DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter.
April 23, 2011 (Saturday)
The Jones Estate
Lima, Ohio
10:07AM
Mercedes was nervous as all get out. She kept running back and forth from room to room—making sure that everything was clean and in order. On her third lap of the house, her father finally caught her round the waist and halted her in her tracks.
"Slow your roll, baby girl," he told her—his voice a booming tenor. David Jones was a big man—he had worked in the military as a corporal officer for twelve years and he went to dentistry school with the financial backing of the military. He was a solid six foot five wall of muscle, but his face was kind—when he wanted it to be.
He had a head full of short dark ringlets, chocolate skin, hazel eyes and dimples that appeared whenever he smiled. And of course the whitest teeth anyone had ever seen. Mercedes had the same thing—the perk of having a very successful dentist as a father. He had opened his practice after he retired from the military at age thirty. That was also when Mercedes' mother had gotten pregnant with her oldest brother, Jason.
His dentistry was twenty—almost twenty-one years in the making and he was one of the most highly accredited dentists in the world. At fifty-one, her father didn't look a day over thirty-five; something that had thoroughly surprised Kurt when he'd first met him.
Of course, Kurt being Kurt just went on to compliment her father on his incredible complexion and how he was jealous that he could keep such a figure in a society that has a tendency to be lazy. Her father had been beyond amused, and knew right away that Kurt was gay. Not that it took much, but some guys were oblivious.
"Why are you so worked up?" he asked—no matter what her father did, his voice was naturally strong and baritone; it was a great military voice and instead of scaring her, it was a thing of security. She felt inexplicably safe whenever she heard it. Mercedes could easily tell when he was being tender and when he was upset about something. "This isn't the first time you've met this boy's family, and I doubt that he's changed his opinion of you in the last twenty four hours."
"I know daddy," Mercedes told him. "I just don't want him to think of me differently because of how much money you have."
David's eyebrows rose. "From what you've told us about Sam, baby girl, I honestly don't think he's going to do that. You're still the same person you were when you saw him at school yesterday—only change is that he'll know that your family is well off."
"But—"she started, but she was cut off by her mother wrapping her in a hug from behind.
"Sweetheart, it will be fine," Her mother, Delia Jones said and Mercedes leaned into the embrace.
"I should have told him before," she said with regret, but her mother made her turn around to face her. Delia Jones was a beautiful woman.
She was curvaceous and had long black hair that fell to her mid back. A mocha complexion, bluish-gray eyes, and a breathtaking smile; she wore a white tank top with a burnt orange sweater over it and a pair of dark skinny jeans with pearl flats. Delia placed her hands on Mercedes' cheeks and looked her straight in the eyes.
"Everything will be fine, Mercy," she promised, "If he reacts badly—then he's not worth your time, but I have a feeling that Sam won't even care. Don't react prematurely, my love."
Mercy was doubtful. She hadn't brought anyone from the Glee club over to her house before—with the exception of Kurt and Quinn, who had promised not to say anything. So far the blonde had kept her word. She learned to be cautious after an incident during her middle school years, and she really hoped that Sam would react the way she wanted him too.
"Okay momma," she replied and Delia gave her a smile. Her mother was the epitome of success. She'd come from a home ground in poverty and heartbreak and she made it through law school at the top of her class. Now she owned her own prominent law firm that had offices in over fifteen states. Her parents frequently flew places, but they made sure that one was there when the other wasn't and they always called every day they were gone.
There were only a few times a year that Mercedes was left alone with both her older and younger siblings. She had three younger—Annabelle who was six, Trey who was seven, and Jasper who was three and there were four older—Jason who was almost twenty-one, Derek who was nineteen, Joshua and Kyler who were twins and eighteen.
Her older brothers were all at Ohio State, helping Jason pack up his dorm to head back home for the summer. They wouldn't be back until around five o'clock. And the younger kids were currently in the first floor playroom near the peach parlor—it was called that because the color scheme was different shades of peach and brown.
Kurt had gushed over her mother's interior decorating skills for about twenty minutes when he came over. It had been pretty hilarious.
Mercedes house had four floors, plus a basement which was the ultimate getaway for Mercedes. She could hardly wait to show Sam everything. She really hoped he wouldn't react badly, because she had a state of the art gaming system downstairs with surround sound and she wanted someone else to share her admiration. Quinn had a knack for video games but would never admit it.
