Filler chapter, basically. Sorry guys. Love you, Naya.

"Brittany, darling, how are you?" Betty Jareau caught my arm as I walked past her. She was the wife of one of Qwerkin's stakeholders, James Jareau Jr. Like most women in this get together, she was wearing her best jewelries and dress to impress each other with. She was actually one of the few people here I could actually tolerate.

"Oh, hi, Betty," I stopped and smiled at her. I was on my way to the bar to get something stronger than what I had in my hands. A night filled of small talks about politics, economics, and more politics wasn't one to go through sober. "Nice to see you here. Where's James?"

Betty looked to her left and right before shrugging. "I'm not sure. He actually went to go look for your father a few moments ago. Maybe they're talking right now."

"Ah," I nodded – even though I was just with my dad and some other people… and James wasn't there. "Are you having a good time?"

"Very much, thanks to this lovely pink cocktail the cute bartender gave me," Betty confirmed and pointed to the beverage she was holding in her hands. "OH! Terri!" she waved excitedly to the person apparently walking behind me. Yet another wife of another rich person owning a part of Qwerkin'. "Brittany's here!" Betty exclaimed, even though I was pretty positive Terri could see me just fine. After all, I was just a couple of feet away from her.

"Brittany," Terri nodded at me and I nodded back. She and I never really took the time to talk, as it was mainly her husband who always went to Qwerkin's events and stuff. She was more of a social butterfly from what I understood, whereas Betty was the type to accompany her husband wherever he went.

"Hi, Terri. How are you?"

She shrugged. "So-so. No offense, but this get together is starting to torture me."

I laughed jokingly. "None taken. I'm actu–"

"I mean, your parents could at least decorate the house a little more," she observed. "My eyes are hurting from seeing the cracks on your walls and how the paint is chipping away. How old is this house anyway?"

I grit my teeth to keep me from saying something back. I knew for a fact that the house was in pristine condition as we got people taking care of it. Even if the house was built a few years ago there were no visible cracks, and the paint was looking just fine.

"It's not that old at all," I answered.

Betty chimed in after a sip of her cocktail. "It's only 7 years old," she told me. "Right?"

"Right," I furrowed my eyebrows when I heard her correct answer. How would she even know that?" "How did you…"

"Oh, I know a lot of stuff about a lot of people," Betty said, and I heard a soft scoff from Terri.

"A lot of stuff is one way to put it," muttered Terri. Not sure if it was meant to be heard at all.

"Right…" I responded to Betty's answers. I then turned to Terri to talk to her some more. "Sorry for the eye torture. Would you mind letting me know where you saw the cracks? I'll let my parents know about it."

I smiled my sickeningly sweet smile as I told her that. I meant it to actually be a challenge for Terri to tell me where, because I was sure she was just doing it to look & sound superior. Like I had told Santana, some of these people were not good people. They always tried to validate themselves by looking down on others.

"Oh, pfft," Terri scoffed. "They're everywhere, doll. This house needs a major makeover. Tell your mom to give me a call, okay? I know a guy. But your parents would have to fork up the money cause this guy won't work for cheap, y'know what I mean? This is the guy the Kardashians call for a total reno of their houses. I've been using him since forever and let me tell you," she whispered, "he's good, but his bill is not for… y'know… regular people."

"Regular people?" I looked at her pointedly. What did that even mean?

"Like Betty here," Terri gestured with her chin to the other woman standing next to me. "No offense, Betty, but there's no way you'd be able to afford that guy for a house facelift."

"Oh, please," Betty rolled her eyes at Terri. Uh-oh. She seemed pissed. "We all know the only reason you could afford him is because you're a s–"

"Would you care for some hors d'oeuvres?" Santana's voice cut Betty off. She appeared out of nowhere, offering the plate of tiny, colorful, bitesize food items in front of us. "We have Gruyere Puffs, Baked Pears with Goat Cheese and Pistachio, and for a vegan option, we have Deviled Potatoes with Quinoa and Avocado."

