Thank you for your continued interest and support. I do not own Glee or the characters and I do not own The Billionaire's Embrace.
MERCEDES
I woke up on Friday to a text message from Sam...
Sam: Horrible charity ball Saturday night. Go with me?
I rubbed my eyes and went to make coffee. I needed caffeine before I could deal with this.
We hadn't spoken since Wednesday night when he had taken me home after dinner at his mother's. I had worked and licked my wounds, then waited for him to contact me first.
And now he had, but it wasn't what I had been hoping for.
A charity ball? Really?
His mother had been bad enough; now he wanted me to spend the evening with hundreds of people just like her, all of them staring at me with bright, glittering eyes, waiting to find any excuse to tear me apart.
Maybe I was being a little melodramatic.
However, I replied to his text...
Mercedes: I don't have a ball gown
Sam: Surmountable problem. So you'll go? I need moral support.
Mercedes: I would need a Valium or a lot of alcohol. I don't think it's a good idea.
Sam: Please? All you'll need to do is look pretty. I won't even make you dance.
I didn't want to, I really didn't want to, but he had said please, and he'd complained to me before about how much he hated these balls.
So I made a bargain with myself... I would go to this ball and if I hated it, I would tell him I never wanted to go to another one.
And then he couldn't tell me that it wasn't as bad as I thought because I would have hard, cold experience backing me up.
But why was I always agreeing to do things I dreaded?
The thing was, I wanted to be a good sport. I wanted to show Sam that I would play ball and do my best to support him in the things that he cared about.
But I also didn't want to spend the rest of my life, or however long, doing things that made my stomach feel like unbaked bread.
Mercedes: Okay, I'll do it. But I need a dress!
Sam: Wonderful! I'll take you to Bergdorf's tomorrow morning.
I winced...
He would probably try to talk me into a fur coat and a diamond tiara.
I texted him that I'd meet him at the store at noon the next day and started getting ready for work.
The next morning, I set my alarm and took the subway to 59th Street. Midtown was packed with people doing their Christmas shopping.
I walked the couple of blocks down 5th Avenue to the store and waited beside the main entrance for Sam, where he'd said he would meet me.
The weather was warmer than it had been lately, and it was nice to be outside, even with people jostling past me on the sidewalk.
However, I only had to wait for a few minutes before I saw Sam's car pulling up to the curb.
As he stepped out, he spotted me right away and waded through the crowds to reach me.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said. "Traffic."
"I just got here," I said. I glanced around, worried that someone would see us together and take pictures. "Are you ready?"
"Let's...what's the saying? Shop until we drop?" Then he took my arm and we went into the store.
I realized very quickly that Sam wasn't the stereotypical helpless male when it came to shopping. He guided me straight to the women's department and snagged one of the salesgirls...
"Is Rose here? I'm in need of a dress."
The salesgirl did a double-take... She'd obviously recognized him. But it was funny to watch her try to pretend that she didn't.
"If you're in need of personal shopping services, sir..."
"No, I want Rose," Sam said. "Tell her it's Sam. She'll know who I am."
The salesgirl compressed her lips into a thin line...
"I'll go find her, sir. Just a moment."
With that, Sam turned to me looking quite satisfied...
"Rose will find you the perfect dress. She's been dressing my mother for decades."
We waited for a few minutes, standing awkwardly in the middle of the store. Actually, I felt awkward. Sam seemed perfectly at home, with his hands tucked casually in his pockets and his coat draped over one arm.
"You said it's a charity ball," I said finally, breaking the silence. "What charity?"
"Well, maybe charity was the wrong word," he said. "It's an arts fundraiser. Not my chosen cause, but my mother asked me to go and I feel obligated." He sighed... "She thinks that I'll eventually get tired of supporting social justice organizations and devote myself to the arts."
"I thought you liked art," I said.
He smiled at me.
"I do. I'd just rather invest my energy elsewhere. These galas are a waste of time. They serve no purpose but to impress rich people with their own magnanimity. The hors d'oeuvres are usually nice, though."
Finger food didn't sound like enough of a draw to me, but what did I know?
"But I don't have to dance, right?"
