A/N: Thanks for all the alerts, reviews and smiles... Here is the next chapter. Thank you Jill you are too awesome for words!
Disclaimer: Don't own Glee, but so happy Samcedes is cannon!...Enjoy!
Chapter Twelve
He looked into her eyes; Mercedes was shocked to see they were filled with hurt…
"Why didn't you come to Tennessee when I had asked you?"
Mercedes raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Uh…um…excuse me?" she uttered – shocked.
OOOO
Mercedes stared at him, totally confused. "Sam, what do you mean by 'why didn't you come to Tennessee when I had asked you?'" She echoed. "You'd never asked me."
"Mercy, please don't pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about," he sniffed, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. It wasn't like her to lie like that. "I had sent you a package with the very first edition of "Punk!" along with a note and a one way ticket to Tennessee." He reminded her. "I knew you were still pissed at me, but I never thought you would take it out on my parents…"
"Sam! Stop it!" She said, jumping up from the bed to put a little distance between them. Mercedes walked over to the window; she felt his eyes boring holes in her back as she looked out the window, staring at their friends relaxing by the pool. For a brief moment, Kurt looked up and lifted his shades, their eyes connected and he gave her the thumbs up sign with a small smile on his face.
She returned the brief smile.
Mercedes stepped back from the window and took several deep breaths to cool down her rising temper. She turned to face Sam; she crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. He looked at her with his lips pressed in a thin line; at that moment, all she wanted to do was take him in her arms and tell him how much she loved him but she couldn't do that- not until they get everything straight between them. "Sam," she began, "I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you are talking about." Sam opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a finger to silence him. "Maybe you thought that you sent me a package…or, or you did send it and it had gotten lost…"
"Mercy please, I had it sent Fed Ex. You had to sign for it," he interjected, standing up. "Do you think that I would trust something that important in the mail?" he sighed heavily, running his hands through his blond locks. "Look, if you don't believe me, I still have the receipt." He fished his cell phone out of his jeans pocket. "Does Kurt have a fax number?" he asked, punching in his assistant's private number.
"Yes he does," Mercedes replied. "But what does that…?"
"What's the number?" he asked bluntly.
"Sam…" she huffed, shaking her head.
"Mercy, the number please…" Why was she being so difficult?
"All right fine," Mercedes decided to humor him and gave up Kurt's fax number and listened as Sam instructed his assistant to go to his downtown office and fax the receipt.
"Thanks Stephan," Sam said, staring at Mercedes. "Give me a call when you fax the info…alright bye…" He disconnected the call. "Stephan will be faxing the receipt in the next thirty minutes or so." Sam informed her, shrugging his shoulders.
"Sam, whatever the receipt proves, you know that I would never, ever disrespect your mom and dad… I love them as if they were my own parents."
"I know that," he agreed. "That's why I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that you didn't get off that plane." He jammed his hands in his jeans front pocket. "I stood in that airport for close to ten hours watching the planes coming in from LA, hoping that you was on one of them." He suddenly found the floor very interesting. "That's ten wasted hours of my life that I will never get back," he scoffed.
He regretted those words the second they rolled off his tongue.
"Really Sam?" Mercedes gasped. Her feelings were hurt. "Really?"
"Ahhh shit!"he muttered under his breath. "Mercy, I didn't mean…" he reached out to touch her.
"Don't! You! Fucking! Dare!" She warned him, breathing heavily.
"Mercy…"
"Then why in the fuck didn't you call me, Sam?" Mercedes spat, rolling her eyes. "How was I to know that you were wasting ten hours of your precious life waiting for me?" Her eyes began to burn. Fuck! She didn't want to cry! "Why was it so hard for you to call me?" She angrily wiped the tears from her eyes. "I was waiting to hear from you, I had left countless messages, asking…no begging you to return my calls…" she sniffed.
"I did," he interjected. "Your assistant relayed your message that you were not accepting my calls."
"That's a fucking lie," Mercedes hissed, wiping away more angry tears. "If I didn't want to hear from you then why in the hell would I keep leaving messages for you to get in touch with me?" she retorted.
"Because you have a sick sense of humor?" Sam quipped, trying to lighten the mood.
Mercedes side eyed the fuck out of him. "Not funny Sam."
