Hey friends, I found a little time to share something new. It's not mine, but as usual, all I ask is that you give it a try.

Thank you for your continued support. I appreciate it.

Original name: Grayson's Vow

Author: Mia Sheridan

I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Grayson's Vow

Never fret, my love, the universe always balances the scales. Her ways may be mysterious, but they are always just.

Flora 'Gram' Jones

MERCEDES

In a long history of bad days, this one was at the top of the list. And it was only nine a.m.

Stepping out of my car, I took a deep breath of the balmy, late summer air and began walking toward Napa Valley Savings Bank.

The sultry morning shimmered around me, the sweet scent of jasmine teasing my nose. And I sighed as I pulled open the glass front door of the bank...

The peaceful beauty seemed wrong somehow...

It was the bleakness of my mood in direct contrast to the warm, sunshiny day. An arrogant idea, I supposed. As if the weather should express itself according to my mood.

"May I help you?" a cheery brunette asked as I approached her teller window.

"Yes," I said, withdrawing my ID and an old savings book from my purse. "I want to close this account."

I slid both towards the teller...

A corner of the savings book was folded back, revealing numbers my Grandmother had entered when showing me how to keep track of our deposits.

The memory tore at my heart, but I forced what I hoped was a cheerful-looking smile as the girl took the book, opened it, and began entering the account number.

I thought back to the day we'd opened the account...

I'd been ten and Gram had walked me here. And I had proudly deposited the fifty dollars she'd given me for helping with yard work throughout the summer.

We'd made trips to this bank over the years when I'd stayed at her house in Napa. And she had taught me the true value of money...

It was meant to be shared, used to help others, but it also represented a type of freedom.

And the fact that I currently had little money, few options and every material possession I owned stuffed in the trunk of my car, was proof of how right she had been.

But...

I was anything but free.

"Two thousand, forty-seven dollars and sixteen cents," the teller stated, glancing at me.

I nodded.

It was even a little more than I had hoped.

Good.

Very good.

Because I needed every cent.

Letting a deep breath out slowly, I joined my hands together on the counter and waited for her to count out the cash...

Once the money was safely tucked into my purse and the account closed, I wished the teller a good day and turned to leave the bank, only stopping at the drinking fountain.

As the cool water hit my lips, I heard faintly from the office around the corner,

"Samuel Evans, nice to meet you."

I froze, stood slowly, then used my thumb to distractedly wipe the water off my bottom lip.

Samuel Evans... Samuel Evans?

I knew that name...

I remembered the strong sound of it...

The way I had repeated it to myself on a whisper, just to hear it on my lips that day in my father's office.

I thought back to the quick glance at the file my dad had slid closed as I'd placed a tray of coffee on his desk...

Could it be the same Samuel Evans?

Peeking around the corner, I saw nothing more than a closed office door with the shade on the window pulled down.

So I walked around the corner to the restroom on the other side of the corridor, from the office in which Samuel Evans was supposedly in.

Once inside the restroom, I locked the door and leaned against the wall. I hadn't even known Samuel 'Sam' Evans lived in Napa.

His trial had taken place in San Francisco, so that must've been where the crime was committed... Not that I knew what that crime might've been, only that my father had taken a brief interest in it.

I bit my lip, moving to the sink and staring at myself in the mirror above it, as I washed and dried my hands.

Then I opened the door quietly and tried in vain to listen to the conversation in the room across the hall, but I could only hear muffled voices.

Suddenly, I heard the door open and peeked out to see another man in a suit, most likely a bank executive, enter the office.

He closed the door behind him, but it didn't click into place and stood very, very slightly ajar, allowing me to hear a few words of introductions.

Again, I stood at the cracked bathroom door trying to listen...

'Really, Mercedes? This is shamefully nosy. It's an invasion of privacy. And worse, somewhat pointless. Seriously, what is wrong with you?'

Ignoring my own reprimand, I leaned closer to the crack in the door.