I smiled gratefully at her for the intrusion, and from the wink she subtly gave me, she knew I needed it. The ladies stopped their bickering once they had the delicious food in their mouth and I took the opportunity to excuse myself and followed Santana to a quiet corner in the kitchen.

"Seriously, you came right on time," I huffed. "There would've been some clawing done if you didn't magically appear."

She chuckled and put her plate down on the counter. "I saw your face while you guys were talking and I knew you needed some saving."

"My lady knight in shining armor," I leaned to give her a kiss, but she turned her face so I only caught her cheek. "Babyyy," I whined and pouted.

"Nuh-uh," Santana waved a finger at me. "I'm on the job. The caterer warned everyone that there will be zero tolerance to on-the-job mishaps."

"But he works for meee," I whined again. "You look so hot in that white shirt and that black tie. Add a suit and I'd be living one of my fantasies," I wiggled my eyebrows and she snorted.

"Britt, stop," Santana chuckled. "I mean I know you hired the caterer and you can do whatever you want, but I want him to know that I can work. Who knows, maybe he'd offer me more jobs in the future, right?"

I sighed. I knew she had a point. "Okaaay," I dragged my answer and pouted.

"No, no, no. No pouting," Santana slapped me lightly on the arm. "You know I can't stand that pou– ughhh, okay, fine. Just one small peck and that's it."

"Yessss!" I fist pumped with a grin and she rolled her eyes at me. But she was chuckling none the less so I knew it was alright.

Santana looked around to make sure there was no one around and gave me super quick, nanosecond peck on the lips. I wasn't satisfied, but it was enough for the moment. I realized this was important to her.

"How are the girls doing?" I asked her. My parents had agreed to let Santana, along with Tina, Mercedes, and Quinn to earn extra money by becoming waitresses for the caterer – who, in fact, was really happy that he acquired extra crew at hand without even having to look for them. Not only that, but my parents also asked them to be the entertainment for the night. I had told my parents about how awesome karaoke night was, so they ended up hiring the girls to sing on a mini stage while the guests have their dinners.

Of course the girls didn't object. It was more money, and it was definitely something they could do easily.

"I saw Mercedes out in the patio just now, offering refills on the wine. I think she's a hit with everybody," Santana started telling me and I laughed a little because that was true. These people were big on their alcohols. Anybody bringing refills would be hailed like a goddess. "Tina told me she was unloading some stuff from the catering van with the other waiters, so I think she's still doing that… and Quinn's over at the dining room, prepping the tables with the others."

"Are you okay? Anybody being an asshole to you?"

Santana shrugged. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"What?" my eyes bulged. "What happened?"

She waved her hand to dismiss the topic. "Just a couple of guys trying to make a pass at me. Seriously, it's no problem."

"Santana," I sighed at her.

"Britt, it's okay. I'm used to it," she tried to calm me down. "Don't worry. One tried to touch my butt, but I caught his hand."

"Who was it?" I balled my fist. "That was unacceptable, no matter who he did it to."

Santana shrugged. "Don't know. But it's alright, okay? I gave him some of my Lima Heights Adjacent super choice words, and I think he's afraid of me now. Calm down," she grabbed my hand and opened my closed fist to intertwine our fingers. "Relax, Britt."

I looked at our joined hands and exhaled. "Fine. But let me know if I need to remove anyone, okay? Or tell Dave or something. I just… I just…" I stuttered, but Santana read my mind.

"Don't want another Schuester, got it," Santana smiled. "Okay, now shoo! I need to get back to work. I need to join Quinn and the others to set up the dining tables, and then we need to get ready for the stage."

"Right, right," I nodded. Then I wiggled my eyebrows, "kiss?"

Santana lifted an eyebrow at me. "No."

"Pleeease?" I begged and clasped my hands together.

"No," Santana chuckled. "Get outta here!"

"Ugh, fine," I started walking away but turned my head to keep talking to her. "But when we get home I'm gonna get you to wear my suit and tie. And I'm gonna make sure to–"

"Santana! Get your butt to the dining room!" I got cut off by the walkie talkie she was wearing on her waist. I got fucking cock-blocked by a walkie talkie and my jaw dropped open.