Kurt was awesome, but he didn't care too much for electronics. And that was a big thing with Mercedes. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. She could feel her face light up and her heart started racing.
"He's here!" she squeaked, before she bolted into the foyer and towards the cherry oak and glass front door, yelling, "Coming!"
She heard her parents laugh at her antics. There was a stampede of feet as the younger kids followed Mercedes' lead to the door and her parents came at a more sedate pace.
Sam wouldn't admit it, but he was totally gob smacked. He'd expected a nice house—one with a garden and a porch, but what he was staring at looked like the celebrity homes in Hollywood. It couldn't even be called a house! It was more of a mansion or an estate.
Built entirely of red brick with white trimmings, the house looked a bit like a work of art. His dad had driven through the front gates with his jaw hanging. Sam's eyes were bugging out of his head as they finally came to a stop near a flight of stone steps that led up to a cherry oak and glass door.
His family sat there in the parked truck for a moment, just staring. Sam took the time to double check the address that Mercedes had given him, but it seemed they were definitely at the right house.
"Does Cede live with the President?" Stacey asked and Sam laughed.
"No," Stevie told her, "The President lives in the White House. This place isn't white." The seven-year old looked exasperated.
"Well maybe this is his summer home!" she retorted—Sam could tell she was mad that Stevie had talked down to her. "Even the President needs a vacation, Stevie." Sam glanced over his shoulder at the two in the backseat and Stacey was totally giving her twin the stink-eye.
"He has a country to lead," Stevie snapped back, "He doesn't have time for a vacation. Especially not in a place like Ohio."
"Stop acting like someone peed in your cheerios! You don't have to be so mean." She threw back at him.
The glare of outrage on Stevie's face was priceless. His face was bright red and if looks could kill, Stacey probably would've dropped dead.
"Guys, that's enough." His father ordered and the twins exhaled identical huffs of frustration. It made an amused grin crawl its way onto Sam's face before his dad clapped him on the shoulder. "Grab the bags from the back, Sam. We shouldn't keep them waiting."
Sam nodded at him and unbuckled his seatbelt. He hopped out of the cab of the truck and glanced over the house again, before walking to the truck bed and lifting the duffle bag of their stuff out of the back. He grabbed his backpack and tossed it over his left shoulder, before hefting the strap of the duffle onto his right shoulder.
He led them up the steps to the front door and rang the doorbell. There was silence for a moment before he heard Mercedes' unmistakable voice yell, "Coming!" from behind the door. Without his permission a smile formed on his face.
Less than ten seconds later, the latch clicked and Mercedes swung the door open. She wore a white t-shirt and a pair of dark skinny jeans with a bright purple cardigan that had thin horizontal white stripes. Her hair looked like it had been crimped and curled.
Before she could even open her mouth to say anything, Stacey squealed, "Cede! You look so pretty!" before taking a running leap past Sam and straight into Mercedes' arms. She laughed as she hugged the seven-year old.
"Thank you, Stacey," she replied, "You look beautiful today as well. Is that a new dress?" The mini-blonde was wearing a dark blue, long-sleeved dress that had light blue horizontal stripes going all the way across. Her wavy hair was down and she had her white butterfly clip on one side of her head.
Sam was mentally preparing to work out at the gym more. He would have his work cut out for him if he was going to keep the douche bags away from his sister.
"Yeah! It's one that Santana gave me." Stacey told the older girl and Mercedes smiled at her as she sat the blonde down on her feet.
"Well, Santana does have good taste," she said, "And I have a surprise for you that I think will go great with your outfit." Stacey looked excited. "Let me get everyone settled and I'll show you." The small girl nodded.
Mercedes looked up and smiled at his father. "Hi Mr. Evans," she greeted and his father shot her a look.
"It's Jeff, Mercedes," he spoke with a smile that Mercedes returned. "It's good to see you again."
She gave him a grin, but she was interrupted by a childish voice saying, "Mercy! Open the door. I wanna see!" Before she could do anything, a small head poked out of the door—right beside Mercedes' leg.
It was a little girl, who had dark brown curls tumbling down past her shoulders and a mocha complexion. Her bluish gray eyes stared up at them curiously, before she shot them a smile with a couple of her teeth missing. As a boy, Sam was not allowed to coo over children, but she was seriously cute.