I'd leave this less-than-stellar moment out of my memoirs. No one needed to know about it but me...

A few words drifted my way...

"Sorry... felon... can't give... this bank... unfortunately..."

Felon?

It had to be the Samuel Evans I thought it was...

What a strange, random coincidence.

I barely knew anything about him, though. All I really knew was his name, the fact that he'd been accused of a crime and that my father had participated in using him as a pawn.

He and I had that in common... Not that it was likely my father remembered the name of one man, when he ruined lives so regularly and with so little afterthought.

In any case, why was I eavesdropping from inside a bathroom, trying to listen in on his private conversation?

I wasn't sure. However, an abundance of curiosity was one of my confirmed faults.

I took a deep breath and went to open the bathroom door so I could exit, when I heard the scraping of chair legs...

I paused.

The words from across the hall were clearer now that they had probably opened the door wider.

"I'm sorry I can't approve a loan for you, Mr. Evans." The male voice that spoke sounded regretful. "If you were worth more..."

Another male voice, Sam's I assumed, cut the other man off.

"I understand. Thank you for your time, Mr. Hardy."

Just then, I caught the brief glimpse of a tall male figure with blonde hair in a gray suit and leaned back inside the restroom, clicking the door closed again.

I washed my hands once more to stall, and then left the small room.

As I passed, I glanced at the office Sam Evans had been in and saw a man sitting behind the desk in a suit and tie, his attention focused on something he was writing.

So that tells me, that must've been Mr. Evans in the gray suit, and apparently, he'd already left the bank.

I walked back outside into the bright summer's day and let myself into my car, parked up the street.

I sat there for a minute, staring out the front window at the quaint downtown area...

Crisp, clean awnings adorned the fronts of the businesses and large containers of brightly colored flowers decorated the sidewalk.

I loved Napa, from downtown to the riverfront, to the outlying vineyards, ripe with fruit in the summer and colorful with the vivid yellow, wild mustard flowers in the winter.

It had been where my Gram retired to after my grandfather had passed. And it was where I'd spent summers at her small house with the large front porch on Seminary Street.

Everywhere I looked I saw her, heard her voice and felt her warm, vibrant spirit.

My Gram had been fond of saying,

"Today may be a very bad day, but tomorrow may be the best day of your life. You just have to hang on until you get there."

I drew in a deep inhale of air, doing my best to shake off the loneliness I was feeling.

'Oh, Gram, if only you were here. You would take me into your arms and tell me everything was going to be okay. And because it was you saying it, I would believe it to be true.'

Sliding my eyes closed and leaning back against the headrest, I whispered,

"Help me, Gram. I'm lost. I need you. Give me a sign. Tell me what to do. Please."

And at that, the tears I'd been holding at bay for so long burned behind my eyelids, threatening to fall.

But something made me open my eyes...

Movement in the passenger side mirror immediately catching my attention. And as I turned my head, I spotted a tall, well-built man in a gray suit...

Samuel Evans.

I jolted slightly, my breath faltering. He was standing against the building next to my car, to the right of my bumper, the perfect location for me to see him clearly in my mirror without moving.

I slunk down in my seat just a bit, leaned back and turned my head to watch him...

He had his head leaned back against the building behind him and his eyes were closed, his expression pained.

And my God, he was... breathtaking.

He had the beautifully carved features of a knight in shining armor with blonde hair a tad too long, making it curl over his collar.

But it was his lips that were truly devastating, though... Full and sensual in a way that made my eyes want to wander to them again and again.

I squinted, trying to take in every detail of his face, before my gaze traveled down his tall form.

His body matched his beautiful masculinity... Muscular and graceful, his shoulders broad and his waist narrow.

'Hell Mercedes, you hardly have time to be ogling beautiful felons on the sidewalk. Your concerns are slightly more pressing. You're homeless and well, frankly, desperate. If you want to focus on something, focus on that.'