He laughed.
"I was joking. There won't be any dancing."
"Well, I didn't know," I said, embarrassed.
"I know," he said. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't tease you about things like that. There is dancing, sometimes. Just not at this one."
A movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention, and I turned my head to see an elegantly dressed, silver-haired woman walking towards us.
She was old...really old... Definitely in her 80s. But she moved quickly and and with purpose.
Sam turned around when he saw that I was looking at something, and I watched as his face lit up in a huge smile.
"The woman herself," he said, stepping forward. Then he bent to kiss the old woman on both cheeks. "Rosie, I hope I'm not taking you away from something important."
"You are, but you're worth it," she said. "How is your mother?"
"The same as always," he said. "You know how she is."
The woman smiled.
"Oh, I do indeed. And who is this lovely young lady?"
She turned to me and offered her hand...
I shook it, relieved that she had given me a cue I knew how to respond to.
"I'm Mercedes," I said.
"Mercedes. What a delight." She seemed so warm and sincere that I found myself relaxing and returning her smile. "My name is Rose, and it seems that Sam would like me to find a dress for you."
"Fundraiser tonight," Sam said. "You know the one. And she needs something to wear."
"Great!" Rose said, looking me up and down. "Dressing you will be a delight, my dear. You have a lovely figure."
"Um, thank you?"
"Oh, and shy. Aren't you a doll. Yes, I think we'll get along very nicely. Sam, you go sit over there and keep yourself occupied. Mercedes and I have some important business to take care of." With that, she nodded firmly and said, "Right this way." Then she led me off into the depths of the store.
I cast a glance back over my shoulder at Sam and he winked at me.
And, acting on impulse, I blew him a kiss.
"Let's go through the racks together," Rose said about a minute later. "I think you're a woman who knows what she likes. With your coloring, a jewel tone, I think. Do you prefer red or blue?"
I thought about it...
"Red."
"Ruby, then," Rose said. "Or magenta." She stopped at a display of dresses and smiled at me. "Doesn't matter. We'll find you the perfect dress."
"I believe you," I said.
It took three hours, but Rose kept her promise. She made me try on more gowns than I could count and in all colors of the rainbow, but we ended up deciding on a navy Lucas Ruffled High-Low Halter Dress.
"You'll be the center of attention, my dear."
"That's what I'm afraid of," I said, staring at myself in the mirror. I've never worn anything this luxurious or this expensive.
This dress was made of rich raw silk with a sleeveless tie-back design showcasing my shoulders, while the high-low double tiered hemline did the same for my legs.
It was like seeing someone in public who I recognized but couldn't place... Or some phantom out of a distant elite past.
Rose pursed her lips...
"May I give you some advice?" she asked.
I looked at her, this old woman who had dressed New York's elite for decades. And I wondered what she had seen... And what secrets she'd been told...
"Please," I said.
"Sam is a good boy," she said. "Very kind. But you, I think, need a delicate touch, and he won't always remember to provide it." She cocked her head at me. "Look after yourself. It's all that a woman can do, really."
"I know," I said, smoothing my hand over the dress.
"Well," she said. "Let's find you some shoes."
Rose wrapped everything in tissue paper and packed it away in a bag before she sent me back to Sam.
"Let it be a surprise," she said. "He'll be too stunned to speak when he sees you."
"I hope so," I said.
She took my hands in hers and said,
"Best of luck to you, my dear."
"Thank you," I said. "For everything." And then, without thinking about it, I bent and kissed her papery cheek.
After that, I went to find Sam...
He was sitting where we'd left him, scowling at his phone. But he put it away when he saw me and smiled.
"Success?"
"Success," I said. And I showed him the bags. "You don't get to see until later, though."
"Rose has had her way with you, I see," he said. "The conspiracies of women! She charged it to my account, right?"
"Yeah," I said. "I'll pay you back..."
"Absolutely not!" he said. Then he touched my cheek. "Mercedes, you're doing me a favor. And I know you don't want me to buy things for you, but let me do it just this once, okay? You know the money is nothing to me."