"Hullo!" The small girl greeted brightly. "I'm Annabelle." She walked directly to Sam and stuck her hand out. Withholding a chuckle, Sam squatted down so he could be at her height. He shook her hand.
"I'm Sam," he said and Annabelle grinned at him.
"You're cute," she replied seriously and then lurched forward and threw her arms around his neck. The hug caught Sam by surprise, but he hugged her back. He looked up at Mercedes and saw her grinning at him. He stuck his tongue out at her and stood up with the small girl in his arms.
"Will you be my boyfriend?" Annabelle asked and Sam immediately turned bright red with embarrassment. Mercedes laughing didn't help soothe his red cheeks. Neither did the fact that the door opened all the way behind her and two adults with two other small children appeared. They were all laughing.
"Uh," he started, "I'm a bit old for you, sweetheart." His answer got him a pout, and Mercedes only laughed harder. Sam shot her a half-amused and half-irritated look that only made her wink at him.
"That's my brother, you know," Stacey interjected from where she was standing next to Mercedes. Sam's eyebrows rose when he noticed the jealousy on his little sister's face. Annabelle turned to look at her.
"Well, that's my sister," she replied and the two narrowed their eyes at each other.
Sam put Annabelle down on the ground. "There's enough of me to go around, I promise." Sam said in amusement. Mercedes shook her head at him.
"Been at my house for ten minutes and you've already started drama," she teased, "I didn't think that your fan club allowed seven and under to participate."
Sam blushed at the comment and he gave her a sarcastic quirk of the lips. "It's not my fault I'm this hot," he told her, "I was born this way."
"Yeah, Blondie," Mercedes said with a roll of her eyes, "You came out of the womb with biceps and a six pack."
Sam laughed. "At least you noticed."
"How could I not? You always seem to be somewhere without your shirt on."
"I told you! I'm a work of art."
"You're a work of something, but I'm not sure if it's art."
"Cede, I have a small ego; you can't go around bruising my confidence like that," he whined dramatically.
"This coming from the guy who wore a pair of shiny gold shorts the size of your hand." As soon as she said it, Sam turned red. His father gave him a dubious look and Mercedes burst out laughing.
"It is not how it sounds!" he protested, but Mercedes' giggling distracted him from reassuring his father. Looking at her clutching her stomach and laughing didn't help the fact that he felt his own amusement building. Now that he thought about it—it was kind of funny. After a few seconds, he couldn't stop the chuckles from escaping.
"Baby girl," a loud voice came from the giant man standing in the doorway. Sam almost jumped at the sound, but he restrained his reaction. He was sure his dad saw it though, because his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Maybe we should continue our introductions inside the house?"
Mercedes blushed before she ushered them into the house—shutting the door behind them. Her house was even more amazing on the inside and Sam couldn't stop himself from staring around the room in awe.
"Mom, Dad," Mercedes said, "This is the Evans family—Jeffrey, Stacey, Stevie, and Sam."
"Evans family—this is my family—David and Delia," she said as she pointed them out. "These are my siblings—Annabelle, Trey," Mercedes brought attention to a young boy about the same height as Stevie who had short hair cut close to his scalp and bright hazel eyes. "And this is Jasper."
She motioned to a toddler in Delia's arms—he had a head full of dark curls and bluish gray eyes like his mother with a mocha complexion. Cute didn't even begin to describe the kid. He gave them a smile and a shy wave. "I have four older brothers, but they won't get here until later this afternoon," she said and Sam just blinked. Mercedes had a huge family!
Soon after the introductions were over, his dad started asking Mr. Jones about his dentistry and the adults were off in their own weird conversations.
Stacey and Annabelle had finished sizing each other up apparently, because they were holding hands and running towards the toy room—at least that's what he gathered it was from the snippets of conversation he could hear.
Stevie and Trey were talking. It seems that they knew each other from school. When they vanished to go play video games; Mercedes and Sam were left alone in the foyer. Mrs. Jones had taken Jasper into the kitchen with her.
Mercedes was avoiding his eyes. He could tell because she looked nervous. "Why didn't you tell me that you lived in a modern day castle?" he asked her with a grin. Mercedes looked surprised, then relieved.