"I wasn't trying to be funny, Mercy." He retorted, trying to keep his tone even. "There is nothing funny about this, especially the punch line." He leaned against the dresser, crossing his arms over his chest with a grim expression on his handsome visage. "About how you end up engaged to that musty-assed manager of yours," he said in his best Groucho Marx impression. "I mean what the fuck Mercy, that shit hurts."
"I-I-I d-d-didn't do it to h-hurt y-you, Sam," Mercedes stuttered, letting the tears flow freely. "I-I don't h-how it happened," she continued. "P-Peterson was so-so supportive, g-giving me a shoulder to-to cry on night after n-night, it-it was so h-hard to be on the r-road, with-without y-you." She sniffed. "He-he was a-a great f-friend."
"I bet he was," Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I bet he was the bestest friend alright," He said, mockingly.
"But he-he was," Mercedes insisted. "He-he never tried anything, I swear…he saw how miserable I was and-and gave me my-my space." She took a deep breath before continuing and let it out slowly; she quickly walked into the bathroom and returned with a box of Kleenex.
"Damn he's good," Sam chuckled bitterly. "He knew exactly what cards to play and it worked. I got to hand it to him, the old bastard is slick." He blew out a breath to relieve some of the pent up anger that was building inside him. "Do you know how I felt seeing his slimy arms wrapped around my woman in every gossip magazine on the planet?" He asked. "Do you?"
Before Sam had an opportunity to continue, his phone rang. He answered it after the first ring.
"Hello?" he greeted, trying to keep calm.
It was Stephan.
"You had just faxed it?" A faint smile formed on his lips. "Wait a minute Stephan." Sam pulled the phone from his ear and glanced at Mercedes. "Where's Kurt's fax machine?"
"In his home office," Mercedes replied. "It's the second door on the left."
"Okay, hang on Stephan; I'm going to check to make sure the fax went through before I hang up with you." Sam replied, heading out the door. "Aren't you coming?" He threw over his shoulders as he rushed downstairs.
Mercedes quickly followed him.
The fax machine hummed as Sam sprinted into the neat little room, his butterflies fluttered wildly as he snatched up the fax and began reading. He felt Mercedes' eyes on him as she entered the room minutes after him.
"Thanks Stephan, it is a clear copy." Sam said into the phone. "Thanks man, I owe you one." He disconnected the call and turned to Mercedes. "Here's your proof." He handed her the fax. Sam watched as she read the clear black and white copy of the Fed Ex receipt.
She raised her eyebrows in surprise and gaped at Sam. "My assistant, Chad?" she whispered. "Chad was the one who signed for the package, but-but why would he keep something like this from me?"
Sam shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know." He said, honestly. "But I hope to God he has his insurance paid up, because I'm going to beat his motherfucking ass."
OOOO
Peterson tapped his foot impatiently against the sidewalk outside of Mercedes' residence.
He was waiting for Chad, Mercedes assistant, to show up with the keys to her residence. He had made up some bullshit story about Mercedes forgetting to turn in some important paperwork before she went away for the weekend that was imperative to her new record deal with Legion's Records. In reality, he wanted to find proof that his baby girl was loyal to him, to get rid of those nagging feelings in the back of his mind that she was cheating on him with that simple dick from Tennessee.
Fuck, he should've been here by now! He fumed, checking his watch. How long does it take to get away from your clinging girlfriend and snotty nose brat?
Peterson breathed a sigh of relief as Chad's rusty 1968 Chevy Impala pulled up into the driveway, behind his car. He watched as the young man got out of his vehicle and made his way to Mercedes' front door.
"It's about fucking time." Peterson growled as Chad slide Mercedes' spare house key into the lock.
"I told you that my child is sick," Chad snapped back. He was getting fucking tired of Peterson's treatment of him. He unlocked the door; Peterson pushed him aside and stepped over the threshold first. Chad eyed him suspiciously as Peterson began looking around the living room as if he was trying to decide where to look first. "If you tell me what you are looking for, perhaps I can help you find it." Chad offered.
"No, no it's okay." Peterson replied, with a fake smile. "You don't have to wait around and babysit me while I look for the paperwork." he walked over to the stack of mail on the coffee table and quickly rifled through it. Junk mail, bills and magazines subscriptions! "I'm pretty sure you want to get home to your sick baby and girlfriend."
The young man held up a finger. "Hold it one sec…" Chad took out his cell phone called his girlfriend. "Hello babe, how's she doing?" He walked in the kitchen for more privacy.
