After a smashingly poor second-breakfast with Tina, Blaine headed off to his next food date of the day. He'd almost forgotten all about it with Kurt taking up ever square-inch of space in brain for the last 72 hours, but he had a follow-up lunch with someone from his audition. He didn't catch her name, but he knew to make a good impression. He knew it would make a difference when he realized the address on West Broadway in downtown was to an iconic Cipriani restaurant.

"Blaine, you made it!" the older red-haired woman called waving him to her table.

"Hello ma'am, thank you so much for the invitation," he said warmly. He tended to gesture profusely when being polite and it tended to work with getting older people to like him.

"Please call me June, and no thanks are needed. I'll get right down to it because I'm sure you have questions about why I invited you here, and I'll tell you. I saw in your audition performance all the heart that I believe is needed for someone to become a true professional in this business. I've been around long enough to see the life and death of many a wannabe artist or "creative" as they describe themselves these days. I think with a little mentoring I can help you hone in on your craft like a rough diamond until it sparkles. How do you feel about that?"

"Wow, I'm so honored. This is—so much to take in!" he exhaled excitedly. He reminded himself to breath or else he wouldn't get the oxygen in his brain to appropriately answer her. "That you would fathom investing your time in me is amazing. I'm definitely interested!" he agreed immediately. "You know my sister is—" he started but was cut off.

"Uh-uh, no-no, I am investing my time into you, Blaine—each star shines better alone that is what I believe and that is how I work."

"Right," he nodded agreeably. He had no idea how he'd break it to Rachel when he told her about this brunch later, but he guessed she'd have no other choice but to accept it. He could definitely imagine her sticking her nose into his business.

"One last thing... I can't help but ask after previous experiences that we don't go sharing our communications and my tips and stories until after the showcase."

"The showcase?"

"Why yes, if all things go well, I'd love to put on a show with you for a few of my very, very wealthy friends when they're feeling particularly generous. You will be my star of honor... but we are getting ahead of ourselves, aren't we? Yes, discretion is the word. Trust between us is everything for me. Can you keep a secret, Blaine?"

He nodded before he spoke.

"Yes, of course," he said. He only wondered how Kurt or Gossip Girl would react after the words left his mouth. He'd need to keep all his business on a who-who's level or else there was no way it would work.

Rumor is Blaine Anderson has a hidden lady. Careful, B. Secrets don't keep long in this heat.

Sam would say he wasn't very good at mechanics, but he was better with his hands than with a book or running errands. He met the boss of Anderson Tires & Lube on his first day when he came in confused, but hopeful.

While Burt was a kind and reasonable man, he wasn't too attuned with what his children were up to and who they were friends with, which was why when Sam Evans Rhodes-Ryerson showed up needing to make some money, he'd taken pity on the kid and given him some easy tasks that anyone could do. He would make sure that he could be trusted before he was given the real challenging work. Even if he had to take more of a hands-on approach, it would be welcome to take on an apprentice.

Burt's son was not the sort of guy to be a big help around the shop although he did offer assistance from time to time. Burt didn't leave his son without any skills. Of course, Blaine knew how to tear apart a car engine, but for the most part, he wasn't all that big of a fan of the grease.

Kurt had once teased Blaine mercilessly after having seen him in white t-shirt and dastardly oily overalls. To him, he looked like a sweaty Marlon Brando. Blaine flipped it on the taller boy and used his look to give Kurt enough dirty material to keep his mind busy for all the nights of his life.

Sam, meanwhile, was interested in learning what he could. Trades like this could make him money, not like what his mom was used to but definitely enough to support himself and cover his food so Puck didn't have to pay for his dinner all the time. He was reminded by a buzzing alert on his phone that he had to clean up before Quinn's party uptown.

Although the two had once been a power couple, it had been a long time since there were truly romantic feelings between the two. Sam had even gotten over his jealousy and anger with Puck. There would always be a different sense of loyalty between Quinn and him from the time she had his back, like when she and Kurt confronted him about his secret siblings. Even though Puck had been an idiot to Quinn, Sam, at least, wasn't on her list right now so in a sign of friendship, he needed to get himself uptown and presentable pronto.

"Crap!" he said to himself and rushed over to Burt's office.

"Um, I'm sorry, Mr.-" he was cut off by a reprimanding look by the older man who insisted on working on a first name basis. "Burt, right, do you mind if I leave early?"

"Yeah, sure. You're done with that job I gave you?" Burt asked. Sam nodded aggressively. "Then I'll see you Monday," he said kindly. Sam took a backward step to leave and nearly stepped on the small girl behind him.

"Hey, watch where you're going, new guy!" she said angrily. When she got a look at his face, her jaw dropped.

"So sorry! So, so, sorry! I'm just in a hurry..." he appeased.

"Oh my God! You're Sam Evans!" she squealed.

"Yeah, yeah... I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

"I'm Tina Cohen-Chang. I'm friends with Rachel and Blaine!" Tina smiled. Sam froze. He didn't want to get caught working here. He knew the questions that would come with it.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, how close are you, and can you not tell them I work here?"