"I didn't know how to say anything without feeling like I was rubbing it in your face," she confessed and Sam laughed.
"I know you're not homeless, Mercedes, and I could care less how much money you have. I'd be your friend if you lived in a cardboard box." He told her.
"Really?" she asked and Sam walked closer to her and tossed his arm over her shoulder.
"You did it for me," he replied and Mercedes beamed up at him. He squeezed her arm before he let go and glanced around. "This place is pretty incredible. I think I'd get lost if I lived here."
Mercedes winked at him. "Don't worry; you have a Marauder's map right next to you." Sam's eyes lit up as he laughed.
"Do you insult strangers for sticking their noses in places they don't belong?" he joked.
"Of course," she sniffed, "Such talent for acerbic wit can't be wasted."
Sam laughed. "Alright, Prongs—where do we go first?"
"Why am I the deer?" Mercedes demanded in mock anger. "You being racist?"
"No," Sam responded, "If I was being racist, I would've called you Padfoot. He's the black one."
Mercedes burst out laughing and Sam chuckled too. "Come on, Blondie—I'll show you all the secret passages."
"There are secret passages?" Sam asked incredulously and Mercedes smiled at him.
"Maybe," she sing-songed before she moved towards the staircase with Sam in tow.
"Can I put my bags down?" he asked, and Mercedes gasped—she had totally forgotten about that. She took his backpack and then led him upstairs. It took well over an hour for Mercedes to show Sam every room in the house and since her room was on the fourth floor—she saved that one for last or second to last; she wanted the basement to be the last room she showed Sam.
When Mercedes opened the cherry oak door that led to her bedroom, Sam's eyes bugged out of his head. Her room was bright but tasteful. Her first wall was painted black with splatters of neon paint and glow in the dark solar system applications. The wall next to it was covered completely in magazine cutouts and framed pictures of her friends and family layered over top in neat rows and columns in the middle of the wall there was a glass door that led to an office type area where Mercedes had a mini library and state of the art study area.
The wall that was perpendicular to the black wall was painted in baby blues and purples and oranges with three trees spaced evenly across the wall. Their painted branches entwined together at the top of the wall and crept onto the ceiling. It had a door that led to her personal bathroom—being one of two girls in a family full of boys had its perks, she told him.
Her fourth wall was cattycorner to her third wall and large enough to fit the frame of a king sized bed that was elevated on a raised platform with three steps. The wall was solid white, but her bedclothes were a chaotic mix of colors—most of them neon—and her comforter was black with rainbow polka dots.
Her fifth wall was a barely visible shade of green and had a set of double doors that led to a balcony, where Sam could see white wicker patio furniture and a vase of colored daisies. Sam couldn't pick up his jaw.
He couldn't believe that this was a bedroom for one person, but he also thought it was pretty cool. Her room was a teenage dream come true, but if he had thought her room was awesome—it was nothing compared to the basement she led him into after they'd dropped the bags in the guest room on the third floor.
Sam fell in love. Her basement was spacious and clean. It had a huge black curved connector couch in the center of the room with a ridiculously large flat screen television—built into the wall. Of course he had goggled when he spotted the numerous game systems lined neatly on the glass shelf beneath the television. She had at least four controllers for each console in a cherry oak cabinet that ran alongside the television screen. On the far left side of the room, there was a wall of shelved games—separated by gaming console and genre.
There was a state of the art sound system built in the walls, ceiling, and furniture. The freakin' furniture had sound! Sam couldn't help the squeal that escaped him—especially when he noticed the fully stocked glass fridges in the corner and the pile of bean bags chairs on the other side of the room. She had a billiards table; arcade games, and was that a hot tub? Inside the house?
Sam was about to lose his mind with shock. He whirled around to face Mercedes and she almost burst a gut laughing at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he saw the stage behind her—with microphones and lights. His eye twitched and Mercedes started snorting.
Breathing deeply, he let her calm herself down before he said, "Why the hell have we not had Glee parties here, Cede? I mean—have you seen this place?"
Mercedes gave him a small smile. "I live here, so of course I've seen it." She replied and Sam quirked his lips at her. She rolled her eyes with a sigh. "I just don't want them to treat me any differently."