Santana laughed at me and ran out of the room, leaving me behind, but not before giving me a tap on my butt and a whisper in my ears. "Don't worry," she said. "I'll wear that suit and tie, let you take them off, and maybe use that tie… to bind me to the bed."

I couldn't think straight during dinner. Sadly, not only because there was a delicious image in my head of Santana looking like a boss in my suit and tie, but also because my parents and I were seated in the most obnoxious round table ever, surrounded by the most obnoxious people ever.

I specifically asked Ms. Pilsbury to fill our table with people we actually liked, like Rachel, for example. Or Ms. Pilsbury herself. Or… our other board members that we actually tolerated. Somehow, though, that didn't happen, even though the place cards clearly stated their names. Rather than spending dinner with people who were actually pleasant to be around with, we were stuck with 3 stakeholders who'd been trying to weasel their ways into my family's-slash-Qwerkin's inner circle for a couple of years now.

"I like that black one," Omar told the table and made little nods like he was approving something. He was talking about Mercedes singing on stage. Her voice was phenomenal and she had been getting applauses from a lot of the tables in the room all night.

"She's pretty amazing," my mom tried to be polite and agreed.

"That, she is," Omar confirmed and I got a proud feeling in my heart from hearing someone appreciating my friend's talents. "In my neighborhood, nobody appreciates black women like I do," he continued and I started to listen to what he had to say. "They all have prejudice, you know? About black people? But I don't care. As far as I know, they are beautiful."

I smiled inwardly. It sounded like he was at the beginning of a beautiful story about tolerance and diversity. But then, after taking a sip of his wine, things turned – like I should've anticipated from the start.

"The way they're built, mm-mm-mmh! No white woman can ever measure up to that right there," Omar continued his misogynistic speech and looked to my mom. "No offense, Whitney, Brittany."

My mom and I shared a look before we both glanced at my dad, whose knuckles were already white from the way he was balling his fist so hard. My mom quickly covered his hand with hers to calm him down.

"None taken," my mom told Omar, who already had his back turned around again to watch Mercedes on stage. "But that's kind of demeaning, Omar."

"How is it demeaning? I just complimented her," Omar shot back while still having his eyes glued on Mercedes.

I opened my mouth to say something to him, but he was already busy talking to the other 2 men that came with him. I couldn't hear what they were saying but when they give each other high fives, I could tell it was actually better that way.

Mercedes finished her song and while everyone gave her another applause, Tina joined her on stage to sing a ballad. Since most of the people in the room were twice our age, the girls had come up with a playlist dominated by oldies. Smile, though your heart is aching, they were singing, so I smiled even though I had been holding myself from throwing punches.

"Oh this one's just your type, Johnny!" Omar said as he patted his friend's shoulder. "Remember you had that masseuse in New York?"

They then talked among themselves, laughing at bits and pieces throughout their stories which I tried to block out… keyword: tried. Omar was talking to John Connell – a guy who made not a huge, but big enough investment on Qwerkin' to get invited to get togethers like this– about his disgusting behavior of cheating on his wife of 20 years with some masseuse he hooked up with at a Thai parlor. Those two probably didn't even care that Tina was Korean and not Thai.

As he was busy bragging about all the times he lied to his wife, I used the opportunity to lean over to my dad and quietly asked him if I was allowed to kick them out. Or, at least kick them away from our table.

"I wish we could do that, honey. Right now they're just being moderate assholes though."

"Ugh. but that's enough for me!" I whisper-yelled.

"Be patient, Britt. Let's wait, okay? If they did something more than running their mouths, I'll personally kick them out, okay? Besides, if we did that in the middle of dinner, your friends won't get to perform until the end. It'll be chaotic."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, fine. But only because I want them to finish so that people can hear how awesome they are."

I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms. The waiters came out to set down our entrees, but I could hardly wait until it was time for dessert. Then maybe I could just start sending these people home.

The sound of clapping from the people around me brought me out of my thoughts and I started clapping with them with a big smile on my face. So far, the girls had done a great job of entertaining the guests. Not that I had any doubts though… I knew they all had amazing voices and would've knocked it out the park anyway.