I chewed at my lip, unable to drag my eyes away. What had his crime been anyway?

I tried hard to look away, but something about him pulled at me. And it wasn't just his striking male beauty that made my eyes linger on him...

Something about the expression on his face felt familiar, speaking to what I was feeling right that very minute.

If you were worth more...

"Are you desperate, too, Sam Evans?" I murmured. "Why?"

As I watched him, he brought his head straight and massaged his temple, looking around.

A woman walked by and turned as she passed him, her head moving up and down to take in his body.

But he didn't seem to notice her, and fortunately for her, she turned, looking ahead just in time to narrowly miss colliding with a light pole.

I chuckled softly, even as Sam stood staring off into the distance again...

As I continued to watch Mr. Evans, an obviously homeless man moved towards where he stood, holding his hat out to people walking by.

They all moved quickly past him, looking away uncomfortably. But when the man began to approach Sam, I pressed my lips together and softly said,

"Sorry, old man. It seems to me the person you're about to approach is in pretty dire straits himself."

But to my surprise, when the man reached Sam tentatively, he reached into his pocket, hesitated only briefly and then grabbed the bills inside...

I couldn't be sure from where I sat, but when the dark interior of Sam's wallet flashed my way, it looked like he'd emptied it for the old man.

After that, he nodded his head once at the man in rags who was thanking him profusely, and then stood for a moment watching the homeless man walk away.

A few seconds later, he strode in the other direction, turning the corner out of sight.

Watch what people do when they think no one is watching, love. That's how you'll know who they really are.

Gram's words floated through my mind as if she had spoken from somewhere just outside my car.

And I began to ponder them...

The shrill ringing of a phone startled me from my thoughts, and I let out a small gasp, grabbing my purse from the passenger seat to rifle inside for my phone.

Melodie.

"Hey," I whispered.

A beat of silence...

"Mercedes? Why are you whispering?" she asked, but she was whispering, too.

I cleared my throat and leaned back on my seat.

"Sorry, the phone just startled me. I'm sitting in my car in Napa."

"Were you able to close the account?"

"Yeah. It had a couple thousand dollars in it."

"Hey, well that's great. That's something at least, right?"

I sighed...

"Yeah. It'll help me get by for a little bit."

I heard Melodie's boys laughing in the background... She shushed them, holding her hand over the phone and speaking to them in Spanish, before coming back to me and saying,

"My couch is always yours if you want it."

"I know. Thank you, Mellie."

I couldn't do that to my best friend, though. She and her husband, Anthony were already squeezed into a tiny apartment in San Francisco with their four-year-old fraternal twin sons.

She had gotten pregnant when she was eighteen and then learned the shocking news she was carrying twins.

She and Anthony had beaten the odds so far, but they hadn't had an easy time of it. And the last thing they needed was their homeless friend sleeping on their couch and putting a strain on their family.

Homeless... I was homeless...

I took a deep breath.

"I'm going to come up with a plan, though," I said, biting my lip. A feeling of determination replaced the hopelessness I'd felt all morning. And Sam Evans' face flashed quickly in my mind's eye. "Mellie, do you ever feel like...a path is laid out in front of you? Like, clear as day?"

Melodie paused for a beat...

"Oh no. No. I know that tone in your voice. It means you're scheming something I'm going to try to probably unsuccessfully talk you out of. You're not considering that plan to advertise for a husband online are you, because...?"

"No," I cut her off. "Not exactly, anyway."

Melodie groaned.

"You've gotten another one of your spur-of-the-moment, Very Bad Ideas, haven't you? Something completely ludicrous and most likely dangerous."

I smiled despite myself.

"Oh stop. Those ideas you always call 'Very Bad,' are rarely ludicrous and seldom dangerous."

"Remember the time you were going to market your own all-natural face masque from the herbs in your garden?"

I smiled, knowing her game.

"Oh that? My formula was almost there. Right within reach, actually. If my test subject hadn't been..."