Mercedes knew that this conversation would happen sooner or later—but she had been hoping for later, much later. Sam was giving her a look though and she knew that her time was running out quickly.
"Why would they treat you any differently, Mercedes?" he asked, "They're your friends. You've known them longer than I have and they still accepted me."
Sam's green eyes were full of concern and Mercedes couldn't stand to see him so worried; the fact that his worry was for her made her feel guilty.
Mercedes closed her eyes with a sigh. It looked like time was up. She stretched a hand to him and looking confused, Sam took it. Holding his warm hand in hers, Mercedes led him to the corner full of bean bags and dropped into one. Sam squeezed in next to her.
"My family wasn't always rich, Sam," she confessed and his green eyes focused on her. "My dad—he grew up in a home full of alcohol, gambling and drug abuse and my mother—she was raped as a child and her mother walked out on her family too."
She saw Sam's eyes widen in shock as he stared at her. Her heart was racing. She didn't know why she was telling him this part, but she decided to follow her heart and put her trust in him. At least she would know if he was a real friend at the end of all this.
"The reason my dad joined the military on his eighteenth birthday was so he wouldn't become like his own father. He wanted to make someone proud—even if the only someone would be God," Mercedes could feel herself getting choked up. Her father was an incredibly honorable man. It was why she found such strength in having faith. She believed that God was truly the only reason he had made a good life and name for himself.
"When my mom and dad met—they had nothing," she said, "My mother worked her way through high school, college and law school while my father was in the service. He traveled and did his schooling through the military because he couldn't afford a damn thing otherwise. But they got married after two years of being together, and they were quite the sorry couple. No credit between the two of them and a family history that would make anyone cringe, but somehow they made it."
Mercedes smiled a bit, but her heart was in her throat. The bad part was coming and she didn't know how she would even begin to explain it all. "In the first few years, they were dirt poor—living off of military salary while paying for higher education. After my dad got his degree and my mother graduated and had opened her law firm—things went downhill. My father struggled with his dentistry the first few years—people talked a lot and none of them had nice things to say. They would say, 'He didn't have enough experience, or he couldn't pay the rent, and some equipment got broken or stolen'—there were a million excuses to tarnish his reputation."
"People can be cruel when they feel threatened," Mercedes said her voice cracking ever-so-softly, "And they were smart enough to see talent and try to prevent it from being acknowledged but none of them were smart enough to invest in it."
She shook her head, before she picked up her story once more, "They didn't actually start making money until the year I was born. We were dirt poor for five years after that though and I remember the people that took us in when we needed help. We're friends with them to this day."
Mercedes looked up and met Sam's eyes. His gaze was sad, but understanding. "The Ryans took a family of broken people into their hearts and home and showed us that compassion and kindness does exist in this world."
"That song I sang to you," she admitted, "It was the same song that my mother used to sing to me at night, whenever my father would come home—looking desperate and hopeless. Sometimes he couldn't even look at us because he was so ashamed of himself, and for a brief time—he turned to alcohol."
Mercedes felt her lips tremble as she avoided Sam's eyes. "Cede," Sam whispered as he reached out and grabbed her hand. "You don't have to tell me this if you don't want to."
Her breath hitching, Mercedes shook her head. "No, Sam, I want to." At that, Sam fell silent, but she felt him shift closer. She took a moment to get her thoughts back.
"He became a man I barely recognized. He appreciated the oblivion that alcohol granted him, but he clearly remembered his father's lifestyle and the guilt haunted him. For two months, we all thought that our lives were over. My father was rarely home and he didn't speak when he was, but my mom took it upon herself and forced him to see what he was doing to himself and his family."
She looked at Sam, her vision blurring with tears. "We may not have had money, but we'd always had love. And that was being ripped from us. The day my mother said, 'You are not the man I married, but I still love you' was the day that my dad came back home. He remembered that we were worth far more than alcohol had ever been."
Her chest felt tight. She had no desire to spill her secrets, but Sam was watching her with such trust and acceptance in his eyes that she couldn't lie to him. Against her will, she slumped lightly against him. Sam simply moved closer without saying anything. "When I was eleven, we moved to Chicago and my parents had turned their lives around. I was still so used to the love over money mindset when I moved there that I invited my first friend over to my house for the afternoon. It was a lot like this house, really—beautiful and expensive."