"What are you talking about?" she squinted her eyes.

"I'm just trying to make a little extra cash in a way that doesn't have me selling my body," he said gesturing to himself. "I thought this place was far enough from anyone who goes to school uptown."

"You're saying that you didn't know that Burt is Rachel and Blaine's father, right? This is his business: Anderson Tires and Lube," she said pointing to the sign on the wall.

Sam's eyes proved he did not know that, and his brain was struggling to comprehend what this now meant for him.

"I, I did not know that, no," he said like a guppy while his mouth opened and closed.

"It's okay. I won't tell them although it would be really cool!" she said enthusiastically. The fearful look on Sam's face was enough to silence her. "But... I also haven't told them I got a job managing Burt's books, and they might not be too thrilled with that news, so I guess your secret is safe with me," she decided and smiled kindly.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he kissed her happily. She was stunned and took a step back.

"UGH! My bad, I keep reminding myself to not kiss people when I get excited. I say, 'Sam, you can't go kissing people; they don't always like that.' It's a really bad habit! Sorry about that."

"It's just I have a boyfriend so..."

"No, I get it. We're just friends," he smiled goofily before making a step away to run to his new locker. He looked back.

"You want to come to a party... new friend," he charmed.

Rachel spent all day doing exercises for Cassandra July. The woman had made it her life goal to reduce Rachel to ashes, and it felt like it was working. She repeated the same number a dozen times in her black Marlies Dekkers 'Leading Strings' push up bra, tank, shorts and Arika Nerguiz Melina Salsa shoes. [Swan song] And every time Cassandra would find some fault with it and insist that she do it again. It was easily becoming torture as she also refused to turn on the air conditioner for her, and the fan was blowing hot, dead air around the studio. Cassandra propped her feet up on a cooler as she drank from a cold bottle of water.

"If I could just take a break for some water," she asked desperate.

"Oh, of course," she acquiesced simply. Rachel raced to the side to get her water. Suddenly the room went quiet as Cassandra shut off the music. "The music stops when you're thirsty on Broadway, you see. They stop the show so that mommy can hand you a sippy cup. Is this how you respond to getting into this program?"

"I don't know why you hate me so much when I've gone through every hoop you've set for me. I made it to this weekend practice session with almost no warning at all, and I still show up, and I do everything you ask. Can't you see I'm getting better?"

"No, I don't see that. I don't see that at all, Schwimer. In fact, after watching you butcher that number 12 times in a row, I'm pretty certain you're un-teachable," she enunciated stealing closer and closer to Rachel. "You have no stamina, and quite frankly, if you can't handle my direction, how do you expect to perform with and against some of the most talented and dedicated performers coming from this program? You don't match up, not even close."

"I know that that isn't true."

"Do you think anyone believes that? Because there is a big difference between self-confidence and delusion."

"No one else has to believe it, no one but me," she said finally resigning herself. She couldn't please her, but she could please herself. She turned her back, grabbed her bag, and left.

"Where do you think you're going? Where—?"

Kurt and Blaine met again later that evening. Although they still had much to talk about, it seemed they had another distraction from a difficult conversation. Quinn's 80s bash was the place to be for the night, and Kurt needed a date so, of course, he invited Blaine.

They walked into the lobby of the building thankful for the relief from the heat. The streets were still steamy even after the sun started going down. There was a sign inviting them to Quinn's event. It was surprisingly set to take place not in a penthouse, but on an unassuming patio on the third-floor. Because neither wanted to arrive sweaty, they walked into the elevator and spun to face the closing doors.

"I told you about getting ice hours ago, and now you're telling me that we're out of ice!" Quinn seethed at Santana, who gritted her teeth back.

The brunette wore a neon yellow Topshop Sweetheart bodycon dress with a belt, matching yellow socks and white Nike sneakers and a volumized high ponytail. [Take on me] Quinn was dressed in a red-orange Ted Baker 'Tezz' Skater dress with a yellow J. Crew Enameled belt, yellow and white chunky headband, and white Nike sneakers. [Take on me]

"I'm just telling you what Brittany told me. She went to get some ice cream, and it was practically ice cream soup. The whole freezer is on de-freeze."

Brittany appeared with melted ice cream on her face, wearing a white Smiley for H&M Oversized Crop Tee over a white tank with red 7 For All Mankind 'The Ankle Skinny' jeans and white American Apparel Unisex Printed tennis shoes. [Take on me]

"Something's really wrong with your freezer. It's definitely not a freezer; it's more like a 'warmer,'" Brittany announced.

Quinn moaned—nothing had gone right for her yet tonight. She hated feeling out of control. She had hoped the party would be able to save her from her bad mood. She groaned and moved over to the landline phone in the hallway to call for the handyman to fix the fridge, but just as she did so, the lights flickered on and off. The room collectively gasped.

"What was that?" she said.

In the next second, the song skipped and then cut off as all the lights in the building went dark.

Sorry to break it to you, Q, but this party just went over to the dark side.

~A.N. This one is short and sweet to build some anticipation. We all know what's about to happen. Crazy things can happen in elevators!