Hey, sorry guys, the grocery run took longer than expected and then I got caught up in checking homework for the boys. So I couldn't get the bonus update out. Anyway, thank you for your continued interest and support. I appreciate it.

I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Reaper's Legacy.

MERCEDES CONT'D

MARLEY: No fucking way! You're fucking with me! His dick was in your hand and you still said NO?!

ME: I wish it was a joke. It happened, though.

MARLEY: Part of me thinks you made a lucky escape... The rest of me thinks you should've fucked him.

ME: That would make it all worse. You told me to stay away from him, remember?

MARLEY: Uh...it's worse already, dumbass, you blew it. You're screwed and there's no way out. Sex is just the symptom. This is about you guys being all twisted up with each other. He wants you way more than I thought.

ME: No shit!

MARLEY: You are so dense. This morning was the gamechanger. Remember...I know him. He's not like this with other women. I take back what I said about it being a bad idea. You should have sex with him. Might as well get the fun if you're paying the price. It's already fucked up past the point of no return.

ME: That's the truth. It's getting weirder every day. And harder every time I see him.

MARLEY: HARDER! Love it ;)

ME: Perv

MARLEY: You're just jealous of my pervy deliciousness. So I think maybe he WANTS you. Like, to keep.

ME: Like a pet? I'm not a kitten.

MARLEY: I WILL make pussy jokes if you don't pull your head out of your ass. Seriously. Think about it.

ME: I hate you. Even if he wants me, he's still gonna sleep around. And that's a deal breaker.

MARLEY: I know... We need a plan. We also need margaritas. Cures everything. Come over tonight?

ME: Um...I'm meeting the girls from the club tonight. At my place.

MARLEY: What time

ME: 7

MARLEY: I'll bring mix and booze. Make sure you have ice.

ME: Um...

MARLEY: It's easier if you just give in now Merce. I'm coming over to figure this out. Sam is gonna screw you sooner or later, so it's time to decide how to make him play nice. We can talk and then I'll tell you what to do.

ME: I think he's got dibs on telling me what to do! Bossy asshole!

MARLEY: Ha!

ME: Bitch

MARLEY: You love me. See you tonight 3

My eyeballs were going to explode.

Or maybe just pop out of my head...

I've never tasted anything quite like the flaming shot prepared by my new best friend, Mel.

I nearly snorted it out my nose, but managed to hold on to a token of dignity, as my throat ignited and my eyes watered.

The circle of women around the deck table burst out cackling like a bunch of witches...

So I flipped all of them off.

And they laughed louder.

My morning encounter with Sam might've been bizarre and tense and frustrating as all hell, but the evening had shaped up nicely.

Four lady Collectors had arrived a little after seven...

They were...Meg, Mel, Marge and Spirit. They brought pizza, beer and a bunch of those tiny bottles of hard liquor...the kind you get on airplanes.

I had been a little overwhelmed at first, trying to keep everyone straight, but by now I had figured them out...

Meg was Blade's old lady, and he was in prison. She had such an infectious smile you couldn't help but smile back at her. And looked very normal for a woman with a man in jail...and not 'old' at all.

I didn't think much of this whole 'old lady' business, but the Collector girls seemed to use it with pride.

Another thing...I really, really wanted to ask why her man was locked up, but managed to keep my mouth shut for once.

Spirit...I would guess...was part Native American with bronzed skin and long, straight hair. I didn't want to ask, but it seemed likely, since she'd grown up around these parts.

She was married to a guy called Sledge Hammer, and Stud was her half brother...born right after her mother married his father when she was two years old.

Mel was young, probably younger than me. She had the most amazing sky-blue eyes with dark rings around the edges of her irises.

She was about my height and had brown hair pulled back in a messy bun. She was Plank's daughter...whoever he was.

The last of the old ladies was Marge, a short girl with lots of long, brown, wavy hair and a bright, bubbly personality. She was with Stud.

She wore an unusual engagement ring...a blue stone surrounded by sparkling diamonds. Apparently, the wedding was at the end of the month.

The big, intense biker I'd met in Seattle hardly seemed like the type to get hitched, but he was obviously ready to sign on the dotted line for Marge.

