"Technicolor Wishes & Hi-Def Dreams"

11. Amantes

She woke up in a bed, for a few moments believing she was home. She was wrapped up in the warmth of the covers, and she let out a breath… which caught in her throat when she realized she felt the covers in direct contact with much too much skin to let her believe she was wearing anything. She opened one eye, which confirmed she was not home. She opened the other and lifted up the covers, peering below and now confirming that she was naked.

She gasped, gathering up the covers around herself and just shy of pulling it over her head. She was in a bedroom, sun streaming in from the window; it was morning, and her situation was only getting worse… she could hear the shower running in the next room, and the muffled sounds of a man's voice.

"Clothes, I need…" she was muttering to herself when the door to the bathroom opened and she froze. She had no idea where she was, and what if whoever came out of there wanted more of what had clearly happened before she was thrown into this character's place?

Her worries released, and her grip on the covers nearly did as well, but she got control of them again just in time. It was Puck. He was just as surprised to find her there, and he had the courtesy of averting his eyes. He wasn't exactly covered himself, with a towel wrapped around his waist. He'd been in the shower when they arrived, from what she gathered.

"Sorry, this was the best I could do…" he checked the floor. "Oh, here we go," he spotted discarded men's clothes. She sat up, staring at him in confusion. He looked around. "What?"

"Puck, why are you speaking Spanish?" she frowned. Now he looked lost.

"Why are you speaking Spanish?" he asked.

"Wait, am I doing it, too?" she pondered to herself.

"I think we're both doing it. I should have paid more attention in class…"

"Sorry Mr. Schuester," Rachel muttered to herself. "We should get dressed," she decided, looking over to find Puck was already picking up the clothes that would have to be his.

"I'll go in there," he pointed to the bathroom.

"Thanks," she breathed, waiting he had gone and the door was shut before she tempted getting up and getting dressed. "No chance we can skip this one, right?" she wondered as she put on the clothes at her disposal. At the very least, from what she could see, the person she was impersonating had money. All the clothes were fine and expensive looking, just as the furniture in the large bedroom did. She had finished getting dressed, looking in the mirror in hopes of figuring out where they were, although it shouldn't be so complicated once they ruled out non-Spanish… "Oh, maybe it's…"

"Rachel, are you done, can I come out of here? I think we're in one of those telenovelas," she heard Puck's voice.

"Oh, you can come out, I'm dressed." He walked out, wearing a suit that made him look than she'd expected. It took her a moment to get back on track. "Do you think maybe we're in a telenovela?"

"I think we're on the right track, so that's good. Now how do we get out of here?"

"It would help if I understood you better. You're going so fast, and I don't know what that accent is, but I can't figure out half of what you're saying." The doorbell rang, and they paused. "Is this your house or mine, or both?"

"You have a…" he pointed to her hand. She looked down and saw the wedding ring.

"It's beautiful," she was taken by surprise. "What about you?" He held up his ring hand: he wasn't wearing one. "So we're not…" She gasped. "Maybe we're having an affair," she whispered.

"In your own house," he looked around. "I don't know anything about this dude, but I don't think he lives here." The bell rang again. "Go answer," he indicated the door. She was nervous, but there was no way around it, and she didn't think they'd get busted out of this one the way they had at Jersey Shore.

"Stay here," she mimed, walking out.

The rest of the house was looking as grand as the bedroom, and if not for the bell ringing, she might have gotten distracted by the pictures she was seeing of herself and a man. She opened the door to find a man there. He spoke, but she could only understand so much. But then he paused, and the next words she got: her husband was dead.

"I… I can't believe it," she tried to play shock, moving to the nearest chair, taking the time where her back was turned to process the information. She was a rich woman whose husband was dead and whose lover was upstairs in her bedroom after a night together… Had she killed the husband, or had Puck done it? Something was telling her it would be revealed to have been her doing, his doing… or maybe both of them had plotted together? "Who could have done this?"

The man, who she assumed would be a detective, was questioning her, that much she could make out, but he was going too fast, and she didn't actually know the answers. So she used her one way out: she played overwhelmed. Eventually the detective had told her something she assumed meant he would let her compose herself and he would return later and he had left. As soon as he was gone, she had rushed back up the stairs, taking off the shoes to help her go faster.

"Puck, I think we're murderers!" she got back into the room, nearly running into him; he'd been right behind the door.

"Did we kill the guy?"

"What do we do?" she started pacing about. He had to walk after her to stop her.

"Relax, we didn't actually kill the guy, and I don't think we're going to be here long enough to end up in jail. We've been through enough today, this is nothing."

"If you're trying to calm me down, how about slowing down so I can understand what you're saying!" she snapped, and he did the one thing that could come across correctly, putting his arms around her.

"Okay, so if my guy and your girl did kill the husband, and they don't want to go to jail, they'd have to run, right?" he spoke slowly, trying to mime his way through. She looked uncertain.

"Wouldn't be very dramatic," she pointed out.

"Oh, I think I got it. What if she killed him, but he ends up taking the fall." She stared at him. "Didn't get that, did you?"

"What…"

"I go to jail… You visit?"

"Jail? No, but…"

"It's not real, it's fine," he reminded her once again.

"I don't want you to get hurt," she didn't expect to be so emotional, but he returned to comfort her once more, and she calmed down.

"We'll be out of here before you know it."

TO BE CONTINUED (NEXT TUESDAY)