Quinn was next, and she and that sweet voice of hers quickly became a favorite of our guests for the night. She once told me that when she was little her dad used to take the family to banquets and get togethers like this one, and it really showed. She moved from the stage to visit tables in between songs and she made small conversations with the guests with ease. Not only did she manage to casually make the men smile with little talks about Qwerkin, investments and what not (she obviously did her homework!), but she also won the hearts of the women by including them in the conversation and making them laugh. My parents were impressed, and I was too. My dad had this look on his face that told me he was already planning something bigger for Quinn.

But of course, to me Santana was the best thing to ever grace that night. She may not have Quinn's charm, but she was no doubt a star.

Unlike karaoke night, she and Quinn didn't have a duet to sing together. After Quinn was done, there was a small interlude between meals that the guests used to go to the bathroom, mingle with the next table, sneak in a little cigarette time, or whatever it is they want to do. So the stage was empty and the operators had everything blacked out.

There was this draped black cloth that was used both as a background and as a makeshift curtain. When the interlude was over, and the spotlight was aimed at the center when the curtain split open, I could hear the gasps, the oohs and the wows from the people in the room.

There she was, my lady in red – a color that Santana wore like no other – starting her turn with a golden Burt Bacharach number: Alfie. Nobody – not even the three obnoxious men – made a single peep. They were all so taken with her, like if they had stopped watching her, they'd stop breathing. They wouldn't, but I knew the feeling. It was the same exact feeling I had the first time I saw her sing on stage.

"Thank you, everybody," Santana shyly smiled after the applause had died down. "My name is Santana and I'm here to make sure you enjoy your dessert – not that you'd need any help because I can assure you the sorbet is just divine. But," she nodded to the band to start playing an intro, "I'm gonna be here anyway. Here's a classic disco number from Saturday Night Fever – If I Can't Have You."

Santana sang effortlessly. She glided on stage from one side to the other, putting on a smile that melted the hearts of everyone in the room.

"Your girl really is something," my mom whispered to me and I grinned at her. "Look at her up there. She's so comfortable. And that voice is just amazing!"

I shot my mom a few nods because I agreed. Santana should be on stage more often. And yes, her voice is sooooo–

"So hot!" Johnny and Omar's friend, Maxwell, told his friends. "Gorgeous," he practically was drooling at her. "That bod, man… You guys have your tastes, but this is mine."

"Gentlemen," my dad cleared his throat.

The men just snorted at my dad and chatted away a little quieter while stealing a few glances on stage.

"I can't believe these people exist," my mom said under her breath.

"I know right?" I replied just as quietly to her. "How can they sit here – with us – and make comments like that towards the women on stage?! I swear, if they said anything else, I'll explode and probably spew out some really choice words to these men."

When the crowd once again applauded Santana for her performance, the men started whistling at her.

"Yeah, baby!" Omar fist pumped as he yelled. "You're friggin' awesome!"

"Fucking hot!" Johnny called out to Santana, and I could see my girlfriend's face turned white right there and then. I was halfway out of my chair, but as if she was reading my mind, her eyes quickly found mine and she looked at me assuringly. She didn't need me to cause a scene.

Santana then smiled – awkwardly – and thanked the audience one more time before inviting the rest of the girls to join her on stage. Quinn, Mercedes, and Tina appeared from behind the curtain to a big applause from everybody. They were a big hit and, not gonna lie, I was damn proud to be their friend.

"Good evening, everyone," Santana made a little wave. "Before we close our act for tonight, we just wanted to tell you how proud we are to be a part of tonight's festivities. Not only that, we want you to know that we are proud to be a part of Qwerkin as well."

Santana gave the mic to Mercedes and the latter girl continued what turned out to be a short speech. I was surprised. I had no idea that the girls were ending their stint with this. "All four of us are actually workers at Qwerkin's facility in the Bay Area. We've been working there for around 3 years now, pretty much since Qwerkin was still a teeny tiny baby," Mercedes showed a little gap between her thumb and pointer finger as a joke and everyone laughed.