And she made it quite clear I was invited to the wedding and her bachelorette party...the likes of which would put the Collector men to shame.

Attendance was therefore...not optional...

When they'd rung the front doorbell on arrival, it was the first time I'd come back upstairs to see the ruins of the kitchen and living room.

Surprisingly, Sam had cleaned up quite a bit since that morning.

The place didn't shine like before, but the bottles were gone and he'd put the love seat back on the floor.

The women came through the door in a wave, all hugs and smiles and bags of food and drink.

I showed them downstairs and introduced them to Bray, who'd spent the afternoon picking wildflowers in honor of our dinner together.

My grubby little boy melted them instantly, of course.

"I have a son who's a year older than you and another who's a year younger," Spirit told him. "Maybe you can meet them sometime."

"Do they have Skylanders?" he asked, never shy. "If they have Skylanders, we should play at your house. Otherwise, they should come here, because I want to show them the pond."

"Um, I'll talk to your mom and get it figured out," she said.

He smiled, shrugged and took off outside again. He wasn't one for wasting time on useless conversation.

The only awkward moment was when Marley arrived, shortly after I'd put Bray to bed.

She marched down the stairs smiling brightly, but when the girls saw her, Meg and Spirit got funny looks on their faces.

Whatever they knew about her, Mel and Marge clearly weren't aware of it.

"Hi, I'm Marley," my friend said, setting a blender on the counter. Then she surveyed the room and crossed her arms, planting herself firmly. "Let's get this over with. I used to work at Top Shot and I screwed a lot of other guys...including Wringer. But mostly customers and a few from the club. Anything else we need to talk about, or does that about cover it?"

"Holy crap!" Mel said, eyes wide. "You make a hell of an entrance."

"It would've been better if I could carry the vodka and mix with me in one trip with the blender," Marley replied seriously. "Now...you girls into huckleberry margaritas? I'm kind of a margarita artist, or so I've heard. We can hang out and have a great time and drink together if you like. Or you can take turns calling me a whore, which is a lot less fun for all of us, but still doable. Either way, I'm not leaving, so let's process and move on."

"Did you ever screw Blade, Stud, or Sledge Hammer?" Mel asked, clearly fascinated.

The tension in the air suddenly grew heavy...

Marley shook her head.

"Nope!" she said. "I don't even know who Stud is. I met Blade and Sledge Hammer a few times, but never got close to them. They're whipped...at least that's what I've heard."

"I like the sound of that," Spirit murmured, a slow smile crossing her lips. "We'll just skip the whore thing, then."

The tension broke, and Marley demonstrated that she was, indeed, something of a margarita artist.

Now it was nearly midnight and we'd progressed past blender drinks...

Marley had been queen of the party girls in high school, and clearly she hadn't given up her title entirely.

"You have to understand," she said, her voice grave as we sat in a circle around Sam's deck table. "I love being a mom. But I need to get out sometimes, you know? I had no idea their little bodies held so many fluids!"

Spirit started laughing so hard she almost fell out of her chair.

"I know the feeling," she gasped. "Sometimes it starts spraying out and out and out and you'd think they'd deflate or something!"

I gave Marley a loud high five, happy she had a kid she loved...and even happier mine was mostly past the spraying phase.

"That's why I'm not having babies anytime soon," Mel declared. "You lose your freedom and your mind, apparently. You're pathetic, all of you."

"Yeah, but you gotta have sex first to have a kid," Marge said, waggling her eyebrows dramatically as she poked Mel's shoulder. "I keep telling you, we need to just go out and get you laid. Get it over with, punch that V-card."

"If I get ten punches, do I get a free pizza?" Mel asked her. "Seriously, I don't know why I'm waiting at this point."

"Well, don't bother waiting for Sketcher," Meg said, rolling her eyes. "He's had his full patch for three months now. And hasn't manned up yet. It's not gonna happen."

Mel frowned.

"It's not like that," she said, shaking her head. "I was into him, okay? I liked him a lot, actually. But he blew it. He cares more about not pissing off my dad than being with me."

