December 31, 1 PM – Columbus Avenue, New York
I glance briefly at my phone. Still no answer. As I cross the street in a hurry, I over think my decision. Was it right to call Quinn's mom? Wasn't it sissy? I could've called Quinn just as easily. Whatever, I did the best I could to let Puck have a nice New Year's Eve since years and that was it.
Lost in thoughts, and maybe a little because of intoxication since Puck insisted we'd at least drink four beers, I notice I'm standing halfway the zebra crossing, the cars around me impatiently horning at me. In apology, I raise my hands and continue my way.
Shit. The shiny thing. Almost forgot it, again.
In one motion, I slip the diamond off my finger and put it safely in the inside pocket of my blazer. I hate having to think about everything, but okay, it's my own fault since I didn't pay attention last time. It's for the best and eventually everyone will forgive me, that's what romantic comedies taught me. Guy falls for a girl, they hook up for a few months, guy screws up and after a little while makes up with the girl because they can't live without each other. And the guy is way too hot to let go, of course.
I glance around if there's anyone near me and then, discretely fix my hair in the mirror of a little coffee shop and put my glasses –without prescription- on. Dang, I look good.
''Sam?''
Reflexively, my briefcase along with my beauty case, fall on the ground. No, I don't have a real beauty beauty case, but it's one for males. It doesn't consist a straightener, tons of useless make-up, nail polish in every color of the rainbow, or a thousand and one variations on a hair clip. I only carry it with me because I need my hair gel, razor and aftershave.
As if it couldn't get any worse, the entire content of my beauty case starts rolling down the street, including foundation. Okay maybe I lied, I do have foundation, but pretty much every male model wears foundation at photo shoots. Did you know that?
''I'm sorry,'' one of my best friends hands me my stuff with a puzzled facial expression, ''didn't mean to scare you.''
''Dude, it's okay,'' I pull Blaine in a quick hug to distract him from the foundation fiasco, ''how are you doing?''
''Good, good…'' Blaine mutters while he obviously seizes me up. ''And so are you seen your- hey, we,'' he turns around and nods towards one of the tables on the terrace where a smiling Tina is sitting, ''we're just having lunch. Wanna join us? Or are you working?''
''Uh-,'' I maunder, taking a quick look at my watch, ''yeah, sure, why not? My next meeting is at three anyways.''
I join them and order a salad and milk, which causes Tina and Blaine to frown from behind their fries and burgers. Need to mind the calories though. Tina tells me all about Kurt's and Blaine's umpteenth break-up, in front of a intensely flushing Blaine, who tries to change the subject several times. I learn both Kurt and Mercedes are in Lima today for a wedding, and rumor has it Brittany and Santana live between artists, junkies and immigrants in a tiny, tucked away apartment somewhere in Manhattan. Nobody seems to know where in Manhattan precisely.
I tell them how I picked up Puck from the airport, and how I tried to get Quinn to get on the plane, last-minute, which Tina and Blaine find extremely romantic of course. Proves I'm not the only one watching juicy romantic comedies. Duh.
''Guess what this woman did today,'' Blaine grins dopily after several martinis –doesn't the man need somewhere to be today?-, as he wraps one arm around Tina's shoulder.
''Don't know, start an Asian show choir?'' I suggest while cramming the last pieces of lettuce into my mouth.
The smile on Tina's face turns into a grimace. ''What? No, Sam, that's racist. I quit my job, the strong and independent woman that I am.''
''Tell him what you did,'' Blaine insists.
''After I quit I pulled the fire alarm,'' Tina exclaims, a proud smile covering her entire face.
''Oh shit, was that you?'' I can't help but rolling my eyes. Quinn's mother told me about the horror going on in household Fabray because of the incident. ''Better not let Quinn hear that.''
''What?'' Blaine's mouth drops. ''You should be proud of her, Frank treated her like she was a piece of shit, Sam, and-''
''I am, I am proud of her,'' I assure them while I wipe off my face with a napkin. ''It's just, Quinn's mother told me she's pretty stressed because of Beth and her work and stuff and I thought- Never mind guys,'' I wave with my hand as they keep giving me baffled glances and stand up from my chair. ''This has been nice but I really gotta go, I'll see you tonight?''
''Uh, yeah,'' they both nod, frowning at each other.
''Great,'' I give them thumbs up and grab my stuff together.
''What are you going to do anyways?'' Blaine nods at my beauty case. ''Since when do lawyers need foundation?''
''What? I don't,'' I casually try to restore my pride, ''that's not mine. My boss asked me to stop by the grocery store for his daughter.''
''That's nice of you,'' Tina smiles, the sweet, naïve angel that she is, and Blaine actually seems to buy it.
''Cool,'' Blaine nods approvingly, ''yeah we'll see you tonight. Do your best to get Quinn here, will you? I'd like to see her, it's been years.''
After we said good-byes I cross the street as quick as I can, feeling two pairs of eyes burning in the expensive fabric of my blazer. God, that was close. As I walk around the corner I pull out my phone and search through my contacts and dial the number of my dearest wheelchair friend.
''Hey, man,'' I sigh as I slump down in the backseat of a cab and he finally picks up his phone, ''change of plans.''