This is a double shift day. There will be one more upload today: This Little Light of Mine, chapter 14.

"Let Me Tell You A Story"

14. Devil In Red

A/N: As I mentioned in an earlier chapter, I would be more than interested in taking some of these
stories that are told here in a small format and expand them in full out chapter stories, so I'd like to know
which of these stories you would like to see get turned into chapter stories!

Santana wouldn't have told a story like this a year ago, or months ago, and even then it was still among the Glee Club… although now… But that was why she wanted to tell it, and as much as she'd had wanted to tell it, and as much fun as she'd had messing with the last few to pass, challenging them, she didn't want that for this. She wasn't going to tell them all that, but if they were good enough they would figure it out on their own.

"So what is your story?" Quinn asked.

"It's the story of a lounge singer. A very popular lounge singer but maybe with something missing in her life, maybe… someone…" Brittany perked up at this, which made Santana smile. "People would come from all over just to hear her, to see her, to be just near enough to touch, and she knew that, used it as a tool. That could only go so far…"

X

Santana's story

She always wore red. It was her thing, her signature. So they called her the devil in red, tempting men to forget their wives just for a night. She never took them up on it, but they didn't know that, so… they tried. It was a lucrative game for her.

When Santana Lopez took the stage, all eyes were on her, but that did not go both ways. She would look at people in the audience, sometimes direct a smile at a desperate-looking man or another, but there was a difference between looking at someone and catching someone's eye. That was what happened that night.

The girl sat at one of the tables so tight in the pack that it would have been impossible to catch her, but then she did stand out. Her blonde hair was bright even in the dimmed light, pulled back neatly, and Santana knew if all the pins were taken out it would cascade down even brighter. She was dressed all in white as well, which added to her brightness, and with how the dress hugged her, Santana could imagine well what it covered. She was beautiful, stunning, and seeing her had done something to the singer few if any could say to have achieved. She had destabilized her. Luckily the band had kicked up just at the right moment so no one even noticed. And after that Santana was right back on top of her game. If anything, she gave her best performance ever.

When it was done, she had made her rounds, stopping to talk briefly with some of her regulars, Mr. Hudson, Mr. Puckerman, Mr. Evans, and Mr. Abrams. All the while she kept an eye out to make sure the angel at table eight was still there. She was, just quietly sitting there, drinking and… writing? Once she had finished with Abrams, she had moved up to the table. "Are you some sort of reporter?" she asked, and the girl startled, almost spilling her drink on her notebook.

"No, I… No, I'm not a reporter." Santana smiled, indicating the empty chair at her side. "Sure, please," she nodded.

"Tell the truth, the dress is not yours, is it?" She blinked.

"I didn't steal it, I borrowed it from my aunt."

"You've never been in a place like this before, have you?" she also guessed. The girl shook her head. "I can tell. Look, relax, alright? And if I may, you did a great job. You look the part." The girl looked hopeful. "What's your name?"

"Brittany," she almost bowed. "Brittany S. Pierce, Miss Lopez."

"Please, call me Santana," she insisted, and the blonde looked surprised. "What do you have there?" Santana pointed to the notebook. Brittany looked down, fingers touching the page.

"Just… things I write, ideas," she shrugged. "Stories…"

"May I?" Santana held her hand out, and the girl blushed. "Nothing to be scared of," she insisted. Brittany looked like she wanted to say something else, but finally she handed the book over. Santana began to leaf through it. The thin little thing was covered, page to page, in a surprisingly neat handwriting. The words went on and on, though they would be interrupted by dates – like today's date. Underneath it she found the last addition, and there was no mistaking the words were arranged in a description of the devil in red… She found that same feeling reading them as she did seeing Brittany in the audience, because that was what they were. The words were Brittany, and Brittany was the words… and they were beautiful. She looked back to the girl, speechless as she was.

After that night, the routine set in, not the kind where everything was the same, but only the steps to get there. The devil took the stage, the men clamored, she winked, she smiled, but if they expected the real thing, then they were out of luck, because those were reserved for the angel at table eight. Brittany returned every night, first in more borrowed dresses, then in gifts from Santana herself. She had never performed so well, and the club's manager, Figgins, couldn't have been more pleased. It didn't take him all that long to understand what was really happening though… He saw the whole romance unfold under his roof.

It began small and innocent, like a good friendship. Santana would sing her set, make her rounds, but it was becoming the means to an end, and that was to get to table eight and talk to Brittany. The shy girl grew more confident by virtue of spending time with the singer, so much that it had been her who had invited Santana to come to her house and not the other way around. If the devil didn't smile just a little brighter that next night, then everyone was blind.

With their relationship growing though, Santana could sense Brittany growing restless when she would see her make her rounds before getting to her table. It was so much so that one night Santana made a decision. Figgins had figured her out, somehow, she didn't know, but either way, that wouldn't stop her. She sang out her set, but on the last song, she did something she had never done.

She sang her way off the stage, snaking through the audience, passing every last one of her regulars, following the path that would take her to table eight, to look into blue eyes that belonged to her and, with the last words of her song she held out her hand to Brittany, inciting her to get up before she could kiss her, softly, longingly, lovingly, publicly.

She had shattered the illusion of countless patrons, costing Figgins so much he had been 'forced' to let her go. She didn't mind. She was free, and she had all she could ever want. So when Figgins had lost his job – the club had crashed and burned really without her – she didn't blink an eye.

A year had passed, a year of perfect bliss with her angel, the day she got a call from the new manager down at the club. This man Schuester wanted to rebuild the act, with her as the 'rightful headliner.' But she looked back, to the girl with the smile, stripped of the costume she would put on just to come see her every night, and her angel had seemed to burst wings. She was herself, less polished and more beautiful for it. Santana had shed the guise of the devil as well, and she felt lighter than ever.

So with 'great apology' she declined Schuester's offer. She still had her passion for music, but she'd find another way.

X

She was oddly peaceful as she finished her story, and she had to snap out of it, remembering the others sitting there and watching her. She could feel Brittany's hand at the small of her back.

Before they could say a thing, Will arrived and announced the bus was good to go. They looked to one another, amused to know they had managed to get through everyone just in the time they had. When Will asked what they had done to keep themselves busy, they played innocent.

Rachel was pleased to see, as they journeyed back to Lima, how the rest of them would be talking about one another's stories. Some still had bones to pick with others about what they'd done to their namesake characters, while others praised them for it. The time had passed practically unseen, and that had been her intention.

She thought about them getting to do this again sometime, but then it might be hard, so close to graduation. Soon most of them wouldn't be there anymore. It was sad to think of it for a moment, but at the same time she was alright with it. Maybe they would take up the practice again even after she was gone, like some sort of legacy… She could do with that. And she'd had fun, too, so much… Good memories like this would always be cherished, especially now.

THE END