"We'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone involved with Qwerkin," Tina has the mic now and she started talking. "It's not every day that anybody could find a job at a company who really takes notice of what their employees need, or what their employees are feeling. Of course there's always hiccups at every beginning of a new company, but this past year Qwerkin had improved tremendously. Not only bringing happiness to their customers, but also to the people working for them – including us."

"We know that most of you are stakeholders, or… big supporters of Qwerkin' at the very least. And we know that every decisions made must go through you guys," Quinn smiled at the left side of the stage and the people smiled back. "So thank you. Without all of you who knows what or where we'd be. However, there's a particular person we'd like to salute tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for Miss Brittany S. Pierce, founder and CEO of Qwerkin'!"

The spotlight moved and shined on my face and I was gobsmacked. Everyone was clapping for me, including my parents, but the whole thing was really unexpected, I only managed to wave stiffly to everyone while giving them a smile. The people in the room smiled back at me before turning their heads to the stage and listen to what my friends were saying.

"Miss Pierce has shown us what a leader should be. As you all know, she went undercover in our factory to experience first hand what it feels – what it meant – to be working for Qwerkin'," Santana took over once again. "If you asked her about anyone in the factory, she'd be able to tell you their first and last names, the names of their parents, their children… she'd tell you their life stories, their favorite colors and songs… all that, because to her we're all the same," Santana told the audience with a smile on her face and I could feel my face getting hot. My mom kept kicking my foot under the table with a big grin on her face and I faked my annoyance at her.

"What I learned from Miss Pierce is that in order to be a good leader, you need to listen. You need to listen, and sometimes follow. During the experience, Miss Pierce went with the flow and somehow managed to disrupt it by upgrading lives that are clearly different than hers – and she even did it in secret and nobody got the chance to praise her for the things she did. So now, we'd like to acknowledge her – even though she's gonna be mad at us later for pulling this stunt," Santana joked and winked at me, and everybody laughed. I decided to play along (rather than kept my deer-in-the-headlights face, cause really, it didn't look so good on me) and squinted my eyes at her threateningly. But lovingly, so it was totally okay.

"Waiters, could you please pass out the champagne glasses?" Quinn chimed with the other mic she was holding. Not even 10 seconds later, everyone had their glasses in their hands. Those waiters sure worked fast.

"Miss Brittany Pierce," Quinn lifted her glass with the hand that wasn't holding the mic. "Thank you for creating the best company ever. It's a rare thing to work an assembly line and still be proud of who you work for. Thank you for your thoughtfulness, your spirit, but most of all, your compassion."

"Cheers to you, Miss Pierce," Tina closed the short speech by taking a sip of her champagne and everyone followed while turning their heads towards me. I could just feel my whole face getting red, so I just ended up taking a bow before taking a sip myself.

From behind my champagne glass wall my eyes caught Santana's and… I just realized that however good I felt getting praises from everybody else, there was no comparing the look that was present in Santana's eyes. I wanted to make her proud always.

"Okay, time for our last song for the night," Mercedes walked to the piano to put down her champagne flute and the girls followed suit. "This is a song dedicated to our dear, dear, boss."

"Girl on Fire," Santana smiled at me. "This one's for you, Miss Pierce."

"Hi," I hugged Santana from behind and rested my chin on her left shoulder. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and she turned to face me. After a lot of chit-chatting, playing host with all the guests who came up to me, I finally managed to get Santana alone again. This time in the supply room where she was busy putting down dirty wine glasses and champagne flutes in the crates.

"Hey," she gave me a little peck. "Did you like the little surprise we did?"

"I… did not dislike it," I shrugged and jutted my lips.

"Ooh… a double negative," she wiggled her eyebrows and turned around completely in my arms. "Let me see if I can take out that pout with a kiss, hm?"

"Hm," I hummed as she gave me a peck. "Not enough, but that'll do for now."

"It better. I'm still not off the clock yet."

"Dinner's almost over though," I furrowed my eyebrows. "Wait, I just realized you're back in your waiter uniform. What happened to your red dress?"