"When I went to school the next day, everyone wanted to be my friend. They would come over to my house and use my stuff and when they got what they wanted they would leave. I didn't see it that way though. My brothers tried to warn me, but I wouldn't listen. One day, I overheard her telling some girls from school that I was 'ugly and stupid, but being rich and naïve more than made up for it'."
She was sure that she looked heartbroken. She could clearly remember the devastation she'd felt. That moment had killed any confidence she'd had in herself. It was the most difficult thing on earth to drag herself out of that hole and some days—she still struggled.
"I stopped talking to her and everyone else. No one was invited to my house and I spent my time alone. It was better to be lonely, than it was to be used and discarded. My parents wanted to help me start over so we all packed up and moved to Lima three years ago," she admitted. "Since then, I've had this fear of rejection that I just can't get rid of. I've hidden it well, but it's always terrified me thinking that there was a chance that people from Glee would do the same thing."
"I don't need friends—I'm okay with being alone. That was what I finally learned, and I also learned how to love myself and others for who they are—not what they have."
Mercedes looked at Sam, who was watching her with sorrow, concern, and respect in his eyes. He leaned close and wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace, letting go of her hand in the process. Mercedes leaned into his body, resting her head on his shoulder as he kissed the back of her head softly.
"You're an amazing woman, Mercedes Jones," he whispered, "And I've never admired anyone more. You're brave and patient and loving. But, I want you to know, that you don't have to be alone anymore. The kids in Glee club love you. They know exactly who Mercedes Jones is, and even though they don't know what you just told me—you are the end product of all that pain. The results are always more important than the test. And I'll tell you right now, you will never be alone again—not with me sitting right next to you."
The gentle nature of his actions and the confidence in his tone shattered Mercedes. Her tears fell down her cheeks and caught in the cotton of his t-shirt. Sam just held her close and Mercedes was grateful to have made such a good friend.
She had never told anyone that story. Anyone. Not even her parents knew exactly what had gone down, but they knew the basics. The feeling of being right where she belonged was new to Mercedes, and she found that she liked it; quite a bit more than she ever thought possible.
April 23, 2011 (Saturday)
The Jones Estate
Lima, Ohio
1:13PM
"Cede," Sam began nervously, "I know this is going to sound insensitive, but—if you saw what alcohol had done to your father's family and what it did to your dad—"
"You're going to ask me why I drank during alcohol awareness week, aren't you?" She finished for him, still wrapped in his embrace.
Sam felt bad, but the question had been bothering him since they'd talked about her father almost fifteen minutes ago. They hadn't moved from the bean bag chairs—they just sat close to each other and reveled in the comfortable silence.
"Yeah," he replied and he heard Mercedes sigh as she pulled away from him.
"I got drunk because I wanted to," she told him, "I've always known that I don't need alcohol to have fun, but sometimes it's perfectly fine to let loose. I've never turned to alcohol to solve my problems—I learned that it did nothing but cause more issues very early in life."
Relieved, Sam let a grin cross his face. He knew that Mercedes was a smart woman, but even intelligent people made mistakes. And he was kind of afraid that her getting drunk meant that she had been depressed or something. Mercedes gave him a look of fond exasperation as she wiped her face clean of tear tracks.
"Thank you for worrying Sam, but my father has taught me a lot about drinking and what it can do to a person. Every year, he has a talk with all of my brothers and I—even the little kids hear his lecturing about alcohol and safety. In fact," Sam watched in interest as Mercedes grabbed the silver chain link necklace that she wore every day. She tugged it out of the top of her white t-shirt and it revealed the letter M encrusted with diamonds and a silver key sat behind it.
"All of my older brothers have a copy of this key, and my younger siblings will get one on their fourteenth birthdays." She handed it to Sam to look over and curious, he leaned forward and held it lightly in his hand. It didn't look like anything special.
"What is it?" he questioned and Mercedes gave him a mischievous grin.
"The key to the downstairs liquor cabinet," she replied. Sam snapped his head up to look at her so fast that he almost got a crick in his neck. He knew his eyes were bugging out of his head. Why the hell would her father give her instant access to something like that?
"Why?" Sam knew his voice was incredulous. He couldn't even comprehend what David Jones had been thinking.