"You turned my face green! And it didn't go away for a week. Picture day week at that!"

I laughed softly.

"Okay, fine, that one didn't work out very well, but we were ten."

"Sneaking out to Brody Wesson's party when we were sixteen..."

"Totally would've worked if..." I started to defend.

"The fire department had to come get me off your roof."

"You always were such a wuss," I said, grinning.

"What about the time you were home from college on summer break and hosted that Asian-themed dinner party where we all had to wear kimonos, and then you almost killed everyone there."

"An ingredient error. How was I to know you needed to be licensed to cook that particular fish? Anyway, that was forever ago."

"That was two years ago!" she tried to deadpan, but I could hear the smile in her voice.

I was laughing now...

"Okay, you've made your point, smartass. And despite all that, you love me anyway."

"I do." She sighed. "I can't help it. You're completely lovable."

"Well, that's debatable, I guess."

"No!" she said firmly. "It's not. Your father is an ass, but you already know how I feel on that subject. And honey, you need to talk about what happened. It's been a year. I know you just got back, but you need..."

I bit my lip and shook my head even though she couldn't see the movement from the other end of the phone.

"Not yet," I said softly. "And thank you for making me laugh for a minute there. But seriously, Mel, I'm in a very bad predicament right now. Maybe a Very Bad Idea is what I need."

I couldn't help the small hitch in my voice at the end of my sentence even though Melodie never failed to lift my spirits. But truly, I was scared.

"I know, Merce," she said softly, understanding lacing her voice. "And unfortunately, if you're determined not to use any of your father's business contacts, you might have to get a waitressing job until you figure out what you're going to do."

I sighed...

"Maybe, but would you really want me anywhere near food preparation?"

"You do make a valid point." I heard another smile in her voice. "Whatever you decide, it'll always be the Mercedes and Melodie, okay? M and M's forever. We're a team," she said.

She was referring to the band name I'd come up with when we were twelve and I'd devised a plan to sing on the street corner for cash.

I'd seen a commercial on TV about kids who didn't have enough to eat in Africa, and my dad wouldn't give me the money to sponsor one of them.

In the end, we'd been caught sneaking out of the house in very inappropriate costumes I'd made from construction paper and tape.

My dad grounded me for a month. And Melodie's mom, who worked as the live-in head of our housekeeping staff, gave me the twenty-two dollars I'd needed to help feed and educate one child...Kojo...that month.

And then, she did it every month I couldn't come up with the money on my own after that.

"Always," I said. "I love you, Melodie M."

"I love you Mercedes M. And I gotta go, these boys are getting out of control." I heard Leo and Mani's squeals of laughter and loud shouts ringing in the background over the sound of small running feet. "Stop running, boys! And stop yelling!" Melodie yelled, holding the phone away from her mouth for a second. "You gonna be okay tonight?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I think I might even splurge and rent a cheap hotel room here in Napa and then walk along the riverfront. It makes me feel close to Gram."

I didn't mention that earlier that morning, I'd hurriedly packed my stuff and climbed down the fire escape of the apartment my dad had paid for, as he'd yelled and banged on the front door.

And that now, said stuff was jammed into my car's trunk. She would just worry, and for now, I had some cash and a partial, but arguably Very Bad Idea, roaming around in my head.

And in my illustrious history of Very Bad Ideas, this one might just take the cake.

Of course, I'd be thorough in my research before making a final decision. And I'd make a list of pros and cons... It always helped me see things in a clearer light.

And this one required some due diligence.

Melodie sighed...

"God rest her soul. Your Gram was an amazing lady."

"Yes, she was," I agreed. "Kiss the boys for me. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay. Talk to you then. And Merce, I'm so glad you're back. I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too. Bye, Mellie."

I hung up and sat in my car a few minutes longer. Then I picked my phone back up to do a little Internet sleuthing and to find a hotel room I could afford.

Stay safe!