"The boss told us to change back because we still got stuff to do," Santana shrugged. "And he's right. We need to clean out dishes, load stuff into the vans… I mean, unless Qwerkin' has a robot cleaning crew…"

"Nope, sorry," I cringed and she chuckled. "I'll work on that."

"Walk me outside so I can collect dirty stuff?"

"Oh, you mean walk with you and talk dirty? Sure." I said it straight faced and Santana laughed her contagious laughter. We walked side by side out the door and Tina stopped us urgently.

"Ugh, whatever you do, don't get caught in the Stepford Wives club over there," she pointed at a group of women – in which I saw Terri busy talking and the other women listening to her and occasionally nodding, agreeing to what she had to say, apparently.

"What happened?" I asked.

Tina rolled her eyes. "First of all, they're the kind of racists that starts every sentence with 'no offence, but..' and of course what they say is always offensive."

"Yeah," I rolled my eyes too.

"And second of all, I heard one of them gossiping about a certain intra-office relationship, if you know what I mean… and it ain't nice."

Santana furrowed her eyebrows. "You mean they're talking about us?" she pointed at herself and me.

"Well, not specifically. They actually didn't know who it is exactly. They were just talking about a rumor."

"Britt, maybe you should join your mom & dad at the other room," Santana looked at me worriedly.

"Yeah, they're pretty vicious," Tina chimed in and I gave her an appreciative smile. Tina caught on and that smile effectively made her wave us goodbye.

Once Tina was far enough, I tugged on Santana's apron so she'd follow me to a secluded corner. Luckily, my parents' house was riddled with them. It's a weirdly designed house, full of quirks just like the people living in it. There was even a door that lead

"Britt, I don't think you should be seen with me anymore. At least not for the rest of the night."

"Excuse me?" I crossed my arms. "Are you embarrassed about us?"

Santana's eyes widened and she shook her head hastily. "No! That's not it! If anything it's you whose reputation is on the line."

"What even are you talking about, Santana? I don't care about my reputation." I did air quotes just to be dramatic.

"I do!" Santana whisper-yelled. "I don't want people to look at you as the boss who's dating her worker."

"But I am the boss who's dating her worker, Santana. I'm not ashamed about that."

"I know you're not ashamed about us, and I'm so very lucky to have you," Santana told me with a sigh. She put one hand on her waist and another on her forehead, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Then why? Are you afraid they're going to say something to you?"

"No, I don't care about me. I'm used to people saying stuff about me. I'm Latina, I'm poor, I'm a lady with a baby but without a husband… you name it, I've heard it all. I'm more worried about what they're gonna say about you, okay? You have everything going on for you right now. For Qwerkin'. If the public finds out about this… this scandal, then what?"

"Then we'll go on as usual being our awesome self," I shrug.

"But is it really that simple?" Santana challenged. "All I'm saying, is that if you want to pretend like we're not girlfriends for the night, it's okay."

"No, it's not going to be that simple," I told her. "But nothing is, and while I thank you for thinking about me, I'm not going to hide our relationship. Never. In fact," I quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her to the nearest table.

"Britt, what are you doing?" Santana widened her eyes.

"Helping you with the dirty stuff like I told you I would. Hold up your tray, cause I'm not letting go," I told her.

Santana tried hard to look mad, but I could see the blush creeping up her cheeks and the way the corners of her mouth starting to lift up. She got the double entendre.

She held up her tray like I requested and I grabbed a used plate from the table in front of us. When I set it on her tray Santana rolled her eyes but giggled nonetheless. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and we laughed as we navigated the tables for more dirty plates and glasses.

"Brace yourself," I whispered to her when I saw Terri noticing us from faraway. She and her flock started walking towards us right after she told them something inaudible from where we're standing. I could feel Santana's hand tensing up in mine. It was ready to leave my grip, but I was faster to catch it again. I reassured her with a little squeeze. "Relax," I smiled at her and took the tray from her other hand. I figured it was better to have nothing in our hands that we could throw at Terri when we talk to her.

Right after setting the tray down on the table next to me, Terri and the women arrived. "Well, well," Terri said, looking straight at our joined hands. "Funny story, I just told the girls about a rumor I heard. I didn't think it was this."