"To be fair, your dad has a bit of a reputation," Spirit said, her voice dry. "He shot your last boyfriend. Thinking about that has gotta mess with a man's head."

I looked at Mel with new interest, trying to remember who her dad was. Oh, yeah. Her dad was Plank.

Plank?

What kind of name was that?

Almost as weird as Stud...

"What the hell is up with all these names?" I demanded abruptly, swaying in my seat. They all looked at me blankly. "Plank? Sledge Hammer? Stud?! Who names their baby Stud? And what the hell is Wringer all about? His name is Sam, for God's sake. I met his mom and she told me."

They all burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" I asked, feeling put out. It was a serious question.

"You thought they were real names!" Marge asked, losing it again. "It's funny, because I know exactly how you feel. I asked the same question. Stud is a fucking ridiculous name, isn't it?"

I narrowed my eyes.

"Is that a trick question? I don't want to insult the guy you're marrying. Also, he's scary. He has a metal bat and likes to carry around duct tape. All he needs is black plastic garbage bags and he could be a serial killer."

I leaned forward and jabbed a finger to make my point.

"I know these things. I watch TV."

Marge snorted so hard margarita came out her nose.

"Stud's real name is Mark," Spirit said, giggling and rolling her eyes. "He's my brother, by the way. Stud is just his road name...like a nickname, you know? Most of the guys have them. Girls, too. Spirit is my road name."

"What's your real name?"

"No comment," she replied primly.

"Esadowa," Mel declared proudly. "I shit you not."

Spirit blew a stream of frozen margarita at Mel through her straw.

"Traitorous bitch!"

"Are you fucking with us?" Marley asked, looking between them. "Esadowa?"

We all looked at her blankly.

"Well, I am part Native American," Spirit said after a pause.

And I shook my head, trying to follow the conversation. The drinks weren't helping. Oh, yeah. Road names.

"So why is Mark called Stud?" I asked.

Marge blushed bright red and looked away.

"Ha!" Spirit said, smacking the table for emphasis. "I don't think you really want to know why."

Marge snickered.

"All I can tell you, is that my man is filled with stamina...

We all lost it again. And Marley poured another round of margaritas from the king-sized pitcher she'd found in Sam's kitchen.

This party wasn't ending anytime soon...

"So are all the names like that?" I asked when I could speak. "I mean, shouldn't bikers have cool names, like Killer or Shark or Thor's Revenge?"

"Thor's Revenge?" Meg asked, raising a brow. "Are you serious?"

"That's just silly," Mel broke in. "Road names stick because something happens to make them stick. You know, a funny story or something stupid someone does. You earn them, just like any nickname."

"Like Smelly Melly, for example," Spirit said, blinking innocently.

Mel's eyes narrowed.

"Shut the fuck up, Esadowa!"

"Seriously, they also serve a purpose," Meg said. "If people don't know your real name, it makes it harder for them to rat you out to the cops."

"So what's Wringer all about?" I asked. "He's been called that forever."

"I have no idea," Spirit said, frowning. "You'll have to ask him, but Plank got his because he smacked a guy with a piece of plank."

"Speaking of..." Marge said. "We haven't finished talking about Mel's situation. You need to get your dad to back off, babe. Nobody will date you so long as he keeps shooting your boyfriends."

"He didn't shoot him because he was dating me," Mel snapped. "It was a hunting accident and he's fine. The fact that he was cheating on me is a total coincidence."

The women burst out laughing again, while Marley and I stared.

"Go ahead and keep telling yourself that," Spirit murmured.

And I made a mental note to learn this story as soon as possible.

"Let's talk about something else," Mel declared. She looked around the table, searching for a new victim. And her eyes reached me, filling with sudden, unholy glee.

"Like...hmmm... So tell us, Merce. What's the scoop with you and Wringer? You guys screwing or what?"

Everyone...even Marley...looked at me...

And she stared, silently urging me to speak. But I kept my mouth shut and shook my head.

"Shit! I have to do everything," she burst out. "Okay, here's the whole story..."

Ten minutes later, they all knew far too much about me and Sam. And I'd silently vowed never to tell Marley anything again.