Peterson shoved a hand in his pocket as he rubbed the back of his neck with the other; he needed to think. It was a fucking shame that he had never been beyond the living room, kitchen or guest bathroom. He had thought once Mercedes had accepted his ring, he would finally be invited to her bedroom… no such damn luck.
Chad returned from the kitchen with a watering can. "Good news, Siobhan's fever has broken," he announced, happily, much to Peterson's chagrin. "So I can stay and wait for you," he added with a smirk. Peterson glared at Chad as he watered Mercedes' plants. "My offer still stands," Chad replied.
"I'm still not accepting," Peterson replied. "Now if you excuse me…" he made a quick dash towards Mercedes' inner sanctum, hoping he could put his mind at ease once he searched through her bedroom. His hope was dashed as soon as he turned the knob – it was locked. What the fucking hell? He banged angrily on the door. Who in the fuck locks their fucking bedroom from the outside?
"Is everything alright?" Chad asked. Peterson's actions had caused the young man to investigate the ruckus.
"Umm, yeah…no," Peterson answered, chuckling lightly. "It occurred to me that Miss Jones might have the paperwork that I need in her bedroom, but as you can see the door is locked. Do you have a key to unlock it?"
"Unfortunately no," Chad replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Sorry…"
Peterson thought the little fucker was lying and tried a different approach.
"Oh well…" he sighed. "I guess Miss Jones is going to miss out on making millions because I couldn't find what I needed." He shrugged his shoulders, nonchalantly. "Oh well…"
"Why don't you call up Mercedes and tell her of the predicament you're in?" Chad suggested. "I'm sure she would understand, or better yet, I can go into the office and see if there's a copy of what ever it is on file." Chad finished watering Mercedes' plants and sorted out her mail as he waited patiently for Peterson's answer.
Peterson balled his fists in frustration. Hell, if he had to hear that monotone bitch's recorded voice one more time, stating 'The person you are calling is not available at this time…'he was going to beat the shit out of somebody. "Fuck it," he replied, "I'm going to search my office one more time." He answered. "Now if you excuse me." Peterson walked into the guest bathroom, locking the door behind him.
He checked himself out in the huge wall mirror, wondering why is he was getting so worked up over some fucking pussy he had never tasted. "You are one fione motherfucker." He grinned, blowing kisses to his reflection. "Get a fucking grip on yourself man." He said, giving himself a pep talk. "What in the fuck are you worried about? Mercedes had always been faithful to that simple country fuck when they were together, so why wouldn't she be faithful to you?"
Peterson turned on the faucet and ran his hands under the warm water as he checked his nose hairs…
He reached for the brown vanilla hand soap…
His heart fell to the pit of his stomach with a loud thud!
He shut his eyes, hoping it was an illusion…
He opened his eyes again…
Nope, it was still there…
"Fucking shit!" he shouted, grabbing the ceramic liquid soap holder, throwing it at the mirror…
The mirror shattered into a million pieces…
Tiny pieces of shard glass rained down in her bathroom…
Chad heard the noise and ran towards the bathroom…
"Mr. Peterson!" Chad shouted on the other side of the threshold, banging on the door. "Mr. Peterson is everything alright? I heard glass shattering, do I need to call an ambulance?"
"…"
Peterson was too angry to form a coherent thought.
"Mr. Peterson opened this damn door!" Chad shouted. "Or I'm going to call the fucking police!"
"…"
"Peterson!"
Peterson grabbed the knob and twisted it. He practically yanked the door off its hinges as he opened it...
A cold chill ran down Chad's spine; Peterson looked as if he was demon possessed…
He backed away, fearing for his safety…
"I want the motherfucking phone number of that bitch-ass friend of Mercedes in New York," he hissed, stepping out of the bathroom. He could care less that his hair and expensive suit was covered in glass.
"Ex-excuse m-me?" Chad gasped. "I don't h-have that information."
"Like hell you don't," he spat. "I know you have her personal numbers on file in case of an emergency."
"The only numbers I have are her parents and brother." Chad replied. He felt his balls retracting; Peterson was scaring the shit out of him.
"Boy, don't lie to me," Peterson spat. "I need the New York number!"
"And as I had told you before, I. Do. Not. Have. It." Chad replied, trying to retrieve his balls.