"Is there something wrong?" I looked down on her. I had the advantage of being a tall girl, so me in heels was actually quite intimidating – except for people like Terri I guess, because she kept her smirk on that stupid face of hers.

"No, no, I think it's sweet," she told us with false innocence. "A CEO dating a common line worker from her company? Such a darling story. One can even say it's a Cinderella story. Except rather than marrying a prince, this Cinderella is dating the CEO of the company she's working for."

One of her minions stepped forward. "Aren't you worried, Miss Pierce?" The way she asked it was disgusting. I knew there was no good coming after that question.

I was ready to pull Santana away when my girlfriend asked back. "Worried about what?"

Terri and her crew snorted and giggled at us. "About how your relationship could be as fake as your tan. Honey, we know a tanning salon is way out of your budget, but you could've at least spend more money on a better brand of tan-in-a-can."

"Okay, first of all, she's Latina and she doesn't need any fake tans like any of you pale ladies," I stepped forward. Terri was way out of line. "And second of all, nothing about this is fake. Not that it's any of your business, but we love each other. Which is way more than what you can say about you and your husband."

For a second there I saw fear and embarrassment in Terri's eyes, and I could hear the ladies in the back whispering to each other. It wasn't like it was a secret. Terri's husband was a known cheater and he wasn't exactly discreet about it. I knew this because he had made passes to Miss Pilsbury and Rachel. In fact, I could bet that he was the guy who tried to grab Santana's butt earlier.

Terri swallowed a gulp before responding to me. "You just wait, Brittany. Don't you think it's funny that someone who works for you managed to weasel her way into your life like that? And I heard she has a baby boy? What, she loved penises and then turned into a lady lover right when you appeared out of nowhere?"

"You have no right," Santana gritted her teeth to keep herself from saying anything more. She had been holding back for me. If it were at any other place, or at any other event, she would've said something to the blonde… or maybe help me maul her already.

"How dare you," I took a step closer to Terri. "Leave her son out of this."

The blonde woman in front of us fake-laughed and did an 'oops' gesture, covering her mouth with her hand.

"What is your problem exactly?" I asked her.

"Nothing, ladies," Terri laughed. "I don't have a problem. It's you who has one. It's the human-size leech who's nothing but a gold-digging slut who, I guess, got knocked up by her last victim."

I was ready to claw at Terri's face when a voice I knew came from behind me.

"Hey, Terri!" the man greeted her and I rolled my eyes at the interruption. This was not the time for added drama.

"Oh hello, Omar," Terri waved at the people behind me. Of course she knew the Crude Crew. "Johnny, Maxwell."

"What's going on?" Omar stood next to me while the other two men followed suit. They were standing painfully close to me and I was already seething from everything that was happening. If it hadn't for Santana's hard grip on my hand, I probably would've slapped someone.

"Just, y'know… pointing out to miss Pierce here how we could see through her girlfriend's lie. I'm actually helping you out, Brittany. Why can't you see that?"

"I swear to God, I–"

"Oh, so this is the people from that rumor you told me about?" Maxwell cut me off and I gritted my teeth. What the fuck, did Terri just go around and tell stories to anyone wanting to hear one?

Maxwell gave me and Santana a once over and focused on our hands before opening his mouth to speak again. I stood there and met his eyes, challenging him to talk smack about us and see what I could do to him.

I fully expected he'd say something lewd or inappropriate at the very least, but what he said next really surprised me.

"I don't know, hon, they look pretty real to me," he gave me and Santana a kind smile. "What do you think, guys? Right? Do you see it?"

Like Maxwell, Omar and Johnny gave us a once over. Considering all the things they said at the table, I doubted they had something good to say. But of course, once more, I was floored.

"Oh, no, they're definitely for real," Omar told Terri and Johnny nodded along. Not gonna lie, I felt like I was in some big joke they were playing against me. "Wait, are you… harassing them?"