Ever.

Not even where I stored the toilet paper, because that's how untrustworthy she was.

"And he just tucked in his dick and walked away?" Mel asked for the third time, clearly awed. "He didn't even start yelling or throwing shit?"

I shook my head.

I should've been embarrassed, but I was a little too drunk to fully appreciate my humiliation.

Stupid Marley.

Backstabbing bitch!

"He's a man-whore," Marley declared, shrugging. "Who knows why guys like that do anything? Instead of wondering why he did it, we need to focus on the real problem. How do we get them into bed? With each other?"

"No!" I said. "I am not sleeping with him. Didn't you get the whole point of the story? That would mess things up for me and Bray living here."

"Don't be stupid, it's already messed up," she told me. "I was all in favor of avoiding him, but then you crossed the Rubicon!"

"What the hell does that mean?" I asked.

"It means we need to adjust our plan of action. Avoidance is no longer an option."

"No, what the hell is a Rubicon?" I asked her. And Marley sighed heavily, clearly frustrated.

"It's the river that separates Cisalpine Gaul from Italy," she said. "It's where Roman generals used to leave their armies before returning home, as a sign they weren't a threat to the Roman Republic. Two thousand years ago, Julius Caesar had to make a decision whether to obey the Senate or bring his troops home with him, starting a civil war. His legions crossed the Rubicon, which led to the end of the Republic. Not officially, of course. Augustus was the first to acknowledge dictatorship openly. It was a fucking turning point in Western civilization, dumbass."

We all stared at her, with wide eyes.

"Where the hell did you learn all that?" I asked her. She rolled her eyes.

"College," she said. "I have a history minor. Christ, is there a law that strippers can't read or something? Now, please, focus. All of you."

"My mom would like you," Spirit said. "She would like you a lot."

Marley only shrugged.

"This whole situation is like a great big zit that needs popping," she continued. "The damage is already done...your face looks like shit and no concealer's gonna cover it. You might as well squeeze hard and get your money shot. You'll both feel better afterwards."

"Ewww..."

"That is the least sexy thing I've ever heard anyone say about sex," Meg announced. "For the first time in two years, I'm kind of glad Blade is in jail, because there's no damned way I'd touch his dick tonight, after that."

"I call it like I see it," Marley declared. "Now, let's figure out the best way for Mercedes to start screwing Wringer without letting him think he's won."

"Marley," I growled, lunging towards her. But I bumped the pitcher of huckleberry margaritas instead, which splashed across the table, dousing Meg, Spirit, and Marge with sticky, sugary, boozey deliciousness.

Everyone burst out laughing again, and this time, Spirit actually did fall off her chair, which made it even funnier.

"That's what you get for making fun of my historical analogies!" Marley howled at us gleefully. "I am the QUEEN. You do what I tell you, bitches!"

"You're crazy," I announced, dipping a finger into the puddle on the table and tasting it.

Sooo good. What a waste.

"But you're right about one thing," I started. "I may be a petty, selfish person, but I don't want him to win. And he always wins. I think you might be right about popping the zit, though."

"This is an important discussion," Meg said solemnly, holding up a hand to halt us. "And as the senior old ladies present, Spirit and I will moderate it as soon as we get changed. Is it okay if we dig through your closet?"

"Sure," I said. "Here, let me come help you find something."

"No worries," Spirit said, giggling. "We'll find it. We know our way around the apartment already."

I smiled at her happily.

"Thanks again," I told them all. "I can't tell you how amazing it was to come here and find everything all fixed up. Bray loves his room, too."

"It's what we do," Meg said. And Marge grinned at me, then shivered, rubbing her arms up and down.

"This stuff is cold. Let's get changed," she said, and the three women took off down the outside stairs.

"I'm going to get some hot water to pour over this mess," I said, contemplating the Great Margarita Lake. "There's got to be something we can use in the kitchen..."

Part two of the girls' night and other stuff tomorrow...

Please forgive any extreme mistakes, I am too swamped to read over. But I promise I will read through it tomorrow and correct anything untoward.

And I'll try for a double update tomorrow, since it should be an early day from work :)

Stay safe!