"Because he knew that outlawing something is just asking for a rebellion," she told him with a smile. "He's always told us that alcohol itself isn't bad—it's the choices we make while drinking it and why we decide to indulge that matters."
"Isn't it dangerous though? To have such freedom in choosing to drink?"
"You could say that," Mercedes agreed, "but none of us have ever used this key to unlock that cabinet."
Sam stared. "Really?"
Mercedes laughed at his surprise. "I don't know why my brothers haven't, but I know that I respect my parents far too much to ever open that cabinet without talking to them first. And yes, he's aware that giving alcohol to minors is illegal—he also knows that he'd rather have me be somewhere safe than out by myself where I could get hurt."
"Lots of parents wouldn't agree," Sam said.
"I know," Mercedes replied with a laugh. "But no one outside of my family knows about this key—well, except you now. And I'm asking that you keep this to yourself."
"You know I will," Sam responded and he nudged her shoulder. Mercedes' family was definitely different than he'd been expecting. Far more liberal than he'd imagined, but just as loving as he'd thought they would be. "But can you promise me that you will stop hiding your family from the Glee club?"
Mercedes let out a disgruntled groan. "Sam."
"Nope!" he protested immediately, "I am not letting you get away with this one. They're your friends! And I don't care if you don't invite them over until after Nationals, I just want you to let them in. Being afraid of rejection does nothing for you, and you deserve to be happy."
Sam stared her down and Mercedes gave in.
"Fine, Blondie," she spoke, "I'll invite them over sometime after Nationals."
Sam couldn't help the excited grin that appeared on his face. He was proud of her for accepting his challenge and he would be even prouder when she actually did it. Mercedes caught the goofy look of pride on his face and she rolled her eyes at him.
"Boy, please." She said and Sam laughed. They got quiet for a moment, and Sam felt compelled to say something so Mercedes wouldn't feel so open and vulnerable.
"I slept with Santana," he admitted—his face bright red. Mercedes' eyeballs got huge and her jaw dropped before she started laughing.
"Almost every attractive guy at McKinley has slept with Santana." Mercedes told him. "So, I can't say I'm surprised." It was comforting to know that Mercedes thought he was attractive, but she had completely missed his point.
Sam wanted to go crawl under a rock. "But I slept with her, and I think she's a lesbian now."
Mercedes kind of stared at Sam, her lips twitching. "Sam, are you trying to tell me that you think you turned Santana into a lesbian?" If it was possible, Sam felt his face heat up even more. The embarrassment knew no bounds. He nodded sheepishly.
"Sam!"
"It makes sense!" he exclaimed, "We had sex and then she's suddenly into Brittany? I must've been horrendous."
"Oh, Sam," Mercedes replied, her voice amused, "You did not turn Santana lesbian. It doesn't work that way." Sam stared his hands—his face still beet red. "From what I could tell—Santana has been attracted to Brittany since Glee club started last year. We never said anything because Santana has the tendency to be incredibly bitchy. None of us wanted to deal with that drama."
Sam looked at her when she placed a hand on his shoulder. He could tell she was fighting back a smile. "I'm sure that your—uh—bedside manner is quite pleasing." Her amusement won out as Sam blushed furiously. She was laughing so hard that she rolled off the bean bag chair. Sam started laughing too.
He had to hand it to her. The girl knew how to make him laugh. Their giggles were interrupted by the sound of the door leading into the basement opening. They both looked up as Mercedes' mom called down the stairs. "Mercy? Sam? Are you down here?"
"Yes, momma," Mercedes replied.
"It's time for lunch. Can you both come upstairs?"
"Okay!" Mercedes returned. "Be there in a second."
"Sure, Mrs. Jones," Sam called back as well.
The sound of the door closing again made them smile as Sam helped Mercedes up off the floor. He offered her his arm which she took with a smirk. "Is your mom as good a cook as you are?" He teased and Mercedes smiled.
"Who do you think taught me?" she questioned and Sam's eyes lit up. A woman that could cook better than Mercedes? He was still daydreaming about the breakfast she'd made his family last weekend.
Sam sped up; practically dragging her up the stairs in his hurry to get to the Promised Land that was Mercedes' kitchen. Mercedes kept up with him, but she was laughing the whole way.
REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts so far! :D Until next time!
