" I snapped my fingers in front of his face. "I'm trusting you on this, ok? Don't fuck it up."

"Fine," he grumbled.

I pulled Brody's phone out from my purse and read the text once more to get the right room. Finn followed closely behind me, but I put one finger on his chest once we reached the door, my eyes telling him to stay put. I slid the key card that had given me way more trouble than it should've – goddamn gay concierge (weakness = shoes) – and stepped inside the dark room at seven-thirty exactly.

"Took you long enough," a woman's voice purred, coming across to me.

"Sorry, cougars aren't really my thing," I said as I flicked the lights on.

The older woman – as good as she looked for her forty-something – gasped. "What…who are you?"

"I'm your…replacement," I said with a smirk. "Feel free to leave payment on the bed as you leave."

"I'm not paying for something I didn't get," the woman said, looking at me pointedly.

I laughed. "Sorry, sweetie, but I'm way above your pay grade and once you get up on this, you won't go back. So I'd rather spare you the heartache. Financial heartache, that is."

The woman actually looked forlorn and I watched in barely concealed disbelief as she hesitantly headed for the door.

"So, I'm guessing he didn't send the text to meet earlier?" she asked, stopping in front of me.

"What do you think?"

She sighed and opened the door, slipping through the crack and disappearing. I tossed my bag on the bed and opened the minibar.

"Score." I grabbed the small Jose bottle and tossed the rest of them into my purse.

"Santana?"

"Sup?"

"You're…what are you doing?"

I twisted open the bottle of Jose and threw back a mouthful. Nothing like Jack's classy stuff. And Jose was still pretty decent.

"Santana?"

"What does it look like? I'm taking advantage of Brody's hospitality." I sat on the bed, stretching out.

"But he's not here."

I rolled my eyes. "Do you have a gift for being so dense? It seems like it comes so naturally to you."

Finn just looked at me in confusion. No way was this boy gonna make it in New York.

"Look, take my advice. Don't come to school here, ok? It's a bad idea. What do you even want to study?"

"Teaching." He actually looked happy about it.

"Weirdly, I can see you not fucking that up, Finnept. Just don't do it here."

"Why not?"

"Because Rachel is in a good place." Lie. "She's really focused on her career and she's working hard on becoming Rachel Berry the superstar." Sort of lie.

"But she's already a star."

"In Lima, yes. We all were. But Ohio is not New York." I sighed in exasperation. "It's like I'm the only person who actually realises that!"

"Is it because of…him?" Finn asked, clenching his fists.

"Believe it or not, Rachel doesn't need a man to define her, no matter what the majority of the female population in Lima seem to believe." I shook my head and took another swig of Jose. I looked at the bottle. "This is the only man I will every need in my life. And my Papi. And maybe Kurt because he finds all the good bargain spots in this monstrous city."

"Santana, are you drunk?" Finn chuckled.

"Are you fucking high?" I snapped. "No! God, unlike your precious Berry, I can actually handle two sips of alcohol. Just…go and wait in the bathroom. You're making my boobs hurt."

"I, uh…"

"Fuck off, Finn. And I mean what I said. Don't fuck this up."

Which is, of course, what he did.

"Jesus, you are quite possibly the most idiotic dipshit to ever walk across my path. And I've hooked up with Trouty Mouth so…you know. Bar's pretty high. Or low. Whatever."

We were walking quickly back to Coyote Ugly because I needed some fucking alcohol. And maybe a distraction…

"Look, I'm sorry, I just…He…and Rachel-"

"Is not your business anymore!" I snapped. "Don't you get that! You can't just call her your future wife! What sort of fucking eighteen hundreds shit is that? Huh? Rachel is not your fucking property." I groaned and rubbed my forehead. "This was such a bad idea. He's gonna go back home and spin some fucking sob story about how this monstrous oaf of a manchild jumped him out of nowhere and started pummelling for no goddamn reason. And you know what? She'll buy it because, for some reason, she's got insane blinkers when it comes to that asshole."

"But-"

"Christ, I know, all right! I know…"

Brody was sleeping with who knew how many fucking women. And Rachel. I'd found over twenty names in his address book on his phone. They all had stars next to their names, so his system hadn't exactly been difficult to figure out. If she'd forgotten one time, how many time had he? And with whom?

"You need to go back to Ohio, Finn. Go to a college close to your parents. It'll be good for Burt to have one of his sons close to him."

Finn looked at me in surprise.

"Shocking, I know," I said dryly. "Santana Lopez actually does have a heart."

"No, I always knew you did," Finn replied. "I just thought you'd left it back in Lima. Kinda like mine came to New York."

I swallowed and looked at the ground, hating that uncontrollable tears were blurring my vision. We were rounding the last two before the bar and I could already hear the crowd. It wasn't overbearing, so I knew it wasn't crazy busy. It was still a weeknight. Not that it made much difference to the New York City nightlife.

"Just…go back to Lima, ok? I'll deal with the shitstorm you left behind," I muttered before heading to my apartment.

"Not so fast, Snixx," Kelly said, grabbing my wrist.

"Seriously not in the mood, Kelly," I snapped, twisting my arm out of her grip.

"Exactly. I could see that little black cloud from five blocks away. I've got five Screaming Orgasms with your name on them."

I arched my brow as she pulled me through the back door and into the madness.

She
May be the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years
Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is

She, she, she

A/N: I don't believe that Santana would have intentionally betrayed Rachel to Finn like the show portrayed that she had. She may not think much of Finn, but Rachel means a great deal to her and Finn provided the potential solution to a problem. The problem being Brody.

The song, in case you hadn't figured it out, is She by Elvis Costello. It's not about Brittany, which I'm sure is what you probably thought I was going for. She is Santana. Think about it…

(But Santana singing this about Brittany would just be completely and utterly perfect and heartbreaking and ugh. Feels.)

Oh, so I had this thought – we all noticed how conspicuously absent Brittany was from last week's episode and I thought that in my Girl On Fire 'verse that, after Santana's text message to her, she went to New York and…It could work, right? Should I write it? It would be totally made up and a one shot. Thoughts? Tell you what. I'll write it and you guys can let me know if you want me to post it. It won't have any bearing on the direction of this fic, though. This one's still going canon to the show. Well, as believable as I can make it :/

Gonna find some canon fics to recommend with this story :)

Onward and up!

-H

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