Terri looked like a bullet went through her. She probably didn't see it coming– the way these men suddenly just became my best friends. "I… no! I wasn't harassing them. Like I said, I–"

"Because if you are, it's really messed up," Maxwell looked at her pointedly and the blonde woman shut her mouth. "Come on now. Let people love, Terri."

"Besides," Johnny put his two hands into his pockets. "Is it so wrong for two people from different classes to get together? You of all people should know, Terri."

"I…" Terri opened and closed her mouth a few times.

"Terri, what is he talking about? What does that mean?" one of Terri's minion asked from behind her.

"Nothing," Terri hissed. "They're talking nonsense. Come on, girls. Let's go to the bar. If they want to be miserable then it's up to them. Catch you all later, Brittany, waiter girl."

I watched them leave and made a mental note to have Miss Pilsbury remove their names from all future engagements. I didn't care if I had to fight with their husbands or whatever, but they were never coming back to any Qwerkin-related events and/or any Pierce get together. Ever.

"Thanks, guys," I told the men I had totally disliked a couple of hours ago. "But we could've handled it ourselves."

Maxwell was the first one to respond. "I'm sure you could, but it was actually our pleasure," he vaguely said.

"What did you mean when you said 'she should know'?" I asked him.

"Well," Maxwell looked left and right to check if anybody was near us. "She was actually the maid before she had an affair with her husband. His then wife found out, filed for divorce, and then Terri and her husband got married… and ever since then she's been acting like she owns the world."

My eyes widened. "Seriously?"

Omar nodded. "At least that's what we heard. I really can't figure out why those women still follow her around."

"That's actually really sad that she feels the need to act like that," I sighed. "But I'm still mad at her for saying those things."

"If you guys didn't appear out of nowhere Brittany would've probably slap her. Or I would, probably," Santana joked, but she wasn't wrong. When Terri started bringing up Ollie I was really close to getting physical.

"Sorry to be so meddlesome," Maxwell told us. "but the truth is, neither of us like her very much."

"She calls me John-John. Like… ew," Johnny chimed in and did a gesture with his hand, and that's when I realized something.

"Wait…" I looked at Johnny, then Omar, then Maxwell, then Johnny again. "Are you guys… gay?"

"Don't go 'round tellin' everybody, but yes we are," Omar confirmed in a hushed tone and the other two men nodded along.

"But you guys were…" I looked at them in confusion. "You guys were catcalling every woman in the room, including Santana. My dad had the security ready to escort you out. They were waiting for a snap of his finger."

"I'm sorry you had to witness our over-the-top act at your table before… sometimes we just…" Omar was having difficulty in finding words so Maxwell found them for him.

"Sometimes we just put on a show so that nobody would find out."

"But why?" Santana furrowed her eyebrows and looked at me all confused. Same, babe… same.

"I don't know," Omar shrugged. "I guess it's easier that way. When you've pretended to be something you're not for so long, you start to believe the lie. But when the three of us met, we ended up bonding over this."

"Hold up, are you guys like a throuple, or something?" asked Santana. I was actually wondering the same thing too. Honestly, I had no problem with throuples, but it was something I couldn't understand. It wasn't a relationship I would want to be in.

"Ew, no," Johnny said. Perhaps the word 'ew' was his favorite word. "I would never."

"Nuh-uh," Omar scrunched his nose. "These guys? No."

"Yeah, no," Maxwell shook his head. "We're tight, but not that kind of tight. By the way," he looked at me. "I'm terribly sorry. You must've thought I was disgusting earlier at the table. Had I known you two were an item, I would've never… y'know…"

"Apology accepted. I get that you guys aren't ready to come out, but," I raised an eyebrow, "you might wanna tone down the misogyny, guys. Like, by a lot. You don't have to be offensive."

"Duly noted," nodded Omar. "You don't even know how much I hate being that guy."

Santana gave him a warm smile. "Well, why be someone you hate, when you can be someone you love?"

We all turned our heads at the same time to look at her. I gave her hand a squeeze, because well, my baby was a genius.

"Oh, okay. I like that. Miss Pierce, she's a keeper alright," Johnny grinned at her and the other two men just looked at her like she was a goddess or something. "Message received loud and clear, darling."