I knew. And that was the problem. But I couldn't afford the dress. The price tag was well into four figures. And Sam was looking at me so earnestly, so badly wanting me to accept his generosity, that I couldn't find it in my heart to refuse.
I thought of what Rose had said...
About how I needed a light touch. Well, maybe Sam needed someone to be gentle with him, too.
"Just this once," I said, and he bent to kiss me...right there in the middle of Bergdorf Goodman. And for once, I didn't even care who was watching.
The ball started that evening at eight, at a venue uptown.
And when the car pulled up outside the building, I gawked out the window at all the women in their fancy dresses and the men wearing tuxedos.
They were mingling on the sidewalk, laughing and talking. But everyone looked so glamorous.
Right about now, I would've been much more worried about my appearance if Rose hadn't given me her approval. Plus, I knew she had probably picked out dresses for many of the other women who would be here tonight.
Even so, I had kept my makeup simple and done my hair in a basic style, too nervous to take any risks.
"Stop worrying," Sam said. He put one hand on my knee and leaned in to give me a kiss. "You look incredible. You'll put everyone else to shame." Then he kissed me again. "Are you ready?"
"I guess so," I said.
"We'll go straight inside," he said. "We won't stop for pictures."
Pictures?
My stomach clenched, but he was already getting out of the car, and I had no choice but to follow him.
Lightbulbs flashed, blinding me...
"Mr. Evans!" someone called, and someone else asked, "Sam, who's your date?"
I ducked my head, clinging to Sam's arm as we walked towards the building.
Until a few moments ago, I hadn't been expecting photographers.
He had obviously known and he hadn't told me...possibly to keep me from worrying. But I wished he had given me some warning...
"I'm sorry about that," he said, leading me through the front door. "There are usually a couple of lifestyle reporters at these events. They won't be allowed inside."
I took a deep breath, calming myself...
"Okay," I said.
The interior of the building was everything I expected it to be... huge, luxurious and filled with red velvet and marble.
Party-goers swarmed the foyer, their voices echoing in the cavernous space. And a string quartet played in a corner, while waiters dressed in black circulated with trays of hors d'oeuvres.
Sam led to me a marble pillar at the foot of a staircase leading up into the darkness...
"I'll take your coat," he said. "Wait here. I'll be right back."
Alone, I smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from my dress and tried to look inconspicuous. My dress was too alluring and too attention-grabbing.
Nobody else was wearing navy or this type of dress. And I was afraid that everyone would look at me.
However, Sam returned before I could work myself into a panic.
He took my arm and said,
"We'd better make the rounds. There are people here who expect me to speak to them."
"Do I have to talk to people?" I asked. I would do it if I had to, but I wouldn't like it.
"Not much," he said. "I'll introduce you; just tell them you're pleased to make their acquaintance. I don't intend to spend very long talking to anyone. In and out." He smiled at me. "Then we'll eat and listen to the music."
"That sounds nice," I said.
Maybe we could find a corner to hide in...
Sam led me through the crowds, moving confidently into the sea of people. And as we passed, I heard murmurs from other guests.
Even among these people, all of them wealthy and powerful in their own right, Sam was worthy of notice.
Scraps of conversation reached my ears...
Everyone was talking about Sam. And then I realized to my horror, some were talking about me.
"...looks a bit out of her reach," someone said. Then, "That dress."
"How sweet," I heard someone else say. "He brought the help."
My face flamed in anger. Of course that was what they thought about me.
And, in a way, I was. I didn't clean his house or cook his food, but we didn't meet at the gym or a coffee shop, or a society function or a country club. We met because I served him a drink.
"Sam, my boy," a voice boomed and I looked up...and up...to see a tall man with a huge belly beaming down at us.
"Donald, how are you?" Sam ask and they vigorously shook hands. "I'm sorry, I have to go speak with Claude, but let's get together soon to talk about that merger. I'll be in touch."
"Yes, wonderful!" the man bellowed, and Sam steered me away into the crowd.
"See? You didn't even have to talk to him," he murmured in my ear, and I placed my hand over his and squeezed it gratefully.
"Who's Claude?" I asked.
He grinned.
"My mother's dog, circa 2003."