Peterson stared at the young man, trying to figure out if he was lying to him again. "Fucking fine!" he hissed, turning back into the bathroom; grabbed something off the bathroom sink and pocketed it. "Clean up this shit and call someone to install a new mirror." Peterson said calmly, walking past Chad, "And make sure the bill is sent to my office."
Chad nodded. He didn't fully relax until he watched Peterson's car merged into traffic…
OOOO
Mercedes ran upstairs to her bedroom with Sam in tow, describing in graphic details how he was going to tear Chad a new asshole among other things. She grabbed her phone off the dresser and turned it on. Of course she had over a hundred messages from Peterson but she wasn't concerned with that right now. She would deal with him later.
"Mercy let me talk to him," Sam said, reaching for her cell phone. "You're waaay too angry…"
She stared at Sam, "And you're not?" she deadpanned. "Fuck Sam, I'm just going to ask him a simple question. This could be all a misunderstanding. I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was so swamped that he had forgotten to give it to me…after all he's human."
"Or maybe the sick fuck has a private room in his home filled with pictures of you plastered on the walls as he plots how to kidnap you and keep you for himself." Sam added.
Mercedes side eyed him. "Sam, you watched entirely too much TV."
Chad's cell phone vibrated in his pocket, as Mercedes' ring tone sounded off. He leaned the broom and dustpan against the trashcan and answered the phone.
"Hello boss lady," he greeted cheerfully. "What do you need?" Chad wondered if she could detect the nervousness in his tone.
"Hi Chad, how's everything going?" Mercedes asked sweetly.
"Everything is fine; I'm at your place right now, watering your plants and getting your mail." He stared at the glass on the floor and quickly looked away.
"Listen…Chad I really appreciate everything you are doing for me, I couldn't have asked for a more loyal employee." Sam rolled his eyes in the background, he reached for the phone, this time he succeeded in taking it out of Mercedes' hand. "Give it back!" she hissed.
Sam shook his head as he placed the phone to his ear. "Chad?" he spoke in the phone. "Your name is Chad right?"
"What have you done to Mercedes?" Chad answered, fearing the worst. "If you touch one fucking hair on her head, I'm going to fuck you up," he threatened.
"Funny, you should say that, "Sam said, his green eyes becoming dark. "I'm going to do the same thing to you once I get my hands on your ass."
"Who's the fuck is this?"
"Sam Evans, motherfucker," Sam replied. "Mercedes Jones, husband." He smiled shyly at Mercedes. He put the phone on speaker; he wanted her to hear the conversation between them.
A cold bucket of guilt washed over Chad's body. "Mercedes' S-Sam?"
"Yeah, that's right…remember me now, you weak ass punk?"
"Listen Mr. Evans…"
"I only have one question for you," Sam interrupted. "And if it's the answer I want to hear, I might let you live to see another day…"
"It was Peterson," Chad replied, he didn't care what the question was, but he knew the answer was Peterson; it felt good to finally get this off his chest. "He threatened to have my ass fired if I didn't block your calls…I know it was a weak excuse but my girlfriend was pregnant and I needed this job…"
"Why am I not surprised?" Sam interjected. "Did he tell you to lose the package too?"
Chad frowned. "What package, I don't remember Mercedes receiving a package from you."
"You signed for it."
"I signed for a lot of packages," Chad replied in his own defense.
"It was dated March 15th."
"Ummm…no, don't remember...uh hold on a sec…" he quickly placed Sam on hold, before he could protest and punched in his girlfriend's speed dial number.
"I can't believe the fucker put me on hold," he said in disbelief.
Mercedes was barely listening; she couldn't believe Peterson, was behind this! All the while he was being such a good friend, he was sabotaging her relationship with Sam.
"Mercy, are you okay?"
"No," she replied, shaking her head. "I'm not…I thought I was such a good judge of character."
"Baby you are," he assured her. "You see the good in everybody, it's not your fault Peterson turned out to be an asshole."
"God, Sam…"
"Ummm…Mr. Evans…Sam?" Chad butted in. "Sorry I had you on hold, but I needed to check something out with my girlfriend about that date, " he explained. "And I was right…I wasn't at work that day because I was at the hospital with my girl, she was having severe cramps…we thought she was miscarrying."
"Fuck," Sam said, almost too gleefully. His suspicions about that fucker Peterson had just been confirmed. He was going to enjoy beating his ass.