That happened three more times...people speaking to Sam, who gave them a polite brush-off and kept moving before he got cornered by an older woman, probably his mother's age, who seized him and said,
"Samuel Evans, you are a terrible creature for not telling me you would be here tonight!"
Sam kissed her cheek.
"Mrs. Courtland, it must've slipped my mind," he said. "How are you? How's Daniella?"
"Gorgeous and still single," the woman said, eyeing me. "Although, I take it you've been snapped up already."
"Mrs. Courtland, this is Mercedes Jones," Sam said, drawing me forward.
I didn't try to shake the woman's hand. I just gave her a polite smile.
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," I said.
Her mouth pursed like she had tasted something sour...
"Yes, quite," she said, and turned back to Sam. "So, tell me, how is your mother?"
And just like that, she neatly cut me out of their conversation...
I stood at Sam's side feeling awkward and wishing I could go hide behind the drapes. And he kept inhaling and saying,
"Well..."
He was clearly trying to make his excuses and escape, but Mrs. Courtland wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise. She went on and on about her daughter and her dogs and her tennis lessons, until I felt like screaming.
Someone cleared their throat behind me. And I turned to see two women, probably about my age, standing there sizing me up.
One of them, a tall blonde, gave me a frosty smile.
I knew that look... like a dog pissing to mark its territory.
"You must be the reason Sam hasn't been returning my calls," the woman said. She looked me up and down. "What is it that you do?"
In for a penny in for a pound. I refused to be ashamed...
"I'm a cocktail waitress," I said.
The woman exchanged a glance with her friend...
"How... interesting."
"What do you do?" I asked.
The woman laughed, a light, tinkling sound.
"I don't do anything. Only the lower classes work to earn their keep."
I stared at her...
Was she serious?
The lower classes?
Were we in a Charles Dickens novel?
Unexpected rage filled me... I hated these people, with their galas and their art openings and their money they wasted on haute couture and pampered little dogs.
They all thought they were better than me just because they were born with silver spoons in their mouths.
"I'm glad to see you're doing your part to parasitize the global economy," I said and turned my back on the both of them.
I heard shocked gasps behind me, but I ignored them. What were they going to do? Have me thrown out? Tell Sam I had been rude to them?
Somehow I got the feeling he wouldn't care.
Sam finally managed to extricate himself from Mrs. Courtland and we moved on through the crowd.
"I saw you talking to Justine. I hope she didn't say anything horrible. She's an awful person."
"She said you aren't returning her phone calls," I said.
He rolled his eyes...
"That's true. It's because I hate her. She makes my skin crawl."
That made me feel a little better. The woman hadn't been rude to me because of anything about me. It was because she was an odious human being.
"I hate coming to these things," Sam said. My poor Mercedes. I shouldn't have asked you to suffer with me." He looked around the room, scanning for something, then said, "Let's stuff our faces with hors d'oeuvres and then get out of here. Would you like that?"
"God yes," I said, and he laughed.
We waded back out of the crowd and found a quiet spot against one wall. Then Sam told me to stay put and wandered off.
He was back within seconds, with two small plates loaded with hors d'oeuvres.
I'd eaten dinner before he picked me up, but I wasn't about to turn down free food. That was one of the first things you learned when you were poor... If it was free, put as much of it in your stomach as you possibly could.
We ate and listened to the music, and then Sam said,
"Have I told you how incredible you look in that dress? Because you look incredible."
I smiled at him.
"I liked Rose. She was really nice to me."
"She's a peach, but I don't want to talk about her right now." He ran one hand down my back, from my bare shoulder to my hip and I leaned into his touch. "I want to talk about getting you home and into my bed."
Oh God!
I nearly choked on my canape, and looked around to make sure nobody was in earshot. But we were alone and his gaze was hot and dark. And I felt myself responding to him just like I always did.
"That sounds way better than staying here."
At that, he slid his hand down even further, until he was cupping the curve of my ass...
"I'll go get our coats."
Belated Mother's Day greetings to you.
Link for Mercedes' dress: /products/lucas-dress-2
Rest in peace Curtis. And rest in peace to Rodney who passed today.