"Can you please put Mercedes back on the phone?" Chad asked, sighing heavily.
"I'm here Chad," Mercedes spoke up. "We had you on speaker phone."
"So-so you know the whole story?" he stammered. "I know saying sorry isn't going to cover all the wrongs I had done to you," he began. "I should've spoken up a long time ago, but Mr. Peterson…"
"Say no more," Mercedes said. "We'll discuss this once I get back."
"Does that mean I still have a job until then?"
"Yes Chad it does,"
"Thank you and Mercedes there is something else you should know."
"What is it?"
"Peterson demanded that I meet him at your home today," he began. "He claimed that you'd forgotten to hand over some important paperwork… it had something to do with your new record deal? Well, I met him here and he went through all your stuff, he was really pissed when he couldn't go into your bedroom so he busted the mirror in your guest bathroom…that's what's I'm doing now, cleaning up his shit… the new mirror will be installed tomorrow."
"What the fuck?" Mercedes shouted. "Now he's snooping through my private things at my home?" she exclaimed. "Oh fucking hell to the no!"
"Just another reason to beat his ass," Sam chuckled. Yep, he was enjoying the hell outta this.
"I think he stole something." Chad added, "But, I really can't tell you what it was."
"Fucking shit, I knew what it was…" Mercedes smirked, her brown eyes suddenly twinkling.
Sam looked at her, waiting for her to continue...
"It was that fucking gaudy engagement ring he gave me," she answered. "I had left it there on the sink…" she chuckled. "Oh well… like I gives ten fucks."
"Do you want me to call the police and report a robbery?" Chad asked eagerly. Fuck, he wanted Peterson to get everything that was coming to him. Karma can be a royal bitch!
"No," Mercedes replied. "I'll deal with Peterson on my own." She disconnected the call and made a mad dash for the bathroom.
While she was gone, Sam quickly grabbed her cell phone, looked up Peterson's number and sent him a text. Mercedes returned to the room seconds after he placed her phone back on the desk.
"Do you need a cup of tea or anything?" he offered.
"A shot of tequila would be nice." She chuckled.
OOOO
"Come on!" Peterson shouted, honking his horn at the driver, in the car ahead of him. "Fuck, get a damn bike, because you sure don't know how to drive!" He laid on the horn. "Move your slow fucking ass!" He hated driving in LA! As Peterson waited for traffic to speed up, he reached into his suit pocket and fished Mercedes' engagement ring out and stared at it.
How in the hell could she leave a ring that cost him over 200 grand, in the fucking bathroom? He fumed, sliding it on his pinky finger. If she didn't like the damn thing, all she had to do was say something and he would have exchanged it for something a little shinier. He leaned his head against the steering wheel and sighed. Fuck, how can he let a woman twist his ass in so many damn knots?
He jerked his head in surprise when he heard Mercedes' ring tone. Peterson fumbled to get the phone out of his pocket. "Shit!" he mumbled, when it fell on the floor. He quickly picked it up read the text message.
It's going to feel so good beating your dusty ass – Sam.
OOOO
"Mercy, are you alright?" Sam asked. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, but he wasn't too sure if she would be receptive to the idea.
"What do you think?" Mercedes snapped. She took several deep breaths and exhaled slowly, to calm herself down. "Sam I'm sorry," she apologized. "There is so much I have to digest right now… and we still have a lot to talk about…but one thing is for certain."
"And what is that?" Sam asked looking at her, his eyes full of hope.
"I love you," she whispered, moving a step closer.
"I had never doubted that," Sam whispered back, taking a step. "We were married by God before I ever met you."
"Oh, Sam…" she chuckled softly, trying to keep her tears at bay. "You and your dorky romantic words." She moved a step closer.
"But it's true," he said, grinning like an idiot. He took a giant step forward, closing the gap between them.
Mercedes looked up into his green eyes, getting lost in them.
Sam gently brushed the hair from her face and tucked it behind her ears…
She let out a little shriek as Sam surprised her by lifting her in his arms and carrying her out the room…
They ran into Kurt, who eyed the couple, then the opened door to his office.
"Kurt it's…" Mercedes began.
Her best friend shook his head and held up a hand to silence her. "Just tell me that you fucked on the floor and not on my suede couch…"
tbc...
A/N: I'm not good at writing angst so I hope I did it justice...Thanks for reading!
